Native resistance and the Pax Colonial in New Spain 9780803242661, 9780803292499

Table of contents :
Frontmatter
List of Maps (page vii)
Acknowledgments (page ix)
Introduction (SUSAN SCHROEDER, page xi)
1 First-Generation Rebellions in Seventeenth-Century Nueva Vizcaya (SUSAN M. DEEDS, page 1)
2 Differential Response to Colonial Control among the Mixtecs and Zapotecs of Oaxaca (RONALD SPORES, page 30)
3 Religion and Rebellion in Colonial Chiapas (KEVIN GOSNER, page 47)
4 Culture, Community, and "Rebellion" in the Yucatec Maya Uprising of 1761 (ROBERT W. PATCH, page 67)
5 The Indian Insurgents of Mezcala Island on the Lake Chapala Front, 1812-1816 (CHRISTON I. ARCHER, page 84)
6 Some Thoughts on the Pax Colonial, Colonial Violence, and Perceptions of Both (MURDO J. MACLEOD, page 129)
Notes (page 143)
Bibliography (page 169)
Contributors (page 189)
Index (page 191)

Citation preview

Native Resistance and the

Pax Colonial in New Spain

ee

Native Resistance and the Pax Colomal in New Spain EDITED BY

SUSAN SCHROEDER

University of Nebraska Press

Lincoln and London

Chapter 3 includes material originally published in Kevin Gosner, Soldters of the Virgin: The Moral Economy of a Colonial Maya Rebellion (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1992),

reprinted here with permission. © 1998 by the University of Nebraska Press All rights reserved Manufactured in the United States of America © The paper in this book meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

Library of Congress Cataloging-inPublication Data Native resistance and the Pax Colonial in New Spain / edited by Susan Schroeder.

p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-8032-4266-2 (cl : alk. paper). — ISBN 0-8032-9249-X (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Indians of Mexico—Government

relations. 2. Indians of Mexico—Wars. 3. Mexico—History—Spanish colony, 154.0—1810.

I. Schroeder, Susan. FI219.3.G6N37 1998

972'.02—DC2I 97-35833 CIP

Contents

List of Maps vi Acknowledgments 1x Introduction SUSAN SCHROEDER Xi

1 First-Generation Rebellions in Seventeenth-

Century Nueva Vizcaya SUSAN M. DEEDS I

2 Differential Response to Colonial Control among the Mixtecs and Zapotecs of Oaxaca RONALD SPORES 30

3 Religion and Rebellion in Colonial Chiapas KEVIN GOSNER 47

4 Culture, Community, and “Rebellion” in the Yucatec Maya Uprising of 1761 ROBERT W. PATCH 67

5 The Indian Insurgents of Mezcala Island on the Lake Chapala Front, 1812—1816 CHRISTON I. ARCHER 84

6 Some Thoughts on the Pax Colonial, Colonial Violence, and Perceptions of Both MURDO J. MACLEOD 129

V1 * CONTENTS

Notes 143 Bibliography 169 Contributors 189 Index 191

Maps

1 Regions and Cities of New Spain xii 2 Areas of Indian Rebellion in SeventeenthCentury Nueva Vizcaya 2 3 The Colonial Mixtec and Zapotec Heartland 32

4 Chiapas, Early Eighteenth Century 48 § Political-Ecclesiastical Districts (partidos)

in Eighteenth-Century Yucatan 68 6 Laguna de Chapala, 1810-21 86

Acknowledgments

Somewhat long in the making, this book began in March 1988 when former University of Nebraska Press acquisitions editor Patricia A. Knapp asked me to consider editing an anthology on native resistance. Her invitation anticipated a panel on the same subject that I chaired the following summer— actually 467 years almost to the day from when Aztec resistance to Spanish domination ended, symbolically at least, with Quauhtemoc’s surrender to Hernando Cortés. Of course, Indian societies in New Spain knew well the complex nature of resistance, as becomes all the more evident in this vol-

ume. Susan Deeds and Kevin Gosner, both contributors to this work, joined me as participants in San Francisco at that Pacific Coast Branch of the American Historical Association session in August 1988. Additionally, Michael C. Meyer, for years an editor for the University of Nebraska Press’s Latin American Studies Series, was supportive from the beginning and warrants special thanks for his ongoing interest in the project. This collection has taken many forms over the last decade, and I wish to gratefully acknowledge the present contributors for their staying power. I thank, especially, Eric Van Young and an anonymous reviewer for their in-

sightful comments upon reading the manuscript at an earlier stage. Respectfully, we have addressed their suggestions while keeping to our purpose. John Aubrey, Reference Librarian, Newberry Library, Chicago, was of great assistance, as always. And the late Wanda Sala, History Department

secretary at Loyola’s Water Tower Campus, warrants accolades for her word-processing skills, good nature, and forbearance as the book evolved over the years. My family—always interested, patient, and supportive, whether here or in California—I thank all of you once again. And finally,

xX * ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

dreading to think of just how much paper has been expended as we prepared our seemingly endless drafts and wishing to return to Mexico in some fashion even a minute portion of all that I have gained, I will add another dozen trees to an ongoing tree-planting project there. Susan Schroeder

Introduction °

SUSAN SCHROEDER

We should exterminate them! — Public declaration in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, January 1994, upon learning of indigenous

protestations in Chiapas It has been almost five hundred years since the Spaniards conquered the Indians of ancient Mexico Tenochtitlan; yet modern Mexico’s nonnative populations not uncommonly still feel threatened and angry whenever there is a manifestation by indigenous groups to make known their grievances.! Why this misplaced animosity toward Indians continues is hard to understand. The natives’ protests are usually localized and only mildly disruptive, taking the form of encampments on the capital’s zécalo or along its thoroughfares; more recently, however, they were broadcast globally by the media and received international attention even though the outbreak was centered in a distant southern state. Already as a panacea and doubtless as counterpoise to the quincentenary, the United Nations declared the year 1993 to be that of indigenous peoples. In North America, the United States designated 1992 the year of the American Indian, while Mexico’s Constitution was amended to officially place the country’s fifty-six extant indigenous languages on a

parity with Spanish—an important initiative toward recognizing its ten million native inhabitants.? Yet when Chiapas’s Mayas took up arms to protest their wretched living conditions and the dismal prospects for the future

that they anticipated because of the North American Free Trade Agreement, not all Mexican citizens were sympathetic. Nonnatives’ qualms are rooted in the colonial era, when Spaniards worried constantly about Indian uprisings and particularly about the vulnera-

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INTRODUCTION ® xill

bility of Mexico City, which, unlike contemporary European cities, was without fortifications and standard means of defense.* Eric Van Young traces this attitude back even farther, though, to “Augustinian elitism” and the tendency “to blame the victims for their victimization and miserable condition.”> Indeed, after conquest the lot of most Indians, at least in political and economic terms, changed drastically for the worse. Social and cultural transformations were less dramatic. The irony 1s that in most regions, and contrary to English and French dealings with natives in other parts of

North America, the Spaniards were dependent on the Indians’ labor and tribute, and they were quick to adapt native institutions to their purpose, especially when there were economic benefits to be had. Most indigenous groups acquiesced as long as it seemed advantageous in some way or another for their communities, for the imposed colonial system still served to maintain the integrity of many traditions. This is not to say that New Spain’s Indians did not fight back. From their earliest encounters with Europeans,

age-old traditions of resistance were manifested in their many forms. It should be kept in mind as well that even the Tlaxcalans, the Spaniards’ foremost allies, fought hard against Cortés and his men, throwing in with them only after accepting the dual realities of the Spaniards’ military superiority

and the potential personal advantages that would accrue if they were in league against the Aztecs. It took generations for the Spaniards to subdue Mexico’s native populations, and even then protests against Spanish exactions were not at all uncommon in the centuries that followed conquest.° Most often the uprisings were local and put down immediately. Then violence countered violence when the offenders were flogged, jailed, enslaved, sent into exile, or, on occasion, executed or made into lasting examples for everyone to see by the cutting off of their hands as a means of preventing progression to major revolts and regional insurrection.” The character, frequency, and ubiquity of Spanish retaliatory measures against native resistance are only recently receiving the attention that they warrant. Yet then and now the colonial era has typically been thought of as a peaceful time. To understand such a generalized perception in the face of apparent endemic violence is to appreciate the complexities of cultural adjust-

ments and accommodation between two very distinct societies over an extensive period of time. It was not military might that enforced the peace but instead systems of quotidian arrangements that worked more or less for both parties most of the time. The Pax Colonial was perceived by the Spaniards as the product and priv-

xiv * SUSAN SCHROEDER

ilege of conquest. It was an artificial construct that served to justify crown and church policies. Indeed, over the course of three hundred years there was no concerted wave across New Spain on the part of the Indians to oust the Spaniards. Moreover, other than an occasional presidio on the northern frontier, there were no Spanish garrisons strategically positioned to ensure crown hegemony. In fact, an idyllic pastorale was a not infrequent theme of colonial landscape paintings. The other extreme is perhaps that of the stereotypical, above-reproach colonial overlord who ravaged anyone and everything in his dominion. The Indians, of course, were a critical part of any scenario. The images are credible and serve at least as partial context for studying patterns of native resistance and episodes of rebellion. Of even greater importance, however, 1s consideration of cultural factors as they relate to resistance and other aspects of Spanish-Indian relations. Cataloging instances of ethnic uprising and large-scale rebellions in New Spain dramatizes this fictive peace; most useful, though, are analysis and comparison of the particular situations when traditionally effective mechanisms for dealing with the Spaniards failed and the dreaded rebellion resulted. The chapters in this book represent original, empirical studies of such occasions in New Spain. A complementary comparative analysis, however, 1s reserved for another, more comprehensive, undertaking. Definitions and descriptions of both active and passive forms of resistance in many regions of Latin America have been treated in several recent studies. Here, resistance is taken in its broadest sense in order to avoid either too simplistic interpretations or artificially rigid categories, for just about any expression of noncompliance on the part of the Indians was considered untoward by the Spaniards. What may today appear as a fairly innocuous activity (and probably not even “resistance”) was in the colonial period more likely an inchoate, then insidious, compounding reaction to pressure from the Spaniards. Recounted by the latter in their reports to officials about the Indians’ failures to comply were uncleanliness, laziness, thievery, drunkenness, failure to adhere to the sacraments, idolatry, fighting, and flight, among a litany of complaints about Indian behaviors. Of all, organized revolt was the most worrisome. All the while, many Spaniards prospered in the face of increasing hardships for the natives. But not all of New Spain’s Indian groups took up arms in rebellion; those who did appar-

ently suffered a cultural disequilibrium that could not be set right. And sometimes the violence was profound—the product of generations and even centuries of ideological, social, economic, and political accommodations to Spanish colonialism that finally no longer served.

INTRODUCTION ®* xv

Prelnspanic Precedents for Resistance in Early Mexico In spite of its protean qualities, Indian resistance was not unique to Spanish subordination. Often, peace, even in the prehispanic era, was little more than the by-product of a hard-fought, enforced Pax, quite like that of the Romans, the Aztecs, or the Spaniards. Preservation of the integrity of each indigenous polity, by whatever means, was an overarching concern for most native populations, whatever the region or group size. Traditional sovereignty was prized and zealously defended. For central Mexico, Nahuatl annals abound with accounts of aggression, conflict, and resistance.!0 Moreover, dating at least from the middle years of the fourteenth century, one well-known form of cultural resistance was institutionalized by means of ritual xochtyaoyotl (flower wars), thereby establishing an early pattern for

successful confrontation, subordination, accommodation—and cultural persistence. 1!

Scheduled and choreographed, troops of warriors, including both pzpiltin (noblemen) and macehualtin (commoners) from imperialistic and independent altepetl (ethnic states), met for military maneuvers and combat and sometimes for the taking of captives for sacrifice.!2 The xochiyaoyotl were

grandiose displays of superiority for new and prospective subordinate groups, and they were repeated from time to time for the same effect. Knowledge and anticipation of xochiyaoyotl permitted independent polities to consolidate and ready themselves.!3 Thus, over the course of 150 years,

even with subjugation, many essentials of the indigenous corporation remained intact, and it continued to function much as before. Writing in the 1620s, Nahua historian Chimalpahin noted ruefully that for his ancestors the golden age of the Chalca ended in 14.64 after years of xochiyaoyotl, with conquest by the Mexica.#* In truth, although royal lineages were interrupted

and the Mexica overlords appointed local rulers, in most other ways the Chalca ethnic state continued to flourish—for centuries afterward.!5 (It 1s worth noting that Chimalpahin registered no such complaint about conquest by the Spaniards; for him, the best of times were already in the past.)'¢

Additionally, some native ethnic states thwarted Aztec domination altogether and enjoyed their autonomy in spite of provocations.!” Generally, numerous forms of resistance to imperial Aztec hegemony were probably already in place and operating at various levels when Hernando Cortés and his men arrived at Veracruz. However, the formalized rules and battlegrounds for “flowery combat” were not practicable for the Spaniards. As might be expected, the Indians had a full range of alternatives to bring into play as they dealt with the colonists over the years. Many are

Xvl * SUSAN SCHROEDER

considered in the following chapters: for example, resistance in the form of indigenous-Christian organizations and rituals, revitalization and millenarian movements, litigation, token missionization, outright revolt, or a combination of one or several—to conserve the community and familiar ways of doing things. Prophetically, in speaking of resistance and describing the Chalca xochiyaoyotl in 376, Chimalpahin reported that only commoners died.}8 Centuries later, in 1956 and reflecting on the Mexican Revolution and violence in general, another Mexican Indian, Elias (Scarface) Caso in Naranja, Michoacan, echoed, “The generals live and the soldiers die.”!? The plea of the Chiapas Mayas resounds at the close of the millennium.

Colonialism and Patterns of Resistance in New Spain Spanish methods for negotiating with newly encountered sedentary populations were perfected on the islands and then brought to the mainland.?° Typically, there was a relatively favorable and mutual sizing up by both parties, some gift giving, and then the local indigenous leader was taken captive. Booty was brought as ransom, although the ruler was seldom set free. A bloody uprising followed, resulting in harsh reprisal by Spanish authorities, subjugation, and the beginning of a prolonged series of adjustments and readjustments between the conquerors and the natives. In Mexico City these interactions were particularly intense, as a colonial municipality was constructed on the ruins of the ancient capital with the labor and produce of the survivors of its former inhabitants. Life was harsh for most Indians, although a few managed to curry the favor of Spanish officials and priests, thereby enjoying considerable prestige and benefits. Often serving as intermediaries between the Spaniards and their own indigenous groups, such individuals existed and distinguished themselves wherever Spaniards were living among or needed the services of Indians. And when an outbreak of rebellion occurred, such a person or someone emulating the role frequently assumed a leadership position. On occasion, however, the intermediaries themselves were provocateurs of excessive hardship and were then the targets of the rebels, for they abused their positions to an extreme among their subjects. In the capital tensions were always high, and there were rules and barriers to keep Indians at a safe distance from the Spaniards. Little reported are the mundane goings-on in the city. Receiving lasting notice, however, are the two urban riots in the seventeenth century (essentially the only urban upheavals during the entire colonial period). The first, reportedly a protest

INTRODUCTION °* xvii

against high food prices in 1624, has been little studied, although the Indians certainly were involved in the attack on the viceroy’s palace. The riot of 1692 is more thoroughly documented, and the natives’ violent reaction to Spanish practices was a critical factor at this time as well. In both cases, however, the uprisings are believed to have essentially sought redress for local, imme-

diate hardships; they were apparently without a particular plan or leader; and they were not based on any great desire to overthrow the colonial regime.?! The result: officials responded with the usual colonial band-aid: palliative measures to obscure the grievance and keep it from festering, but no real substantive treatment or permanent change for the benefit of the native

population. Nevertheless, the gestures were sufficient to prevent generalized insurrection. In addition, it should be kept in mind that centralregion Indians had numerous other channels to exploit as they resisted the colonials—their immediate status and fueros (privileges); the Indian court; religious advocates, organizations, and practices; educational opportuni-

ties; and indigenous governmental institutions. Outside the capital, native populations were thinner and more mobile. Most often contact was later, and formerly successful Spanish formulas for negotiating tribute and labor arrangements with Indians proved inappropriate. Moreover, Spanish exploration and conquest did not radiate out of Mexico City and into the northern and southern frontiers in Armageddon fashion but rather depended upon existing opportunities for financial gain, whether it was to be realized in mineral or human resources.?? Most areas and native peoples in New Spain were known by the mid—sixteenth century, but effective colonization depended upon individual initiative and royal authorization. Even then Spanish ingenuity in the face of Indian intractability was frustrated repeatedly. On the northern frontier native resistance to Spanish intrusions was so formidable that at one point, in 1542, the viceroy personally led forces into combat.?4 Diplomacy, rewards, presidios, missions, even model Indians as colonizers eventually served to pacify local groups long enough to permit Spaniards entrée into a region. But once settled there were no guarantees of enduring peace. As more outsiders penetrated the territory and as demands

on the Indians increased, there were inevitably more violent confrontations.5 In other areas, such as the south-central valley, where Spanish activities were not as disruptive, native peoples continued to live where and as they had for centuries. Their peace was one already established by both warfare and alliance. During the colonial era the Indians most typically resorted

to the colonial legal system when there were conflicts. On the southern reaches of New Spain and in Yucatan the situation differed once again. In

XVIll * SUSAN SCHROEDER

these regions there were numerous settled Indian populations and Spaniards certainly colonized the area, but the paucity of mineral sources and plantation crops failed to produce substantial wealth. The tribute and labor of the local native groups were surely the most precious commodities, but seldom could they satisfy the demand.?6 We do not have the luxury of firsthand native-language accounts about

what transpired between Indians and Spaniards in most of these regions; therefore, for want of anything at all, we must resort to the Spanish perspective as recorded by local political and religious authorities and the official responses to those petitions. This is not to say that New Spain’s Indians were

without agency. James Lockhart, in his monumental treatise on colonial Nahuas, finds abundant evidence of indigenous presence and continuity through initiatives of cultural selectivity.2” Even with the imposition of a new religion and government there were carryovers from earlier times and a

paralleling of institutions and operations.28 Conservatism was such that even native languages experienced little significant change for at least one hundred years.?9 When necessary or especially useful, however, certain Spanish items and

methods were adopted quickly. Most conspicuous are the constant complaints about indigenous litigiousness, for the Indians used the courts just as the Spaniards did. Lockhart states, “By the late eighteenth century, almost

nothing of the entire indigenous ensemble was left untouched, yet at the same time almost everything went back in some form or another to a preconquest precedent.”3! With time and when possible, whether legal or not, the horse, metal tools, and weapons also became part of native culture. These items were particularly effective in thwarting subjugation by Spanish settlers on the northern borderlands. As indigenous horsemanship was perfected, especially by groups like the Comanches and the Apaches, whose feats of marksmanship and equestrianism terrified everyone, paradoxically a reverse intimidation ensued. European occupation was delayed or thwarted altogether, at least until the Indians and their horses were brought in tow.

Ethnolnstory and Selected Studies of Resistance in New Spain By design, the essays in this collection treat resistance and rebellion in New Spain alone. Although it is tempting to seek comparisons with like instances by indigenous peoples in other parts of the Americas, Europe, or Asia, the abundance of heretofore untapped archival materials, new data and fresh in-

INTRODUCTION °* xix

terpretations of what is known, an appreciation of the texts themselves, and a genuine effort to consider the indigenous perspective in spite of the bias in the sources afford the opportunity to contain the studies.32 Moreover, these essays are indigenous specific, for the intent of each is to consider the ethnic population on its own terms along with the relevant factors relating to resistance and rebellion. With this purpose and data reserve, neither the all-encompassing theoretical formulations, the terminology (subaltern, peasants, masses), or the urban-rural dichotomy approach standard for many recent studies has much application here. Most Indians were peasants and obviously land was important, but “territory,” with all its cultural baggage, was usually more at issue. Additionally, for the last twenty years there has been a definite tendency in the considerable scholarship on both Indians and Spaniards to work toward a more eclectic approach to our studies of native culture by incorporating the methodologies of ethnography, archaeology, oral history, art history, philology, and quantification with traditional approaches. With such a store, knowledge of the variety, complexity, and richness of

New Spain’s indigenous cultures is enough of a challenge, at least for present purposes. The essays span the middle to last years of the colonial period and follow a temporal and geographical coincidence, from the Xixime outbreak 1n 1610 in New Spain’s northwestern expanse to the south-central Oaxaca valley, then south to Chiapas and Yucatan, and back north, concluding with the valiant defense by the Indians of Mezcala Island of their Lake Chapala stronghold, which was caught up in the throes of the independence movement. With such ethnic and regional diversity, we are faced with the realization that neither sweeping generalizations nor the most erudite theories about what provokes native resistance and rebellion are adequate to encompass an almost infinite array of variations and contradictions.* Nor can we postulate precisely any or all Indian groups’ motives, methodologies, or outcomes. Rather, it seems that heterodoxy best characterizes most episodes of rebellion in these studies. For example, not one exactly follows Anthony Wallace’s classic, complex definition of revitalization.*4 Yet there is evidence on

the part of several groups of serious attempts at nativism but with an obvious overlay of Catholic dogma and practice. Perhaps New Spain’s Indians were indeed influenced by the Franciscans’ millenarian “euphoria” of the sixteenth century and adopted at least some of the ideology for their own religious and social movements later on.?5 This would explain, in part, the number and variety of prophets of hope and the particularities of each one of their programs for reform.36 And even though continuity of indigenous

Xx * SUSAN SCHROEDER

tradition is the prevailing leitmotif and evidently the primary goal for all groups studied, it is important to emphasize that over time the costs of resisting were great—noble lineages were in many cases terminated, political leaders lost their authority, territory and sovereignty were abrogated, and omnipotent deities were abandoned, to say nothing of profound demo-

graphic and economic losses. |

Nevertheless, the cultural protoplasm that gave shape and meaning to territory, corporatism, and world-view and withstood the “flower wars” of ancient times and the “conquests” of the present was still largely intact in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Charles Gibson speaks for the resistance and survival of many colonial Indian populations when he describes the archetype Tlaxcalans: “whatever other advantages the Tlaxcalans possessed for Cortés, there can be no doubt that their long resistance against the Mexican empire effectively prepared them for the position they were to occupy in conquest times.”3” How else to explain the Tlaxcalans as the first col-

onized group in New Spain and then as t#e model colonizers among alien Indians all over New Spain? Native populations in northern New Spain had knowledge of Spaniards by virtue of their diseases, metal tools and weapons, and livestock long before having to confront any of them face-to-face.38 Additionally, the changes in the social environment were compounded by increasing restiveness following news of actual Spanish incursions, like the atrocities committed by Nufio de Guzman on his slaving expeditions in the 1530s, the Mixt6n War in the 154.08, and the Chichimeca War of the 15s0s—1600.% Hostilities in-

creased across the region; however, there were no further major, organized Indian uprisings until the seventeenth century. But then it was no zephyr wafting across the frontier but torrents of prolonged, often concerted and devastating retaliatory movements against the intruders. Susan Deeds, in “First-Generation Rebellions in Seventeenth-Century Nueva Vizcaya,” examines the early revolts by Xixime, Tepehuan, and Tarahumara populations in Nueva Vizcaya, a subject and region that have received little attention until now. Over the course of the seventeenth century all three groups were tentatively brought under the influence of governmental and religious authorities, and all tried at some point to rid themselves of the Spaniards but not necessarily of everything Spanish. Traditionally ethnocentric and often engaged in intertribal warfare, they nevertheless did not hesitate to form alliances to overcome a common enemy. Basing her analysis on Jesuit reports and judicial proceedings, including Indian testimonies, Deeds explores what distinguished first-generation revolts by these tribes from later rebellions. Often the latter were the product

INTRODUCTION ° xxi

of socioeconomic attrition resulting from centuries of exploitation. In the earlier period the tribes’ relatively recent yet very disruptive contacts with Spaniards were combined with vivid recollections of a not too distant former way of life. The disruptions of first contact were soon made worse by the horrors wrought by Spanish diseases, Jesuit congregations of scattered populations into missions, the rigors of Christianity, and a different sort of work ethnic. These were cause enough for native leaders, many already displaced, to rally forces to prevent further disintegration of their traditions and communities. Of particular interest, and a recurring theme, 1s that in spite of their rather brief association with the Spaniards, each group made use of Christian and royal symbols to regain some form of local autonomy. In Oaxaca native resistance was expressed in almost as many ways as there

were to do so in all New Spain. Yet Ronald Spores, in “Differential Response to Colonial Control among the Mixtecs and Zapotecs of Oaxaca,” identifies characteristics unique to the region. Following the violent first encounters and occasional retaliatory measures, Spores finds little evidence of

endemic caste- or class-based animosity or warfare between Indians and Spaniards. Rather, when conflict occurred it was a particular native group’s response to a local administrator’s outrageous demands for labor and tribute. Types and extremes of resistance depended on the intensity of Spanish occupation and activity. Moreover, Spores shows that intertribal conflicts (in many instances, a condition from the prehispanic era) were both common and frequent, and most significantly, Spanish institutions were inevitably the basis for conflict resolution. Indian groups all over Oaxaca optimized Spanish systems, especially during periods of community crisis, to reestablish local identity and harmony, at least for a time. Farther south, in Chiapas, the conjunction of Maya cosmology with Spanish Catholicism furnished ready devices for most native populations to develop safeguard mechanisms to ensure the integrity of surviving traditions. Yet here, as elsewhere, passive resistance could not resolve the burdens of colonialism indefinitely. In “Religion and Rebellion in Colonial Chiapas,” Kevin Gosner’s graphic portrayal of events leading to violent insurrection by Tzeltal Mayas brings to light a situation of despair prototypically nativistic yet manifestly imbued with Christian ritualistic paraphernalia. Gosner probes for colonial causes precipitating the crisis while giving full consideration to immediate social and cultural factors intrinsic to Maya practices that resulted in the breakdown of the movement. Appreciating the limitations of standard Europe- (and elsewhere) based

theoretical formulations about politicoeconomic systems for explaining patterns of native resistance in the Americas, Robert Patch, in “Culture,

Xxll * SUSAN SCHROEDER

Community, and ‘Rebellion’ in the Yucatec Maya Uprising of 1761,” finds ev-

idence enough of cultural factors as key determinants contributing to the Jacinto Canek rebellion in Yucatan. After two centuries of colonialism, the realities (and disparities) of Spanish-Maya cultural heterogeneity were exemplified in indigenous Christian syncretism and in a European-styled political structure that operated in Maya ways. In fact, the Mayas of Yucatan

enjoyed considerable cultural persistence, through their knowledge of Spanish, ancient American, and colonial histories, which they understood to be cyclical and cause for revitalization. In particular, Patch analyzes both the colonial context and the “mentalité’ of those who took part in the Maya cultural revanche to explain the preeminence of Spanish Catholic symbolism and practice in what essentially was very much a nativistic endeavor. Christon Archer, in “The Indian Insurgents of Mezcala Island on the Lake Chapala Front, 1812-1816,” presents yet another configuration of native resistance—one that obfuscates Mexican historiography about political ide-

alism as the basis for indigenous participation in the battles for independence. He details a war within a war in the region of Nueva Galicia, where Tarascans, Nahuas, and other local populations combined forces against the royalist cause. Fortifying themselves on the Mezcala Island garrison in Lake Chapala, the Indians were able to hold off the Spaniards for years, most often using little more than an ancient war complex of stones, bows, arrows, and supply canoes. The story is reminiscent of similar efforts three hundred years before, when superior Spanish technology ultimately prevailed and brought about the surrender of the Aztecs’ island capital, Mexico Tenochtitlan. But the Mezcala Indians’ hold was more lasting, their advantage enhanced with symbolic irony when they captured and beached on their own shore the launch Fernando en su Trono (named specially and in honor of the Spanish king’s restoration to power), which was custom-built, munitioned, and manned by the royalists expressly for the destruction of the natives on the island. Detailed and evocative, and in a sense classic military history, Archer’s essay further looks for and finds evidence to support traditional Na-

tive American world-views as justification enough for all-out insurrection against the Spaniards. How to understand so much violence in a region otherwise described as peaceful? Murdo MacLeod goes beyond specific analyses of native resistance and episodes of revolt to situate the realities of three centuries of violence in New Spain in a facade of “colonial peace.” In “Some Thoughts on the Pax Colonial, Colonial Violence, and Perceptions of Both,” MacLeod challenges researchers to set politics aside and consider instead the social,

INTRODUCTION ®* xxii

economic, and cultural contexts for and outcomes of native resistance in more general terms. In spite of an impressive array of official legislative and judicial practices,

the crown could not adequately police or keep in check a wide range of abuses within the colonies. Hence, violence was pervasive; nor was it the province of any one institution, group, or gender.#° The ubiquity of violence across New Spain’s societies is therefore good reason to consider root causes as we try to interpret even indigenous resistance. In a sense, it seems, and following Albert Camus in speaking of another sort of plague, violence was for the colony its own “never ending defeat.”!

Native Resistance

and the Pax Colonial in New Spain

CHAPTER 1

Furst-Generation Rebellions in Seventeenth-Century Nueva Vizcaya SUSAN M. DEEDS

The seventeenth-century northern frontier of New Spain experienced succeeding waves of indigenous revolt, beginning with the Acaxees in 1601 and ending with the Tarahumara uprisings of the 1690s. In between fell two rebellions that most threatened the Spanish presence on the frontier: the Tepehuan rebellion of 1616—20 and the Pueblo rebellion of 1680, which drove the Spaniards out of New Mexico for twelve years. The Nueva Vizcayan rebellions have not been studied in depth by historians in spite of scholarly fascination during the past decade with the topic of colonial revolts.! The interest in Latin American rebellions stemmed from a variety of trends, including increased attention to ethnohistory and the borrowing of anthro-

pological theory and method to study the history of subjugated ethnic groups; attempts to combine cultural and economic factors to explain the degree to which subject groups are incorporated by dominant societies; and the tendency to emphasize cultural survival and a self-consciously active role assumed by subject peoples. In these directions, Latin Americanists have tended to be followers of dominant trends in European and South Asian historiography.” Rebellion studies also provide fertile ground for testing postmodern critiques of social-science theories. Face-to-face with dominant ideologies now in crisis, historians seem to be drawn more by the prospect of highlighting the nuances and unique complexities of individual texts and events than by the potential for ordering diversity in overarching explanations.? Territorially widespread rebellions of linguistically unified indigenous peoples were not a prominent feature of central Mexico’s colonial land-

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FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA ° 3

scape. In a seeming paradox, they occurred more frequently in comparatively politically decentralized areas at. the fringes of New Spain. Nonetheless, it would be misleading to suggest that there is a category of “mission revolts” with uniform characteristics. Uprisings such as the Pueblo rebellion of 1680 and the Yaqui rebellion of1740, which occurred after at least a century of Spanish occupation, arose out of a more complex mix of variables than the “first-generation” rebellions in northern mission areas.* This article

will consider several first-generation revolts, uprisings that took place within a generation or two of Spanish settlement in Nueva Vizcaya: those of the Xiximes in 1610; the Tepehuanes in 1616; and the Tarahumaras at midcentury and in the 1690s. Were these first-wave rebellions uniform in their characteristics? How did the timing of these revolts distinguish them from later revolts in terms of both Spanish presence and demands and indigenous religious and socioeconomic structures? How do the revolts fit within a range of local indigenous responses to Spanish intrusion?® The last rebellions of the Tarahumaras will be examined in more depth, using the detailed interrogations of Indian prisoners that survive in the documentary record.” For the historian of oral societies these records are particularly enticing because they promise to form a rare documentary stage from

which indigenous voices can be projected. The judicial and extrayudicial processes employed in investigating rebellions produced detailed interrogatories and other documents that allow us to actually hear the Tarahumaras’ own testimony. Or do they? The Indians’ story often passes through two or more filters. Can we edit out the possible distortions of the translator and the scribe? And what do we know about the unwritten rules that guided the interrogation—the agenda of the judges, whose powers were unlimited? Not only must one know the intruder in order to interpret the native, but one must also consider the degree of subjectivity embodied 1n the process of ethnographic description itself.8 In general, the sources for reconstructing Tarahumara history are richer because Tarahumara peoples have survived in significant numbers to this day. Nonetheless, much more archaeological research 1s necessary to correct for ethnographic upstreaming in the case of the Tarahumaras and Tepehuanes and to corroborate the colonial Spanish sources in the case of the Xiximes. Each of these groups inhabited either the mountain canyons of the Sierra Madre Occidental or the valleys and hills of the central plateau between Durango and Chihuahua (see map 2). The entrada of Francisco de Ibarra into this area in the 1ssos was followed in the latter part of the century by silver discoveries and Spanish settlement at Santa Barbara, Guanacevi, and Indé (1s60s and 1570s) as well as Topia and San Andrés (1580s). Sierra Madre In-

4 * SUSAN M. DEEDS

dian groups shared certain common features: the cultivation of corn, beans, squash, chilies, and cotton adjacent to dispersed, small villages and settlements of smaller numbers of contiguous households (rancherias); frequent

warfare with associated ritual cannibalism; polytheism and worship of idols; the presence of shamans or ritual specialists (bechiceros); and a decen-

tralized political structure that relied on the leadership of elders in peacetime and on war leaders to deal with outsiders. Although there is some evidence that these groups may have had a more complex, hierarchical political structure in the early sixteenth century, by the time of effective Spanish settlement none of them was reported to have a tribal leader.? However, some caciques may have had jurisdiction over more than one rancheria or settlement. The nature of the jurisdiction of these authority figures, whether political or military, is not clear, but early-seventeenth-century Jesuit reports imply political disaggregation and describe intratribal warfare. Yet some Indian polities had decidedly urban features: for example, the fortified houses and plazas of the Xiximes.!°

Although a few Franciscan missions were established in northwestern Durango, until the s90s the main Spanish presence was secular: civilians and a few soldiers associated with silver mining and its supporting activities.!! Labor for the mines came from imported black slaves, Indian slaves captured in warfare, and paid workers, including Indians from, the south, mestizos, and mulattoes. Encomiendas of local Indians, especially Acaxees from the area around Topia and Conchos from southeastern Chihuahua, also provided labor when sufficient Spanish force was present to coerce it. The more systematic congregation of Indians into villages by Jesuits after 1590 furthered the development of encomienda and repartimiento (forced labor draft) .!2 Forced labor was not the only gift of the Spaniards; epidemics of smallpox and measles had begun to take their toll in the sixteenth century and disease episodes occurred at five- to eight-year intervals into the seventeenth, producing high mortality rates. Jesuit reports during the 1s90s mention a variety of indigenous responses to such catastrophic change, including abandonment of and even burying alive the sick. Child sacrifice may also have been practiced as a trade-off to restore health to dying adults.!* Armed resistance was another option. The Acaxees were the first of the Sierra Madre groups to choose it, in 1601. By 1604 this attempt—which was characterized by messianic leadership and promises of millennial redemption—had been brutally repressed by

Spaniards, resulting in the death and resettlement of thousands of Acaxees. !4

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA ° §

Xixime Rebellion of 610 During the first decade of the seventeenth century, Jesuits and civil authorities also attempted to congregate the Xiximes, the Acaxees’ traditional enemies and neighbors to the south. According to the Jesuits, the Xiximes were the most bellicose of all Nueva Vizcayan Indians, and Jesuits’ descriptions invariably included a detailed account of the Xiximes’ practice of cannibalism.!5 Before going off to battle, the Xiximes would leave a young virgin fasting in a cave. Returning warriors would bring her the severed head of one of their victims, presenting it as her husband. She would hold the head in her hands, whispering endearments, and then, along with other women, dance with this and other heads to the beat of drums. This ritual was followed by a great fiesta in which flesh from the bodies of victims was consumed in a stew of corn and beans; thus the Xiximes absorbed the bravery of their enemies. Bones from the bodies were kept as a way of trapping the souls of their enemies, apparently to prevent these spirits from doing them harm. If the warriors were not victorious, it was said that the young woman

had not fasted or was not a virgin, and she was banished. Despite the Xiximes’ cannibalism, Spaniards considered them to be more civilized than surrounding Indians because some of their settlements resembled villages, with fortified stone houses and plazas. To Spaniards, urban living was a key ingredient of civilization. Civilized or not, the Xiximes were not receptive to Spanish overtures. Although in the last few years of the first decade of the seventeenth century they refrained from attacking the newly established Acaxee missions that bordered their territory to the north, by 1610 they were prepared to forcibly resist Spanish intrusion, having stockpiled stores of arrows in stone forti-

fications. Promising immortality to warriors, shamans tried to lure both Acaxees and Tepehuanes to join them. When the Acaxees did not comply,

Xixime rebels began to attack their settlements, taking advantage of the weakened condition of these neighbors who had succumbed by the thousands to the smallpox epidemic of 1606—7. The disease had also spread into Xixime territory and fueled shamans’ allegations that association with Spaniards would bring death. Jesuit churches were construed as temples of disease (Nahuatl: cocoliztli, “epidemic” disease), and true immortality could result only if Xiximes destroyed them.!© Governor Urdijiola first responded to Acaxee pleas for aid by trying dip-

lomatic measures. Nonetheless, after an emissary returned from Xixime country reporting that the Xiximes had rejected a Spanish offer of peace,

6 * SUSAN M. DEEDS

adding that they liked the taste of Spanish flesh, Urdifola waited for the summer rains to subside and then entered the rugged Xixime homeland on foot with two hundred armed Spaniards and eleven hundred Indian allies. Although Jesuit reports of Xixime ritual cannibalism in warfare contain plausible elements, Xiximes probably deliberately manipulated Spanish fears and revulsion over this practice in hopes of scaring them off. The accounts of the Xixime rebellion are not explicit about the nature of its leadership, but they do mention warrior caciques and even a reyezuelo (little king), revered as a god, who provided messianic leadership and had at least wartime jurisdiction over many settlements. By October, Urdifiola’s scorched-earth tac-

tics and relentless pursuit resulted in the surrender of principal insurgent leaders, ten of whom were hanged. Other rebels were sold into slavery. Upon finding nearly two thousand skulls and untold numbers of bones in Xixime rancherias, Spanish soldiers continued to burn fields and houses, and they helped the Jesuits (bearing gifts of tools, seed, and livestock) congregate Xiximes from sixty-five settlements in five new missions. Silver was discovered at San José de Basis, and Spanish miners took advantage of the forcibly imposed peace to exploit it.!”

Tepehuan Rebellion of 1616 Compared to the Acaxee uprising (1601-4), Xixime resistance had erupted within fewer years of effective contact with Spaniards but had been more easily contained. The next rebellion, that of the Tepehuanes, occurred after two generations of contact with Spaniards and within a generation of con-

gregation in missions by Jesuits. It attracted support from other Indian groups, including Acaxee and X1xime apostates and some Tarahumara gentiles (non-Christians), and posed the most serious challenge to Nueva Vizcayan Spanish settlements, the oldest of which had been extant for barely a half-century. The Jesuits began work in 1596 among the Tepehuanes, some of whom had already established regular contact with Spanish miners and hacendados by trading corn for cloth and tools, and less frequently through their labor.

Most early sources report that the Tepehuanes were not easily lured by Spanish gifts to work in mines, but there are indications that some Tepehuanes were assigned in encomienda.'8 In 1597, although a number of Tepehuanes had been baptized, none were yet living in Jesuit missions. Those who

had accepted baptism probably did so as an additional protection against disease. Father Gerénimo Figueroa noted in 1596 that the Tepehuanes

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA °* 7

greatly feared comets, which they believed to be omens of great sickness and death. They planted mulpas at the mission sites of Santiago Papasquiaro and Santa Catalina de Tepehuanes (where other Indians were paid to dig irrigation ditches and begin construction of churches), but they resisted building their houses there and were especially reluctant to enter the churches, which

they called houses of the dead because Spaniards were buried beneath them.! Still, the fathers were encouraged by the Tepehuanes’ intelligence (young people were quick to memorize the catechism) and their honesty. By 1610 the first two Tepehuan missions plus a third at Zape were inhabited by Indians who had been given seeds, tools, clothing, and livestock by a civilian population eager to attract their services.2° These three sites were conveniently located near Spanish mines and haciendas. Farther north, Tepehuanes from the Sierra de Ocotlan had sought baptism in late 1607, just at the time that the smallpox epidemic claimed many victims.?! Persistently, the Jesuits sought to eliminate idolatry, ceremonial drinking, and polygyny. Since all of these practices were linked to subsistence activities and kinship reciprocity systems, the priests threatened not only the spiritual but also the social and economic bases of Tepehuan society. Traditional means of placating gods, assuring good harvests, and organizing labor were forbidden. The fathers achieved some success despite their daily battles with Indian shamans who claimed immortality when told they would go to hell if they refused to convert. At least some Tepehuanes believed that the Jesuits possessed stronger spiritual medicine than their own shamans. It has been argued that Nueva Vizcayan Indians at first accepted, even invited, Jesuits, who were perceived as having the power to help them reconstitute their former polities.2? Certainly their world had been turned upside down by disease but also by the disruption of previous relations with surrounding groups. Not only had the Tepehuanes taken Acaxee and Tarahumara women in warfare, but the Jesuits believed that a tributary relationship had existed in which Acaxees had provided corn, beans, and squash to the

Tepehuanes.”3 Furthermore, there were new Indian groups to contend with. Tlaxcalan Indians from central Mexico formed small nuclei in the Tepehuan missions, intended to teach agricultural techniques and Christian practices by example. In this climate of flux some Indians conformed, even

overcoming their fear of confession, but many others took advantage of whatever protections and gifts the missions offered without abandoning their small stone idols and ritual dances performed away from the missions. Given such dislocation and uncertainty, it must have made sense to hedge one’s bets, to maintain a balancing act that could garner as much protection as possible without inviting retribution from any of several supernaturals.

8 * SUSAN M. DEEDS

Even though some Jesuits, like Juan Font, remained optimistic in spite of the slow progress of conversion, others noted unrest and increased pilfering of livestock and called for the establishment of a presidio.”4 Their fears were not unfounded. In late 1616 the Tepehuan rebellion erupted with the violent deaths of as many as three hundred Spaniards and threatened to envelop all of northern New Spain.?> Although we cannot estimate contact populations with any certainty, the Tepehuan population was probably double that of the Acaxees and Xiximes combined. As had been the case with the Acaxees and Xiximes, messianic leadership and millenarianism provided ideological underpinning for the rebellion.?¢

This is hardly surprising, given the cataclysmic changes brought by Europeans. Millenarianism characterized postconquest clandestine religious resistance as well as revolt in other areas of the Spanish colonial empire where religious authorities responded by carrying out vigorous anti-idolatry campaigns. For example, the Andean Taqui Ongoy movement of the 1560s predicted a millenarian upheaval that would wipe out all traces of the Spanish past.?7 Not all future utopias would obliterate everything Spanish or Christian, however. Yucatecan Mayas predicted a coming cycle of prosperity in which Christian cosmology had a place.?8 The degree to which Christian symbols were incorporated into millennial thought, in either first-generation or later resistance, varied widely.?° In 1615 an Indian shaman called Quautlatas and “bishop,” some said from

New Mexico, had begun preaching among the Tepehuanes around Durango. He carried an icon that he called the Son of God and that resembled Jesus on the cross. He also had two letters said to be from God the Father, which exhorted the Indians to rise up against the Spaniards, who had stolen their lands and enslaved them. Priests were not to be spared; in fact the Indians should immediately cease to attend Mass or partake of any sacraments that only strengthened the fathers. In order to quell the fears of the fainthearted the shaman promised that any Indian warrior killed in battle would be resurrected after seven days and even be made young again. A victory would also restore their lands and produce abundant fields and cattle. No Spanish reinforcements would come because their ships would be sunk. He added a warning: if the Indians failed to take up arms, God the Father (also called the Sun God) would exact retribution through plagues or famine or by opening the earth to swallow them up.?0 According to the Jesuits, Quautlatas also appointed disciples to spread the word, giving them letters (cartas) and idols. Talking idols began to appear, calling for the worship of ancient gods. Not surprisingly, the Jesuit fathers attributed this agitation to demons, who took many forms.3! They

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA * 9

drew on counterreformation reconstructions of medieval concepts regarding the devil’s role in championing sin.?2 What 1s difficult to unravel 1s the extent to which their versions of demonic inspiration for rebellion coincide with Tepehuan messianism and millenarian belief. Eventually, missionary condemnations elicited a response from civil authorities. One of the “deviP’s” disciples, don Melchor of Santiago Papasquiaro, was arrested for idolatry and publicly flogged. Nonetheless, despite reports of the stockpiling of arrows, Spanish authorities did not yet appreciate the gravity of the threat. Don Melchor, apparently a person of status, continued to agitate, as did others, carrying their message to Acaxees, Xiximes, Tarahumaras, Conchos, Laguneros, and other surrounding indigenous groups. Tepehuan shamans claimed that the rebellion would spread from Zacatecas to New Mexico and that mestizos and mulattoes would join them. Subsequent reports of the re-

bellion note the participation of blacks, probably slaves who had been brought by first settlers.34 Both the efforts at organization and the comment about Spanish ships suggest that the Tepehuanes had a relatively sophisticated awareness of their new geopolitical situation.

Information on preparations for the rebellion 1s scanty, but organizational ability and wide-ranging communication are evident. Insurgents were divided among six different captains, or war leaders, who set 21 November 1616 as the date for a coordinated attack on many Spanish settlements, including Durango.* The twenty-first of November was significant because the Feast of the Presentation of the Virgin Mary would be held that day in the mission of San Ignacio de Zape, and many Spaniards and Jesuits would attend. Nonetheless, the rebellion began prematurely when on 16 November Tepehuanes led by Gogojito attacked a mule train carrying Spanish goods to Topia. Within the next few days the rebels laid siege to the missions of Santiago Papasquiaro, Santa Catalina, and Zape; the real (mining town)

of Guanacevi; and surrounding haciendas (among them, Atotonilco, Guatimape, and La Sauceda) and ranchos. More than two hundred Spaniards, including eight Jesuits, one Franciscan, and one Dominican, were killed with arrows, clubs, spears, and axes within the first few days of the revolt. During their sieges, rebels mocked priests with Latin phrases and then subjected them to great humiliations before slaying them and often mutilating their bodies. As they laid waste to the missions, Indians celebrated by flogging statues of the Virgin Mary, using crucifixes and crosses as targets, urinating on the Host, and holding mock processions in which Indian women dressed as the Virgin. Here the use and abuse of Christian elements demonstrates not only a rejection of these elements but also a certain ambivalence about their power and how it could be undermined. Churches were burned

IO * SUSAN M. DEEDS

and their ornaments, vestments, and other religious objects desecrated. Often horses were killed, while cattle, mules, tools, and weapons were taken by the Indians. Some black and mulatta women were taken prisoner. Killing and sacking were followed by feasting, drinking of communion wine, and dancing.%6

Word of the rebellion reached Durango by 18 November, and Governor Gaspar de Alvear y Salazar summoned Tepehuan leaders from villages surrounding Durango. Distrusting their claims to know nothing of the rebellion, he ordered seventy of them hanged. Durango was attacked on 22 No-

vember, but the rebels were driven back. Still, the Spaniards had been caught unprepared, and their initial response was weak. Only in late December was Alvear able to lead a column of Spanish militia and Indian allies (mainly Conchos) from Durango to aid those surviving Spaniards who had managed to hold off the Indians at Guanacevi and La Sauceda. Between December 1616 and February 1617 the governor engaged small rebel forces on several occasions. Some warriors were killed and a few were taken captive. The majority of prisoners were women and children. Spanish forces also discovered caches of corn and other supplies stored in caves. A more decisive turn occurred in February, when a principal Tepehuan leader, Gogojito, was captured and executed in Guarisamey. He had taken refuge in Xixime territory and had attracted allies among that recently subdued group as well as among Acaxees. Using material gifts and in some cases the promise of political authority in conquered pueblos, the Spaniards convinced many Xixime and Acaxee allies to turn on the Tepehuanes. Indians were promised a specified number of items for each Tepehuan head.?7 If the Tepehuanes had been using force to expand their territory prior to the arrival of the Spanish, their neighbors were probably pleased to see Tepehuan authority undermined. In succeeding forays, a number of other rebel leaders were captured and executed in the mountains between Guarisamey and Santiago Papasquiaro. Nonetheless, the rebellion was not suppressed for several more years, as

the remaining rebels retreated to mountainous areas, difficult of access, from which they conducted occasional raids. For a time they continued to attract support among Acaxees, Xiximes, Conchos, and Tarahumaras, who were impressed by the Tepehuanes’ early successes and the weak Spanish re-

sponse. Furthermore, Tepehuan leaders took advantage of the appearance of such supernatural omens as earthquakes, comets, and unusual storms to demonstrate divine favor for their cause. The Indian governor of Teguciapa defected to the rebels, warning that Acaxees who did not follow him would fall victim to epidemic or be swallowed up in snow-filled mountain crevices.

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA ° II

On the other hand, his god promised them a long life, abundant food, and the freedom to engage in ritual drinking. Even in the pueblos that remained loyal to the Spaniards, Jesuits saw spies everywhere and doubted that the Indians, because of ignorance and fear, could resist rebel pressures. Reinforcements eventually came from Sinaloa and Mexico City (almost a year after the rebellion began), and rebel fighters, increasingly cut off from food supplies

and unused to prolonged warfare, were slowly ferreted out of their hiding places.38 Principal leaders were hanged and other captives tortured and sold into slavery. As Spanish returns diminished in guerrilla warfare, they increasingly offered amnesty to Indians who would make peace. In 1619 the governor persuaded Tepehuan and Tarahumara rebels to lay down their arms. Tepehua-

nes led by a cacique named Tucumudagui had persuaded some Concho fugitives from Franciscan missions and Tarahumaras in the San Pablo Valley to join them in prolonging the rebellion. Tucumudagui alleged that “a single naked, unarmed Tepehuan could easily turn back ten armed Spaniards.” After Governor Alvear inadvertently captured the cacique’s wife and daughter, he was able to win the trust of the Tarahumaras with gifts of cloth and to

negotiate an amnesty with Tucumudagui and his sons. The old cacique, known for his military prowess, reportedly commanded eight hundred Tepehuanes and Tarahumaras armed not only with native weapons but also with captured Spanish arquebuses. From the San Pablo Valley Governor Alvear marched south to Zape, where Tepehuan caciques had agreed to meet

for relocation to new settlements in 1620.3? In 1622 Governor Mateo de Vesga was still congregating Indians in villages, using cloth, tools, and cattle to entice them.*#° Some Tepehuanes eluded this resettlement by migrating to Tarahumara areas not yet penetrated by the mining economy. The Tepehuan rebellion had cost the crown more than a million pesos in direct aid and loss of revenue from a ravaged mining economy. As many as three hundred Spaniards and more than a thousand Indians lost their lives. Once again the Spaniards, civil and religious alike, blamed the devil. Spanish solidarity stands in contras: to the eventual collapse of rebel alliances. In-

dian accounts of the revolt, known to us only through Jesuit eyes and the testimony of other non-Indians, identify the actions of priests and Spanish miners and landowners as causal factors.4! The Jesuits and their rites of baptism were clearly linked to death from disease. They had no monopoly on this power, of course, and Tepehuanes convinced many Acaxees in 1617 that their Sun God had brought the recent epidemic of peste y sarampton (pesti-

lence and measles) to those converts who refused to join the rebellion. If uncertainty prevailed over which religious authorities would win in this

I2 * SUSAN M. DEEDS

arena, Spanish priests were more vulnerable to attack for their outright prohibitions of proven, familiar rituals and kinship patterns. Although the ev1dence is only suggestive, most fomenters and leaders of the rebellion seem

to have been former shamans and warriors who had lost their avenues of prestige in a new political structure controlled by the Jesuits.# If elders had earlier sought the help of these outsiders, they had not expected the degree of displacement that befell them. Nor had the Jesuits been very effective in protecting their charges from labor service and other acquisitive demands

of an already established Spanish community, that other source of their discontent. A tenuous peace, wrought by juxtaposing violent Spanish retribution in

executions and forced labor against gentler bribes of goods, prevailed through the 1630s and into the 1640s, when raiding by desert Indians to the east became an unceasing aggravation. Furthermore, the northern advance of the Jesuit mission frontier into Tarahumara territory did not bode well for the future.44 A more detailed account of Tarahumara first-generation responses follows, drawing on a richer base of ethnographic documents.

Tarahbumara Rebellions of the 1690s In the colonial period Tarahumaras inhabited the western and eastern canyons of the Sierra Madre Occidental of western Chihuahua and the rolling grasslands farther east and south. The most inaccessible canyons and slopes on the western side have served as a region of refuge, attracting the Tarahumaras in a gradual migratory process since the beginning of the seventeenth

century. The rugged terrain of pine forests and precipitous canyons (as much as a mile deep) rather grudgingly accommodates subsistence farming and livestock raising at high altitudes and in canyon bottoms. The nature of the terrain also discourages large population concentrations, helping to ex-

plain why small clusters of Tarahumaras have lived there in dispersed rancherias since at least the seventeenth century. One observer put it this way: “the settlements in all this territory are so scattered that there are scarcely

two huts anywhere that aren’t separated by more than a league.”# The geographic isolation and relative lack of readily exploitable and marketable natural resources afforded some protection from Spanish penetration. The initial lack of interest on the part of Spanish settlers primarily interested in silver was countered by Jesuits looking to expand their mission fields. Early in the seventeenth century the Jesuits persuaded a few Tarahumaras living in the plains east of the Sierra Madre to come south to their Te-

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA °* 133

pehuan missions despite the traditional enmity between the two groups. Some of these eastern Tarahumaras also went to work in the silver mines established at Parral after 1630 and exchanged their corn and other agricultural products for Spanish clothing and tools.* In 1639 the Jesuits began to found the first missions inside Tarahumara country along the Rio Conchos. Because these missions were not far from the agricultural estates that supplied the mines, their inhabitants became vulnerable to Spanish labor demands. Why did these Tarahumaras choose to live in missions? Contemporary Jesuit accounts cite the lure of protection from their Tepehuan enemy.*” They were also interested in access to Spanish goods. Apparently, however, they exchanged one problem for another. Congregacion (concentration of numerous indigenous sociopolitical units into single clusters) made them readily available to supply labor, not voluntarily as many had elected earlier but in repartimiento. Escalating demands for mining and agricultural labor in Parral and the Valle de San Bartolomé in the 164.08 provoked what would become a characteristic response by the Tarahumaras, that of flight (and see Ronald Spores’s discussion in chapter 2).48 In 1648 Tarahumara Indians, mainly unconverted gentiles but also some runa-

way apostates, led an attack on Spanish settlements and the westernmost muission.*? Within a few months they were defeated by Governor Diego Guajardo Fajardo, who decided to consolidate the victory by establishing a Spanish town, Villa de Aguilar, in the heart of Tarahumara country to the northwest. The Jesuits founded Papigochi mission nearby. These new intrusions precipitated the rebellions of 1650 and 1652, in which two missionaries lost their lives. Although the Spaniards, with the aid of loyal auxiliaries from the Tarahumara Baja missions and other Indian groups, suppressed the rebellions, these revolts succeeded in discouraging settlement for the time being and drove the frontier back to the area just west of Parral.5° Not until twenty years later did the Jesuits move into the interior of Tarahumara country, only after some difficulty in securing official approval. Between 1674 and 1678 the order established six missions in the new Tarahumara Alta province. By 1683 there was a total of nine. Still, the fathers of the Tarahumara Alta could not easily convince their neophytes to settle in villages. In a long report to their superior in Mexico City, Fathers José Tarda and Tomas de Guadalajara discussed the “demonic” challenges they faced, echoing many of the concerns voiced by their predecessors to the south.*! The report reveals not only their frustrations but also a variety of methods of passive resistance employed by the Indians. Several practices were particularly troublesome to the priests. Foremost among them were the drinking parties (tesgiitnadas) in which Indians con-

14 * SUSAN M. DEEDS

sumed alcohol fermented from corn or agave.*2 The missionaries categorized these as mere borracheras (debauches), without understanding the important social processes they represented in bringing together small groups of isolated individuals to cooperate in work projects and to transact business. The concept of reciprocity was an integral part of tesgiinadas hosted by a family needing help in some task. Since tesgiiinadas also accompanied many kinds of ritual activity and probably involved some type of reciprocity with cosmic power, the Jesuits were particularly anxious to end these symbolic displays of the devil’s power. Even more abhorrent than drunkenness were the sexual promiscuity and violence that tesgiiinadas encouraged among people whom the Spaniards nearly always characterized as peaceful. The missionaries attempted to substitute liturgical festivals for native ritual celebrations, and they hosted large fiestas, sometimes feeding over a thousand people at once.>? Another “invention of devils” was the ¢latole or consulta, a reference to the public speeches or sermons of principales (distinguished elders) that instructed people in the proper conduct of life. These speeches, which could

encompass moral or political rhetoric, also served as the public forum for discussing the merits of conversion to Christianity. Those who were opposed (categorized as hechiceros by the fathers) argued that baptism would result in death and that conversion would cause milpas to become sterile.*4 They also associated the ringing of church bells with plagues. The missionaries countered that death would be visited upon those who were not baptized. The persuasiveness of these arguments must have depended in part on local configurations of gentile and Christian deaths. For other doubters, a visit to Parral or to a Spanish mine or farm often cemented the association between hard labor and conversion. Jesuit fathers Tarda and Guadalajara quoted elderly Indians who declared they could not become Christians because they were old and had no energy left. Resistance in the 1670s and 1680s was largely passive. The Tarahumaras took what benefits they could see as compatible with their lives and tried to ignore other accouterments of Spanish civilization, much as the Tepehuanes had done earlier.55 The hoes, axes, knives, plows, cloth (even sheep to make their own wool), livestock manure, and new food sources, especially meat, were accepted eagerly and considerably changed their material culture. Tarahumaras would go to the mission to celebrate fiestas and transact business,

but most refused to build houses in the village and store their grain there. The fact that many farmed widely scattered plots (due to the scarcity of arable land and to a bilateral inheritance system) discouraged congregation. More than in the case of the Tepehuanes, the local environment was an espe-

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA ®° I5

cially conspicuous modifier of the Spanish blueprint. The acceptance of material goods and the small concessions of public compliance with ritual aspects of the mission program were matched by withdrawal, evasion, deceit,

dissimulation, feigned ignorance, and slander. Rancheria Indians would give the Jesuits permission to enter but would be absent when they arrived or would ask them to come back later. Many stubbornly refused to engage the missionaries in dialogue; others simply stated they wanted to go to hell. Often they would not attend Mass or accede to Jesuit requests for firewood and other necessities. Taking a slightly more aggressive tack, some insulted the Jesuits behind their backs or in asides such as the one reported by Fathers Tarda and Guadalajara: “;Ad6énde vienes, padre Cornudo?” [Where are you going, Father Cuckold?]. And finally, a few resorted to violence, throwing rocks and on one occasion wounding a priest with an arrow.5 If discipline and a chain of authority were important components of a mission, Tarahumara political organization proved inordinately vexing to Spanish “civilizers” because it represented the most atomized of all the cases considered in this chapter. Although the Jesuits named a hierarchy of village officials to replace the loose decentralized government by elders, the fathers complained that “the governors and principals, who are usually the most ladino in buying and selling in the name of the others, are more like brokers than governors or captains. In most cases, they simply make suggestions, and everyone does what he wants. Thus it is not enough to reduce the principales, but rather each individual in particular. . .. When the governor or-

ders them to undertake any task, only love, not fear or punishment, will make them do it.”57 The foot-dragging of adults increased the missionaries’ resolve to win the

hearts and minds of children, an already time-honored conversion tactic. They concentrated their efforts on catechizing this group in long sessions during which children boarded at the church. Since Tarahumara parents tended to be permissive with their children, it is difficult to assess how the missionaries’ bestowal of status on children may have disrupted traditional familial patterns.5§ At the very least, the transmission by elders of advice about good conduct in the customary public sermons was challenged in a similar repetitious format employed by catechists.59 The Tarahumara strategy of ignoring those aspects of the Spanish program that they found incompatible worked relatively well at first, but silver

strikes in the Tarahumara country (Coyachi in 1683 and Cusihuiriachi in 1687) made passive resistance more difficult as hundreds of Spanish miners

and other entrepreneurs flooded the region. The labor needs of the new mines made the Tarahumaras and Conchos to the north prime targets for la-

16 * SUSAN M. DEEDS

bor brokers, who pressed them into service in the mines and in cutting wood for charcoal even though royal officials cautioned against the repartimiento of neophytes and the unconverted. Spanish livestock became a serious threat to Indian milpas in the areas closest to mines. Indians in the new Chinipas mission adjacent to the Tarahumaras complained that the Jesuits had entered their lands in order to turn them over to the Spaniards.©° Where the resettlement program of the missionaries was successful, it was inevitably accompanied by epidemic disease, and continued high mor-

tality reinforced the Tarahumaras’ negative perceptions of outsiders.°! Death practices at the time of contact indicate that Tarahumaras feared the dead; they abandoned the houses where people died.®* Today they believe that the dead pressure the living to join them, and death rituals are crucial for obviating that threat. With mortality rates as high as 30 percent since the first Spanish entradas a half-century earlier, the Tarahumaras must have

been bothered by the disruption of reassuring ritual activity. Jesuits, on the other hand, could take comfort in recording the baptisms of dying infants and adults. Their work had purpose, even if the Indians would not grasp the basic Christian concepts of repentance, salvation, and eternal damnation.®©

Turning to the less abstract, missionaries stepped up the pressure on Indians to conform at least to basic Spanish norms of urban living, monogamy, and industry. They were deeply preoccupied with carving out some semblance of order among “disorderly peoples.” The disorder that the Je-

suits disparagingly termed “love of liberty” was epitomized in isolated dwellings, sexual license, and disinterest in work that had no desired tangible return. The dissent of specialists trying to preserve indigenous rituals earned the punishments reserved for witches: public whippings, condemnation to hard labor, and less frequently, death. Even backsliding converts could be publicly shamed, an experience that was particularly humiliating for Tarahumaras, who avoided confrontation and seldom raised their voices to one another.®” They had little defense against denigration and scorn. Some did find solace in the utopian aspects of millenarian thought. Tarda and Guadalajara recalled the old woman who declared that if all the Spaniards were killed, the Tarahumaras would have plenty of food: “even the pines would bear squash and corn.”68 In his history of the Tarahumara rebellions Father Joseph Neumann, missionary at Sisoguichi, attributed the outbreak in 1690 to the machinations of a messianic leader who promised that any Tarahumaras who were killed by Spaniards would be resurrected in three days.©° Although Father Neumann’s assertion is not corroborated by the interrogations of Indian participants in the rebellion that began in 1690,

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA ° 17

it certainly has a resonance with the aspects of religious syncretism in previous Nueva Vizcayan first-generation revolts.” The rebellion began in late March. Tarahumara Indians from the northwestern mission visita (visiting station without a resident missionary) of Naguerachi led an attack on the mission headquarters at Yepémera, where they killed the Jesuit missionary, Diego Ortiz de Foronda, along with two other Spaniards.7! According to much of the Indian testimony, the revolt had been planned for several years.” What seems more likely is that conspiratorial talks had taken place intermittently for some time but no specific date or plan had been formulated. Although the grievances that motivated the larger rebellion were varied, the attack on Yepémera had an immediate catalyst. Father Ortiz had hired some Conchos (whose territory bordered the Tarahumaras’ on the north) to make bricks for building an irrigation dam, promising to pay them with one or two heads of cattle. They claimed that when they completed the work he reneged and paid them nothing. After consulting among themselves, they simply resolved to take two of his mules. Several ‘Tarahumaras sent by Father Ortiz in pursuit apprehended the Concho men and several women. The missionary sent the men to be punished by Spanish officials in Custhuiriachi and kept the women at the mission. One of the Conchos escaped and made his way to Naguerachi, where resentment against the priest was strong. Father Ortiz had been insistent that these Indians settle in the village and contribute labor to the mission. He had met with violent resistance before when several Indians pelted him with rocks, leaving his face scratched and bloody.” Living in the rugged terrain of the northwestern corner of Tarahumara

territory, the Indians of Naguerachi had a good deal of concourse with neighboring Conchos, Pimas, and Jovas. This area of the headwaters of the Yaqui River seemed to attract recalcitrant Indians trying to avoid Spanish

encroachments from both the Sonoran and Chihuahuan sides. Various bands of Conchos had rebelled a number of times in the seventeenth century; eventually, many had settled near the presidio of San Francisco de Conchos just northeast of Parral and served as auxiliary troops.” The Conchos around Casas Grandes and Namiquipa were not as compliant. Some had intermarried with the Tarahumaras and Pimas of the surrounding area. (In fact, there seems to have been a marked incidence of Tarahumara-Pima intermixing among the participants of both rebellions.) The Conchos were particularly unhappy with the excessive labor repartimientos organized in their pueblos for the mines of Cusihuiriachi, and in late March they had killed their own governor, who was notorious for cooperating with the Spaniards in organizing the labor drafts.75 Conchos living in Naguerachi

18 * SUSAN M. DEEDS

encouraged the Tarahumaras to avenge Father Ortiz’s insult to their brethren. Certain Tarahumaras needed little urging. Among them was Bernardo, a former official in Yep6mera whom the missionary had flogged for failing to attend Mass, and his son, who had also been flogged and had his head shaved publicly.” When the rebels reached Yepomera, about half of its inhabitants (widely dispersed along the river valley) supported them in killing the priest and burning the church. According to one witness, the women of the village entreated the rebels to spare the Jesuit’s life.”7” Mercy, a quality associated with women, was not prized by warriors, who perceived it as cowardice. Later several Tarahumara rebels reportedly taunted compatriots who refused to join them, “asking them if the Spaniards were their husbands.”78

The rebellion spread in May and June, and more than a dozen churches were burned. Many of the rebel leaders were principales who had been removed from office by the Jesuits or punished for a variety of infractions, including witchcraft, cohabitation with women not their wives, drunkenness, and insubordination. One was the grandson of Teporaca, a leader of the 1648 rebellion. Most of the missionaries fled in time to save their lives. Only Father Manuel Sanchez of Tutuaca was killed in an ambush in May. After first dispatching Spanish troops and native auxiliaries under Juan Fernandez de la Fuente and Juan Fernandez de Retana, presidial captains of Casas Grandes and San Francisco de Conchos, respectively, Gov. Juan Isidro de Pardifias took the field himself in May.”? The fighting followed previous patterns established by the Tarahumaras, who attacked targets undefended by the Spanish and then retreated to nearly impenetrable rocky summits to await Spanish sieges. Spanish soldiers and militiamen, who never numbered more than a few hundred, were heavily reinforced by Indian allies (primarily Concho and lower Tarahumara in this case).8° They rarely engaged a large force of rebels directly but were forced to wage a war of attrition against small pockets of rebels protected by their inhospitable environment. In this war of attrition the Spaniards realized the efficacy of cutting off the Indians’ means of subsistence by destroying milpas and burning huts.®! In addition, throughout June and July the governor offered pardons to all but the instigators of the rebellion if they would return to the missions.®? At first various groups of Tarahumaras feigned acceptance of these peace initiatives in order to buy time or supplies to continue their resistance. By late July the scarcity of food had introduced dissension among the rebels, and more began to advocate surrender.®3 Before November most of them had genuinely surrendered, although a handful of their leaders remained at large. After several months of fruitless pursuit, the Spaniards offered rewards for their heads. All were apprehended except for Malagara and Bernardo from Ye-

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA ®° I9

pomera, who managed to hide out long enough to participate in the next revolt.4 In the most bizarre case, Nicolas el Tuerto was killed by his own sons with the aid of their mother.®* The inquiries that accompanied and followed the revolt were directed by Governor Pardinas. They reveal a rift between the civil and religious authorities, who tended to blame each other for the uprising. Having realized that the governor was attributing much of the blame to the missionaries’ harsh tactics and exploitation of Indian labor, the Jesuits secretly sent Father Neumann to Mexico City to meet with the viceroy. Neumann tried to convince

the viceroy that the problem lay more with the demands of the growing Spanish population in the area and the lack of adequate military reinforcement for implementing the mission program among a particularly stubborn group of natives. The charges and countercharges were especially vituperative.86 Governor Pardinas and other officials alleged that the Jesuits exploited Indian labor to enrich themselves, sold corn and flour to Spaniards

at a profit, and helped provoke the rebellion through onerous labor demands in Yepémera and Cocomorachi. He also suggested that the loyalty of non-Spanish Jesuits was suspect and that they might be negotiating with French “pirates,” known to be in Texas. The Jesuits responded that they remunerated Indians for labor not associated with indigenous subsistence;

supplied grain, livestock, and clothing to the Indians; and sold grain at lower than the regional market prices. They alleged that Pardifas himself and his cronies benefited the most from labor drafts and that they allowed repartimiento Indians (especially Conchos) to suffer appalling conditions. The Jesuits charged that the governor not only had not been aggressive in pursuing the rebels but, even worse, had undermined Jesuit authority in the missions by his public accusations. From the documents it seems clear that Indians made little distinction between invasive agents, although for the Tarahumaras of the western region the intercourse with secular Spaniards was much less frequent. Their Concho co-conspirators expressed more specific animosity toward the cruel treatment imposed by their employers in Cusihuiriachi.®” But the Tarahumara testimony reveals that they wanted all Spaniards out of the region. Fa-

ther Neumann argued that most Tarahumaras did not want to kill their priests. This is corroborated by the account of one Indian woman, a servant in a Spanish home, who was taken prisoner by the rebels, and reported that the rebels intended to kill all Spanish laypersons and to send the Jesuits naked to preach in their own territories.88 Other testimony did not distinguish between religious and lay Spaniards. In general, the measures taken by Pardifias to repress the rebellion were

20 * SUSAN M. DEEDS

mild. To be sure, the main agitators were executed and their heads placed on pikes in the mission villages. Others who refused to surrender retreated far-

ther into the barrancas (ravines). Civil authorities and Jesuits decided to proceed slowly in reconstructing the missions, and they abandoned the outposts at Naguerachi and Tutuaca.8? The Jesuits continued to report rumors of conspiracies and unrest.% Yet when Captain Retana, now titled Indian Protector of the Tarahumaras, undertook his annual inspection in late 1692

and early 1693, he reported the situation to be relatively stable although many Indians were not in residence in the missions. Some were working in Cusihuiriachi; others had retreated to their rancherias. One reason for the calm was that two epidemics, first smallpox and then measles, raged through the missions claiming many lives.?! Retana admonished the Indians to build houses and bring their corn to the missions. Whenever they could be apprehended, fugitive Indians were flogged.” A new governor, Gabriel del Castillo, arrived in March of 1693. From the beginning he sent repeated complaints to the viceroy and the crown concerning the lack of military and financial resources necessary to secure the peace in Nueva Vizcaya.?3 His concerns were echoed in the reports of Joseph Francisco Marin, who had taken the restdencia (review of office) of Governor Pardifias and had also been charged with inspecting the presidios.

Despite recommendations, presidial strength remained the same, and Indian problems escalated.*4 Rumors of continuing unrest among the Tarahumara took a back seat to the depredations of Tobosos and other nomadic Indians to the north and east. Drought in the first few years of the decade had contributed to a regional subsistence crisis, Parral’s silver mines were in a state of decline, and hacienda owners were experiencing severe shortages of labor, due to both Indian unrest and further native population decline. A 1695 epidemic of smallpox was followed immediately by another one of measles, with devastating

results.?5 The government responded to crisis on an ad hoc basis, taking little note of the impending signs of renewed revolt in the Tarahumara country. In January of 1697 Father Neumann finally convinced the governor to send Retana (now a general) and Fernandez de Fuente to investigate reports that the Tarahumaras of the northwestern mission corner were stockpiling corn and poisoned arrows in the sierra.© Catching the conspirators before they were ready to launch their revolt, planned for after the summer harvest, Retana heard their testimony in March and April.9”7 Governor Castillo had granted him the power to punish major offenders with the death penalty, noting that until that time clemency had served only to fan the fires

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA ® 21

of revolt.°8 The cradle of conspiracy once again was Naguerachi, which had been abandoned by the missionaries after 1690. In April one of the leaders of the previous rebellion, Malagara, was apprehended and sentenced to death along with fifty others deemed to be instigators of the revolt. About the same number were sent into exile near the presidio of San Francisco de Conchos.

Others, deemed to be followers, were flogged. Those prisoners receiving death sentences were shot and their heads placed on pikes as a reminder.” The lesson did not have the desired effect. From May through August, the rebellion spread. As in the previous rebellion, Spanish troops could do little damage to Indians who had retreated to their nearly impenetrable rocky peaks, but they did inflict extensive damage on the corn and beans ready for harvest in August and September. The Spaniards’ mobility from the headquarters at Papigochi was also restricted since they suspected the loyalty of the Indians of this central mission and could not leave it unprotected. This left other individual missions without much protection and eventually eight of them were destroyed (in most cases with complicity from their inhabitants), although all of the Jesuits escaped unharmed.100

In October, having been instructed by the viceroy who was receiving critical civilian reports from Nueva Vizcaya about the conduct of the war, veteran missionary Tomas de Guadalajara undertook a peace mission.!0! Rebel followers were promised amnesty if they would return to the missions. Although in several instances Indians pretended to accept the offer, it was overwhelmingly rejected. Retana resumed aggressive pursuit of the rebels, many of whom were now suffering from scarcity of food and water. Only in January of 1698 could the Spaniards claim to have suppressed the revolt, after a year of warfare. Most of the leaders still remained at large and

were not captured until later in the year.!°2 In June the Tarahumaras who had been exiled to San Francisco de Conchos presidio, where they were given milpas and provisions, fled with the intention of returning to their homeland. Most were apprehended, and seventeen of the men received the death sentence from the governor.!03 The measures implemented throughout the revolt, harsh in comparison with the previous uprising, provoked an investigation of both the governor and General Retana. The residencia judge for Governor Castillo gathered testimony in this regard. Castillo died before the judicial procedure was completed. In the end the residencia ab-

solved both of any wrongdoing in the Tarahumara war, attributing the blame to the Indians’ malevolence.!4 A comparison of the documents submitted to the crown in the two rebellions is instructive. Indian testimonies during the course of the 1697 rebellion tended to be more brief and perfunctory than those taken by Governor

22, * SUSAN M. DEEDS

Pardinas in 1690; Retana also used torture to extract confessions in some cases. These characteristics indicate that the judicial process in 1697 was more manipulated and that testimonies were edited. They also suggest a new, harder line toward Tarahumara revolts. Pardifias, on the other hand, seemed to consult more frequently with not only his officers (as Retana did later) but also civilians. What is especially noteworthy ts that the 1690 interrogatories always asked for the motives of the rebels. The governor usually asked directly whether the Indians had been mistreated by Spaniards. In no case did they ever respond in the affirmative to the direct question. Yet in some testimony taken by military officers away from field headquarters, Indians did cite mistreatment at the hands of Spaniards as the cause. The interrogatories of the 1697 rebellion are not so uniform in regard to the question of causation. Throughout most of the rebellion, Retana never explicitly asked witnesses to state motives for the rebellion. He did ask them what they were doing outside of their pueblos, but this gave them the opportunity to respond with a wide variety of excuses related to food gathering. Furthermore, nearly all claimed either to have fled the missions because they heard that Retana was coming to punish them or to have been forced, under threat of death, to take up the rebel cause. Occasionally prisoners volunteered that they rebelled to expel all the Spaniards and that they intended to wage a war of extermination against them. They recounted what one of the leaders, Posilegui, a mulatto from Naguerachi, had counseled them: “Leave the missions because the fathers’ teachings are wrong.”!95 Posilegui claimed to have a better father advising him in the sierra and promised that the rebels would receive aid from other mulattoes and from Frenchmen (franceses) who would come from tierra caliente (the Gulf coast). This may be evidence of fairly sophisticated geopolitical knowledge, or the Spaniards may have been putting words into the rebels’ mouths. Captain Retana had been sent to the Rio Grande in 1688—89 to investigate reports that the French were trading with Indians in Texas, and Spanish authorities worried about these intrusions. !0¢ In 1698, when Retana was answering early charges that what had begun as

a minor incident had been transformed into a major rebellion by his harsh tactics, he did begin to ask captured rebels for their motives. Uniformly (again suggesting editing) they responded that they wanted freedom (note the use of a word that was anathema to the Spanish concept of civilization) from the supervision of the missionaries so that they could continue to enjoy borracheras and many women (occasionally a number, ranging from two to four, was specified) .!0”7 This emphasis on the burdens of the mission program cannot be construed as an attack on the Jesuits, with whom Retana

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA * 23

got on very well and who testified on his behalf during the residencia proceedings. None of the 1697 proceedings reveals animosity or even disagreement between soldiers and missionaries. In contrast, there were more divisions within Tarahumara society in both rebellions. This is not surprising given their historical lack of political unity. Although the midcentury Tarahumara rebellions had been fought almost exclusively by non-Christians reacting to civil intrusions in their territory, the 1690s rebellions attracted both gentiles and apostates, together constituting probably not more than half of the entire population. This was very different from the Tepehuan rebellion, which initially drew universal support among Tepehuanes. In the 1697 Tarahumara revolt a common profile characterizes many of the rebels who were interrogated. They had lived transitory lives, moving from one place to another. They seemed to reflect a high degree of marital exogamy. Ritual dances that featured Spanish scalps and traditional drinking parties characterized their preparations for battle, indicating retention of precontact beliefs. Ritual specialists who did not participate in the fighting accompanied rebel contingents. Rebel leaders seemed to have earned respect from their followers for their fighting prowess. Many rebel leaders were related by kinship, and a number of them reported having relatives who had been abused or punished by Spaniards, both civilians and missionaries. Avenging kin deaths had always been an important aspect of

indigenous raiding and warfare. On the other hand, many converts remained loyal to the missionaries and even a few gentiles aided the Spanish cause. The latter were accused by the rebels of being cowardly and effeminate. In the final analysis, the Tarahumara rebellions were much less disruptive of Spanish economic activities than the Tepehuan had been. Examination of these three seventeenth-century Nueva Vizcayan revolts reveals a number of shared features. The basic common characteristic was that they occurred within a generation or two of the first serious demographic invasions by Spaniards and were responses to the cataclysm of labor demands, population decline, congregaciones, and psychological pressures that ensued. The timing itself distinguished the early revolts in terms of the forms and intensity of Spanish intrusion; indigenous strategies for coping; and the extent to which Indians affected by resettlement and religious conversion were reinforced by natives not yet as influenced by colonial rule. First-generation rebellions were intermediate tactics that fell between the most immediate reactions to conquest (both passive and hostile) and later responses to the impositions of well-entrenched colonial rule, manifested e1ther through resistant accommodation or outright rebellion.

24. © SUSAN M. DEEDS

Although Spanish demands on indigenous peoples were continuous throughout the colonial period, only in the early period of contact did they amount to cataclysm in the coincidence of catastrophic population decline

and violent disruption of existing social networks and ritual activities deemed essential for sustaining life. Later rebellions were not so much desperate attempts to maintain equilibrium in a world turned completely upside down as they were efforts to repair damages to a moral economy that evolved over time in a colonial context and that could not invoke a concrete vision of the past so clearly autochthonous as that of first-generation rebels. In each first-generation rebellion there were leaders and participants who had experienced firsthand the transition from preconquest to colonial conditions. Their first goal was to reinstate familiar precontact ritual activities that aimed to restore spiritual and material balance and especially to alleviate the sickness that was burying them. High mortality is, of course, a great dissolver of organizational structure. If Indians inhibited in their capacity to rebel often accepted missionary overtures in the midst of epidemics, the continuing high rates of decline turned the tables by sealing the association between conversion, baptism, and death. Indians came to connect missionaries and churches, especially the ringing of church bells, with death, and in each case of first-generation revolt, leaders deliberately manipulated these associations, exhorting their followers to throw off the Spanish yoke. This is not to imply that the rebel leaders, even though unanimous in their resolve to expel all Spaniards, intended to completely reestablish a previous age. Without rejecting some aspects of Spanish material culture and technology, such as livestock and metal tools, which brought significant and permanent alterations to their diet, dress, and residential patterns, rebels could attempt to remove the primary obstacles to the restoration of preconquest ritual and social practices. Since destruction and re-creation of universes was a feature of native cosmology, millenarianism offered a path to redemption through revitalization of certain cultural practices. !08 This revitalizing strain of millenarianism was complemented by a utopian vision in which deserts would yield in abundance and no Spaniards would circumscribe native “freedoms.” Millenarianism was certainly not unique to first-generation revolts, but the conjuncture of a utopian rationale for revolt and the ability to tap preconquest organizational strategies for war was.) Both former religious and war leaders participated actively in the rebellions, furnishing the primary ideological impulses from autochthonous world-views and sociopolitical organization. Those individuals who had been principales, the leaders and respected elders, provided political and military strategies. Although they had suffered a

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA ®° 25

loss of power under the new regime, they could still summon up military force. To be sure, Jesuits, knowingly or unknowingly, frequently appointed preconquest headmen to village offices in the Spanish-imposed system. But many of them could not reconcile the contradictions of their bridge role and fell into disfavor. The Tarahumara rebellions provide the best evidence to link rebel leaders with Indians removed by the Jesuits from positions of authority. These men had been deprived of the key elements of their culture that bestowed prestige: supernatural powers and prowess in warfare. The rank and file may have been less concerned initially about the displacement of native shamans who had not been powerful enough to resist either devastating disease episodes or Spanish invasion. But Spanish “civilization” imposed new burdens on everyone, not just the leaders. Resettlement (mission congregaciones) and labor service (slavery, encomienda, and repartimiento)

eliminated the frequent warfare that had previously provided avenues for the acquisition of prestige and resources. In this regard the Tepehuanes may have felt they had the most to gain by rebelling since they had come to con-

trol the most fertile areas of the Sierra Madre’s central plateau and successfully conducted raids on their Acaxee and Tarahumara neighbors, perhaps even exacting some form of tribute in the first case. Abstract Christian concepts of mercy and loving one’s enemy, taught by the missionaries, were perceived as akin to cowardice. Such qualities were associated with women and subservience. Furthermore, preconquest ritual specialists appeared as messiahs and deliverers and provided millenarian and religious rationales for revolt. Invoking former gods and idols, they blended aspects of native religion with a few

symbols of Christian religious authority. God the Father, God the Son, bishops, priests, rituals, sacraments, and even icons such as crosses were sometimes borrowed to empower the rebel cause. The letters from God that Quautlatas allegedly carried are another case and would seem to support the theory that Indians perceived European literacy as magical power.!!° The extent of borrowing varied, with Tarahumaras less likely to invoke Christian symbols. Borrowings by groups accustomed to a polytheistic, cyclical universe were not really in conflict with the goal of obliterating the Spanish presence and could be used to enhance power. Similar appropriations by other indigenous revitalization movements have been explained in psychoanalytic terms, with the idea that people who suffer severe repression (subordination) are susceptible to incorporating some of the characteristics of their oppressors.11 Another explanation considers the need of subordinated people to either destroy or appropriate for themselves their rulers’ symbols of authority.!!2

26 * SUSAN M. DEEDS

The mocking of Catholic ritual that characterized the sacking of churches was one way of undermining it. Another was to desecrate or destroy religious objects such as bells and crosses. Appropriation of resources through looting and feasting provided other avenues for destroying the Spaniards’ power. Although some livestock were carried away by rebels, a significant percentage was slaughtered and left to rot, demonstrating that it was more important to ravage the oppressors’ resources than to profit from them. Despite disagreement over the degree of social stratification in these societies at the time of conquest, the evidence leans toward the existence of egalitarianism in kin-ordered polities or at least suggests societies grounded in

reciprocity. Reciprocal relationships were knocked off-center when the Spaniards interposed a hierarchical assortment of local officials and Jesuits insisted on monogamous relationships, the boarding of children away from home, and the prohibition of rituals associated with subsistence. Although gifts were used initially to attract Indians, these declined as Indians’ labor obligations increased. In first-generation revolts, precontact extended kinship and ceremonial ties were still intact despite high mortality. They were a factor in promoting solidarity among rebels and facilitating communication between gentiles and Christians. Indigenous stress on the importance of avenging the death of a relative encouraged the prolongation of rebel activities. Where political atomization was greater, as in the case of the Tarahumaras, it was harder to maintain solidarity and discipline, but even their rebellions demonstrated a wide-ranging communications network, with ample bridges between the converted and nonconverted. The Tepehuan case exhibits the most coord1nated planning. The most expansionist of these groups in the preconquest

period, the Tepehuanes succeeded in attracting the largest single rebel forces, sometimes several thousand strong. It is difficult to know whether Spanish contact may have accelerated a process of tribalization in the case of the Tepehuanes.!!3 Tepehuanes were also the most successful in mobilizing

resources, accumulating storehouses of weapons and corn. Where rebels were not able to do this, especially when Spaniards burned their fields before harvest, rebellions tended to be shorter. In general, Indian subsistence patterns in agriculture and hunting and gathering did not lend themselves to the stockpiling of resources and discouraged prolonged conflicts. Although barren, rocky precipices were ready-made fortresses against Spanish attack, they afforded very little consolation for the hungry. Participants in first-generation revolts, familiar with previous patterns of warfare, were not prepared to deal with an enemy who

could outlast them. Ironically, among peoples characterized by scattered

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA °* 27

settlement patterns and disaggregated social structures, rebellions that sought to oust Spaniards and missionaries also owed their temporary solidarity in part to that very mission program’s imposition of social coherence on their disaggregation. Turning from factors specific to Indian social and religious organization, what other characteristics apply to these revolts? Which invasive agents were perceived as most exploitive in first-generation revolts? In all of these cases, both religious and lay Spaniards were identified by rebels as culprits and all were targeted for expulsion from Indian territory. The fact that more priests died in the Tepehuan rebellion does not necessarily point to greater hostility toward them in that case than in others. When compared to the total number of Spaniards killed by the Tepehuanes, the ratio is not significantly different than that of the Tarahumara rebellion. In fact, the Tarahumaras may have had more hostility toward the Jesuits because they represented the first significant Spanish presence in their territories. Tarahumaras stated on more than one occasion that the Jesuits were no more than advance agents of other Spaniards who came to take their labor and lands. In contrast, the other two native groups initially saw the Jesuits as buffers between themselves and a civilian population that had already begun to exploit them. In the final analysis, Indians understood very well that the “civilizing” mission of the Spaniards was not in their interest, no matter who carried it out. Although Jesuits often called on Spanish officials to carry out punishments and often set themselves up as protectors by intervening to have punishments reduced, they also inflicted corporal punishment themselves. Such coercive authority figures did not inspire reverence among Indians accus-

tomed to less-violent means of ensuring prescribed behavior; the oppressors would have to be eliminated before lost worlds could be reconstituted. In first-generation revolts, Indians could use the argument that they should rebel while the Spanish presence was small enough that it could be obliterated. In other words, the odds seemed more conducive to victory when the non-Indian population was still relatively small. This was not much of a factor in Indian rebellions that occurred after many more years of Spanish settlement; the latter sometimes took place when Indians perceived a breakdown in the Spanish state. Only in the case of the Tarahumara rebellions is there evidence that Indians may have believed that dissension among Spaniards made the latter more vulnerable. This was also the only case in which the missionaries and civil authorities so publicly attacked one another and in which the devil was not the primary scapegoat. In addition, in 1690 the rebels were aware that Pueblos had apparently been successful in their

28 * SUSAN M. DEEDS

attempt to rid their lands of Spaniards. In the earlier revolts, both native geopolitical understanding and Spanish interregional ties were more limited. We need to know more about the role of mixed-bloods in Indian resistance movements. Marginal, fugitive mestizos and mulattoes were present early in northern Mexican colonial society.!!4 The ability of Spaniards to exploit previous Indian enmities and enlist Indian allies was another important factor affecting the outcome of first-wave revolts. The Acaxees supported the Spaniards in the Xixime revolt. At first the Tepehuanes attracted such broad support from old enemies and maintained such internal cohesion that their rebellion had the most potential for obliterating the Spanish presence in Nueva Vizcaya, but by 1617 Spaniards were able to erode that support through a combination of force and gifts. In the rebellions of the 1690s Tarahumaras were more divided among themselves. In all the rebellions, Conchos (whose role in Nueva Vizcaya was similar to that of the Tlaxcalans in New Spain) served as Spanish auxiliaries as well as rebels. The Spanish policy of recruiting native soldiers was always most significant in the early period of contact, when Spanish numbers were relatively small.!!5 Internecine warfare was certainly not eliminated by Spanish colonialism; as so often happened when European states expanded, indigenous warfare was transformed to serve the intruders’ interests.

Immediate Spanish responses to the individual rebellions varied. Urdifola’s campaign against the Xiximes represented the most expeditious response. When governors responded less decisively, as in the 1690 cases, the

rebellions persisted, enduring until harsher tactics were employed. In all cases summary executions and display of bodies served as warnings; in the last rebellion these practices became even more frequent. Jesuits were unani-

mous in supporting this hard-line policy. During the early-seventeenthcentury rebellions, when Indian slavery was still widespread in the north, those leaders spared execution were enslaved. Perhaps harsh retaliation was

not a unique feature of first-generation revolts, but Spaniards felt even greater urgency to have their superior might recognized when there were so few of them.

Therefore, in each case considerable gift giving was combined with threats of future reprisals and increased attention to reducing Indians to fewer villages in order to subordinate the remaining rebels. This policy was largely successful after 1620 with the first two groups and after 1700 with the Tarahumaras in eliminating the threat of rebellion. In addition, Indian governors and other officials increasingly served to dispense disciplinary measures directly and to impose the obligations demanded by Spaniards. We have identified certain characteristics, shared in slightly varying de-

FIRST-GENERATION REBELLIONS IN NUEVA VIZCAYA ®* 29

grees, that were common to these first-generation revolts and that distinguished them from later, less frequent rebellions. There were also some dif-

ferences among the first-generation rebellions. The Tepehuan rebellion stands out as the only serious threat to the mining economy of Nueva Vizcaya. The Tarahumara rebellions were more marginal to Spanish economic interests, but they took place in a time of widespread subsistence and demographic crisis that affected many parts of New Spain. Although they were carried out within two decades of effective Spanish contact, they occurred at a more mature stage 1n the evolution of the entire Spanish colony. They were also significant in the way that they defined subsequent accommodation patterns among Tarahumaras. Although the Xiximes, and many Tepehuanes, were eventually absorbed by the non-Indian population, a substantially greater number of Tarahumaras eluded colonial assimilation.!!6 When their attempts to retain control of their ancestral lands failed, many Tarahumaras retreated farther into the mountain canyons. Their migration patterns suggest that these movements were undertaken by particular rancherias as a whole rather than by disgruntled individuals. Does this suggest that there was greater cohesion within some Tarahumara population clus-

ters than others? If so, what factors generated unanimity about the desirability or necessity of isolation? How are we to explain why some Tarahumaras avoided acculturation and others did not? Perhaps the tendency to pose the question of cultural survival in terms of whether it represents greater cultural resilience or weaker external forces does not allow us to give sufficient consideration to ecological factors in this case. To the degree that the Tarahumaras, and to a lesser extent the Tepehuanes, have been able to avail themselves of the option of flight to rugged, relatively inaccessible habitats, poor in subsistence resources but especially in resources coveted by outsiders, they have been able to preserve a separate ethnic identity. Over time, they have reinforced the physical barriers by delineating moral boundaries to distinguish themselves from outsiders.

First-generation rebellions—desperate, millenarian attempts to reconcile the cataclysmic trauma of conquest and subordination—proved the futility of trying to obliterate the colonial yoke. For most indigenous peoples of Nueva Vizcaya, cultural endurance came to depend more on everyday ingenuity than on flight or rebellion.!” Yet resistance itself, regardless of form, inevitably served as a source of cultural transformation.!8

°°° CHAPTER 2

Differential Response to Colonial °

Control among the Mixtecs and Zapotecs of Oaxaca RONALD SPORES

When faced with conquest and subjugation by Europeans, Native Americans responded in different ways. Some gave up with little or no resistance, even willingly. Others initially countered force with force and later capitulated. Others continued resistance until recent times, preserving at least some elements of their traditional culture or allowing change, but at least on their own terms. Eventually all were absorbed into the mainstream of European society or marginalized between tradition and the dominant culture. Despite their wishes, none could resist the inexorable pressures—and attractions—of European technology, social institutions, and religion. Of all the areas of North America conquered by the Spaniards, none was more ethnically diverse than Oaxaca, and predictably perhaps, responses in Oaxaca to conflict, conquest, and subjugation were equally varied. Although episodes of violent confrontation occurred, never was there extensively organized, prolonged, or effective resistance to European domination. This chapter focuses upon the periods and processes of early resistance and consolidation and the developments during the seventeenth century, with special reference to Mixtecs, Zapotecs, Mijes, Chatinos, Chontales, and other native groups of Oaxaca. Following their successes in the central valleys of Mexico between Is19 and 1521, the Spaniards turned their attention to other areas of Mesoamerica.

Expeditions moved west and northwest to Michoacan, Jalisco, and up the Pacific coast, east to Puebla, Veracruz, and the Gulf coast, and south and southeast to Guerrero, southern Puebla, Oaxaca, Tehuantepec, Yucatan, Honduras, Guatemala, and Central America. In 1522~—23 they moved into

DIFFERENTIAL RESPONSE TO CONTROL IN OAXACA ° 31

Oaxaca (see map 3) in an effort to conquer an area so attractive that it became the primary fixture in Hernando Cortés’s vast estate.

Early Resistance Owing to the sense of relief among natives at the overthrow of the CulhuaMexica Empire, some skilled diplomacy by Cortés and his associates, and the persistent blind luck that followed the Spaniards in their American venture, little resistance was encountered in the Mixteca Alta or the MazatecaCuicateca of northern Oaxaca or in the three central valleys of Oaxaca. Principal pockets of opposition were Tututepec on the Pacific coastal plain, the Zapotec Sierra, and Tehuantepec. Resistance in the Tututepec region, although initially fierce, was short-

lived and rather quickly contained by the Spaniards under Pedro de Alvarado. Shortly after the relatively easy victory by the colonists, the native lord of Tututepec, Coaxintecuhtli, his son, Ixtac Quiautzin (later baptized Pedro de Alvarado), and the people of Tututepec revolted.! “The Indians of Tututepec, having received considerable aggravation from the Spaniards,

rebelled against them. ... Pedro de Alvarado, with new forces, moved against them, and although several encounters were fought and some Spaniards died, the area was pacified. The natives, insufficient to successfully pursue hostilities, surrendered, awaiting a better opportunity that never came.”2 Tututepec was sacked, with thousands of pesos in gold and other goods being carted off by a succession of encomenderos (recipients of the right to native tribute and labor) who included Alvarado, Cortés, Gonzalo de Salazar, Tristan de Arellano, and others. The ruling cacique was executed or simply died in combat with the Spaniards, and the people were generally brutalized and exploited. The Spaniards, impressed by the size, reputation, and probable wealth of the Mixtec Tututepec cacicazgo empire (sociopolitical institution under the authority of a local native ruler, or cacique), established a European villa (royally chartered municipality with lesser privileges than a ciudad, or city)

at Tututepec. Realizing the difficulties and drawbacks inherent in their choice, including an unfavorable tropical climate and environment, a smaller native population than anticipated, and a lack of mineral resources, the Spaniards abandoned the villa and reestablished themselves in the more favorable environs of Antequera.? After this time, except for one or two highly localized tumuttos (violent disturbances), little in the way of orga-

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/ ‘ — This number rose somewhat in 1814 and 1815, but the limitations of the rocky island and the supply system prevented the total population from surpassing about one thousand men, women, and children. The islanders fished to provide some food, importing all other provisions of maize, grain, vegetables, salt, and fresh meat from friendly villages along the lakeshore or by raiding royalist territories. The Mezcala insurgents intensified their amphibious, guerrilla-style warfare, in which they concentrated forces by canoe to assault isolated royalist posts and communities. Attacks against the villages of Ocotlan, Chapala, Ixtlan, Palo Alto, Rancheria de Columba, Tuxcueca, and Xocotepec and raids on isolated hacitendas close to the lakeshore produced provisions and some weapons captured from royalist defenders. For example, at Xocotepec rebel attackers from Mezcala overwhelmed a strong parapet with embrasures and drove the royalist defenders into the church tower. Likely none would have survived, but the rebel chief Santana respected the asylum of the church and broke off his assault. At the town of Chapala the rebels massacred a garrison of forty royalist dragoons, who were chased down and killed for their firearms. During this skirmish the insurgents captured an important regional symbol, the venerated crucifix from Jucumatlan called the Sefior de Camichin that was believed to possess miraculous powers.°® The insurgents also received moral support and some weapons from rebel field marshal Pablo Anaya, who visited the island and recommended the execution of all prisoners if Cruz’s force dared to attack.5” Royalist reconnaissance of Mezcala Island by a squadron led by the San Fernando (a two-masted, oared launch manned by twenty mariners and twenty soldiers), five armed boats, and an assortment of canoes of different sizes reported a high level of insurgent activity. Close observation of the island fortifications provoked heavy cannon and musket fire. On 7 June 1813 the royalist boats strayed close enough to receive a terrible pounding, in which three men died and twelve suffered wounds. With the intelligence data gathered by these missions, Cruz strengthened his projected invasion force, conscripting six additional large canoes from La Barca, Jamay, and Ocotlan.*® Anxious to avoid previous setbacks, Cruz rushed the construction of the royalist headquarters at Tlachichilco and the shipyard for the assembly and

100 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

construction of boats at nearby Hacienda de los Cedros. He selected Negrete to lead the assault against Mezcala Island and appointed Ens. Felipe Garcia, a San Blas naval pilot, to command the royalist boat fleet. During visits to Tlachichilco to supervise preparations, Cruz warned his officers about a possible coalescence of rebel forces that could ignite a new regional conflagration. In 1813 reports from Uruapan and Colima described a union of insurgent bands led by Manuel Mufiiz, Manuel Suarez, Ignacio Navarro, Montajfio, and Rafael Rayon. In late August Morelos captured Acapulco and threatened to move inland. Cruz requested six hundred new muskets, pistols, and other firearms from Mexico City, but despite his most urgent pleas he received only thirty-two old guns. Most of his infantry troops car-

ried muskets that he described as being “in a miserable state.” With his forces divided and subdivided into small garrisons, Cruz feared that a rebel invasion of Nueva Galicia could tilt public opinion against the crown once more. He dispatched agents in an unsuccessful effort to purchase arms at Panama and complained bitterly that, as viceroy, Calleja cared little about the west of New Spain. Given all of these circumstances, Cruz was more anxious than ever to eliminate Mezcala Island and dispatch his forces against rebel districts.°? Despite all this planning, Negrete’s assault produced yet another disastrous setback. At dawn on 7 June the royalist fleet raked the Mezcala fortifications with cannon fire from the San Fernando and then approached to land an assault force. Perhaps overconfident because of previous successes in set-piece battles, Negrete’s landing force faltered at the water’s edge, pinned down by a hail of stones and by much heavier gunfire than expected. Some insurgents launched small, fast canoes to harass the cumbersome royalist flotilla, capturing two large canoes, a cannon, two cases of munitions, and other arms. Paralyzed by the tenacity of the rebel defenders, who attacked without regard to artillery or musket fire, the royalists became demoralized and pulled back from the landing places to their boats, where they became even better targets. The boat-flotilla commander, Garcia, died instantly, shot through by a musket ball, and another frigate ensign suffered a severe wound caused by a large stone. The first dispatch to reach Cruz in GuadalaJara informed him that Negrete and most of his officers, troops, and oarsmen had suffered undetermined injuries.® The following day Lt. Col. Angel Casabel presented Cruz with a complete casualty report. Twenty royalist soldiers were dead, forty suffered lifethreatening wounds, ninety were badly injured, and some were missing and believed to be prisoners on the island. The wounded officers included José Villamil, Sort, Ochoategui, Candido Lexarazu, and the volunteer Andrés

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND ®* Iol

Palmero, who suffered a very bad leg wound caused by a stone. Negrete’s condition appeared to be grave, with multiple wounds to his head and right hand. The army surgeon Escobar amputated Negrete’s ring and little fingers, expressing pessimism about saving his thumb. For his part, Negrete criticized Escobar’s medical skills and begged Cruz to dispatch a bettertrained surgeon and additional medicines. Although Negrete survived, he took months to recuperate at Guadalajara—removing from duty one of Cruz’s most effective counterinsurgency officers.6* There were no accurate rebel casualty reports, but later reports indicated that only ten defenders died and fifteen suffered wounds. This second mauling of royalist attackers by the Mezcala Island garrison reinforced an aura of rebel invincibility around Lake Chapala and underscored inherent weaknesses of the counterinsurgents. With a rebel base planted literally amid the royalists, Cruz was loathe to detach forces to counter a new rebel outbreak in the south near Apazingan. Moreover, during June 1813 bands from the east entered Nueva Galicia from Valladolid, coalescing sizable forces at Rincdén de Ledn, San Pedro Piedragorda, Pénjamo,

and Angamacutiro. Unable to permit this danger, Cruz dispatched Quintanar’s division from the Chapala front. This force intercepted Dr. José Maria Cos’s band, killed fifty men, and captured two artillery pieces, for only one soldier wounded. Although this more typical royalist victory alleviated some concerns, sending reinforcements for Quintanar’s division so weakened the garrison of Guadalajara that there were insufficient troops available to patrol the city of sixty thousand inhabitants. Following Negrete’s debacle at Mezcala, deaths, wounds, desertions, and illnesses left only three trained seamen aboard San Fernando and the five larger royalist boats. Once again Cruz conscripted seamen from San Blas, transferring two boatswains and twenty-five experienced seamen, who were to train soldiers

and other land men in boat-handling skills. Realizing that an amphibious landing force needed heavier ordnance to knock down the rebel parapets and a larger landing force to overwhelm the determined Indian defenders, the royalists devised a plan to construct a large, floating artillery battery equipped with cannons captured earlier from the insurgents commanded by Cura José Maria Mercado.®> In many towns, villages, and rural communities, by 1813 the armed struggle had taken on political, social, and economic dimensions that pitted a par-

tido del rey (royalists) against a partido rebelde (rebels). Without outside assistance, the party or faction that best maintained morale and military initiative gained local dominance over its community or district. In a process that opened considerable mobility, rancheros, hacendados, curas (curates),

102 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

arrieros (muleteers), local administrators, and even fishermen, stock raisers, weavers, and other artisans emerged as pivotal figures. In some indigenous

villages mestizo or mulatto minorities played key roles. If these groups abandoned the royalists, the Indian majorities dominated the entire population by force until such time as royalist counterinsurgent destacamentos volantes (flying detachments) restored the district to the partido del rey.® As was so often the case with counterinsurgency, the recovery of lost territory was an especially brutal process. Those deemed to be enemies received little

in the way of justice or due process. With embarrassing defeats and the Mezcala Island irritant, the royalist reaction was to destroy more villages, execute leaders, burn crops, drive off livestock, abuse women, and conscript remaining able-bodied men as forced laborers, oarsmen, and soldiers. In the

meantime Cruz projected a naval and military buildup at Lake Chapala designed to overwhelm the Mezcala Island fortress, crush the insurgent cadres, and restore the Indian populations to their traditional humility. Viceroy Calleja expressed little sympathy with Cruz’s predicaments, recommending that as supreme commander of Nueva Galicia he should exert personal command on the Chapala front. Although the existence of rebel Mezcala Island was an embarrassment that tied down troops, Calleja considered that a garrison of six hundred Indians armed with a few muskets, pistols, and grenades posed only limited danger to the royalist army.°” Nevertheless, the viceroy transferred to Guadalajara naval captain and now army colonel José Navarro y Torres and Col. José Villalba, both recent arrivals from Spain, and Lt. Col. José Alonso of the Infanteria Provincial de Puebla.

Calleja rejected Cruz’s repeated demands for additional troops and resources, arguing that the financial and military situations in some other provinces of New Spain caused him much more anxiety than those of Nueva Galicia.©8

The Royalist Campaigns against Mezcala Island As has been noted, the fortress of Mezcala with its heavily defended positions and steep escarpment descending to the water’s edge posed significant difficulties for an assault force. Without adequate artillery bombardment, Cruz anticipated at least s00 to 600 royalist deaths and injuries. But before any attack could be contemplated, he needed transport vessels for the soldiers assigned to undertake an amphibious landing. Still without sufficient boats, Cruz pressed ahead to construct the large, floating artillery platform designed to batter the insurgent defenses and transport at least 200 infantry-

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND ® 103

men of the landing force. He proposed to install two twenty-four-pound siege guns on the platform, one heavy cannon aboard the launch San Fernando, and bow guns in each of the oared gunboats.°? However, even with a fleet of boats and the floating artillery platform the royalists lacked adequate capacity to transport an invasion force. With artillery and presidarios, oarsmen who were mostly shackled prisoners of war, the eight boats carried a maximum of only 30 soldiers. Although Cruz insisted upon an overwhelming assault on the island, he was not certain about how to deliver it.” In the meantime the ongoing counterinsurgency operations around the shores of Lake Chapala pressed the capacity of the royalist divisions. At La Piedad the garrison commanded by Capt. Anastacio Brizuela repelled an attack by the insurgent bands of Padre Miguel Torres, José Maria Hermosillo,

Seguras, and Juan Carranza—about two thousand men total. Intelligence reports indicated that these forces intended to join up with the bands of Father Luciano Navarrete at Pénjamo and cross the river at Angamacutiro to overwhelm La Piedad. With this information Cruz dispatched Quintanar to La Piedad with the fourth division.”! The first division, commanded by Negrete, who had recovered from his wounds, patrolled the region east of the lake from Zamora and Xacona westward through Jiquilpan into the insurgent district of La Palma along the southern lakeshore, where he linked forces with the royalist boat patrols. The second division guarded the insurgent districts west of Negrete’s command, on a line running from inland Zapotlan to Tizapan on the southern shores of Lake Chapala. This force also

maintained contact with the royalist boats manned by the third division, which also garrisoned the cantonment and fortification at Tlachichilco, on the north coast. In one combined operation on 28 October, the second royalist division and the boat force captured twenty-four insurgent canoes freighted with maize and beans. The following day, as the royalist boats returned to their base, they were intercepted by a flotilla of forty-five canoes. In the melee that followed the insurgents lost five canoes before they fled to the protection of their island fortress.” By the end of 1813 growing royalist naval power had

begun to restrict the free-ranging activities of insurgent forces. When the blockade of Mezcala Island caused shortages the insurgents turned to night-

time transport of provisions, weapons, munitions, and personnel. They simply moved to districts along the shore that were not patrolled by royalist divisions. From landing points on the south shore they bypassed the garri-

soned villages, maintaining their contacts with other rebel forces to the south. To enhance their operations they developed a signal system of lights and bonfires to communicate the movements of royalist naval patrols.74

104 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

Even with counterinsurgency sweeps and the improved naval blockade of Mezcala Island, the royalists failed to eliminate guerrilla-style operations. The great size of Lake Chapala and the unpredictable weather, influenced locally by the mountains, made navigation and stationary blockade duty before the island treacherous for the most experienced mariners. Crews of the royalist boat squadron suffered exhaustion, scurvy, and low morale that provoked numerous desertions. The construction of the floating battery proceeded slowly, consuming twelve hundred heavy beams cut from local timber. Unusually heavy precipitation, floods, and washouts delayed the arrival of rigging, anchors, and fittings from San Blas. With the hull of the platform almost completed, the commander at San Blas declared the roads impassable for cart transport and ordered equipment to be shipped by mule.”4 The determination of the Mezcala islanders gave a psychological lift to all of the insurgent bands operating in the mountainous regions south of Lake Chapala. Aware that Cruz’s divisions would attempt to cut off supply net-

works, insurgent bands from Valle de Mazamitla, Rio de Oro, Los Reyes, Cotija, Aroparicuaro, and other isolated points advanced toward the lake to maintain connections with Mezcala Island. On 24 December a rebel cavalry force of eight hundred men attacked the district of Atoyac close to the lake, and a larger force assaulted the village of Zapotiltic near Zapotlan. Throughout the region rebel bands estimated at one hundred to five hundred men reappeared near Tamazula, Tuxpan, San Gerénimo, and Los Corrales, and they fortified Cerro Chino to the west of the Volcan de Colima.”> Although the royalists managed to contain these moves, at Zapotiltic the insurgents penetrated the main plaza, where they killed and wounded several defenders before they were beaten off. Although Negrete fell ill and retired to Jiquilpan, Cruz dispatched the second division toward Zapotiltic with orders to march as far as Colima, Los Reyes, and Uruapan, if necessary, to crush new uprisings and eliminate the arms and munitions trade from Apazingan and the Pacific coast. Concerned that wild chases would deflect royalist troops from the Chapala region, Negrete warned Cruz that the rebel garilla (band) of Manuel Mufiiz, normally active in Michoacan, had coalesced forces to attack Zamora. Other reports indicated that Mufiuz intended a diversionary raid designed specifically to relieve the siege and blockade of Mezcala.”6 Since this news coincided with reports that Morelos would attack Michoacan in January 1814, Cruz moved the divisions of Negrete, Lt. Col. Manuel de Arango, and Quintanar eastward to unite at Zamora.”” As might be expected, this withdrawal of royalist forces once again relaxed the counterinsurgency noose around Lake Chapala. The Mezcala garrison acquired new

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND ® 105

artillery and small arms by dispatching raiders in canoes against royalist lakeside communities. As the war continued royalist morale suffered and officers complained frequently about substandard muskets, brittle swords, and shortages of cavalry pistols. In March 1814 inventories for Cruz’s divisions reported only 500 functional muskets for 1,267 regular and provincial infantry troops and 46 pairs of pistols for 527 mounted cavalry and dragoons.78 The Batallén Pro-

vincial de Guadalajara, a key unit, had an almost useless assortment of broken-down muskets and carbines of different makes and calibers. During a visit to Valladolid Negrete discovered that the rebels sold arms in the city, including some good muskets that he was able to purchase.”? In addition to inferior arms, royalist muster rolls disguised the fact that 316 of the 1,267 infantrymen available suffered chronic disabilities and illnesses and that some were musicians and drummers. In reality there were only 951 able-bodied infantrymen in all of the royalist counterinsurgency divisions, garrisons, and cadres, for many patriota companies signed up civilians as paid auxiliaries. Cruz grumbled that these so-called patriots were not at all trustworthy and they often deserted in the face of danger.®° Anxious to defeat Mezcala Island before his small army disintegrated any

further, Cruz prepared a new attack plan directed against Isla Chica de Mezcala, which was thought to be less well defended than the heavily fortified Isla Grande.8! On 16 March 1814 he visited Tlachichilco to inspect the invasion fleet and accompany Negrete on a careful reconnaissance of the rebel

islands. On 19 March Col. Navarro y Torres took command of the recently completed and armed floating artillery platform, experimenting to see how many assault troops could be transported. Much to the dismay of royalist commanders, the space occupied by heavy ordnance, cables, rigging, crew, and artillerymen left little room for troops destined for the landing. Instead of 250 to 300 soldiers, the platform accommodated only about 1oo men.®? Additional soldiers overloaded the vessel, making it unwieldy and extremely dangerous. As the eight royalist boats had spaces for only 134 soldiers, the amphibious invasion force totaled 234 officers and soldiers. Cruz recognized that such a small force without reserves would be inadequate to assault a well-fortified position. For his part, Negrete concluded that nature and military art made the Mezcala fortification absolutely impregnable. Against a highly motivated force of Indians well known for their “barbarism and ferocity,” he estimated that an assault force needed at least s00 to 700 soldiers.83 Convening a junta of naval officers with the builder of the platform, Cruz considered building temporary log rafts to transport 250 to 300 troops.

106 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

Members of the junta opposed the idea unanimously, fearing a disaster if the

rafts broke up in the treacherous lake waters. Instead, they proposed the construction of a giant oared barge, which would be safer. Since there was no suitable wood for this project at Lake Chapala, Cruz dispatched the contractor to San Blas to build the barge in frame and transport its components inland for reassembly.*4 Once again the relatively small number of dedicated defenders at Mezcala and larger numbers of insurgent suppliers and guerrillas on the lakeshores and in the interior managed to deflect Cruz’s more powerful ordnance and divisions. And on this occasion it was done without firing a single shot. During his stay at Tlachichilco Cruz complained about high water levels in Lake

Chapala, treacherous winds, and unpredictable squalls that on five of six days during his stay forced the royalist launches and boats to relinquish their blockade. Moreover, the soldiers of the third royalist division, attached to the flotilla, suffered from exposure, seasickness, and scurvy, and most men were driven almost insane by itching of the skin caused by mange.® Without any other proposals, the blockade of Mezcala Island continued as before. On 16 April, off Mezcala Island, Lt. Agustin Bocalan received information that an Indian force had sacked Ajijic, an important royalist village farther to the west on the north shore. Commanding three new, twomasted gunboats—Poblana, Toluquena, and San Miguel—each rowed by eighteen prisoners of war and manned by about fifteen soldiers, Bocalan’s

squadron proceeded to the uninhabited Isla de Chapala, landing forty troops to investigate a possible rebel presence. They found nothing except the cadaver of a royalist soldier and set out again to see if they could intercept the rebel canoes. As the royalists arrived off Ajijic, insurgents ashore opened fire with muskets. Twenty-one canoes attacked the royalist gunboats and attempted to drive them toward the shore to catch them in cross fire. The royalist vessels proved to be more than a match for the canoes— particularly when Bocalan brought his cannons to bear. In three hours of fighting, the royalists sank six rebel canoes and captured one. Canoe fragments littered the shore and insurgent blood stained the water. Bocalan estimated that the enemy lost two hundred killed and wounded for only two minor royalist injuries, suffered by a mariner and a carpenter.8° Bocalan’s operation illustrated the potential for royalist maritime power based upon the heavily armed and manned gunboats. On the night of 23 April 1814. Bocalan sailed from Tlachichilco for the south-shore district of the

Rio Tizapan with Poblana, Toluquena, San Miguel, and two armed longboats from the San Blas vessels, Princesa and Bolero, that at Lake Chapala took on the names of their mother ships. At dawn this flotilla halted off the

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND ®* 107

the Rio Tizapan while a party of soldiers went ashore to investigate the hacienda and the village, which was well known for its rebel sympathies. Having reinforced the royalist presence, Bocalan continued his lakeshore reconnais-

sance toward Angostura, where the royalists sighted about forty rebels beaching two large canoes. The royalists attacked quickly, killing five insur-

gents and pursuing the others, who fled inland toward mountainous terrain. The soldiers paid little heed to showers of rocks thrown down upon them during the chase.8” Following these skirmishes, which were typical of many that took place during 1814 and 1815, Bocalan’s flotilla continued eastward toward Jucumatlan, attempting without success to communicate with the second division, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Arango.®8 Atm:00 A.M., as the gunboats returned across the lake to Tlachichilco, the lookouts observed several rebel canoes departing from Mezcala Island. From a distance Bocalan witnessed a chase in which Pilot Antonio Roman, commanding the blockade launch San Fernando, cut off the rebel canoes and attacked them with seven broadsides of grapeshot fired by his bow gun. Approximately thirty of sixty rebels died, and more would have been killed if the chains of the oarsmen, all rebel prisoners of war, had not restricted their mobility. To improve their rowing

Roman ordered their chains removed, restraining them only with leg shackles. During the skirmish a continuous artillery barrage from the besieging boats and the floating platform against the island prevented the islanders from firing more than two cannon shots.®?

These waterborne skirmishes may have reinvigorated royalist morale somewhat, but on 1 May Cruz endured yet another setback. Although the royalist divisions had been tested in battle by large insurgent bands, until this date no major royalist force in Cruz’s command had suffered a major defeat. Patrolling the southwestern shore of Lake Chapala and west of Tizapan into the mountain passes to Teocuitatlan, Atoyac, and Sayula, Lieutenant Colonel Arango and the second division de operaciones (regional division) gained an unsavory reputation for their arbitrary and sanguinary behavior toward the Indian population. Composed of 19 artillerymen, 287 infantry,

250 cavalry, and 18 amnestied deserters, for a grand total of 574 troops, Arango’s division approached Los Corrales, an estancia of the Hacienda de San Francisco Tizapan near the lakeside village of the same name.” In very rugged mountain terrain the royalist vanguard, led by Lt. Col. Juan Cuéllar, stumbled into a rebel ambush and fell back, where it became entangled with the main body. Arango had no idea that he was up against a large force of coalesced bands commanded by the insurgents José Trinidad Salgado, Jose Maria Vargas, Canon Lorenzo de Velasco, and Gordiano Guzman. Cuellar

108 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

and 168 of the royalists died in combat, and Arango, who suffered a broken leg, was captured with almost 300 of his soldiers.?! Conducted to Los Reyes, Arango and his officers, sergeants, and corporals were executed by the rebel cleric and commander Dr. Cos.92 The 350 men of Arango’s column who were patriotas, Indians and mestizos conscripted involuntarily into military service, transferred their loyalties to the insurgents, as was common among ordinary prisoners on both sides. The repercussions of this victory resonated to Mezcala Island, where the Indian garrison had begun to suffer from the constant shelling of the float-

ing battery and the shortages of food caused by the naval blockade. The rebel chief Vargas visited the island, giving the garrison some muskets, light

artillery pieces, and other weapons captured from Arango’s division and convoying a shipment of maize, beans, and other provisions. For the remainder of 1814 rebel canoe flotillas evaded the besiegers and ranged throughout the lake. They applied classic guerrilla tactics—surprise, deception, shock, and cunning—to take full advantage of royalist weaknesses, selecting targets from Xocotepec to Ocotlan. The victory over Arango’s division produced a noticeable decline in royalist support at communities such as Zapotlan, Sayula, Zacoalco, Autlan, and Tocotepec. To prevent further

erosion Cruz ordered his district commandants to exert “double energy” and, where convenient, to impose “exemplary punishments.”% For the royalists there seemed to be no end to the tenacity of the Indian rebels or their remarkable good luck. On the surface of Lake Chapala canoes were excellent light vessels for waterborne guerrillas. The royalist fleet’s concentration on the siege of Mezcala Island left other Indian communities free to launch raids or make feints into the lake that provoked many chases and skirmishes. With cannons installed in the bows of their larger canoes,

the insurgents could launch raids but still navigate shallows and marshy areas well beyond the reach of the deeper-draft Spanish gunboats. Where necessary, canoes could be drawn up on the shore to facilitate escapes or conceal the presence of insurgent fighters. In one day during June 1814 the rebels dispatched raiding flotillas of 37 canoes to Xocotepec and 45 to Ocotlan, lake villages situated many leagues apart. During 1814 they deployed almost 250 canoes, some armed with light artillery and muskets for military operations and others assigned to transport duties.%4 The insurgents’ high degree of flexibility could not be matched on the royalist side. In June 1814 Cruz learned that the costly and immobile floating battery would have to be withdrawn from its blockade position within can-

non shot of Mezcala Island, only three months after it was placed there. Wave action combined with cannon recoil had produced so much stress on

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND ®* 109

the hull that the heavy platform appeared likely to founder in the next storm. At a naval junta convened to evaluate this latest calamity, the builder, José

Afiorga, argued—probably strenuously with Cruz present—that navigation on Lake Chapala produced strain similar to the pounding of ocean swells on the hulls of vessels.95 Constructed of softwood timbers for a single

“golpe de mano,” the floating battery could not be careened, repaired, or even pumped out, due to the design of the bilge. Other royalist boats made of local softwoods exhibited similar weaknesses, and many had to be scrapped when repair costs outstripped the value of the craft. Cruz pressed for refit where possible and commissioned the construction of a large galliot and six new cannon launches similar to the Toluquena and Poblana—armed with the twenty-four-pounders removed from the battery of the decommissioned platform or at least six- or eight-pounders sufficient to outgun the Indian canoes.”6 By the latter half of 1814 the royalists once again appeared to have lost the initiative on Lake Chapala and in the counterinsurgency campaigns. In the royalist divisions epidemic disease, outright exhaustion, and frequent desertions of conscripted soldiers caused growing concerns. Contagious fevers wracked Negrete’s division, and Quintanar stated that the fourth division, operating to the south of the lake, left a tail of sick soldiers behind it at Sayula, Tamazula, and Zapotlan.®” By September Cruz warned Viceroy Cal-

leja that sickness had demobilized half of his combat troops. He worried that his depleted divisions might fail to hold the Valladolid and Guanajuato lines and even speculated that an audacious rebel force might one day appear before the gates of Guadalajara. To protect the city Cruz called up several urban militia companies, equipped with “objects that appear to be muskets, but which absolutely must not be fired.”98 To the south of Lake Chapala insurgent bands led by Dr. Cos, Vargas,

Salgado, and Mendoza invaded the countryside around Jiquilpan, Los Reyes, Uruapan, Valle de Mazamitla, Atoyac, and Teocuitatlan. From these positions they attacked the royalist towns and villages of Zacoalco, Santa Ana, Sayula, Zapotlan, Tuxpan, and Zapotiltic. Cruz pressured Calleja to dispatch a Spanish expeditionary battalion to Nueva Galicia, warning again

about the danger of losing public confidence and noting the questionable loyalty of the population. He criticized the Spanish Constitution of 181 for contributing to disorders and “making this scum more thirsty each day for European blood.” Calleja rejected Cruz’s demands and criticized his silence about a campaign against the “bandit gathering” at Mezcala Island. Declaring the obvious, the viceroy reminded Cruz that the island fortress “invigorates and fills the enemy with pride, casting consequent discredit upon the

IO * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

valiant troops of the army. They [the insurgents] believe themselves invincible and that lair gives an extraordinary impulse to the revolution.”” Cruz responded with new measures to reinvigorate the naval campaign.

The commander at Tlachichilco, Capt. and Col. Navarro y Torres, was a good man, but poor health left him unable to discipline raw civilian sailors, prisoners of war, and soldiers of Cruz’s third division assigned as marines aboard the royalist flotilla.1°° Bored by static blockade duty and fearful of bloody skirmishes with indigenous fighters, the men sought any pretext to desert. To replace Navarro y Torres, Cruz temporarily appointed an army officer, Lt. Col. Juan Delgado, major of the Batallén Provincial de Guadalajara, who had shown an aptitude for gunboat operations. When no senior naval captain could be found for the permanent post, however, Cruz had to restore Navarro y Torres to command. Stung by Calleja’s recent criticisms, Cruz visited Tlachichilco 16—20 December to inspect the garrison and the new gunboats. Finding the boats without good oarsmen, he requested the

comandante general of the Provincias Internas to recruit some Yaqui Indians from Sonora. Since the oarsmen aboard the gunboats were prisoners of war and criminals drafted from the jails of Guadalajara, they were “very poorly suited” for their new profession. This was especially true during December, when high winds and waves made navigation impossible for any of the royalist boats except for the large galliot.!0! However, other observers noted that the indigenous rebels managed to paddle their frail canoes in the most inclement weather.

At Tlachichilco Cruz met with Lieutenant Colonel Quintanar, recently returned from the south where he had won a victory against the bands that roamed the region from the Sierra de Teocuitatlan to Jiquilpan, Valle de Mazamitla, and Rio de Oro. Approaching Zapotlan, Quintanar learned that the bands of Vargas, Salgado, Mendoza, El Guaparr6n, and others had assembled to attack the town. At 6:00 A.M. on19 November Quintanar’s reconnaissance parties sighted a very large enemy force. The rebels deployed in battle array, and their cavalry swept into position from the shores of Lago de Zapotlan. Described by Quintanar as “a great mob,” the rebels formed for battle in a rough phalanx of eight hundred infantry and four artillery pieces with some two thousand horsemen on the right and left flanks.!°2 The royalists deployed in linear formation across a broad front, advancing toward the enemy, withholding fire as they received ragged volleys at long range, and watching the approach of the rebel cavalry. Commanding the right side of his division, with Capt. José del Pefia y del Rio on the left, Quintanar had his troops hold their fire until the rebels were close. At his command the royalists pressed forward rapidly, bringing the two sides to-

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND ° If

gether in hand-to-hand combat. The conflagration lasted only a few minutes before the rebels broke and ran, abandoning their artillery, munitions, and about one hundred muskets along the course of their flight into the hills.103

The royalists pursued, sowing the ground with over three hundred dead insurgents on the field and capturing eighty-two prisoners. Quintanar executed a few rebel officers and amnestied most others in honor of King Fernando VII, now returned his throne. None of the senior insurgent leaders fell into royalist hands, since, as Quintanar noted, they had reserved the best horses for themselves while sending their men to certain deaths.!% Remarkably, given the information in Quintanar’s battle diary, the royalists lost only nine men wounded. His soldiers fired 155 artillery rounds and 8,560

musket cartridges—again underscoring the importance of better discipline and equipment in conventional battle situations. Quintanar sent two detachments to corner rebel forces on the mountain peak of Zapatero and another unit composed of Zapotlan militiamen to incinerate the entire insurgent village of San Andrés, “because its inhabitants are very evil.”! The prisoners, mostly Indians, were sent in trons to Cruz at Tlachichilco, where they became involuntary oarsmen in the royalist fleet. In their discussions at Tlachichilco both Quintanar and Cruz recognized that the most rigorous counterinsurgency operations had failed to sever communications with the Mezcala fortress or prevent the coalescence of insurgent bands. Having attempted frontal assaults against Mezcala Island and experimented with amnesty programs that worked only so long as royalist troops were present to enforce peace, Cruz evolved a more draconian plan designed to drive a wedge between the Lake Chapala rebels and those of the interior who supported the insurgent campaigns. Setting his sights on the communities inhabited by truculent Tarascan- and Nahuatl-speaking natives and mestizos, Cruz ordered Quintanar to establish a quarantine line from Teocuitatlan to Hacienda de la Palma, including all of the small villages, hamlets, and settlements of this region.!6° Within this fire-free zone, Quintanar’s division was to destroy all crops, stored grain, and any other food supplies available to the rebels. Domestic livestock was to be conducted to royalist towns or destroyed. Royalist forces received permission to incinerate all towns, haciendas, and ranchos. Any man apprehended was to be convicted summarily and executed; women, children, and old men were to be spared.!°7 To sever communications and trade between the interior mountains and lakeside communities Quintanar was to establish a fort at Tizapan. This site was ideal for a royalist garrison because the nearby barrancas led into the mountains and to storage facilities where the insurgents

12 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

kept loot, arms, grain, livestock, and fresh mounts. Royalist troops were to search men, women, and children for concealed money or other valuables, the proceeds of which were to be distributed. Confiscated grain from Tizapan or Jucumatlan was to be sent by boat to Tlachichilco to feed the troops and mariners of the third division. Prisoners, if any, and men who surrendered voluntarily to seek amnesties would serve as presidarios at Tlachichilco and oarsmen in the royalist flotilla.108

As if to tweak royalist noses at the moment Cruz introduced these new measures to crush insurgency, on the night of 19 January the Mezcala islanders boarded and captured a new cannon launch, Fernando en su Trono, commanded by Sublieutenant Juan Espolosin that was on blockade duty southwest of the island. Since conditions were calm under bright moonlight, observers suspected that Espolosin’s crew was asleep. According to evidence provided later by Indian prisoners, fourteen rebel canoes returning to Mezcala with firewood from Santa Columba had approached the island in complete silence from behind the blockade line. Surprised when the royalist boat did not issue the “;Quién vive?” demanding identification, they approached stealthily, overwhelmed the vessel in an instant, and captured eight prisoners.!©? Despite better vigilance, Sgt. Crist6bal Sentero, who was commanding the gunboat Tepiquena stationed nearby, also failed to see the Indian attackers until they were almost aboard his vessel. In a clash that lasted about half an hour, Sentero’s boat came under heavy musket and grenade fire. Answering with seven rounds of grapeshot, two cannonballs, and one thousand musket rounds, Sentero’s boat sank three canoes. Having lost its anchor line and grapple, however, Sentero’s boat was unable to assist Espolosin.!0 When the firing commenced Ens. Juan de Hevia, commander of the blockade boats, ordered his boats San Fernando and Poblana to row toward the sounds of battle, but they arrived too late to provide assistance. Collecting reports from other boat commanders to establish exactly what had occurred, Hevia realized the full extent of the disaster at 4:00 A.M., when he observed a star rocket of the type used by the royalists fired from Mezcala Is-

land. Approaching the island at the first light of dawn, he saw the royalist launch beached in Mezcala Bay." At Tlachichilco, Capt. Navarro y Torres witnessed the flashes and heard the thunder of heavy firing. Although he sacked Hevia from his post that same morning and strengthened the naval blockade, the damage had been done.!!3 Royalist commanders recognized the supreme embarrassment of losing a boat named in honor of the restoration of King Fernando VII. From this point forward the Fernando en su Trono was known only as the Teresa. Ordered by Cruz to dispatch a rescue

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND ° 13

expedition, Navarro y Torres assembled his boats and joined the blockade. Certain that Espolosin and all of his crew had been massacred, he exhorted his troops to take bloody revenge against the “malditas islefios.”"4 Navarro y Torres did not know until later that, of seven or eight prisoners captured with the Teresa, the insurgents cut the throats of all but three, who promised to instruct the islanders on effective techniques to attack the royalist boats. According to later information from rebel prisoners, these survivors ended up as the personal servants of Padre Castellanos.15 On 22 January 1815, well before dawn, the royalist rescue mission of nine gunboats, commanded by Navarro y Torres aboard Tapatia and frigate lieutenant Manuel Murga with General Cruz, formed a battle line off Mezcala Island in light breezes. Artillery exchanges broke out at dawn as the fleet de-

ployed to pound the island fortifications while the gunboat San Miguel, commanded by frigate purser Marcelo Croquer, who volunteered for the task, closed upon the shore with Poblana and Toluqueno to cut loose the Tevesa. From the outset, however, the attack lacked the momentum needed to achieve surprise. Although grenadier captain José Uluapa, commander of the Tolugueno, reported that he did everything conceivable to make his presidarios pull harder at their oars, they were neither skillful nor dedicated to the dangerous task at hand.!!6 However, Croquer and mariner José Cortéz

managed to cut three of four cables that held the beached Teresa. By this point heavy musket and cannon fire and a hail of stones literally enveloped them. The San Miguel took the main brunt of this barrage, and Croquer, severely wounded for his efforts, abandoned the rescue attempt. Aboard the gunboat the rowing master was dead and all of the crew, soldiers, and prisoner-oarsmen suffered injuries. On Poblana the commander, Sublieutenant Manuel de Castro, received a serious wound, and most of his crew and soldiers were hit by gunfire or stones.!” Both boats drew away from the island to rejoin the squadron. Navarro y Torres ordered another assault, but a wind arose from the east, whipping up a heavy swell that ended the operation. Despite Navarro y Torres’s “burning desire” to renew his attack, the wind increased to a “howling tempest” that he knew would take three or four days to subside. Navarro y Torres, who most likely had lost his passion for combat that day, called off the Teresa rescue mission until the weather improved. 1/8

In his battle summary Navarro y Torres could not help expressing at least grudging respect for the Indian defenders. They maintained accurate can-

non and musket fire and discharged a withering hail of stones thrown by hand and sling upon the royalist boats. Tapatia, for example, might have foundered had a heavy cannonball that smashed its bow not glanced off the

14. ° CHRISTON I. ARCHER

anchor ring. Even so, the vessel suffered major damage and leaked so badly that it had to be sent to the shipyard for repairs. Similarly, San Miguel lost a

mast and sustained other damage. During the engagement the royalists fired 171 cannonballs, 99 rounds of grapeshot, and 2,240 musket rounds—so

much ammunition, in fact, that Navarro y Torres had to order a new shipment from Guadalajara.!9 Having expended so much effort in a failed enterprise, the naval commander was negative about the immediate future. He expressed special concern for twenty gravely injured men who languished without adequate attention in the provisional hospital. They lay alongside others who suffered putrid fever and scurvy that daily took the lives of soldiers, mariners, and presidarios—an annual loss of about a third of the Tlachichilco garrison.!20

As if to underscore the depressed atmosphere in the royalist camp, the tempest that terminated rescue operations against Mezcala Island also sank the decommissioned hulk of the floating artillery platform.!2! Referring to the storms, squalls, waterspouts, lightning storms, changeable winds, lack of sheltered ports, and completely unpredictable weather conditions on Lake Chapala, Navarro y Torres declared, “su tempramento es muy malo” [its volatile climate is terrible].!22 Experienced naval officers who had sailed

the stormy passages around Cape Horn and the Cape of Good Hope or in the tempestuous seas of Asia or, like Francisco Cafiizares and José Maria Narvaez, had served in the explorations of the Northwest Coast and Alaska, agreed unanimously that they had never witnessed conditions like those of Lake Chapala. High winds on the lake shifted direction without notice, and the storms were extremely treacherous—altering the normal rules learned by deep-sea mariners accustomed to oceanic navigation. Knife-edged freshwater waves driven by high winds dismasted, swamped, and often knocked the rudders off the launches. The crews, including sailors, soldiers, and oarsmen, suffered from exposure in the small, open boats. Surviving on cold provisions—mostly hardtack and cheese—many suffered from scurvy, malnutrition, mange, and other ailments.}23 Stormy weather favored the Mezcala defenders through much of January 1815, permitting the rebels to resupply and further strengthen their defenses. On 25 January Navarro y Torres, aboard San Miguel, led the royalist squadron to conduct close reconnaissance within halfa cannon shot of the island. By this time the islanders had dragged the Fernando en su Trono (alias Teresa)

out of the water entirely and constructed a strong stone wall around it that obscured most of the hull. Any further energy dedicated to rescue operations seemed pointless. After suffering a quarter hour of bombardment at

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND ®° Is

close range, Navarro y Torres withdrew his squadron to reestablish the blockade.!24

Checked by an island garrison of poorly equipped Indians, neither Cruz’s flotilla nor his counterinsurgency divisions on land had produced victories worthy of the high cost paid by the treasury of Nueva Galicia. When Calleja demanded that the island fortress be liquidated at once, Cruz answered that he wanted to get rid of the canalla as much as the viceroy. Not only did the lack of anchorages and steep escarpments of Mezcala Island deter attacks,

but the insurgents continued to strengthen their double or triple rings of well-built parapets and carefully sited batteries. Cruz speculated that victory was possible, but only at the cost of four hundred casualties among his regular infantrymen—men he could not afford to lose if his army was to maintain its presence throughout the region.!25 The Yaqui Indian oarsmen ap-

parently concurred with these negative assessments. Of several hundred dispatched from Sonora for San Blas aboard the warship Rey Fernando, only thirty-five actually showed up at Lake Chapala. The others either deserted after receiving their first pay or simply declined to join the fray.!26

Royalist Counterinsurgents on the Advance, 1815-1816 Despite their fears of a domino-effect collapse, in 1815 the royalists still held their major centers and were poised to attack the underlying insurgent sup-

port among the majority of the population. The now-completed Chapala gunboat flotilla and the application of extremely rigorous counterinsurgency policies inland from the lake practiced by Quintanar, Negrete, and other commanders eroded the morale of the Indian rebels and exhausted the populace. At the same time Cruz recognized even more clearly that the insurrections in Nueva Galicia connected with the border zones of Guanajuato, Valladolid, and the insurgent-dominated mountain region south of Lake Chapala. In some areas royalist district commanders fought their own wars, chased insurgents into neighboring jurisdictions, and then neglected to cooperate further.!27 Cruz also rejected the over-optimistic view of the war advanced by Viceroy Calleja and repeated by senior bureaucrats and printed Mexico City gazettes. With Mezcala Island undefeated and many guerrilla bands still functioning in the rugged periphery of Nueva Galicia, Cruz warned Calleja about the dangers of self-deception and believing one’s own propaganda.!28 Although Quintanar’s victory in November 1814 relieved pressures emanating from the sierra and valley region of Mazamitla,

the royalists had not been able to reestablish complete control over such

16 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

places as Jiquilpan, Cotya, and Los Reyes. The real problem for Cruz was the paltry force available in his army. To unite sufficient troops actually to defeat the rebels in one or another region meant temporarily abandoning other districts to the insurgent forces.!29 In a word, the royalists faced the classic problem of the counterinsurgent—erosion of operational forces to create many small garrisons, each of which existed simply in case an insurgent threat came its way. These soldiers tended to lose their discipline while performing sedentary garrison duties, and some of them identified with the local populace. The naval blockade of Mezcala Island had caused severe malnutrition and disease within the Indian garrison, which led to desperate forays. For some time the number of skirmishes and raids on royalist communities actually increased. On 12 December 1814, for example, royalist militiamen in an obser-

vation post outside of Ocotlan watched a canoe carrying seven Indian rebels, who landed to steal maize and beans from rancherias situated along the river upstream from Lake Chapala. Deploying their forces to trap the insurgents between the land and open water, the royalists slaughtered all aboard except for Juan Salvador, formerly a fisherman of San Pedro Ixican, and his sister, Ana Maria, both from the Mezcala fortification.!3° Both gave information about the Mezcala garrison and the origins of weapons used by the insurgents, details about provisioning, and intelligence about some of the rebel leaders from villages on the shores of Lake Chapala. They confirmed that during the past week a flotilla of thirty canoes had shipped two hundred fanegas of maize from San Pedro Ixican and that one canoe had been lost, with five men drowned. Asked about future supply expeditions, Juan Salvador stated that there was a plan to ship maize from Tizapan. Among the rebel district chiefs mentioned was Apolonio Hernandez, commander at San Pedro Ixican.!3! In January 1815 this same Apolonio Hernandez surrendered to seek amnesty, transferred his loyalties to Brigadier Cruz, whom he visited in Guadalajara for an interview, and agreed to serve Comandante Navarro y Torres at the Tlachichilco base. Hernandez stated that there were very few “yn-

dividuos de raz6n,” or non-Indians, in the Mezcala Island garrison. To enhance his own importance, he offered plans to destroy the canoes that sus-

tained the islanders and even presented a project to kidnap Padre Castellanos.!32 Hernandez’s value as a turncoat produced minor rather than major victories, but his testimony against rebel sympathizers resulted in a significant number of executions. His first proposal to Navarro y Torres was for a raid on the marsh community of San Pedro Caro, on the southeastern coast of the lake. He suggested a night attack against the local rebel band of six-

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND ° 17

teen to twenty men and a sweep of the region to round up Indian fishing canoes. With detailed local information, Navarro y Torres planned a raid in-

volving the launches San Miguel, Poblana, Toluquena, and Tepigquena, backed by the heavy guns of the schooner Venganza. Hernandez went along as one of the pilots. Fighting contrary winds, the crews had to row for five

leagues, and as they entered the marshy bay of Cumuato the deeper-draft launches grounded frequently and had to be pushed by the crew members in the thigh-deep water. At 4:30 A.M. Hernandez guided ten soldiers to a hut that showed a light. Aware of some commotion, the inhabitants called out the “;Quién vive?” and the royalists deceived them with the reply “Amér-

ica.” They captured three frightened Indians, who told Navarro y Torres that the local chiefs had fled earlier that night, having heard from a woman that a royalist force was coming from Zamora. With this information Navarro y Torres divided his troops into four sections and captured San Pedro Caro without resistance.143

At San Pedro Caro the royalists rounded up eighteen prisoners, including the alcalde, Esteban Hernandez, insurgent governor of the district and colonel of Jiquilpan. The interrogations of the eighteen prisoners presented a portrait of humble laborers, fishermen, weavers, shepherds, and muleteers caught up in a conflict they could not escape. Of the total, eight men claimed to belong to the partido del rey and the other ten declared themselves neutral even if they admitted previous contacts with the insurgents. José Miguel Lépez, a laborer and fisherman from Tangancicuaro, southeast of Zamora, testified that the insurgents compelled him to live in San Pedro Caro.134 Others, from Tingiiindin and La Barca, said that they sought refuge in San Pedro Caro from rebels who occupied their hometowns. Rafael Ldpez, a fisherman from Tangancicuaro, admitted having served the rebel band of Capt. Bartolo Gonzalez but said he did so unwillingly. Nicolas Pérez, a native of the town, admitted that he had traded fish in rebel-occupied Jiquilpan, Sahuayo, and Tingiiindin but added that he also sold fish to the troops of the king. A number of the prisoners attempted to explain that their village was divided in loyalties but when heavily armed Mezcalefios arrived from the island demanding grain and meat they had no alternative other than to serve them. As Basilio Toribio testified, the town was insurgent by force and not by choice.135

Under other circumstances this sort of testimony might have left sufficient doubts in the minds of royalist interrogators for them to offer amnesties or at worst to sentence the men of San Pedro Caro to row the royalist gunboats or labor on fortifications. In 1815, however, Cruz wished to make a special example of villagers of the southern shore of Lake Chapala who pro-

m8 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

visioned Mezcala Island. Navarro y Torres condemned sixteen of the prisoners to execution, freeing only two young boys, Pedro José and José Jorge Roman, who were declared too young to be rebels.1%° During this period, combined operations between Quintanar’s fourth division and troops from Valladolid commanded by Col. José Antonio Andrade attacked the capacity of the rebels to unite larger forces. Quintanar’s troops scoured the rugged Sierra de Toloquilla region between Sayula and La Palma, patrolling right up to the southern shores of Lake Chapala and through the Valle de Mazamuitla to the communities of Tamazula and Zapotlan. In accordance with Cruz’s orders, the royalists drove off or killed all

livestock and removed stored provisions from the rural haciendas and ranchos. By this means they denied subsistence to bands in the region and support for the Mezcala Island rebels. Responding to royalist orders to burn out rebel towns, haciendas, and ranchos, the insurgents published similar directions.!3” The first to issue the order to burn out the enemy, Cruz admitted that the poor rancheros faced the “cruel alternative” of either joining the rebels or seeing their houses and crops burned and their stock stolen. To prevent the insurgents from employing terror in the royalist manner, Cruz ordered Quintanar to evacuate all isolated villagers with their furniture, possessions, and livestock and to resettle them in fortified royalist towns where they could be protected and watched.!38 The obvious result of this concentration of the population was that anyone discovered outside the

guarded towns was considered an enemy insurgent who could be shot down at will.

Through 1815 the rigorous blockade and counterinsurgency operations wore down the Mezcala Island garrison. Reports of epidemic disease and food shortages became more prevalent, as only a trickle of provisions got through. Despite the royalist efforts to seal off the island, the insurgents continued to hit royalist detachments and sedentary garrisons with surprise attacks that sometimes caught a blockhouse guard unprepared or raids that infiltrated royalist positions to steal arms and provisions. On 26 April the somewhat less than zealous Captain Navarro y Torres convened a new junta of naval officers to reexamine the possibility of an amphibious landing on Mezcala Island. Despite evidence from prisoners that identified vulnerable points, Ens. Hevia and other officers predicted heavy casualties among an assaulting force.!39 Since neither Captain Navarro y Torres nor Cruz was anxious to repeat previous disasters, the proposed attack did not occur. For the royalists the threat remained that a determined insurgent force might overrun Tlachichilco or some other important base to inflict a significant defeat. In May 1816, for example, the total force available in the third di-

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND ° 119

vision garrisoned at Tlachichilco was 372 soldiers, 90 NCOs, 28 sublieutenants, and 7 captains. However, of the 462 men composing the division, 163 soldiers, 22 NCOs, and 6 sublieutenants served the boat squadrons and an additional 95 soldiers, 8 NCOs, and 2 sublieutenants occupied the nearby posts at Poncitlan, Chapala, and Xocotepec.!40 At Tlachichilco only 53 soldiers and NCOs and 2 officers served guard duties, with 10 of these men detached to the

army hospital. Recognizing the potential for disaster, Cruz drafted a detailed defense plan containing forty-nine points.!4! Although the threat of desertion by royalist soldiers prevented the establishment of outlying watch-

towers, Cruz ordered daily cavalry patrols into the surrounding countryside. Officers were to watch carefully for enemy spies, who up to this point had enjoyed almost total freedom to conduct reconnaissance even within the Tlachichilco fortifications. In the event of a night attack, incendiary devices made of pitch and tar-coated straw and wood were to be thrown into the moat for illumination and to deter rebel sappers. Cruz counseled soldiers not to open fire too soon and to make certain of their targets by arming for the chest and head. Artillery would fire grapeshot, and soldiers stationed on the parapets loaded their muskets with multiple shot rather than one ball so that each discharge would injure several enemy attackers. If necessary, troops were to descend into the moat to engage the enemy in hand-to-hand combat, during which they were to raise as much pandemonium as possible. To prevent escalade, those stationed on the walls were to suspend bundles of thorny bushes and spiked planks. To give the impression that the garrison was much larger, soldiers were to fight in shirt sleeves while their servants and other civilians wore the soldiers’ uniform coats and hats.!42 Finally, the drummers were to sound calls for apocryphal units, and in response, the soldiers were to shout as if joyfully welcoming the arrival of reinforcements.

Convinced that the royalists suffered from sloppy discipline, Cruz appointed naval commissary Francisco Ruiz de Pujadas as Gobernador Juez de Policia del Campo Fortificado de Tlachichilco. He ordered Ruiz to assemble a complete list of provisioners to the navy and garrison. These individuals were to reside in the royalist camp, from which they were to regulate

the Indian peddlers who came daily to sell their fruit, vegetables, grain, poultry, and other provisions. Cruz’s orders specified that no Indian was to enter the interior of the encampment or the bastions. Strict regulations governed residency in the royalist camp and access during daylight hours.!49 Clearly, laxity had permitted the insurgents to collect good intelligence information. The division commander, Navarro y Torres, was made responsible for authorizing the residency of wives, children, and other dependents of officers, soldiers, and mariners. This permission for noncombatant resi-

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dency did not extend to parents, brothers, sisters, or any other relatives. Because accurate artillery fire was obscured by shacks that the dependents of

military personnel and oarsmen had built outside the palisades Cruz ordered that no house or hut would be permitted within cannon range of the walls.!44 Further underscoring fears about disloyalty and low morale among the royalist troops, the sentinels were given standing orders to fire upon any soldier who attempted to go over the walls. During the daylight hours cavalry pickets were sent to scour the immediate region around Tlachichilco for deserters. At night no picket force was to be stationed at any point beyond cannon range and the portcullis was to be kept closed to keep garrison sol-

diers in and intruders out. A sighting of any group totaling twenty unknown individuals was to be cause for a general alarm and call to arms.!* Of equal importance, given the uneven results of the royalists in amphibious warfare, Navarro y Torres introduced a new program to eliminate the Mezcala Island rebels. He divided the boat forces into two divisions—north and south—to maintain the blockade and also to patrol strategic lakeshore areas. After years of experiments with untrained boat commanders—often infantrymen—the royalists now assembled a team of six experienced marine officers to serve as launch skippers, seconded by infantry officers. Serving on an eight-day rotation, two marine and four infantry officers were to be on active duty aboard the boats at all times. Mariners and soldiers served the same eight-day tours, with half of the troops in the boats and the other half as a reserve force at Tlachichilco. Recognizing the high levels of desertion from these forces, Navarro y Torres established strict regulations to elimi-

nate opportunities for flight. Boats approaching the pier at Tlachichilco were to stand off at pistol range until received by the ayudante del puerto (harbor master).!46 No artilleryman, sailor, ship’s boy, servant, or canoeist was permitted ashore without a written order from the commander of the boat division. The boat skippers, sergeants, and corporals could land without these orders, but even they were instructed not to abuse their privileges. No prisoner oarsman was to go ashore for any reason, even to load ammunition and provisions. A special brigada de presos (chain gang) composed of twenty men was to handle these tasks. To protect against abuses, Navarro y Torres stationed a boat with a special log and register book to record the ar-

rival and departure of naval gunboats and to keep accurate track of the passes issued for men to go ashore. Even civilian fishermen had to carry spe-

cial letters of identity from the division commander, and they were restricted to fishing from dawn to half an hour before dark.147 Despite these comprehensive regulations royalist morale and discipline remained low. Interservice rivalries exacerbated tensions between naval off-

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND ° 121

cers and their infantry comrades pressed into marine service.!48 Navarro y Torres complained about the “fatal propensity” of soldiers and sailors of the division to desert, noting that good treatment, timely award of pay, and special allowances made little difference. Cruz fretted about the cost to the royal treasury of high pay and allowances that rewarded men who, by their behavior and attitude, exhibited neither gratitude nor devotion to the king and patria. With chronic losses of trained men, Navarro y Torres further tightened strict orders that no one assigned to the blockade vessels would be permitted ashore except on essential duties in the presence of an officer. He exhorted his boat commanders to exhibit “constancy and willingness to undertake the arduous duty,” noting that nothing damaged morale faster than complaints by officers about fatiguing conditions, poor food, faulty boats, bad uniforms, and useless weapons. To focus the officers’ attention upon the erosion of manpower, the boat commanders, or in their absence, their subordinates, were made personally responsible for desertions.!49 Casting about to identify the source of low morale, Cruz blamed the regional hacendados, hacienda administrators, the populations of the estates, rancheros as a group, the alcaldes, and local townspeople. He issued a circular letter to the proprietors of nearby haciendas insisting that they assemble all of their personnel, dependent rancheros, and residents and inform them that they were obligated to arrest any soldier they encountered traveling without a written passport issued by the commander at Tlachichilco. For detaining and delivering these escapees, civilians were to be paid a reward of ten pesos upon delivery.!5° Vaqueros and shepherds who traveled the roads and paths used by fleeing soldiers were ordered to arm themselves so that they could detain deserters and return them to army authorities. Cruz issued the same circular order to all curas parrocos of nearby communities, with the added caution that noncompliance would be punished severely. Anyone who denounced an official or a neighbor who assisted deserters was promised confidentiality to guarantee their anonymity. As if to underscore the frayed morale among the royalists, in May 1816 the urban garrison at the town of Chapala, close to Tlachichilco, fled without firing a shot when confronted by a small band of rebel raiders. Cruz reorganized the garrison, which had been commanded by a sergeant, appointing an active young officer, Lt. Luis de Menchaca, who was sent with a sergeant and twenty dragoons to reestablish order. Like other lakeside towns, Chapala had been fortified three years previously with parapets, a ditch or moat, and several bastions. Total disinterest from the civilian populace and laxity by garrison troops had allowed the defensive works to deteriorate. Without the will to dispatch patrols into the district where contact with in-

122 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

surgents was possible, the soldiers simply locked themselves up in their bastions and abandoned the countryside.!5! Cruz ordered Sublieutenant Francisco Viso of the Infanteria de Guadalajara to accompany Menchaca’s replacement force so that there could be day and night commanders working on a twelve-hour rotation. He charged the officers, sergeants, and corporals to provide an example of their commitment to defense by volunteering their own labor to rebuild the fortifications. Menchaca received special orders to maintain daily inspections of picket forces, arms, mounts, equipment, and the state of sanitation in the garrison. To extend royalist control beyond the town walls, he was to enlist a district company of mounted lancers, mobilizing every male resident who possessed a horse. If necessary Menchaca could call up additional reinforcements from regional hacienda militia companies. To prevent confusion during rebel raids on Chapala village, he was to edu-

cate the Indian populace and other residents in advance about how they should behave in the event of an attack. Finally, Cruz ordered Menchaca to work hard to regain the loyalty of the population and to persuade them that service to the king and patria was the best way to preserve their lives, property, and possessions. !52

To tighten the net about the Mezcala Island rebels, through 1816 Cruz strengthened the network to sever communications and supply trails southward from Lake Chapala. In early July Quintanar fortified strategic Jiquilpan and organized a mobile cuerpo volante (flying unit) of 40 infantry and 160 cavalry enlisted from existing forces. The objective was to recover the surrounding districts and then to implant an impermeable defense-line running westward from Jiquilpan to Quitupan, Masamitla, and onward to Zapotlan and Sayula. This cordon of royalist-fortified towns and cuerpos volantes would block access to Lake Chapala to the south of the proinsurgent lakeshore villages. Although the Guadalajara garrison was under strength, he transferred a captain, 2 lieutenants, a sublieutenant, 4 sergeants, 2 drummers, 8 corporals, and 86 soldiers of the Infanteria de Toluca and part of the elite grenadier company of the Regimiento de Guadalajara. These reinforcements were sent to bolster Quintanar’s fourth division and replaced officers and soldiers of the Batall6n de Puebla, who not only had failed to maintain discipline but were suspected of having worked out financial deals and special arrangements with rebel forces.153 Cruz insisted that all Puebla soldiers be removed from the region—in carts, if necessary for those too sick to travel by other means—and reassembled elsewhere for reorganization and retraining.!54 Clearly, the long campaign and fragmentation of royalist forces into numerous small garrisons had produced military ineffectiveness and corruption.

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After years of experience Cruz left little to chance as he detailed his counterinsurgency strategy and tactics for the Jiquilpan to Zapotlan line. In addi-

tion to their weapons, he equipped soldiers destined for duty at Jiquilpan with shovels, iron bars, pickaxes, hoes, and other implements required to dig trenches and erect palisades. Since they would arrive during the rainy season, when adobe could not be made, the temporary parapets were to be constructed of scavenged beams, doors, window frames, planks, and poles. Rather than building simple screen walls from these materials, they were to frame large box-structures filled with earth from the moat and trench excavation. These bullet-absorbing structures would serve until adobe or stone parapets replaced them. The moat was to be four varas in width and three

varas in depth, and the parapets were to be two and a quarter varas in height. !55

To build and maintain fortifications, Cruz authorized Quintanar to mobilize every Indian and peon in the district villages, haciendas, and ranchos. If the total was still insufficient, the royalist comandantes of Zamora and La Barca were to draft laborers from their regions. These workers were to be fed meat and beans requisitioned locally since the royal treasury could not bear any of the costs. Maize for tortillas consumed by the troops and fodder for the cavalry horses were to be requisitioned by armed parties sent into the rebel districts of Cotyja and Los Reyes.}5° If necessary, Quintanar could levy special taxes upon the population of Jiquilpan and its district to help pay for the new defensive measures. The burden of the reinvigorated royalist military program was to fall most heavily upon those of dubious loyalties.

As comandante of the region, Quintanar appointed Capt. Antonio Inguanzo to command the town and its defenses. Cruz dispatched a heavy cannon and two naval carronades (short, large-caliber naval pieces built for antipersonnel combat) to Jiquilpan. Royalist gunboats transported these cannons from Tlachichilco to the south coast, and Indian laborers dragged them inland to the town. From Zamora, Negrete’s division was to station a strong detachment close to Jiquilpan and lend weaponry and reciprocal assistance as required by insurgent movements. The commanders of the southeastern districts and Lake Chapala convened a junta to agree upon a unified system of signals by flags and gunshots. Despite the toughness of counterinsurgency measures, Cruz hoped to reinvigorate any remaining “honorable” residents who might inform on the “sinister intentions” of their neighbors. Having experienced the deception of this region and particularly of Jiquilpan for years, he ordered Quintanar to observe the people carefully. Garrison troops were to play their role by keeping rigorous discipline. Cruz wanted the troops to avoid manual labor

124 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

on the fortifications in case they had to take up arms suddenly, and he insisted that they not communicate with civilians—especially the women. Previously, soldiers stationed in the region deserted or lost their ardor after they had been seduced by insurgent women. Having put into place a southern line anchored by Jiquilpan, Cruz directed his attention to the north of Lake Chapala, where he introduced a similar network of interlocking commands. The first part of this line extended from San Luis through Xocotepec, Ajijic, and San Antonio to Chapala and was commanded by Capt. Martin Manrrique. From Chapala to the royalist base at Tlachichilco, Cruz appointed Capt. Antonio Suarez de la Serna to command. The commander at Poncitlan, Capt. Luis Gutiérrez, covered the lake coast from Tlachichilco to Ocotlan, and Capt. Manuel Solehaga covered all of the Rio Grande from Ocotlan to Jamay. The line then extended eastward into contact with Negrete’s division based at Zamora. From this point, as noted, Negrete maintained active contact and cooperation with Quintanar’s fourth division based at Jiquilpan.!57 With the completion of this system Cruz had imposed a ring of fortified towns and flying detachments that surrounded Lake Chapala and more than ever before threatened to deny the Mezcala Island insurgents access to provisions, munitions, firewood, and even communication. From the lakeshore inland for four leagues or whatever distance appeared suitable, Cruz now introduced a scorched-earth policy. Within the interdicted zone the insurgents were to find absolutely nothing of value. All livestock, maize, stored wheat, beans, garbanzos, butter, salt, clothing, and anything else that might be used by the garrison of Mezcala Island had to be transferred to the fortified royalist towns or moved outside the restricted zone. People of the towns, haciendas, ranchos, and small settlements outside garrisoned areas were permitted only enough clothing for two days. Failure to abide by these regulations after public information sessions were conducted by the alcaldes, gobernadores, and tenientes de justicia (policing officials) was to result in automatic confiscation and sale of livestock and pos-

sessions, with half of the total value granted to the denunciator and the other half to the district troops.!58 Where possible, the army resettled in the garrisoned towns rural inhabitants uprooted from the interdicted zone. Each royalist comandante conducted surveys to establish the routes used by the Indian rebels from the shore of Lake Chapala inland to the hills, and

the troops of their compania volante devised tactics to interdict the most

rugged and difficult paths. Town fortifications were to be improved through the addition of stone walls and hilltop watchtowers constructed to provide surveillance over the movements of enemy canoes on the lake. At

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND °* 225

night temporary detachments located every four leagues along the lakeshore

were to watch for disembarkations of Indian insurgents. Cavalry horses were saddled from nightfall to dawn so that soldiers were ready for instant dispatch to landing places. Each day the comandantes deployed cavalry patrols to communicate with the neighboring royalist jurisdiction, and they maintained nighttime signals by bonfires. When a commander observed three bonfires, indicating an urgent need for assistance, he was to mobilize his regional forces and contact naval units from the gunboat divisions. Cruz recommended that, where possible, army units should engage Indian land-

ing forces inland to block avenues of retreat to Mezcala Island.5° Cruz noted that the Indian population at the coastal village of San Luts and inland to Teocuitatlan had been granted amnesty for insurgent support on several occasions and had been treated with clemency. Nevertheless, they continued to be “treacherous, traitorous, and perfidious in their use of hypocrisy that 1s general among them.”!6° Under the new counterinsurgency regulations they were to labor in the construction of fortifications and were compelled to clear thick brush along the lakeshore, where rebels from Mezcala concealed themselves and their canoes.

This time the island insurgents found no responses to a counterinsurgency program that removed resources and concentrated populations in fortified communities. Even in December 1815, before Cruz’s final crackdown, the insurgent Junta Subalterna reported that the royalists had created a ring of iron around Lake Chapala that threatened Mezcala Island. To draw off forces from the Chapala blockade the junta ordered José Antonio Torres (hyo, the younger) to launch an attack against Valladolid, Zamora, La Pie-

dad, or other major royalist positions.!©! Although the Mezcala garrison continued to launch desperate attacks, the removal or destruction of provisions increased the level of malnutrition and starvation. Epidemic disease now combined with hunger to make the island defenders desperate.!6? The end of the Mezcala epic in November 1816 was anticlimactic and sud-

den. Urged by Viceroy Juan Ruiz de Apodaca to seek peaceful solutions, Cruz permitted his subordinate officers to engage in peace talks. With Father Castellanos’s approval, Santana went to Tlachichilco under a flag of truce, where he met directly with Cruz and accepted a capitulation package. Without publicizing his negotiations, Santana reported back to Padre Castellanos. After agreeing to Cruz’s terms both leaders departed the island without informing the insurgent garrison and surrendered to Cruz. On 25 November Santana returned to the island to present his supporters with a fait accompli—they must give up their struggle and return to live peacefully in their communities. In exchange for capitulation Cruz amnestied the 1s-

1226 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

landers and promised to restore village lands and rebuild their houses, to exempt them from the payment of tribute, and to replace lost tools, livestock, and seed. Those who required church weddings, baptisms, and burials were to receive these services at no cost. Finally, Cruz agreed to treat the indigenous people with kindness and consideration. Santana handed over twentyseven insurgent artillery pieces, small arms, and the munitions. A jubilant Cruz, who had been at Tlachichilco since 8 November, when the victory became imminent, informed the viceroy that at 3:00 P.M. on 25 November he stood on “the almost inaccessible rock of Mezcala Island.”!63 As part of the settlement package Santana retained his post as governor of Mezcala Island with the rank of lieutenant colonel, and Father Castellanos returned to his religious duties supported by a chaplaincy fund. In some respects the surrender terms addressed the original complaints

that had driven the indigenous people of the Lake Chapala region to join the rebellion. The loss of what had become a regional Gibraltar for the insurgents had immediate repercussions among the remaining bands, with some guerrilla forces deciding to give up or at least to suspend their struggle

temporarily. Rebel field marshal Vargas and Brig. Joaquin Salgado presented themselves for amnesty accompanied by officers and many troops with their arms and horses. Both leaders dutifully asserted their repentance and desire to serve the crown.!64 With Mezcala Island no longer a latent danger behind him, Quintanar led a cavalry column of 180 troops south from Ji-

quilpan to Los Reyes, opening the rugged pass to Cotija for the first time in years. Negrete, with troops of the first division from Zamora, joined a strong infantry detachment that Cruz sent by boat with nine artillery pieces captured at Mezcala Island to occupy and fortify Los Reyes and Cotija.16 Having feared the consequences of defeat for years, Cruz now marveled at the domino effect of victory, certain that the successes of Nueva Galicia would have positive consequences in neighboring Valladolid. Cruz wanted to guarantee that Mezcala Island, still a symbol for the indigenous insurgents, would not be retaken by future rebels. After the surrender of the fortress and withdrawal of the famished defenders, the island was garrisoned by fifty royalist soldiers. Rather than tearing down the parapets, bastions, church, and housing, Cruz developed other ideas for a place that he described as “a truly military position, the only one of its class in the entire extension of this province.” In 1817 Cruz made Mezcala Island a permanent royalist prison-presidio. Noting his personal discomfort at seeing as many as four hundred to eight hundred rebel prisoners breathing “the foul and diseased air” and suffering the boredom of incarceration in the Guadalajara prison, he transferred them to Mezcala Island where they could

THE INDIAN INSURGENTS OF MEZCALA ISLAND * 27

learn to weave and pursue other occupations in healthy as well as secure conditions—and they could even pay their own way. By 1818 Mezcala Island was once again the enforced residence of many Indian and mestizo insur-

gents, but this time they were degraded presidarios rather than proud fighters for their regional cause. Although Cruz and his commanders believed in 1816 that they were well on

the way to defeating the indigenous insurgents of Nueva Galicia and the rugged region south and west of Lake Chapala, they were quite mistaken. Their victories blunted insurgency—especially among more conventional rebel forces that could not operate in the face of superior firepower and bru-

tally effective counterinsurgency. However, well after insurgent leaders such as Santana, Father Castellanos, Vargas, Salgado, and many others received the king’s amnesties, Indian guerrillas and guerrilla-bandits remained in the field—or returned to insurrection when they felt compelled or motivated to do so. By 1819 the royalist army of Nueva Galicia was even more fragmented into small garrisons that held enormous territories. Without operational forces to patrol isolated districts or prevent the coalescence of new bands, the royalists once again abandoned much of the rugged insurgent country from Apazingan to Guadalajara. Cruz recognized that the royalists possessed this great region “miraculously,” through moral force alone,

since it was protected by only a handful of royalist troops subdivided in many village and town garrisons. In the event of a renewed uprising, he knew that there would be no military force to contain it.!6”7 By October 1820 this exact situation had come to pass. Cruz informed Viceroy Apodaca, “everything one perceives gives indications that we are on a volcano.”!68

Even at the time, few observers understood how a comparatively small number of Indian insurgents under Padre Castellanos, “an old septuagenarian of limited intelligence without enlightenment or military talent,” could for over three years resist the power and planning of the royalist forces.169 From the beginning of the Chapala campaigns Cruz and his commanders depended upon naked repression to hammer the Indian communities into abject submission. Without understanding the indigenous populations or respecting any of the traditional arrangements and customs of the region, the royalists made themselves exactly what the curas described—predatory outsiders, or foreigners who had come to displace people from their homes,

lands, rights, and occupations. Of course, some criollos, mestizos, and others used the war for personal advantage. Many of the indigenous people

joined the insurgency because of older grievances, out of anger against predatory royalist army raiders, or in support of their communities where

28 * CHRISTON I. ARCHER

the majority supported the rebel cause. The vicious combat centered upon the Mezcala Island fortress polarized society and deepened divisions among the different sectors of the population. Merciless counterinsurgency practiced by Cruz and his subordinates, such as Negrete, Quintanar, and other royalist commanders, won back territory temporarily, but the process made permanent enemies. Terror and violence—burning of crops and villages; killing or driving off of livestock; executions; forced labor of men in construction of defenses, in dangerous duty as pressed soldiers, and as oarsmen in the royalist fleet; and brutal treatment of women—combined to strengthen resistance and rebellion and to produce guerrilla and bandit responses.

Although the attitudes and feelings of the indigenous participants must be interpreted in large part through written dispatches, propaganda from both sides, and transcripts of prisoner interrogations, it seems clear that the concept of Mexican independence was not a prime factor motivating these insurgents. Their resistance and ideology related to family, clan, rancheria, or pueblo and extended to district and region under the pressure of royalist military activity. The royalist garrisons and destacamentos volantes of the army of Nueva Galicia bludgeoned the population but in the process strength-

ened negative attitudes against outsiders and foreigners—even those who came from far-off Mexico City or Puebla. By hitting the formerly autonomous and isolated Indian communities hard and by threatening their lands and perceived rights, the royalists pushed them into protracted rebellion. They made defensive arrangements, extended their own communications, and concluded alliances under the leadership of the priests and other leaders who subscribed to the broader struggle for political independence. Although they resisted with great tenacity and cunning, over time the peoples of Lake Chapala could not match royalist firepower or the gunboat flotillas that blockaded Mezcala Island and dominated the coastal villages. Nevertheless, few royalist officers or soldiers cared to confront the indigenous soldiers in hand-to-hand combat at Mezcala Island. Long after the royalists de-

parted from the region the Indian and mestizo people defended and identified with their regions and districts rather than the Mexican nation or its states. They struggled for traditional goals and idealized village societies rather than for the principles espoused for them by Mexican liberals and republicans who later wrote their history.

CHAPTER 6

Some Thoughts on the Pax Colonial, Colonial Violence, and Perceptions of Both MURDO J. MACLEOD

Those who have written about colonialism and imperialism have been overwhelmingly unfriendly to these alien and invasive systems of domination, but many of these scholars have assumed and stated that, despite imposi-

tions and oppressions, these regimes brought peace, often centuries of it. From the Pax Romana, through the Pax Hispanica, to the more contemporary Pax Britannica and Pax Americana, western historiography has generally agreed that the great colonial empires, after bloody initial conquests, stamped out the tribal, petty state and internecine warfare that characterized many of the precolonial areas. Explanations for these long years of apparent peace have been varied. The existence of one large polity in the place of several small ones is the most

obvious. Others stress that these colonial regimes were better organized, compared at least to their predecessors, as far as the display and application of power were concerned. Moreover, they were more advanced militarily and administratively, and they knew how to use local, ethnic, or specialized elites as brokers—divide and rule—in a somewhat decentralized, federative structure. In general, although many imposed institutions and practices were disliked or even hated by the subject peoples, some observers believe that the colonial peace and other advantages were such that, on balance, they outweighed, at least for some of the conquered groups, the risks of revolt and the possibilities of future alternative forms of government. The long-lasting colonial empires, then, established peace and hegemony by a blend of monopoly of violence and potential for coercion, plus just enough legitimacy to persuade some of the dominated to accept or acquiesce to the status quo when weighed against the alternatives.!

30 * MURDOJ. MACLEOD

Some students of these matters have questioned this description of the colonial Pax. Most warfare, they say, is not civil or internal but rather on the geopolitical frontiers or close to them, where rival groups, tribes, nations, and states meet and compete for resources and space. Thus colonial empires do not reduce warfare, this argument goes, but merely send it to more distant locations because of the very size of these empires. Just as these large empires displace warfare rather than reducing it, so too, it is asserted, with the chronology and periodization of warfare. It may well be that, when added together, the violence of the wars of conquest and inevitably, sometimes centuries later, of the wars of imperial dissolution, is as destructive, bloody, and death-dealing as all that of the petty corresponding temporal period before and after the empires were created. Still others, notably Frantz Fanon, have pointed out that violence is not always overt and that warfare in precolonial eras had important political and symbolic functions. Specifically, colonialism creates its own types of severe psychic damage—certainly a violence even if of another kind—whereas the wars that wracked many precolonial areas produced surprisingly few casualties, were of a seasonal nature, and frequently had to do with securing internal peace and reasserting the social order within each polity. In short, Fanon and his disciples would claim that the colonial regimes with which he engages brought a psychic graveyard and an end to complexities of ritual and aggression, some of which was socially healthy, and called it peace.? Close to the above views are those who assert that all monopolies, even when apparently successful, inevitably cause dialectical responses. By monopolizing violence and the potential for coercion, the large colonial empires may have created a great, widespread peace within their boundaries at the imperial level, but they probably also created a series of violent reactions and alternatives below that level. Driven down the social ladder and even underground by the colonial Pax, this violence is often hard to discern because the activities of the poor and oppressed are frequently not well reported, and much “criminal” activity, apart from general reports to the center from senior officials, is usually documented only when the accused are brought before justice. Note that here and there I have deliberately shifted the discussion from overt or recognized warfare between large and distinct entities to general violence. To write of a centuries-long, pervasive peace, after all, is to make claims not only about an absence of warfare but also about a diminution or even absence of violence within the territories governed by the colonial regime. Note also that so far I have avoided distinguishing between general or political violence on the one hand and criminal violence on the other. Al-

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though at times one must accept the definitions of the period under study, faute de mieux, one must also remember that these categories are ones made by the governmental forces that created the legal system. Furthermore, although the distinction between a murder related to simple theft and one related to a struggle over land may seem categorically clear to us today, when it comes to such events in distant times it is simply impossible to peer through the screen thrown up by official reporting of such events and to decide which was criminal and which was more political or social in its motivations.

Let us now consider the Spanish American colonial empire within the general debates described above. The empire certainly created a polity larger than any previously known in the Americas. Its administrative abilities and military technology were also, in most ways, manifestly superior to those of the predecessor states of Mesoamerica and the Andes. After all, the Spaniards won and then set up a regime that lasted about three centuries. Elite groups such as the creoles and, at a lower level, Indian village leaders and free black mayordomos (overseers) and managers were used as brokers or even administrators in a society in which the outreach of the early nationstate was such that it had to ensure the allegiance of other groups in order to

do its governing and exercise its social contro]. The church, too, with its support from the state and its widespread moral and coercive message of obedience to Christian and Spanish laws, was of great importance. In other words, the empire found or coopted or created groups, even among the oppressed, who accepted its legitimacy and found the imperial system, on balance, to be more tolerable, given real risks and possibilities, than any imagined alternatives.* The arguments against the existence of a colonial Pax Hispanica can also be designed to resemble those raised against the general concept of long colonial and imperial calms. Although warfare within the areas that became the Spanish domains seemingly decreased, was it because it was deflected to more distant peripheries? There was constant unrest on the northern desert

frontiers of New Spain. The Indian state in the Petén lasted until the last years of the seventeenth century, in spite of repeated missionary expeditions and armed entradas (expeditions). The dreaded sambos-mosquitos of the Caribbean shore of Central America carried out hundreds of raids, allied with

the English in Jamaica, and actually pushed back the Spanish frontier in parts of Nicaragua in the seventeenth century. The Jesuits in Ecuador withdrew from their missions on the Amazon slopes after years of violence there. On the Chaco frontier and on the pampas, intermittent warfare dragged on for most of the colonial period, and the Araucanians of southern Chile were defeated finally by the Chilean national state.5 If we consider the essays in

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this volume, we can see that several discuss either newly colonized frontiers (Deeds) or peripheral areas in which an open frontier was at least one of the factors behind Indian defiance (Gosner, Patch). Nor was Spain left in peaceful possession of its American colonies by the other European powers. Havana, Panama, and Buenos Aires were seized by foreign armies. Jamaica, Saint-Domingue, and Curacao became recognized

colonies of Spain’s enemies. Pirate attacks, mainly in the Caribbean, destroyed lesser cities numerous times and disrupted coastal shipping.® It can be argued too that the violence of the conquest years and the years leading up to independence was such that the quieter years of the middle of

the colonial period—the so-called colonial siesta—did not compensate fully; these years cannot on balance provide enough evidence for us to judge that it was a peaceful society. Certainly the consequences of the European invasions and conquests, including the destruction of several of the major native cities, the loss through disease and other factors of most of the Indian

populations, and the devastation of the wars of independence, which left Venezuela in ruins and helped to destroy the Mexican economy, in total probably exceeded any Aztec or Incan warfare, or in fact any warfare in the Americas before the European invasions. The repeated conquests, revolts, and reconquests of the early years are well depicted in the essay by Deeds, and the Archer essay is a detailed and harrowing illustration of the destructiveness of warfare in New Spain when standing armies and sedition were combined in the last decades of the colonial era. In fact, although it is ludicrous to characterize Native Americans of the preconquest years as peaceful, there is considerable evidence that many of their wars were of a symbolic and short-lived nature. Large-scale sacrifice of prisoners took place but so too did the “flower wars” and similar ceremonial and seasonal joustings. As to the psychic damage caused by Spanish colonialism, evidence tends to be suggestive and scattered, but there are indications that it was severe at first. There are reports of culture shock and mass suicides in the islands of the Ca-

ribbean in the early sixteenth century, and throughout the colonial years there are persistent accounts of anomie and apathy, infanticide, late marriage, and alcoholism.’ Even if one were to leave aside the half-century of wars of conquest, the frontier wars, and the attacks of foreign intruders and grant for the moment that there was, for about two centuries, a long colonial calm as far as major warfare was concerned, this would not be an accurate gauge of the degree or prevalence of violence within the colonial society. Numerous scholars have commented upon the lack of major revolts during the period between approximately 1550 and 1750. (The Tzeltal Revolt of Gosner’s essay is a major

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exception.) The generalization, though, seems plausible, and Spores’s evidence from Oaxaca would tend to support it. Once again, however, before shifting the emphasis from rebellions to general violence, it may be worthwhile to examine the whole colonial “siesta” proposition. The people who report on the colonial societies in which they live are usually the dominant groups in these societies or their agents. A constant in such situations is the fear among the colonial elites of revolts mounted by the natives, serfs, or slaves. Although this fear is at times tinged with guilt or is a psychological rationalization of it—the white man’s burden, bringing civilization and Christianity to “the savages,” the base qualities of the oppressed with their ignorance, sloth, drunkenness, and so on—nevertheless it is obviously a distorting factor when it comes to reporting violence. Thus, a local window-smashing becomes a revolt, either because of such fears or as a justification to the authorities of the severity of the repression. These distortions or biased reports sometimes take on specific regional colorations. On colonial frontiers with labor shortages there were often tempting pools of “unreduced” or warlike Indians or escaped slaves—the so-called cumarrones—yjust across the border. Some of the entradas into these unconquered areas occurred because of an imperial and local desire to incorporate them into the established colony or because of missionary zeal. Both military entradas and friars seeking converts were sometimes attacked, and these assaults were then described to the authorities as revolts, or at least re-

calcitrance. At times, however, raids across the settled frontier were obviously driven by the desire to find and enslave labor. Known as entradas de rescate or simply as entrada y saca, these raids brought out captives and settled them in new or already established villages close to workplaces with a labor shortage. Such enterprises were then described to higher authorities as responses to native rebellions, and sometimes one or two Indian leaders were executed to give some substance to these explanations. That these new settlements seldom endured, as the new villagers died off because of cultural or epidemiological shock or quickly escaped back to their native lands, shows

how pointless they were. Such slaving expeditions took place throughout the colonial period.®

There were rationalizations or false riots and revolts of other kinds. As the haciendas and plantations expanded and acquired groups of permanent workers and retainers, gangs of these male workers, often horsemen in cattle- or mule-raising areas, would sometimes harass or even shoot up offending villages that were short on their labor drafts, loan payments, or other obligations or villagers who had become litigious against the hacienda, invaded its crops or grazings, or stolen livestock. Sometimes all that

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seems to have been going on is the horseplay of bored ranchhands, plus resentments and alcohol, on a Saturday night or fiesta. At another level these raids may have existed simply to remind the villagers of their humble and immutable place in the colonial order. For whatever reason, some of these episodes of bullying got out of hand, either because Indian or casta (mixedrace) villagers reacted violently to the intrusions or because the damage inflicted by the invaders was excessive. (The village was burned to the ground, people were killed, and so on.) In such cases, once again, the local hacendados (owners of landed estates) or authorities might cry riot and sedition as a way of justifying their excesses or their harsh punishments of servile resistance. Similar sorts of events and distorted reporting occurred when local Spanish or /adino (acculturated Indian or casta) officials went into villages to enforce illegal exactions or when a village cura (priest) found opposition to his demands among his flock.? More common in these and other societies, however, is underreporting. Under normal circumstances, in the core and heavily populated areas of the colony there were several broad categories of reported violence. The most serious, as far as the authorities were concerned, were incidents of deliberate violence against Spaniards, and especially Spanish officials. It would appear that this kind of assault, as one might expect, was almost always reported, although some exceptions are noted below; once brought to the notice of the authorities, it was almost always pursued judicially. Deliberate violence against Spaniards is, of course, a wide category in itself, ranging all the way from petty criminal assaults against individuals and their servants to mass actions against individuals or parties to assert rights or redress grievances. Intrusive villagers sometimes stole livestock or agricultural produce, usually simply as thieves, as far as we know, but at other times asserting a covert or overt claim to the usufruct or even the title to the lands that supported the stolen items. Such people would invade lands to wound or slaughter livestock; destroy crops, fencing, and machinery; or burn down buildings such as sheds or barns. In many of these cases the intruders were deliberately drawing attention to a grievance and taking a considerable risk, because such aftronts to the king’s peace would inevitably end up in court where, even if the accused were to win their case, they would receive some punishment, such as a flogging for the ringleaders, for resorting to violence. As Spores points out in his essay, much of reported violence was Indian responses to specific injustices or impositions by local Spanish officials. The attacks were not only attempts to damage the person, followers, or goods of the offender but also appeals, via violence, to higher authorities than those immediately exploiting them. Clearly such tactics, “bargaining by riot” as

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one observer has phrased it, had inherent dangers for the perpetrators, not least of which was the attacks getting out of hand, thus inviting severe repression, destruction within Indian villages, and physical punishment, even execution.10

Criminal cases that had no apparent cause except acquisitiveness and hostility were the most frequent category of all. Violence in villages and towns, along the trade routes and paths, and in the countryside was endemic. Yet

we have little knowledge of how these kinds of interpersonal assaults, or their frequency and severity, related to overall economic conditions; phenomena such as failed harvests, floods, epidemics, or droughts; village unrest; persecution by the Santa Hermandad or other official bodies; or the frequency in colonial society of alcoholism, disease, or psychological stress. Presumably all these factors may have played a role to different degrees, depending on individual circumstances, phases of the economic cycle, and so on.!! Murder was common tn Indian society, but we do not know if it was exceptionally common. Husbands murdered their wives and sons murdered parents, usually in the family hut or nearby; men murdered other men, often in taverns or workplaces, with the presence of alcohol a common stimulant to mayhem. Domestic violence against women—spouses, mothers, daughters, and especially servants—was general and considered commonplace.

One discerns that justice was surprisingly mild for the age, but certain crimes of violence were regarded with horror and punished severely. Murder by poisoning, sometimes one of a woman’s few resorts when faced with constant abuse, was considered an especially heinous crime. So also was violence in marketplaces and fairs, especially if it had to do with fraud or counterfeiting. Such crimes offended against the legitimacy of the state, its promise of social control, and its guarantee of the means of exchange and of the security of places of exchange.!? Another category that seems to have been quite well reported was the one in which Spaniards, usually officials or clerics, were called upon by Indian or free black individuals, factions, or communities to arbitrate disputes, some of which led to anything from fisticuffs to intravillage or intervillage battles. Fights over boundary markers, or the alleged illegal moving of boundary markers, were common. So too were disputes over election results in cabildos (city councils) and cofradias (confraternities). Many leaders of subordinate groups had learned to manipulate the law and to plead their special status under the law. Some too, especially those of the cacique (ruler) class or the alcaldes (magistrates) and regidores (council members) of the cabildos, may have accumulated prestige by resorting to Spanish authority. Such actions probably accorded increased legitimacy to the leaders of villages or village

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factions who had enough political connections to be able to summon Spanish arbitrators. Calling in help from above one’s station did have its problems. At the very least it was servile and showed that the plaintiffs accepted the superiority of the Spaniards, their social order, and their dominance. (Of course this too could be tactical or feigned deference.) At most it allowed potentially dangerous Spanish intrusion into village affairs. Lesser officials of the regime were almost always corrupt and would favor the side that paid the highest bribes. It was also to the advantage of the arbitrator— and sometimes of one of the two sides 1n the dispute too—to drag out any litigation while his fees accumulated. In fact, such arbitrators frequently resolved little, their judgments were often unacceptable to one side or the other, and hostilities soon resumed. Some of these intermittent disagreements, commonly over village boundaries or lands, dragged on for decades and required intervention by higher authorities such as the Audiencia (royal court) before they died down. A few of these conflicts between lineages, calpules (small, indigenous sociopolitical entities), barrios, or pueblos assumed an almost ritualistic, foreordained quality, becoming historical enmities

in which the original grievances, at least to modern, outside observers, seemed to have vanished, leaving only inescapable feuds for each succeeding generation.}$ There was, of course, violence at the top of the social structure too. One

can assume that this was usually reported and written up, although causes and outcomes were often falsified. The usual venal crimes occurred, as in all human societies, and elite struggles over rank and precedence and over access to scarce sources of wealth were quite common. Even at the very top, presidents of audiencias resorted to veritable reigns of terror and intimidation to achieve their goals. Churchmen too resorted to violence, and struggles between members of feuding regular orders caused scandal. The subordinate classes watched these conflicts carefully, looking for changes in the system that would affect them or for weakening or divisions that might herald a collapse or even an opportunity to revolt. It would be interesting to attempt to correlate subordinate perceptions, or misperceptions, of elite divisions and incohesion with specific revolts.!4 In some of the cases of violence sketched out above, overreporting is pos-

sible. The fabricated reports of revolts that were a disguise for illegal entradas de rescate and the incidents in which outside raids on villagers were subsequently justified as riots are two examples, although it should be noted that in each of these categories one can be fairly certain that violence of various kinds, even if not the reported kind, did occur. Underreporting is, in fact, far more likely. It is surely true that all violence in all societies is under-

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reported, especially when it is minor. People “shake hands,” those in positions of authority close to the combatants force the perceived offender to make private amends, both sides have something to fear from the law, and so on. Violence against Spaniards was sometimes hushed up because of extortion before the violence or severe repression afterwards, so that even the assaulted Spaniards wanted to let the thing die. Minor violence against Spaniards was often kept out of the written record, no doubt, by the payment of compensation; that is, repentant Indians or their leaders would bribe the attacked Spaniard to leave the offense unreported. It is likely that even more underreporting happened in village or hacienda cases of violence. If no deaths had occurred, village authorities or hacienda mayordomos, often by means of severe beatings and floggings of their own, took care of adjudication and infliction of punishment. No doubt many village leaders and cabildos went well beyond the legal powers that the regime allowed, and in many cases all sides to a dispute, even those found guilty, may have been quite happy to keep matters at the village level rather than risk the more complicated and lengthier investigations that would follow if higher and culturally and linguistically different authorities were to become involved. Village curas inflicted their own floggings and fines for offenses against the church or their persons. Many serious cases were hushed up, perhaps never reported to any agency, at the village level or higher. Those who have studied the libros de entierros, or burial registers, of erghteenth-century Mexican villages become aware of many deaths by foul play that do not appear in the criminal records. (Not all of these discrepancies can be explained away by gaps in these records.)}6 One also suspects that many of the quarrels within and between villages

were resolved, violently or not, without recourse to outside arbitrators or the Spanish legal system. Here the student of such matters runs once again into the iceberg problem. Since so many of these events remain unwritten, how does one assess the proportion to assign to those that came to light? It is improbable that this can ever be done; in fact, any exact quantification of the incidence of colonial violence is futile, and there would be little purpose to the effort unless meaningful comparisons could be made. There are, however, suggestive documents, long village accounts of feuds that finally came to court but contained within them self-justificatory background historical

materials, previous agreements, sometimes made after violent confrontations, as to where the mojones (markers) that delineated boundaries were to be placed, orders of precedence in cofradias, and similar village matters. There are even hints that some of these extralegal village agreements were enforced by violence—one village or barrio or calpul assaults or threatens to

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assault its rival, which becomes convinced it cannot win and accepts what arrangement it can. Many such one-sided treaties, of course, laid the groundwork for future violent feuds.16

To sum up these varied circumstances, then, it appears that violence was underreported in the Spanish colonial system. Add to this the common, everyday violence that was such a basic feature of the regime. Flogging was especially common. “Colonial magistrates accepted the whip as a standard instrument of control.” Visttadores (official inspectors) routinely had whippings administered to offending villagers, sometimes for the most minor offenses, such as not keeping their houses or kitchen gardens tidy. Curas and bishops on visita whipped villagers, with little regard to gender or rank. Indian cabildos commonly flogged offenders or even political opponents. Marauding Spaniards led by minor officials would on occasion burn rancherias (small settlements) and even the mulpas (cornfields) attached to them in their cyclical efforts to enforce congregacines (bringing scattered settlements together in one town). When tribute collection or labor tandas (requisitions) fell short, Indian calpixques (supervisors or stewards), or even alcaldes or caciques, were flogged, exiled from the village to live in the monte (backlands) or in another province, or placed in stocks and jailed as a way of urging them to greater efforts. Floggings and more extreme forms of physical punishment were common on haciendas and above all on slave plantations. A detailed examination of any region of the empire, then, reveals to us a very violent society. !7

Given this endemic and pervasive violence, why have so many scholars found a lack of it, suggesting that there were relatively few riots and revolts and projecting from these results to a colonial siesta or Pax Hispanica? More generally, what is the explanation, apart from underreporting, for a violent society that, on the surface and looking from the top down, appears to be fairly tranquil? To answer the first question, modern scholars are attracted to revolts. We favor the underdogs and try to help them, albeit posthumously, by showing that they had a role in political life, were not always supine, and could even turn the tables on their oppressors at times, if only for a moment. Moreover, historians tend to look for the lost coin beneath the streetlight. Most revolts left extensive records, often including fascinating court cases and interoga-

tortos of witnesses. Individuals gave accounts of their own actions and thoughts, sometimes close to verbatim, which yield an immediacy and insight to individual and group motives and character that are seldom found in colonial documents. All of these factors lead to an overemphasis on the study of revolts, a perhaps unconscious insistence on their importance, and

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a disappointment or even disillusionment when it becomes apparent that revolts were few. Coming from these views, it is but one step to deciding that, although violence was justified in colonial society, it did not often happen.!8 Turning now to an examination of the reasons for such a violent society,

one should perhaps begin with the nature and structure of the European early modern colonial state. The Spanish Empire was a pioneering one as far as Western Europe was concerned and, with Portugal, expanded around the

world well before European states had elaborated the logistics, bureaucracies, economic structures and planning, or social-control techniques to manage such far-flung possessions. The central fact that accounts for the success and above all the longevity of the Spanish Empire, at least during the Hapsburg centuries, may be that the central government, most of the time, recognized and accommodated itself to these ineluctable circumstances. All states govern, in part, through classes and groups that they cannot fully control; all, if they are not to know constant frustrations and miscalculations, learn that results are nearly always below expectations. The Spanish state, however, excelled at leaving government to others, including the church, at knowing its own limitations and possibilities, and in philosophically accepting what it could get as long as basic control and allegiances remained.” What this weak and flexible state did, then, was to govern through local elites, especially as far as social control was concerned. These creole elites had to maintain status and positions of authority not out of salaries but out

of extraction of wealth from individual enterprise or from those below them. In regions of little wealth and large Indian populations this meant feegouging, overcollection of taxes and labor requirements, and plain extortion. Although these abuses were generally evaded, tolerated, or accommodated by the poor, when pushed beyond certain hard to define limits, or in some local circumstances, such impositions provoked the reactive violence that Spores discusses. In a general way the position of the governing elites,

forced to maintain their positions by overt extortion, set up a steady but minor tension within colonial society, which was never resolved but provoked a constant rumble of violence. As a consequence of weak central government, the dominant culture, the problem of great distances, and the slow pace of communications, police forces were ineffective. This absence of widely recognized and well-organized forces of social control in such a vast territory in itself led to more violence and was aggravated by deep caste and ethnic divisions, which meant that mutually suspicious, or at least somewhat exclusive, polities did not communicate efficiently—often did not want to communicate—about subjects such as violence. Moreover, to take but one example, the predominant

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culture and the lack of public finance, especially at the local level, meant that the general idea of imprisonment as punishment was underdeveloped. Jails, in fact, were generally thought of as places of temporary lodgement prior to and during trials. If long-term detention was used as punishment it was of-

ten in connection with labor shortages. Although women criminals were commonly assigned to convents or hospitals for punishment, some women and many men, once convicted, were more frequently assigned to textile obrajes, sugar plantations run by the monastic orders, coastal fortresses, or ships. Even more common than these assignments to what were, in effect, private jails, was violent punishment, especially flogging. (Apart from capi-

tal punishment, physical mutilation was relatively infrequent, although there were outbreaks of these official atrocities, especially after major revolts.) Thus the criminal justice system replied to violence with more violence but could enforce justice only inconsistently and poorly, often posing little threat to the potentially violent.2° Above all, when trying to put colonial violence in context we have failed to examine it within the basic frameworks of Indian society. The traditional view of such frameworks is that subsistence agriculture and its exigencies were, and are, such that little time, imagination, or resources were left for more elaborate politics. Recently the pendulum has swung, so that, at least among those who study nineteenth- and twentieth-century peasants, there is now an awareness that peasant leaders systematize their knowledge, advocate general political attitudes and actions, and seek to play more macropolitical roles in larger arenas, including the new nation-states. Perhaps, although both of these views of peasant life are no doubt valid, at least with reference to segments of the peasantry during specific historical circum-

stances, a large part of peasant politics has been overlooked. It can be summed up by stating that intense, complex political and economic activity can be generated out of the circumstances of the ordinary Indian villagers Or peasants, not just out of those of the apparent ideological and political leaders.?!

Peasant life is dominated by the agricultural cycle, which is not to say that such dominance constricts political action or initiative any more than other constraints on humans. The agricultural cycle is characterized by periods of plenty, usually just after the harvest, and scarcity, often the period just be-

fore the harvest, when food stocks are low. A dominant problem, perhaps the dominant problem, of subsistence agriculture is how to even out these periods of scarcity and plenty. Obviously the harshness of this problem varies depending on ecology, culture, climate, and technology, among other factors. In a tropical climate, for example, multiple and varied cropping is

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possible and, especially if the population density is low, as it was in the coastal tropical lowlands for all of the colonial period, hunting and foraging can fill many a hungry stomach. In the sedentary highlands, however, where most people lived then, the long months before the harvest were a constant

Indian and peasant preoccupation and thus the object of great ingenuity and intense political activity. People leased out their labor, often traveling seasonally for great distances to do so. Many relied on kinship, calpul, or village networks of reciprocity and patronage. In some areas various kinds of debt or even debt peonage flourished, some of them involving seasonal la-

bor on haciendas and plantations. The basic problem was one of credit— how to obtain it, under what circumstances, and under what repayment conditions. Thus the bitter, often violent struggles to control cabildos, cajas de comunidad (community treasuries), and cofradias had to do not only with prestige but also with gaining control, for at least one year, of public funds, which could then be invested for profit, loaned out at interest to fellow villagers trying to bridge the gap until the next harvest, or used for the same purpose by the officeholder himself. Connected to the subsistence economy, then, were elaborate politics of reciprocity and patronage, struggles for control of institutions and their treasuries, and credit systems, all pursued with intensity and stress, and so, at times, with violence.”

It was inevitable, then, that such fragile yet absolutely vital systems of credit could be disrupted from within, and especially from a predatory, dominant world outside. Such matters as tribute payments, labor-draft obligations, payments to village institutions such as caja and cofradia, and support for the village church, saints, and cura were probably factored into seasonal and budget considerations by most Indians, but such calculations were very finely tuned, with little or no margin for adjustments. After all, these were largely subsistence economies. Thus Spanish overcollection of tribute, extortion, or new burdens, inevitable given the political and economic situation of the creole elites, were far more than violations of vague “moral economies”; they were destroyers of intricate peasant politics and threats to the very lives of the Indian peasantry. No wonder violence so often ensued.?9 Credit in subsistence economies is only one example of the exigencies and politics that dominated so much of colonial life. Obviously the intensity and fragility of such life-and-death politics contained within it imminent possibilities for violence. The politics of the use and ownership of land and water and of individual and group religion are two other fields in which the same vital intensities led to hostile confrontations in colonial Spanish America.** Revolts were rare but violence was frequent. This seeming paradox can

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be addressed in two ways. One possibility is to treat revolts as exceptional phenomena, su generis and worthy of study on their own. This approach ts the usual one. More productive may be to study revolts as epiphenomena, as one extreme of a continuum of violence stretching all the way from a broken window to the campaigns of Bolivar. The most satisfactory approach, for me, would be to try to place violence in all its manifestations 1n specific or general colonial contexts. The politics of credit, land, or religion can serve as examples. Perhaps the device of a continuum could again be used. Violence, including revolts, would then become only a part of a series of accommodations, evasions, defiances, and resistance.25

The Spanish American colonial system was inherently and structurally attuned to violence, but, partly because of caste and language divisions, partly because of the nature of the government and the culture, partly because of the pressures for many of daily existence in such a context, much of this vio-

lence was pushed outward to the geographical periphery, or downward upon those whose voices were seldom heard, or applied legally or illegally

by those in power. To resurrect this hidden but important history, new viewpoints and a return to the most obscure colonial documentation are needed.

Notes

Abbreviations AGI Archivo General de Indias, Seville AGI, AG Archivo General de Indias, Audiencia de Guatemala AGCA — Archivo General de Centroamérica, Guatemala City

AGN Archivo General de la Nacién, Mexico City AGN, OG Archivo General de la Nacién, Seccién de Operaciones de Guerra AHDsc_ Archivo Histérico Diocesano San Cristdébal de las Casas

AHP Archivo de Hidalgo de Parral (microfilm copy) _ AJT Archivo del Juzgado, Teposcolula, Oaxaca BN, AF Biblioteca Nacional, Archivo Franciscano, Mexico City DHM ~— Documentos para la lnstoria de México

ucBL —_ University of California, Bancroft Library UTNLB University of Texas Nettie Lee Benson Latin American Library

Unless otherwise noted, all translations are the author’s.

Introduction 1. Although rarely used by any native group to identify its own society, the term Indian had both legal and social significance for Spaniards. We acknowledge that the term is bothersome for certain individuals, and it is employed in this work only in a generic sense. Whenever possible, and certainly preferably, the name of a particular native group is used instead. 2. New York Times, 31 July 1993, At.

3. Reflecting a Pan-American economic perspective, an identical opinion was expressed in the United States by Chase Manhattan financial analyst Riordon Roett: “The [Mexican] government will need to eliminate the Zapatistas to demonstrate their effective control of the national territory and of security policy” (New York Review of Books 42:13 [1995]: 36). lam grateful to Carlos Kuschinski, president of the PEN

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chapter in San Miguel, and Maria Luisa Cordero Moreno for their observations about activities in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, in January 1994. 4. George Kubler states, “Mexico City was unique among the great cities of the sixteenth-century world, in that it was an unfortified metropolis, occupying a plan that shows close affinities to the ideal town plan of Italian architectural theory. As we might expect, however, its occupants were deeply worried about its defensibility” (Mexican Architecture, 1:77). For examples of similar concerns, see Gibson, The Aztecs under Spanish Rule, 577 n. 79; Cope, Limits of Racial Domination, 1o—1, 125; Taylor, Drinking, Homicide, and Rebellion, 120, 25; and Van Young, “Millennium on the Northern Marches,” 388—89. 5. Van Young, “Conclusions,” 91. 6. Just why New Spain’s natives did not attempt to put an end to colonialism is not known. Certainly there is no single explanation. Friedrich Katz believes that “the crown and the church, because of their efforts to control the hacendados and encomenderos, acquired legitimacy in many Indians’ eyes. For a long time this legitimacy constituted a powerful deterrent to any serious attack on the Spanish colonial system” (“Rural Uprisings in Preconquest and Colonial Mexico,” 79). Still, there are numerous examples of indigenous outrage; see, for example, Bricker, The Indian Christ; Chance, Conquest of the Sierra; Clendinnen, Ambivalent Conquests; Ewing, “The Pima Upnising of 17sr’; Farriss, “Indians in Colonial Yucatan”; Gruzinski, ManGods in the Mexican Highlands; Hall, Social Change in the Southwest; Hu-DeHart, Musstonaries, Miners, and Indians; Jones, Maya Resistance to Spanish Rule; Lipsett-

Rivera, “Indigenous Communities and Water Rights”; MacLeod, “Indian Riots and Rebellions”; Megged, “Accommodation and Resistance”; Spicer, Cycles of Conquest; Taylor, Drinking, Homicide, and Rebellion; Taylor and Pease GY., Violence, Resistance, and Survival; Tutino, From Insurrection to Revolution; and Wasserstrom, “In-

dian Uprisings.” 7. Taylor, Drinking, Homicide, and Rebellion, 20-22. 8. See, in particular, the many fine essays in Katz, Riot, Rebellion, and Revolution; Rodriguez O., Patterns of Contention; and S. Stern, Resistance, Rebellion, and Consctousness. Also see the review essay by Van Young, “To See Someone Not Seeing”; Scott, Weapons of the Weak, 292, which distinguishes between “real” and “incidental” resistance; Serulnikov, “Disputed Images of Colonialism”; and Taylor, Drinking, Homicide, and Rebellion, 14-15. 9. See Duran, History of the Indes of New Spain, who in the course of describing

the destruction of Xilotepec by the Aztecs commented that “it brought to mind the sacking of Rome and the destruction [in Mexico] by our Spaniards” (317). For an informative study of peacemaking practices by the Iroquois both pre- and postcontact with the Europeans, see Dennis, Cultivating a Landscape of Peace.

10. For a vast collection of early annals in Nahuatl-English translation, see Schroeder, Codex Chimalpahin. For a recent synthesis of Spanish colonial sources about Indian resistance, see Katz, “Rural Uprisings.” u. Nahua annalist Chimalpahin gives the date 1 tecpatl xthuitl 1324. for the beginning of xochzyaoyotl in the region of Chalco. It should be noted that the greater kingdom of Chalco was in its formative years, and these engagements were between two dominant but very distinct polities. See Schroeder, Chimalpahin and the Kingdoms of Chalco. All Nahuatl citations from Chimalpahin can be found in Zimmermann, Die Relationen; here, 1:63—64.

2. For background on Aztec flower wars and militarism, see Clendinnen, Aztecs, 97, which argues that flower wars between the Mexica and the transmontane ethnic states were exclusively for the taking of prisoners for religious sacrifice; Davies, The

NOTES TO PAGES xv—XVIl * 145 Toltec Heritage, 278—79; and Hassig, Aztec Warfare. Duran adds that such encounters were not so much for conquest as “to practice fighting . . . [which] provided the opportunity and battlefields so that men on each side could win honors and awards in the militia” (History of the Indtes, 320). Conspicuously missing from these studies is information about the role that native women played in resistance movements. Certainly, Chimalpahin recorded that women and children participated at least indirectly in xochtyaoyotl (Zimmermann, Dze Relationen, 1:63—64), and both Cope (Limits of Racial Domination, 32—36, 158) and Taylor (Drinking, Homicide, and Rebellion, 16) note that women were known to be in the forefront and to take up arms during local rebellions. For additional information about Indian women in New Spain in general, see Schroeder, Wood, and Haskett, Indian Women of Early Mexico. 133. Gibson, Tlaxcala, 14—15; and Hassig, Aztec Warfare. 14. Chimalpahin, in Zimmermann, Die Relationen, 1:105—8. 15. See, for example, Tortolero, Entre lagos y volcanes.

16. Schroeder, “Looking Back at the Conquest.” 17. Hassig, Aztec Warfare, 254—56; and for recent corroborative studies in Asia and Europe, see Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance, 185, quoting Barrington Moore, “Even fantasies of liberation and revenge can help to preserve domination through dissipating collective energies in relatively harmless rhetoric and ritual. . . . Allowing subordinate groups to play at rebellion within specified rules and times helps prevent more dangerous forms of aggression.” For a critique of Scott’s perhaps too generalized concept of agency on the part of subordinate groups, see Van Young, “The Cuauhtla Lazarus,” 16-17. 18. Chimalpahin, in Zimmermann, Die Relationen, 1:78. 19. Caso, in Friedrich, The Princes of Naranja, 205. 20. Lockhart and Schwartz, Early Latin America, 80-82; and Spicer, Cycles of Conguest, 16.

21. For accounts by contemporary observers, see (for 1624.) “Documentos relativos al tumulto,” Newberry Library, Ayer Collection, 1246; and (for 1692) Leonard, Alboroto y motin de México and Don Carlos de Sigtienza y Gongora, 10—38. Also see Cope, Limits of Racial Domination, 122-60; Gibson, The Aztecs under Spanish Rule, 384; and Guthrie, “Riots in Seventeenth-Century Mexico City,” 243-58. 22. For information about the situation for Indians without royal protection, see Van Young, “Quetzalcoatl, King Ferdinand, and Ignacio Allende,” n3—14. Also see Taylor, Drinking, Homicide, and Rebellion, 146—47, and Landlord and Peasant, 108-10, 198.

For a very informative study of the establishment and operation of the Indian court, see Borah, Justice by Insurance. Religious advocates, organizations, and practices include priests, native officers

of the church, cofradfas, religious ceremonies, and native-language ecclesiastical texts and services. There were both primary and secondary schools for Indians, and most but not all were located in or near the capital. There was even a colegto exclusively for Indians es-

tablished by the Franciscans. It flourished, but only for one generation. However, upon the arrival of the Jesuits in 1572 native rulers sought out the priests and offered to provide labor, materials, revenue, and students, if the Jesuits would build colegios in their towns. For information on Nahua governmental practices, see Lockhart, Berdan, and Anderson, The Tlaxcalan Actas; Haskett, Indigenous Rulers; and for the Mayas, Farriss, “Indians in Colonial Yucatan,” 25—26, 29-30.

23. For contrast, consider the situation in late-nineteenth-century South Amer-

146 * NOTES TO PAGES xvii—XxIx

ica’s Chaco, where, due to a lack of both minerals and cooperative Indians, government policy was to exterminate the region’s inhabitants in order to eliminate the nusance altogether. See Langer, “Indians and Explorers in the Gran Chaco.” 24. Long overdue is a careful exposition of the first of what came to be numerous violent encounters between Spaniards and Indian groups in the north. See Aiton, Antontw de Mendoza, 138—52, for one of the earliest studies; also see Powell, Soldiers, Indians, and Silver and Mexico’s Miguel Caldera. 25. See Gerhard, North Frontier, 25-27, for specific demographics on indigenous

groups but also for information about the extraordinary social diversity on a not so ethnically homogeneous frontier landscape. See also Borah, “Race and Class in Mexico.” 26. See MacLeod, Spanish Central America, for a comprehensive treatment of economic conditions in this region. 27. See Lockhart, Nahuas after the Conquest; and for similar instances as well as reciprocal influences among natives and Europeans in what are now the United States and Canada, see Axtell, Beyond 14.92, 16—18, 25—SI.

28. Lockhart, Nahuas after the Conquest, 445, “Some Nahua Concepts,” and We People Here, 4.

29. Naming patterns and the incorporation of Spanish nouns into the Nahuatl vocabulary were the most conspicuous innovations. Major changes are not noted until the middle years of the seventeenth century. For naming patterns, see Horn, “Gender and Social Identity”; and for linguistic change, see Karttunen and Lockhart, Nahuatl in the Middle Years. 30. Some examples are in Borah, Justice By Insurance, 44—45; Chance, Conquest of the Sierra, 1223-24; Taylor, Landlord and Peasant, 53, 108—9; and Van Young, “Conflict

and Solidarity in Indian Village Life,” 6s—67. For a rich corpus of primary documents relating just to south-central New Spain, see Diaz-Polanco, El fuego de la inobedtencia and Diaz-Polanco and Manzo, Decumentos sobre las rebeliones indias. For the Andean region, see Cahill and O’Phelan Godoy, “Forging Their Own History,” 330. 31. Lockhart, Nahuas after the Conquest, 5. 32. See especially, for Latin America, Coatsworth, “Patterns of Rural Rebellion.” For Europe and Asia and works with many of the theoretical premises upon which much of the scholarship ts based, see Hobsbawm, Primitive Rebels; Moore, Injustice and Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy; Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance and Weapons of the Weak; E. P. Thompson, “Moral Economy”; Thrupp, Mdlennial Dreams; Weller and Guggenheim, Power and Protest; and Wolf, Peasant Wars. On considering the indigenous perspective, we are particularly mindful of Ray-

mond D. Fogelson’s admonition to strive for an “ethno-ethnohistorical approach” in our studies about Native Americans (“Ethnohistory of Events and Nonevents,” 134).

33. See especially McLoughlin’s caveat regarding interpretations of revitalization and Ghost Dance movements, “Ghost Dance Movements,” 41—42. 34. Wallace defines revitalization “as a deliberate, organized, conscious effort by members of a society to construct a more satisfying culture” (“Revitalization Movements,” 265), and certainly all instances of rebellion in this collection would fit his de-

scription. It is when Wallace reduces the movements to subclasses and outcome (266—79) that we find disparities with the results of our own studies. Also see Wallace, Death and Rebirth of the Seneca, 239-337. 35. Franciscans’ millenarian “euphoria” ts discussed in Poole, “Declining Image of the Indian,” 16, and also in Ricard, The Spiritual Conquest of Mexico, and in Phelan, The Millennial Kingdom of the Franciscans.

36. Spicer, Cycles of Conquest, 28, 34, and Wallace, Religion, 34, 158. Quoting

NOTES TO PAGES xx—4 °* 147

Natalie Zemon Davis, “Io bear the sword 1n the name of a millenarian dream might make some sense, but why get so excited about the Eucharist or saints’ relics?” (Socsety and Culture, 154; also cited in Serulnikov, “Disputed Images of Colonialism,” 191). 37. Gibson, Tlaxcala, 1s. 38. This is not to discount the peregrination of Alvar Nufiez Cabeza de Vaca, who

surely left an impression in the minds of the many Indian groups that he encountered. For his journal in English translation, see Covey, Cabeza de Vaca’s Adventures. 39. On Guzman’s expeditions, see Gerhard, North Frontier, especially 5—6. On the Mixtén War, see Gerhard, North Frontier. On the Chichimeca War, see Powell, Soldiers, Indians, and Silver, and Mexico’s M1guel Caldera. 40. See also S. Stern, The Secret History of Gender. 41. Camus, Te Plague, m.

1. First-Generation Rebellions in Nueva Vizcaya The author would like to thank John Chance, Harry Crosby, Susan Kellogg, Sheryl Lutyens, Murdo MacLeod, William Merrill, Karen Powers, and Patricia Seed for earlier critical readings of this article. A summer grant from Northern Arizona University in 1989 made the completion of research for this article possible. 1. See, for example, S. Stern, Resistance, Rebellion, and Conscwousness; Katz, Riot,

Rebellion, and Revolution; MacLeod, “Indian Riots and Rebellions”; and Gosner, Soldters of the Virgin. 2. Guha, Elementary Aspects of Peasant Insurgency. Gilbert M. Joseph has discussed

the relevance of the work of James C. Scott and the subaltern school to Latin America in “On the Trail of Latin American Bandits.” For a critique of the latter, see Van Young, “Mentalities and Collectivities.” 3. For a critique of these trends, see Rebel, “Cultural Hegemony and Class Experience.” 4. In “Patterns of Rural Rebellion,’ Coatsworth produces a useful typology of rural revolts. Nonetheless, his category of “mission” revolts does not reflect the differences among these (Katz, Riot, Rebellion, and Revolution, 27-28). s. These differences are explained in part in Deeds, “Indigenous Rebellions,” which compares the Acaxee revolt of 1601 with that of the Yaquis in 1740. 6. The midcentury revolts of the less sedentary Conchos and Tobosos will not be considered here; see Griffen, Indian Assimilation. 7. One reason that the documentary record is more extensive for the Tarahumara rebellions of the 1690s is that greater dissension between civil and ecclesiastical personnel resulted in more attention to the judicial process.

8. See Clifford, The Predicament of Culture, especially chapter 1, “On Ethnographic Authority,” which examines the relationship between discourse, textualization, and ethnographic interpretation. 9. Reff, Disease, Depopulation, and Culture Change, 17-96. 10. Report of Padre Provincial Francisco Baez, April 1602, in Naylor and Polzer, Presidio, 154—71; Relacién de la tierra de los xiximes y de los indios, ritos y ceremonias que usan, 1610, UTNLB, Joaquin Garcia Icazbalceta Collection, Varias Relaciones, I-l. n. See Cramaussel, Primera pagina.

2. Deeds, “Rural Work,” 429-35, and Cramaussel, “Encomiendas, repartimiuentos y conquista.” 13. Reff, Disease, Depopulation and Culture Change, 28-29.

148 * NOTES TO PAGES 4—1 14. Deeds, “Indigenous Rebellions.”. 15. This information and the following description are taken from Relacion de la entrada que hizo el governador de la Nueva Vizcaya, Francisco de Urdijiola, a la conquista y pacificacién de los indios amados xiximes, 1610, UTNLB, Joaquin Garcia Icazbalceta Collection, Varias Relaciones, I-1; and Jesuit annual letters of 1610 and 160, in Naylor and Polzer, Presidio, 200-244. 16. Pérez de Ribas, Historia de los triunfos de Nuestra Santa Fe, 3:84—85. 17. Naylor and Polzer, Prestdio, 200-244. 18. Deeds, “Rural Work,” 433, Mota y Escobar, Descripciin geografica, 35. 19. Carta anua de 1597, DHM, 3:37—41.

20. P. Juan Font to P. Prov. Ildefonso de Castro, Durango, 22 Apr. 1608, in Gonzalez Rodriguez, Crénicas, 178-81, report on Guanacevi mines, 8 Feb. 1648, AHP, reel 164.8, frame 188.

21. Carta anua, P. Juan Font, 1607, in Gonzalez Rodriguez, Crénicas, 56—60. 22. Reff, Disease, Depopulation, and Culture Change, 243-74. 23. Carta anua, P. Juan Font, 1608, Zape, in Gonzalez Rodriguez, Crénicas, 1606S.

24. Carta anua, P. Juan Font, 161, in Gonzalez Rodriguez, Créntcas, 171-74; report of P. Diego Larios, 1614, in AGN, Archivo Histdérico de Hacienda, Temporalidades, leg. 278, exp. 7.

25. Borah, “La defensa fronteriza,” deals with the threat to the wider northern

area, focusing on San Luis Potosi. Rumors that the rebels intended to attack Zacatecas and Sinaloa did not materialize. Secondary accounts of the Tepehuan rebellion are found in Dunne, Pioneer Jesuits, 19—75;, Case, “Gods and Demons,” 143— 257; and Gradie, “Jesuit Missions,” 21—56. 26. See also Reff, “Predicament of Culture,” 63—90. 27. S. Stern, Peru’s Indian Peoples, si—71, and Millones, Varén Gabai, et al., El retorno. 28. Clendinnen, Ambivalent Conquests, 190—92. 29. Paul J. Vanderwood provides a useful discussion of the nature of millenarian

movements worldwide in “None but the Justice of God.” 30. Relacién de la guerra de los tepehuanes, P. Francisco de Arista, Dec. 1617, AGN, Historia 30; carta anua de 1616, AGN, Jesuitas ITI-29, exp. 21.

31. See the many references to demons in Pérez de Ribas’s account of the Tepehuan rebellion, Historia de los triunfos, 3:164—67; also in the carta anua de 1616, AGN, Jesuitas [TI-29, exp. 21. 32. See Cervantes, The Devil in the New World; Cruz and Perry, Culture and Control, 171-95; and MacCormack, Religion in the Andes. 33. Relacién de P. Diego de Medrano, 31 Aug. 1654, in Naylor and Polzer, Prestdz,

44. 34. Relacidn de lo sucedido. . . , P. Francisco de Arista, Feb. 1618, AGN, Historia 3u, fols. 47—51.

35. Account of the Tepehuan Rebellion, n.a., 16 May 1618, in Hackett, Historical Documents, 2100-15. 36. Carta anua de 1616, AGN, Jesuitas III-29, exp. 21; Gradie, “Jesuit Missions,” 232—46.

37. Account of the Tepehuan Rebellion, n.a., 16 May 1618, in Hackett, Historical Documents, 2:100—15; Report of P. Alonso de Valencia, Guatimapé, 9 May 1618, in Naylor and Polzer, Presidio, 24.7—93. 38. Letter and report of P. Diego de Alejos, Teguciapa, 18 May 1617, AGN, Archivo Provisional, Misiones, Caja 2; report of P. Alonso de Valencia, 9 May 1618, in Naylor

NOTES TO PAGES I—-I5 * 149

and Polzer, Prestdio, 247-93; servicios de Capitan Jerénimo Velazquez, Acaponeta, 1617, in Hackett, Historical Documents, 2:94—97.

39. Relacidn de lo sucedido en la jornada que don Gaspar de Alvear . . . hizo a los Tarahumares . . . hecha por el P. Alonso de Valencia, Apr. 1620, UTNLB, Joaquin Gar-

cia Icazbalceta Collection, Varias Relaciones, I. ]

40. Autos del Gobernador Mateo de Vesga, 19 May 1622, in Hackett, Historical Documents, 2:18—37. . 41. Interrogatories in AGN, Historia 30, exp. I.

42. However, at least one, Mateo Canelas, was reportedly a mestizo or mulatto; letter and report of P. Diego de Alejos, Teguctapa, 18 May 1617, AGN, Archivo Provisional, Misiones, Caja 2. 43. The Tarahumara, or Raramuri, have historically proven remarkably resistant to assimilation by the dominant culture. Of all the groups considered here, only the Tarahumara have survived in substantial numbers. A smaller Tepehuan community still lives in southwestern Chihuahua, but the other Indians of this essay do not exist as separate culture groups today. On the Tarahumara, see Mernill, Rardmurt Souls;

Sheridan and Naylor, Rarémurt; Kennedy, Tarabumara; and Gonzalez Rodriguez, Tarabumara. 44. Testimony of Antonio, AGI, Patronato 236, fol. 347. 45. For information on the Tarahumara Baja province, see Deeds, “Rendering unto Caesar.” See also Sheridan and Naylor, Raramurt, 1-14; and P. José Pascual to Gov. Bravo y Serna, 18 Sept. 1639, in Orozco y Jiménez, Colecctén 1:93—95. These Tara-

humara also participated in the 1616 Tepehuan revolt. 46. Deeds, “Rural Work.” 47. P. Gaspar de Contreras to P. Prov. Andrés Pérez de Ribas, Santiago Papasquiaro, 5 Aug. 1638, AGN, Misiones, vol. 25.

48. Deeds, “Rural Work,” 435-37. 49. Report of P. José Pascual, San Felipe, 29 June 1651, DHM, 3:179—209. 50. Sheridan and Naylor, Raradmur., 15-31.

st. There are several versions of this report. I have used a copy transcribed by William L. Merrill and Luis Gonzalez Rodriguez from a copy in Rome: Joseph Tarda and Tomas de Guadalajara, letter to Francisco Ximénez, 15 August 1676, Archivum Romanum Societatis Jesu, Mexicana 17, 355—92 (hereafter Report of Tarda and Guadalajara, 15 Aug. 1676). This copy is being prepared for publication. 52. Sheridan and Naylor, Rardmuri, 34—35; Report of P. Juan Maria Ratkay, Carichic, 20 Mar. 1683, translation from the Latin in the Bolton Collection, UCBL, Mexicana 17 (copy also in University of Arizona Special Collections Ms. 226; hereafter Report of P. Ratkay, 20 Mar. 1683). For a modern description of tesgiitnadas, see Kennedy, Tarahumara, 97-126. 53. Report of P. Ratkay, 20 Mar. 1683. 54. Report of Tarda and Guadalajara, 1s Aug. 1676. 55. The following synthesis is taken from report of P. Ratkay, 20 Mar. 1683, and report of Tarda and Guadalayara, 15 Aug. 1676. 56. Report of Tarda and Guadalajara, 15 Aug. 1676, fol. 370; Jesuit responses to charges of Gov. Juan Isidro de Pardifias, ca. 1690, BN, AF, Caja 12, no. 207. The latter has been published in R. Ramos, Historia de la tercera rebelién tarahumara; it 1s an incomplete, unsigned draft attributed to P. Tomas de Guadalajara. For a comprehen-

sive discussion of resistance that falls short of rebellion, see Scott, Weapons of the Weak.

57. Report of Tarda and Guadalajara, 15 Aug. 1676, fols. 377-78. 58. Report of Tarda and Guadalajara, 15 Aug. 1676, fols. 377—78: “ni el padre va

IsO * NOTES TO PAGES I5—I9

contra lo que quiere su hyo.” There are also reports of parents becoming enraged when corporal punishment was used on their children; Visita to Hugjotitlan, Feb. 1693, AGI, Patronato 236, fol. 447. 59. Report of P. Ratkay, 20 Mar. 1683. 60. Mandamiento, 1693, AHP, reel 1693, frame 13—18; letter from Francisco Ramirez to Gov. of Nueva Vizcaya, Bachiniva, 15 May 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fols. 89—90;

missionary reports, 1690, in AGN, Archivo Histdérico de Hacienda, Temporalidades, leg. 279, exps. 66, 67, 69, 70, 12—15; P. Joseph Pallares to P. Prov. Bernabé de Soto, Ba-

topilas, 24 Apr. 1689, in Gonzalez Rodriguez, Crénicas, 39-42. 61. See the 1678 visita report of Juan Ortiz Zapata, DHM, 301—419. As early as 1610,

when P. Juan Font began to work with Tarahumaras, the smallpox epidemic of 1610 claimed three-quarters of the children (carta anua de 160, in Gonzalez Rodriguez, Crénicas, 186—93).

62. Carta anua, P. Juan Font, 160, in Gonzalez Rodriguez, Crénicas, 186—93; report of P. Ratkay, 20 Mar. 1683. 63. Merrill, Raramuri Souls, 153-82. 64. Gerhard, North Frontier of New Spain, 190. 65. Report of P. Ratkay, 20 Mar. 1683; also see Merrill, “Tarahumara Social Organization,” 303—4. 66. Letter of P. Diego Ortiz de Foronda to P. Rector, Yepémera, 22 Feb. 1690, and

testimony of Gerédnimo, governor of Papigéchic, 16 May 1690, both in act, Patronato 236, fols. 7 and 84—86, respectively. 67. Report of Tarda and Guadalajara, 16 Aug. 1676, fols. 376—77. 68. Report of Tarda and Guadalajara, 16 Aug. 1676, fol. 360.

69. A translated copy of Neumann’s Historia Seditionum, 1724, is in the Bolton Collection, UCBL.

70. These documents are found in AGI, Patronato 236, in the expediente entitled Nueva Vizcaya 1693. Testimonios de los autos y demas diligencias que el Sefior Governador y Capitan General de este Reino form6 en la guerra y pacificacién de los indios de la nacién Taraumara y sus aliados. 71. P. Francisco Zelada to governor, San Borja, 30 Mar. 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fols. 6—7.

72. Declaration of Nicolas of Yep6mera, Naguerachic, 5 July 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fol. 187.

73. Declaration of Joseph de Yepémera, Santo Tomas, 17 Oct. 1790, Patronato 236, fols. 396—97; declaration of Antonio, governor of Yepémera, Carichic, 22 Sept. 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fol. 347; Jesuit responses to charges of Gov. Pardifias, ca. 1690, BN, AF, Caja 12, no. 207.

74. See Griften, Indian Assimilation, 4-24. 75. Testimony of Concho Indians, Casas Grandes, 20 Mar. 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fol. 772.

76. Declaration of Gerénimo, governor of Papigdéchic, Papigéchic, 16 May 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fols. 84—86. 77. Declaration of Inés, Naguerachic, 8 July 1690, Patronato 236, fols. 189—94. 78. Declaration of Tadeo, Papigéchic, 25 May 1697, AGI, Guadalajara, fol. 206. 79. Gov. Pardifias to viceroy, Parral, 14 Apr. 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fols. 15—16. 80. Auto, Gov. Pardifias, Parral, 3 April 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fols. 20—25. _ 81. Declaration of Alonso, Yepémera, 19 June 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fol. 171. 82. Gov. Pardifias to viceroy, 1 Oct. 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fol. 383.

83. Declaration of Anna, Cocomorachic, 29 June 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fols. 177—80.

84. Declaration of Antonio, governor of Teméchic, m Sept. 1690, AGI, Patronato

NOTES TO PAGES 19-29 ° ISI

236, fols. 366—68. The Jesuits charged that Pardifias had failed to apprehend Malagara when he had the opportunity (BN, AF, Caja 12, nO. 207). 85. Declaration of Geronimo, governor-general, Parral, 1 Aug. 1691, AGI, Patronato 236, fols. 643—59.

86. See the charges and countercharges in BN, AF, Caja 12, No. 207.

87. Testimony of Concho Indians, Casas Grandes, 20 Mar. 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fols. 772—77.

88. Declaration of Margarita, 22 May 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fols. 16—20. 89. Junta, Santo Tomas, 20 Oct. 1690, AGI, Patronato 236, fols. 428—30. 90. Letters of P. Juan Maria Salvatierra, Cerocabi, and P. Velasco, Huejotitlan, 5 Dec. 1692 and 30 Jan. 1693, AGI, Patronato 236, fols. 823-30. gi. P. Francisco Maria Piccolo to governor, Carichic, 24 Jan. 1693, AGI, Patronato 236, fol. 808. Dunne, Early Jesuit Missions, quotes P. Neumann on p. 175. 92. Visita anual de Retana, AGI, Patronato 236, exp. 5. 93. Governor to king, 24 Apr. 1694, AGI, Audiencia de Guadalajara Ist, exp. 1. 94. Naylor and Polzer, Prestdto, 485—86. 95. Deeds, “Rural Work,” 439-40. 96. P. Neumann to governor, Sisoguichic, 25 Dec. 1696, AGI, Guadalajara 156, fol. 24. 97. These documents are in AGI, Guadalajara 156: Testimonios de los autos sobre fa pacificacion y castigo de los Indios ‘Taraumares . . . 1697—1703. 98. Governor to Retana, to Jan. 1697, Parral, AGI, Guadalajara 156, fol. 24. 99. Declaration of Malagara, Cocomorachic, 14 Mar. 1697, and autos de Retana, 28 Apr. 1697, AGI, Guadalajara 156, fols. 55—181.

100. Retana to viceroy, Papigdéchic, 8 Jan. 1698, AGI, Guadalajara 156, fols. 605—32. ior. Viceroy to P. Guadalajara, n July 1697, AGI, Guadalajara 156, fols. 455—56; autos, AGI, Guadalajara 156, fols. 474—92. 102. Autos, Papigéchic, 17 May 1698, AGI, Guadalajara 156, fols. 777-83. 103. Autos, June 1698, AGI, Guadalajara 156, fols. 795—833. 104. See these documents in AGI, Guadalajara 156, fols. 835—1199. 105. Declaration of Mufiaquiqui, Matachic, 14 Apr. 1697, AGI, Guadalajara 156, fols. 128—33.

106. Testimony of Indians and Franciscans, La Junta de los Rios, 1688—89, in Hackett, Historical Documents, 2:234—89; Alcalde Mayor Dn. Manuel de Agramont y Arce to viceroy, 22 Apr. 1693, in Hackett, Historical Documents, 2:315. 107. Examples are in AGI, Guadalajara 156, fols. 664—70. 108. On revitalization, see Wallace, “Revitalization Movements.” 109. For more on millennial movements, see Thrupp, Mdlennial Dreams. mo. See the discussion in Wogan, “Perceptions of European Literacy.” m. Millones, Varén Gabai, et al., El retorno, 427. m2. Guha, Elementary Aspects of Peasant Insurgency, chap. 2. 13. See the discussion in Ferguson and Whitehead, War in the Tribal Zone, 2-18. 14. See P. Stern, “Social Marginality and Acculturation.” One must keep in mind that colonial authorities who cited the activities of mixed-bloods in fomenting rebellion were often looking for scapegoats.

us. Junta de Guerra report on Nueva Vizcaya to viceroy, México, 4 Aug. 1704, AGN, Historia 20, exp. I. u6. For a probing comparative analysis of indigenous survival in southern Mexico, see Zeitlin, “Ranchers and Indians.” 17. Deeds, “Indigenous Responses to Mission Settlement.” 18. For a critique of the lack of ethnographic perspective in resistance studies, see

Ortner, “Resistance.”

Is52 © NOTES TO PAGES 31—40

2. Differential Response to Colontal Control in Oaxaca 1. See AGN, Tierras 29, exp. 1; Burgoa, Geogréfica descripcién; Herrera y Tordesillas,

Historia general, dec. 3, vol. 3, chapt. 9; Berlin-Neubart, Fragmentos desconoctdos; Smith, Picture Writing, 84—88; Spores, The Mixtec Kings, 68—70. 2. Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 149. 3. Herrera y Tordesillas, Historia general, dec. 3, vol. 3; Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 148—49.

4. Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 149. 5. Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 50. 6. Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 201. 7. Cavo, Los tres siglos, lib. 4, nos. 4, 5, 6; and Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 201-2. 8. Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 201. 9. Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 201-2. 10 Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 201. u. Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 202.

1. For available documentation, see Romero Frizzi and Spores, Indice; Spores and Saldana, Documentos para la étnolistoria del estado de Oaxaca; and AGN Tierras. Also see Burgoa, Geografica descripcién; Cavo, Los tres siglos; and Gay, Historia de Oaxaca. The following are examples of localized uprisings, tusmultos or alborotos, that occurred in various locations: Tehuantepec, 1552-53 (AGN, Hospital de Jestis 450, exps. 1 and 2); Amoltepec-Chalcatongo, 1578 (AJT 1, exp. 2); Cuquila, 1589 (AJT 1, exp. 9);

Zaachila (Teozapotlan), 1390-93 (AGN, Indios 3, exps. 158, 161, Indios 4, exp. 499, Indios 6 la parte, exp. 473); Ixcuintepec (Tehuantepec), 1so1 (AGN, Indios 4, exp. 24.0); Pinotepa, 1591 (AGN, Indios 6, 2a parte, exp. 105); Tlalixtac, 1590—91 (AGN, Indios 3, exp. 181, 410, Indios 5, exp. 455);

Tonala, 1592 (AGN, Indios 6, la parte, exp. 273 bis.); Jayacatlan, 1592 (AGN, Indios 6, la parte, exp. 257); Tlaxiaco, 1598 (AJT 1, exp. 57).

13. Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 202. 14. Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 202. 15. Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 202-3. 16. Burgoa, Geografica descripctén, 2:146—s1,; Cavo, Los tres siglos; Gay, Historia de Oaxaca, 203. 17. AGN, Civil 726, exp. 7. 18. Romero Frizzi, “Economia y vida,” 218. 19. Romero Frizzi, “Economia y vida,” 218. 20. Burgoa, Geografica descripcion, 2:146. a. Burgoa, Geografica descripcion, 2:146. 22. Burgoa, Geografica descripcion, 2:146—-47. 23. Burgoa, Geagrafica descripcion, 2:147; Mendieta y Niifiez, Ensayo socioldgico, 146. 24. Burgoa, Geografica descripcion, 2:147. 25. AGI, Patronato Real 230 A, ramo 6. 26. AGI, Patronato Real 230 A, ramo 1; Mendieta y Nujfiez, Ensayo soctolégico, 146.

Also, since this article was completed in 1992, two extensive treatments of the Tehuantepec and Nexapa uprisings of 1660—61 have appeared: Diaz Polanco, El fuego; and Diaz Polanco and Manzo, Documentos sobre las rebeliones indias. These volumes,

NOTES TO PAGES 40—53 °* 153

as primary documents providing further insight and interpretations regarding these movements, became available in inexpensive editions and are recommended for a more exhaustive treatment of occurrences in Tehuantepec and Nexapa. 27. AGI, Patronato Real 230 A, ramo 2. 28. AGI, Patronato Real 230 B, ramo 1s. 29. AGI, Patronato Real 230 A, ramo 6. 30. AGI, Patronato Real 230 B, ramos. 31. AGI, Patronato Real 230 B, ramo 5s.

32. Taylor, Landlord and Peasant; Spores, The Mixtecs, 1330-41; Romero Frizz, “Economia y vida”; Pastor, Campesinos y reformas; Chance, Conquest of the Sierra, 174—77; AGN, Tierras.

33. Zeitlin, “Ranchers and Indians”; and Gutiérrez Brockington, Leverage of Labor. 34. Laylor, Landlord and Peasant, 28.

35. Whitecotton, The Zapotecs, 173-218; Taylor, Landlord and Peasant; Romero Frizzi, “Economia y vida”; Greenberg, Blood Ties, 1}60—98; Chance, Conquest of the S1erra; Spores, The Mixtec Kings, 59-188, and The Mixtecs, 97—225. 36. Spores, The Mixtecs, 209-25.

3. Religion and Rebellion in Colonial Chiapas 1. For other secondary literature on cult activity in eighteenth-century Chiapas, including the Tzeltal rebellion, see Ximénez, Historia, 3:257—-343; Klein, “Peasant Communities”; Wasserstrom, “Ethnic Violence and Indigenous Protest”; Bricker, The Indian Christ, 55-69; Saint-Lu, “El poder colonial”; and Viqueira Alban, Maria de la Candelaria and “Qué habia detras?” 2. Ximénez, Historia, 3:263. 3. Ximénez, Historia, 3:264. 4. Testimonio de los autos fechos sobre decirse que hace aparecido la Virgen Santisma Nuestra Sefiora a una india del pueblo Santa Marta, May 1712, AGI, AG 293. 5. Testimonio de Dominica Lopez, 30 May 1712, AGI, AG 293. 6. Ximénez, Historia, 3:271. 7. Testimony of Francisco de Torre y Tobilla, 19 Feb. 1713, AGI, AG 295, Quaderno 6, fol. 1o—n.

8. Taylor, Drinking, Homicide, and Rebellion, us. 9. See, for example, Edmonson, Nativism, Syncretism, and Anthropological Science, and D. Thompson, Maya Paganism. 10. For a good introduction to this literature, see the collected essays in Weller and Guggenheim, Power and Protest. For representative work on colonial New Spain, see the appropriate chapters in Katz, Riot, Rebellion, and Revolution. n. See, in particular, E. P. Thompson, Making of the English Working Class and “Moral Economy,” and Davis, Soctety and Culture.

2. Scott, “Protest and Profanation,” s. 13. Wolf, “Closed Corporate Peasant Communities.” 14. S. Stern, Resistance, Rebellion, and Consciousness, 1s. 15. See J. Thompson, Maya History and Religion, 170. 16. See Farriss, Maya Soctety, chap. w. 17. Niifiez de la Vega, Constituctones diocesanas (1692), Carta Pastoral 9; Calnek,

“Highland Chiapas,” chap. 6; and Ruz, Copanaguastla en un espejo, 212-25. 18. See Schele and Miller, Blood of Kings.

154 * NOTES TO PAGES §3-—6I

19. Max Weber, “The Sociology of Charismatic Authority,” in Gerth and Mills, From Max Weber. 20. The best introduction to nagualism is in Loépez Austin, The Human Body and Ideology, 1:362—75, 2:283—84. 21. Oakes, Two Crosses of Todos Santos, 58—59.

22. Villa-Rojas, “Kinship and Nagualism.” 23. Nash, In the Eyes of the Ancestors, 237—50.

24. Christian, Apparitions, 14. 25. Niifiez de la Vega, Constituctones dtocesanas (1988), 705—49. 26. See Farriss, Maya Society, pt. 3. 27. Sherman, Forced Native Labor, 280; Gosner, “Las élites indigenas.” 28. Libro de elecciones y juramentos del pueblo de San Gabriel, confirmacién de eleccidn, 13 Jan. 1734, AHDSC. This document outlines the duties of cabildo officers in detail. 29. Autos de la visita general, 1690, AGI, AG 215. 30. MacLeod, “Papel social y econémico.” 31. Farriss, Maya Society, 265. 32. Libros de cofradias, la Cofradia de San Sebastian, Chilon, 1613-1827, AHDSC. 33. Libros de cofradias, La Cofradia de Santa Cruz, Sibaca, 1728, AHDSC. 34. MacLeod, Spanish Central America, pt. 3. 35. MacLeod, Spanish Central America, 218; Gerhard, Southeast Frontier, 161. 36. Gerhard, Southeast Frontier, s8—60; MacLeod, “Outline of Central American

Colonial Demographics,” 8. 37. Padrones, 1665, AGCA, A3.16 (1) 37,648/2566; Carta del Fiscal a Vuestra Magestad, 12 May 1679, AGI, Guatemala 29; Carta del Fiscal al Consejo, 1690, AGI, Guatemala 35.

38. Testimonios y autos contra el alcalde mayor don Manuel de Maisterra y Atocha, 1690, AGI, Guatemala 35; Testimonio del escrito presentado por don Clemente de Ochoa y Velasco and don Manuel de Morales, 1708, AGI, Guatemala 221; Expediente sobre la averiguacién de los fraudes por los alcaldes mayores, 1718-1729, AGI, Guatemala 312; Wasserstrom, “Spaniards and Indians,” 96-100; MacLeod, “Papel social y econdmico,” 78-79. 39. Autos de la visita general, 1690, AGCA, AI.30.20 14.73/I91.

40. Libro de la cofradia de la Parroquia de Santo Domingo, Chilon, 1677-1827, AHDSC.

41. Ximénez, Historia, 3:40—123, 454-58; Nunez de la Vega, Constituciones diocesanos

(1692), Carta Pastoral 9; Wasserstrom, “Spaniards and Indians,” 74-75. 42. Libros de cofradia, Chilon, 1702, AHDSC. 43. Libros de cofradia, Chilon, 1709, AHDSC; MacLeod “Papel social y econ6mico,” 81. 44. Carta del Justicia Mayor a Vuestra Magestad, 1705, AGCA, A3.16 (I) 4-753 367. 45. Padrones, AGCA, A 3.16 (1). 46. Ximénez, Historia, 3:257—59.

47. Testimony of Agustin Lopez, 1716, AGI, Guatemala 296, fols. 87-88. 48. Testimony of Agustin Lépez, 1716, AGI, Guatemala 296, fol. 88. 49. Testimony of Agustin Lépez, 1716, AGI, Guatemala 296, fol. 64. 50. Quaderno 5, Testimony of Gerénimo Saroes, 17133, AGI, Guatemala 295, fols. 294—95.

st. Auto sobre una elecci6n en Ocotenango (Cancuc), 9 Apr. 1665, AGCA, AI.14.21

908 9. §2. Petici6n de las justicias del pueblo de San Juan Evangelista Ocotenango (Cancuc) piden aprobacion de elecciones, 1 Jan. 1677, AGCA, AI.14.21 908 119.

NOTES TO PAGES 61—69 ° I55 53. Autos de la visita general, Guaguitepeque, 1690, AGCA, AI.30 1423 183. 54. Ximénez, Historia, 3:257—58. 55. Testimonio de Agustin Lépez, 1716, AGI, AG 296, fol. 63.

56. Wasserstrom, “Ethnic Violence and Indigenous Protest.” 67. Ximénez, Historia, 3:271. 58. Testimonio de Gerénimo Saroes, March 1713, AGI, AG 295, Quaderno 5, fol. 294; Testimonio de Francisco de Torre y Tobilla, 19 Feb. 1713, AGI, AG 296, Quaderno 6, fols. 1o—m.

59. Testimonio de Francisco de Torre y Tobilla, 19 Feb. 1713, AGI, AG 296, Quaderno 6, fol. 10; translation from Bricker, The Indian Christ, 61. 60. Autos de la sublevacién, 1712, AGI, AG 294, fol. 207. 61. Ximénez, Historia, 3:286—87. 62. Ximénez, Historia, 3:273—74; Testimonio de Nicolas Vasquez, March 1713, AGI, AG 295, Quaderno 5, fol. 201; Testimonio de Agustin Ldpez, 1716, AGI, AG 296, fol. 62.

63. Bricker, The Indian Christ, 64; Testimonio de Nicolas Vasquez, March 1713 AGI, AG 295, Quaderno 5, fol. 208; Cédula, 15 Apr. 1715, AGI, AG 743, granted Simojovel

a two-year exemption from tribute payments in compensation for damage inflicted by the Cancuc rebels. Ximénez, Historia, 3:327. The parish priest, fray Juan Campero, was killed in the raid on Simojovel. 64. Ximénez, Historia, 3:285. 65. Libro de la cofradia de la Parroquia de Santa Domingo, Chilon, 4 Aug. 1715, AHDSC.

66. Testimonio de los autos fechos contra diferentes indios de diversos pueblos por haber administrado los santos sacramentos durante el tiempo de la sublevacién de los zendales, 1713, AGI, Guatemala 293.

67. Memoria de los indios brujos y cabesillas del pueblo de Bachajén, 1713, AGI, Guatemala 294, fols. soo—sot. 68. Calnek, “Highland Chiapas,” 67—68.

69. Testimony of Jacinto Dominguez, 1713, AGI, Guatemala 296, Quaderno 6, fol. 4. 70. Gosner, “Nagualismo and the Tzeltal Revolt.” m1. See Lopez Austin, Hombre-Dws; Gruzinski, Man-Gods in the Mexican Highlands. 72. Testimonio de Maria Hernandez, 1716, AGI, AG 296, fol. 16. 73. J. Thompson, Maya History and Religion, 189. 74. Reed, Caste War; Bricker, The Indian Christ, 87—18.

75. Vogt, Zinacantan, 36s—66; Metzger and Williams, “Tenejapa Medicine I,” 4.00.

4. Culture, Community, and “Rebellion” The author would like to thank Karl Taube, Beatriz Caceres Menéndez, Gilbert M. Joseph, and Sharon Burton for comments on previous drafts of this essay. 1. E. P. Thompson, “Moral Economy.” 2. McFarlane, “Civil Disorders and Popular Protests”; Arrom, “Popular Politics in Mexico City”; Stavig, “Ethnic Conflict”; McFarlane, “Rebellion of the Barrios.” For an interpretive essay on varieties of social and political violence in Latin American history, see Joseph, “On the Trail.” 3. For primary source material useful for the study of the Jacinto Canek rebellion, see Huerta and Palacios, Rebeliones indigenas, 174-89. Stull a valuable secondary

156 * NOTES TO PAGES 69—73 source is Sierra O’Reilly, Los tndios de Yucatan, 2:19—35. For modern studies of the up-

rising, see Bartolomé, La insurrectén de Canek; Bricker, The Indian Christ, 70-76; and Farriss, Maya Society, 68-72. Neither Bartolomé nor Bricker consulted the trial records in the Archivo General de Indias, and consequently their interpretations differ significantly from mine. 4. See Testimonio hecho en virtud de un despacho del Gobernador y Capitan Gral. de aquella Provincia, sobre el repartimiento de Paties, y Cera en los Pueblos de Yndios de ella, 1755, AGI, México 3048, fol. 75.

5. Afio de 1761, Testimonio de Autos fhos. Sobre la Sublevasion que hizieron varios Pueblos de esta Provincia en el de Cisteil en el que aclamaron por Rey a Joseph

Jacinto Uc de los Santos Canek Yndio Natural del Barrio de Campechuelo en el Puerto de San Francisco de Campeche, AGI, México 3050, fol. 5 (hereafter Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761). The other major manuscript, also found in México 3050, is Autos Criminales Seguidos de Ofisio de la Real Justisia sobre la sublevaci6n que los Yndios del Pueblo de Cisteil y los demas que convocaron hicieron contra ambas Magistades el dia 19 de Noviembre de 1761, 1761-62, which will be cited as Autos Criminales, 1761-62. 6. Farriss, Maya Society, 163—64.

7. Patch, “A Colonial Regime,” 420—21; Patch, Maya and Spaniard, 41-66. 8. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fols. 26—27. 9. Hill, “Chinamit and Molab”; see also Hill, “Social Organization by Decree.” 10. This was first suggested by Alfonso Villa Rojas in his article “Notas sobre la tenencia de la tierra.” Evidence supporting this interpretation has recently been provided by Sergio Quezada in his dissertation, “Pueblos y caciques yucatecos,” chap. 1. Nancy Farriss argues that lineage groups or clans in fact had no significance among the colonial Yucatec Mayas. See Farriss, Maya Soctety, 137. The evidence that she

presents, however, does not support this conclusion, because she confuses lineage with family. u. The natural tendency toward dispersion as a result of ecological factors is well explained in Farriss, “Nucleation versus Dispersal” and Maya Society, 125—31. I follow this interpretation to a certain degree in Patch, “Decolonization.” 2. The word topil is of Nahuatl origin. In central New Spain this term, meaning an official who held a staff of office, was added to other words to specify the duties carried out by the officeholder. See Cline, Colonial Culhuacan, 41. 13. For examples of this, see Causa criminal fulminada en virtud de Comision de

S.M. por el Sr. Don Juan Joseph de Vertiz ... contra el Tesorero de la Santa Cruzada. . . , 1716, AGI, Escribania de Camara 327, fols. 135, 139, 177, 179, 183, 201, 218, 234, 241, 251, 253.

144. Autos Criminales, 1761—62, fols. 255 ff.

15. Autos Criminales, 1761-62, fol. 314.

16. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fol. 30, wherein Francisco Puc testified that he and his associates “estaban aburridos de servir a los espafioles” [were bored with serving Spaniards]. It should be remembered that this is a translation into Castilian of what was said in Maya. There is no indication in the document of the witness’s exact words. 17. See Patch, “Decolonization.” 18. For wise comments regarding the need for caution in utilizing trial records, see Van Young, “The Cuautla Lazarus.” 19. This was mentioned by a priest writing more than twenty years after the uprising. See Visitas Pastorales, Mococha, 20 Jan. 1785, Archivo de la Mitra Emeritense, Mérida, Yucatan. The only reference in the trial records to any connection between the Franciscans and Jacinto Uc is a statement by a sorcerer that a priest in Valladolid

NOTES TO PAGES 73—79 * 157

asked him if he knew “an Indian that he [the priest] had in the Convent in Campeche.” Autos Criminales, 1761-62, fol. 331. 20. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fols. 164-68. 21. Autos Criminales, 1761-62, fols. 295—304. 22. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fols. 187-88. 23. Autos Criminales, 1761-62, fols. 245—47. 24. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fol. 151. 25. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fols. 153 ff. 26. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fol. 131. 27. See Clendinnen, Ambivalent Conquests, 134—69. 28. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fols. 143 ff. For a discussion of the importance of the books of Chilam Balam, see Clendinnen, Ambivalent Conquests, 134—69.

29. See Patch, “Decolonization.” 30. In Yucatan the Santa Cruzada sold bulls of indulgence to the Mayas through the repartimiento system. For an analysis of the Cruzada and of the repartimiento in colonial Yucatan, see Patch, Maya and Spaniard, 67—93, 37—68. 31. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fols. 62, 129.

32. The name Canek was known in the wilds to the south throughout the colonial period. As late as 1786 the name of an Indian leader in the semicolonized Petén area was Pedro Canek Bisnieto (Bisnieto means “great-grandson”). See Carta del Obispo de Yucatan al Rey, 27 June 1786, and Carta del Gobernador de Yucatan al Rey, 29 July 1786, AGI, Guatemala 572.

33. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fol. 167. 34. Parmentier, “The Mythological Triangle,” 617—20. 35. “They always had two captains: one whose office was perpetual and hereditary,

and the other elected with many ceremonies for three years.” Landa, Relacién, 52. I would like to thank Karl Taube for bringing this citation to my attention. 36. It was said that he used “maguey quemado” to cure wounds. Autos Criminales, 1761-62, fol. 270. This was probably aloe vera sap. 37. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fol. 182; Autos Criminales, 1761-62, fol. 227.

38. A proportionately large number of the prisoners interrogated after the rising identified their occupations as fiscal de doctrina, alguacil de doctrina, cantor de iglesia, and maestro de coro or maestro de capilla. The first two, which almost certainly were the same post in Maya but were translated into Spanish in two ways, were probably catechism instructors. The cantor was presumably a member of the choir, and the maestro of either the coro or capilla was a choirmaster. All of these posts were of course positions held by laymen and were thus open to Indians. The existence of such positions allowed the Mayas some participation in Catholic religious ritual, which was otherwise denied them because of the monopolization of clerical posts by Spaniards. 39. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fols., 61, 66, 90, 14, 19, 138. 40. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fol. 30. 41. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fol. 131. 42. Spicer, Cycles of Conquest, 28-29; Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fols. 71, 131.

43. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fol. 17. |

44. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fols. 175—76, 182. Uc himself admitted most of

this during the trial. 45. Captain Calder6n’s report after the battle is in Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fols. 13-14. This is followed by another one in fols. 17—18.

46. This is suggested by the fact that none of the prisoners at the trial was captured in Cisteil. 47. Autos Criminales, 1761-62, fols. 292—94. 48. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fol. 194.

158 © NOTES TO PAGES 79—87 49. Autos Criminales, 1761-62, fols. 251-52, 304.—5. 50. Testimonio de Autos fhos., 1761, fols. 30, 153-57.

st. Wallace, “Revitalization Movements,” 265. 52. Wallace, “Revitalization Movements,” 272—73. It is noteworthy that Uc was unmarried at the time of the uprising. It was extremely rare at this time for an adult male Indian to be without a wife. 53. Wallace, “Revitalization Movements,” 273—74. In the latter quote Wallace employs Weber’s concept of the charismatic leader. 54. Wallace, “Revitalization Movements,” 274. 55. See S. Stern, Peru’s Indian Peoples, 1—71, Millones, Varén Gabai, et al., El retorno. 56. Gosner, Soldzers of the Virgin.

57. For a popular account of this topic, see Reed, Caste War.

5. The Indian Insurgents of Mezcala Island The research for this chapter was conducted during a series of visits to Mexico with the financial assistance of the University of Calgary and the Social Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada and during a Rockefeller Resident Fellowship at the Bellagio, Italy, Study and Conference Center in 1990. I want to give special thanks to Eric Van Young, with whom I have discussed the Mezcala Island and Nueva Galicia rebels for years, and to Brian Hamnett, Virginia Guedea, and Jaime Rodriguez—all for their incisive knowledge of the independence war of New Spain. 1. See Hamnett, Roots of Insurgency, 32-33, and Pérez Verdia, Apuntes /ustéricos, 9-38. 2. Roque Abarca to Félix Calleja, Guadalajara, 17 Oct. 181, AGN, OG, vol. 193. 3. Zarate, La guerra, $31.

4. Many recent studies have provided essential background in the preparation of this essay. See Taylor, Magistrates of the Sacred and “Banditry and Insurrection”; Hamnett, Roots of Insurgency and “Royalist Counterinsurgency”; Tutino, From Insurrection to Revolution; Herrején Peredo, Repaso de la Independencia; Rodriguez, The Independence of Mexico; Lindley, Hactendas and Economic Development; Guardino, “Barbarism or Republican Law?” and Peasants, Politics, and the Formation of Mexico’s National State; and many works by Van Young, including Hacienda and Market, La crisis, and Mextco’s Regtons.

5. See, for example, Van Young, Hacienda and Market, 305-42. Some recent studies that provide useful comparisons with the native rebellion under consideration are Dirks, Colonialism and Culture; Scott, Weapons of the Weak; Haynes and Prakash, Contesting Power; and Guha, Elementary Aspects of Peasant Insurgency and “The Prose of Counter-Insurgency.” Unfortunately, the rich precedents and historical experiences of Latin America have not given rise to many significant theoretical works concerning native insurgency. All too often Asianists, South Asianists, and Africanists tend to work in isolation—with each group of specialists reinventing the wheel. See, for example, Crummey, Banditry, Rebellion, and Social Protest. One useful exception is Slatta, Bandidos.

6. The main force of Cruz’s Exército de la Derecha consisted of the Batallén de Marina, the Regimiento de Infanteria Provincial de Toluca, several artillery companies, the regular Regimientos de Dragones de Espafia and Regimientos de Dragones de México, and the tough Dragones Provinciales de Puebla and Dragones

NOTES TO PAGES 88—93 * 159

Provinciales de Querétaro. In addition, Cruz commanded a number of irregular

militia units.

7. José de la Cruz to Viceroy Francisco Javier Venegas, Zamora, 14 Jan. 18m, AGN, OG, vol. 146. 8. Cruz to Venegas, Zamora, 14 Jan. 180, AGN, OG, vol. 146.

9. See, for example, Cruz to Venegas, Valladolid, 29 Dec. 1810, and Cruz to Venegas, 31 Dec. 1810, AGN, OG, vol. 142.

10. Cruz to Calleja, 28 Dec. 1810, Valladolid, AGN, OG, vol. 143. un. Cruz to Venegas, Guadalajara, 14 Jan. 181, AGN, OG, vol. 146. 2. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 2 Sept. 181, AGN, OG, vol. 145. 13. Quoted from Beltrami, “Le Mexique,” 152. 14. Cruz to Calleja, Rancho de Caurio, 12 Jan. 180, AGN, OG, vol. 143. 15. Cruz to Calleja, 16 Jan. 181, Zamora, AGN, OG, vol. 143. 16. Cruz to Calleja, Valladolid, 7 Jan. 181, AGN, OG, vol. 143.

17. Juan Nepomuceno Sannroman to Comandante de Caballeria de Nueva Galicia José Martin Ahumada [subordinate to Pedro Celestino Negrete], Campo Subalterno de la Comandancia de Nueva Galicia en San Salvador, 22 Feb. 1816, AGN, OG, vol. Isr.

18. Sannroman to Ahumada, 22 Feb. 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151. 19. Sannroman to Ahumada, 22 Feb. 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151. Although there is no

confirmation for these charges, Sannroman claimed that there were many witnesses. He went on to attack “el perfido cabecilla Yturbide” [Agustin de Iturbide], who sentenced a priest to torture for having given last rites to condemned rebel prisoners. 20. See, for example, Calleja to Cruz, Guanajuato, 5 Dec. 1810, and Cruz to Calleja, Huichapan, 9 Dec. 1810, AGN, OG, vol. 140. 21. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 24 Feb. 181, AGN, OG, vol. 145. 22. Alaman, Historia de Méxtco, 2:250—51; and Hamnett, Roots of Insurgency, 137. 23. Rosendo Porlier to Cruz, Zapolan el Grande, 4 Mar. 181, AGN, OG, vol. 146.

24. Extracto del Consejo de Guerra executivo establecido por el Coronel don Rosendo Porlier, Caballero del Orden de Santiago, y comandante en jefe de las tropas destinadas a la reconquista, y pacificacion de los pueblos de Zacoalco, Sayula y Zapotla, 4 Mar. 181, AGN, OG, vol. 146.

25. Extracto del Consejo de Guerra executivo establecido por el Coronel don Rosendo Porlier, Caballero del Orden de Santiago, y comandante en jefe de las tropas destinadas a la reconquista, y pacificacion de los pueblos de Zacoalco, Sayula y Zapotla, 4 Mar. 181, AGN, OG, vol. 146. 26. Francisco Ventura y Moreno to Porlier, Sayula, 3 Mar. 180, AGN, OG, vol. 146. 27. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 21 May 181, AGN, OG, vol. 145. 28. Bando de José de la Cruz, Guadalajara, 25 June 181, AGN, OG, vol. 145. In some

respects, however, Cruz differed with Calleja, who in this same period issued his “Reglamento politico militar” of 8 June 180, designed to raise royalist militias in all towns and districts and to free operational forces to attack those places where the

marginalized rebels might attempt to coalesce. See Archer, “La Causa Buena,” 96-97. 29. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 15 July 180, AGN, OG, vol. 145. 30. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 4 Aug. 18, AGN, OG, vol. 145. 31. Cruz to Calleja, 2 Sept. 181, AGN, OG, vol. 145. 32. Cruz to Calleja, 2 Sept. 181, AGN, OG, vol. 145. 33. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 26 Aug. 181, AGN, OG, vol. 146.

34.. See Hamnett, “Royalist Counterinsurgency.” 35. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 1 Nov. 18m, AGN, OG, vol. 145.

160 * NOTES TO PAGES 94-98 36. Other sources indicated that Rosas was born in the south-coast village of Tizapan, which supported the insurgency and suffered many royalist raids. See Declaracidn del soldado patriota de Atotonilco, Antonio Diaz, dada en la sumaria informacion sobre averiguar el origen y consecuencia del ataque que se dio a los rebeldes agavillados en la Isla de Mezcala, por el Teniente Coronel don Angel Linares, y la demas tropa que embarco a sus ordenes, Guadalajara, 22 Mar. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. For a printed copy, see Cardenas de la Pefia, Historia maritima de México, 1a:207—8. 37. See Bustamante, Cuadro lnstérico, 2:67; and Zarate, La guerra, $32. 38. Relaciédn que el Gobernador de los Pueblos de Mescala y San Pedro Ixtican, Teniente Coronel Ciudadano José Santana, y el Capitan Ciudadano Pedro Nicolas Padilla, agentes prales. de la fortaleza que estubo situado en la Isla de Chapala, hacen de los sucesos mas memorables de aquella época, . . . 1 Mar. 1825, in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 134. Note that among other documents on the Chapala rebellion and the Mezcala Island siege, Ochoa republished a number of the documents that appear in Hernandez y Davalos, Coleccién de documentos. Other relevant documents and a thorough account of the period may be found in Cardenas de la Pefia, Historia maritima de México. — 39. Relacién de José Santana, in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 134.

40. Account of Marco Castellanos, 1824, in Bustamante, Cuadro sistérico, 2:66—67.

41. Zarate, La guerra, 532-33. For general accounts see Alba, Chapala; and Santoscoy, Defensa herotca. See also Pérez Verdia, Apuntes Instéricos, 104. Zarate described

Alvarez as “a sanguinary partisan of Spanish domination.” 42. Bustamante, Cuadro histérico, 2:67. 43. Declaracion del soldado patriota de Atotonilco, Antonio Diaz, Guadalajara, 22 Mar. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

44. Declaracion del soldado patriota de Atotonilco, Antonio Diaz, Guadalajara, 22, Mar. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

45. Cruz to Venegas, 27 Feb. 1813, and Cruz to Calleja, 12 May 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

46. Cruz to Venegas, Guadalajara, 6 Feb. 1813 and 26 Feb. 1813, AGN, OG, vol 149.

Negrete and Iturbide withdrew from Valladolid when Comandante Antonio Linares defeated the rebels, capturing twenty heavy guns and many muskets and killing as many as twelve hundred insurgents. For a very good discussion of the problems created by border zones, see Hamnett, “Royalist Counterinsurgency,” 30-34. 47. Declaracion del soldado patriota de Atotonilco, Antonio Diaz, Guadalajara, 22 Mar. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

48. Declaraci6n del soldado patriota de Atotonilco, Antonio Diaz, Guadalajara, 22 Mar. 1813, vol. 149. Cruz reported the rebel fleet to have been about seventy canoes—a figure that Carlos Maria Bustamante thought was much exaggerated. In fact, on this occasion the royalists might actually have underestimated the size of the Indian fleet. See Cruz to Venegas, Guadalajara, 27 Feb. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149; and Bustamante, Cuadro listorico, 2:68. For other accounts, see Cardenas de la Pefia, Historia maritima de México, 1:145—47. Also see Alba, Chapala, 89—90, and Zarate, La JUerra, 533—34-

49. Cruz to Venegas, Guadalajara, 27 Feb. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. Also see Pérez Verdia, Apuntes histéricos, 107-8. 50. Cruz to Venegas, Guadalajara, 27 Feb. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

51. Relacién del Teniente Coronel José Santana, y el Capitan Ciudadano Pedro Nicolas Padilla, Guadalajara, 1 Mar. 1825, in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 135; Zarate, La guerra, 534; and Declaracién de soldado patriota de Atotonilco, Antonio Diaz, Guadalajara, 22 Mar. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

NOTES TO PAGES 98—I0§ * I6I

52. Causa formada al Indio José Andrés, prisonero de la isla de Mezcala, dando noticias de la fortificacién y armamento de la fortaleza, 14 Oct. 1813, in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 60.

53. Declaracion del soldado patriota de Atotonilco, Antonio Diaz, Guadalajara, 22 Mar. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

54. Relaciédn de Teniente Coronel Ciudadano José Santana, y el Capitan Ciudadano Pedro Nicolas Padilla, Guadalajara, 1 Mar. 1825, in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de

Mezcala, 137. ,

§5. Declaraci6n del soldado patriota de Atotonilco, Antonio Diaz, Guadalajara,

22 Mar. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

56. Bustamante, Cuadro Iustérico, 2:70. As will be seen, in 1815 the Sefior de Camichin was recaptured by the royalists. §7. Declaracion del soldado patriota, Antonio Diaz, Guadalajara, 22 Mar. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

§8. Cruz to Calleja, 7 June 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. For the situation in Valladolid, see Diego Garcia Conde to Calleja, Valladolid, 16 May 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 900. §9. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 9 Apr. 1813 and 8 May 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. Also see Cruz to Calleya, 12 May 1813 and 7 June 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149, for personal letters in a whining tone in which Cruz stated that he felt certain that the viceroy had lost confidence in his abilities to command Nueva Galicia. Cruz believed that reinforcements

and weapons from Spain were going to other regions and not to Nueva Galicia. 60. Pérez Verdia, Apuntes histéricos, 03. 61. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 8 June 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

62. Report of Lt. Col. Angel Casabel to Cruz, 9 June 183, and Cruz to Calleja, 9 June 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

63. Declaraciones tomadas a los reveldes yslefios Diego Alonso y Pedro Pablo, el 1

de marzo y 2 de San Juan Tocomatlan [6 junio de 181s: en el campamento de Tlachichilco], in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 114. 64. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 14 June 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. 65. Cruz to Calleya, 18 June 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

66. See Declaracidn recivida a los prisoneros hechos en el pueblo de San Pedro Caro, February 1815, in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 86—93. 67. Calleja to Cruz, Mexico City, 6 July 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. 68. Calleya to Cruz, 3 Aug. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. 69. Cruz to Calleja, 14 Sept. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. 70. Cruz to Calleja, 2 Oct. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 1449. Nevertheless, Cruz planned to

attack even if the royalists suffered the loss of 200 to 300 troops. m1. Cruz to Calleja, 1 Nov. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. 72. Cruz to Calleja, 1 Nov. 18133, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

73. Declaraci6n de José de Perales y Luis Mora, Indios de Chapala, Feb. 1814, in Biblioteca del Estado [Guadalajara], Fondos Especiales, Criminal, leg. 5, exp. 22. I want to thank Eric Van Young for sharing his notes about the rebel signaling system. Also see Cruz to Calleja, 16 Nov. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. 74. Cruz to Calleja, 22 Dec. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. 75. Cruz to Calleja, 22 Dec. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149.

76. Cruz to Calleja, 22 Dec. 1813, AGN, OG, vol. 149. The defeats of Morelos during

January and February 1814 reduced the royalist preoccupations to the east of Nueva Galicia, but Negrete’s division remained for some time in Zamora and La Piedad districts. See Cruz to Calleja, 18 Feb. 1814, and no. 35, 4 Mar. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. Iso. 77. Calleja to Cruz, 7 Jan. 1814, and Cruz to Calleja, 12 Jan. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150. 78. Cruz to Calleja, no. 33, 4 Mar. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150.

79. Pedro Celestino Negrete to Cruz, La Piedad, 7 Mar. 1814, and Relaciones que

162 * NOTES TO PAGES I0s—I0

pasaron los compradores de armas en Valladolid, AGN, OG, vol. 150. These agents purchased 169 muskets for 3,260 pesos and 22 bayonets. 80. Cruz to Calleja, no. 33, 4 Mar. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150. 81. Plan de ataque a la Isla Chica y documentos relativos al mismo, 19 Mar. 1814, in

Cardenas de la Pefia, Historia maritima de México, 1a:217-24; and El General Cruz manda practicar un reconocimiento de la fortificacién de las islas en el Lago de Chapala, 19 Mar. 1814, in Hernandez y Davalos, Colecctén de documentos, 5, nO. 18, 294—95. 82. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 23 Mar. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150. 83. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 23 Mar. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150. The naval officers

present at Lake Chapala concurred with these findings and about the difficulty for any force of achieving an effective landing on Mezcala Island. See Acta de la junta del 26 de abril de 1815 en Tlachichilco, in Cardenas de la Pena, Historia maritima, 1a:227— 29.

84. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 23 Mar. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 10. 85. Cruz to Calleja, Guadalajara, 23 Mar. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150. 86. Agustin Bocalan to Col. José de Navarro, Lake Chapala, 16 Apr. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150.

87. Report of Agustin Bocalan, 25 Apr. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150. 88. Report of Agustin Bocalan, 25 Apr. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150. 89. Report of Agustin Bocalan, 25 Apr. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 50. Also see Pérez Verdia, Apuntes histéricos, 1s—16; and Cardenas de la Pefia, Historia maritima de México, 1:154-—55.

90. Divisidn de Operaciones, Manuel de Arango, Teocuitatlan, 29 Apr. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150. Most sources, such as Pérez Verdia and Cardenas de la Pefia, indicate a total of eight hundred for Arango’s division, which is too high. gi. Cruz to Calleja, 13 May 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150.

92. Cruz to Calleja, 27 May 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150. Also see Cardenas de la Pefia,

Historia maritima de México, v:55—-56. 93. Cruz to Calleja, 133 May 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150.

94. Cruz to Calleja, 10 June 1814, AGN, OG, vol. Iso. 95. Cruz to Calleya, 10 June 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 50. The junta, which was held at

Cruz’s residence, included the comandante of Tlachichilco, naval captain and colonel José Navarro, the blockade commander, frigate lieutenant Manuel de Murga, and the builder, Ensign José Aniorga. 96. Cruz to Calleja, 10 June 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 150. Viceroy Calleja approved the construction on m Nov. 1814. 97. Cruz to Calleja, no. 131, 5 Aug. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161. 98. Cruz to Calleja, 10 Sept. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161. The commanders of four of the

divisions were Negrete, first; Lt. Col. Candido Lexarazu, second; Lt. Col. Juan Delgado, replacing Navarro, third; and Lt. Col. Luis Quintanar, fourth. The fifth division, under Cruz, was garrisoned in Guadalajara. 99. Cruz to Calleya, 10 Sept. 1814, and Calleja to Cruz, m Nov. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

As was usual in their conflictive relationship, the viceroy argued that he could not reconcile Cruz’s demands with his statements that Nueva Galicia was in good economic and political order. He chided Cruz for not seeking to purchase more arms at

the Pacific coast and argued that good cavalry could operate with machetes and ances. 100. Cruz to Calleja, no. 133, u Aug. 1814, and Calleja to Cruz, m Nov. 1814, AGN, OG,

vol. 161. Asked to send naval officers, Calleja responded that none were available in Mexico City. Since it would take time to transfer officers from Veracruz, the viceroy ordered Cruz to make do with available mariners. io1. Cruz to Calleja, no. 166, 23 Dec. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

NOTES TO PAGES 110—I§ * 163 102. Luis de Quintanar to Cruz, Zapotlan, 21 Nov. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161. 103. Quintanar to Cruz, Zapotlan, 21 Nov. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161. 104. Quintanar to Cruz, Zapotlan, 21 Nov. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161. 105. Quintanar to Cruz, Zapotlan, 21 Nov. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161. Quintanar noted

that he had opened several cases destined for Colima and distributed the muskets in them. 106. Instrucciones para el Comandante de la 4a Divisién, 14 Dec. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

107. Instrucciones para el Comandante de la 4a Divisién, 14 Dec. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161, articles 2—3.

108. Instrucciones para el Comandante de la 4a Divisidn, 14 Dec. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161, articles 4-10. 109. Declaraciones tomadas a los reveldes yslefios Diego Alonso y Pedro Pablo, el

1 de Mescala y el 2 de San Juan Tocomatlan [6 junio de 1815: en el campamento de Tlachichilco], in Ochoa, Los tnsurgentes de Mezcala, 114. 10. Cristobal Sentero to José Navarro, aboard Tepiquena, 20 Jan. 1815, and Navarro to Cruz, Tlachichilco, 20 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161. m. Hevia, who had come from

Manila to Guadalajara with a license to return to Spain, requested permission to join the Chapala campaign as a boat commander. If he wanted excitement and wartime action, Hevia received more than he had bargained for when Cruz appointed him to a command. See D. José de la Cruz participe al Virrey que a solicitud del Alférez de Fragata D. Juan de Hevia, lo ha ocupado para que mande uno de los buques sutiles que operan en la laguna de Chapala, 2 Mar. 1814, in Hernandez y Davalos, Coleccion de documentos §, NO. 20, 297.

mz. Alférez de Fragata Juan de Hevia to Navarro, Tlachichilco, 20 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

m3. Cruz to Calleja, no. 176, 20 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161. 14.. Navarro to Cruz, Tlachichilco, 22 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

us. Medidas tomadas por Navarro con motivo del aviso del comandante de Zamora de que existen vivos siete prisoneros en la Isla de Mezcala, Febrero de 1815; and Declaraciones tomadas a los reveldes yslefios Diego Alonso y Pedro Pablo, el 1 de

Mescala y el 2 de San Juan Tocomatlan [6 junio de 1815: en el campamento de Tlachichilco], in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 100, 014. 16. Navarro to Cruz, Tlachichilco, 22 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161. 17. Noticia de los Buques que entraron en Ia accion del dia de hoy con exposicioén

de sus Comandantes y Orden que entraron en la accién en que se formo fa linea, Campamento de Tlachichilco, AGN, OG, vol. 161. u8. Navarro to Cruz, 22 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

m9. Noticia de las municiones consumidas en el dia de la fecha, Tlachichilco, 22 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

1220. Navarro to Cruz, Tlachichilco, 23 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161. 121. Cruz to Calleja, 26 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

122. Descripcién marinera de la laguna de Chapala. . . , 25 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

123. El comandante de las fuerzas sutiles manifiesta las razones y la necesidad de construir un buque para atacar a las islas, 21 Mar. 1814, in Hernandez y Davalos, Coleccion de documentos, §:310—I. 124. Navarro to Cruz, Tlachichilco, 25 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161. 125. Cruz to Calleja, no. 184, 26 Jan. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161. 126. Cruz to Calleja, no. 204, 2 Mar. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

127. For an excellent discussion on the problems of border zones, see Hamnett, “Royalist Counterinsurgency,” 30—34. In late 1814. Cruz obtained cooperation agree-

164 * NOTES TO PAGES Ij—21 ments among his commanders Negrete and Quintanar, Agustin de Iturbide of Guanajuato, and José Antonio Andrade of Valladolid. See Acuerdo o convinacion formada por el Brigadier don Pedro Celestino Negrete y Coronel Agustin de Iturbide contra la principal Gavilla del rebelde Presbitero Torres, La Piedad, 29 Nov. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161. This plan established official signals, countersigns, and passwords and warned of severe punishments for royalist soldiers who created discord with their comrades in other divisions. 128. Cruz to Calleja, no. 213, 22 Mar. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161. 129. Cruz to José Antonio de Andrade, Guadalajara, 28 Nov. 1814, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

130. Parte de Antonio de Adorno a José de la Cruz, de acci6n cerca del Puerto de la Calle, 12 Dec. 1814, in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 65. 131. Declaraci6n de Juan Salvador, Indio de la Isla [de Mezcala]. . . , in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 66.

132. Oficio de José Navarro a José de la Cruz... , in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 76. 133. Parte de José Navarro a José de la Cruz sobre el ataque dado a San Pedro Caro, 18 Feb. 1815, in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 81-82.

134. Lista de los insurgentes que se aprehendidos en San Pedro Caro en la mafiana de 19 de febrero de 1815, in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 86. 135. Lista de los insurgentes. . . , in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 89—90. 136. Lista de los insurgentes. . . , in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 86—93. 1337. Cruz to Calleya, no. 200, 14 Feb. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161. 138. Cruz to Calleja, no. 200, 14 Feb. 1815, AGN, OG, vol. 161.

139. Acta de la Junta de el 26 de Abril de 1815 en Tlachichilco, in Cardenas de la Pena, Historia maritima de México, 1a:227—29. 14.0. Estado de Fuerza de la 3a Division, Tlachichilco, 16 May 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151.

141. Apuntes sobre la defensa del campo de Tlachichilco, y observaciones generales sobre la materia para tener a mano el Comandante de este Puerto, ademas de las que sus conocimientos militares hagan hecho formar, Guadalajara, 21 May 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151. This document is printed in Cardenas de la Pefia, Historia maritima de Meéxt0, 1a:233—39.

142. Apuntes sobre la defensa del campo de Tlachichilco. . . , Guadalajara, 21 May 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151, article 42.

143. Daily orders, mn and 12 May 1816, Campo de Tlachichilco, AGN, OG, vol. ist. Sol-

diers were forbidden to leave the fortifications without signed authorization of their commanders. To prevent breaches in these regulations, guard detachments composed of a sergeant, drummer, two corporals, and thirty-six soldiers were selected from different units and sentinels from the provincial regiments of Toluca and Guadalajara were doubled. 144. Bando de José de la Cruz, Tlachichilco, 12 May 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151.

145. Orden General para el servicio de este campo de Tlachichilco, AGN, OG, vol. ist. Consisting of twenty-five articles, this instruction covered details of guard duties and undertook to regulate garrison life. 146. José Navarro, Servicio de los Buques, 144. May 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151. 1447. Navarro, Servicio de los Buques, 14. May 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151, articles 4—10. 148. Instruccidn para el Ayudante del Puerto, 17 May 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151. Article

2 of this instruction stated that infantry officers could not give permission for their men to disembark from the boats without additional authorization from the naval officer in command of the boat division. 149. Instrucci6n para el Ayudante del Puerto, 17 May 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151, articles 8—9.

150. Circular letter issued by Cruz, Tlachichilco, 17 May 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151.

NOTES TO PAGES 122—30 °* 165

1st. Instrucci6n para el Teniente don Luis Menchaca, 133 May 1816, Tlachichilco, AGN, OG, vol. 151.

152. Instruccién para el Teniente don Luis Menchaca, 3 May 1816, Tlachichilco, AGN, OG, vol. Ist.

153. Cruz to Luis Quintanar, Guadalajara, 5 July 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 1st. In addition

to these forces, the fourth division at Jiquilpan included one hundred troops from the Infantry of Toluca, fifty realista infantrymen, two hundred men of the Cuerpo de Frontera, and fifty realista cavalry. 154. Cruz to Luis Quintanar, Guadalajara, 5 July 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151.

155. Instrucciones para el Teniente Coronel don Luis Quintanar, Comandante de la Quarta Division, July 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151.

156. Instrucciones para el Teniente Coronel don Luis Quintanar, Comandante de la Quarta Division, July 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151.

157. Instrucciones para los comandantes de los cuerpos volantes que deben establecerse. . . , Guadalajara, 30 July 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151.

158. Instrucciones para los comandantes de los cuerpos volantes que deben establecerse. . . , Guadalajara, 30 July 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151, articles 3, 4, and 5.

159. Instrucciones para los comandantes de los cuerpos volantes que deben establecerse. . . , Guadalajara, 30 July 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151, articles 8—14.

160. Instrucciones para los comandantes de los cuerpos volantes que deben establecerse. . . , Guadalajara, 30 July 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151, article 16.

161. Oficio de la Junta Subalterna a José Torres [hijo]. Plan de Auxilio a la Isla de Mezcala, December 1815, in Ochoa, Los tnsurgentes de Mezcaia, 126. Also see Cardenas de la Pena, Historia maritima de México, 1:171-72. 162. Pérez Verdia, Apuntes histéricos, 122. 163. Cruz to Apodaca, Isla Grande de Mezcala, 25 Nov. 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151; and

Relacién de José de Santana, y Pedro Nicolas Padilla, Guadalajara, 1 Mar. 1825, in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 138. Also see Pérez Verdia, Apuntes /istoricos, 124— 25; and Bustamante, Cuadro histérico, 2:727—28. 164. Cruz to Apodaca, Campo de Tlachichilco, 7 Dec. 1816, AGN, OG, vol. 151. 165. Cruz to Apodaca, Campo de Tlachichilco, 7 Dec. 1816, AGN, OG, vol. Ist. 166. Cruz to Apodaca, Guadalajara, 31 July 1817, AGN, OG, vol. 153. 167. Cruz to Apodaca [Conde de Venadito], 16 Mar. 1819, AGN, OG, vol. 156. 168. Cruz to Venadito, 4 Oct. 1820, AGN, OG, vol. 157.

169. Escrito de la Real Audiencia de Guadalajara al Virrey sobre la actuacidn de José de la Cruz, Gobernador y Comandante General de la Nueva Galicia, sJunio 1817? in Ochoa, Los insurgentes de Mezcala, 132-33.

6. Thoughts on the Pax Colonial and Colonial Violence 1. For the Roman Empire, for example, see Amey, Pax Romana; and Petit, Pax Romana. For Roman cooptation of elites, see Braund, Rome and the Friendly King. 2. For some of these arguments, see Ferguson and Whitehead, War in the Tribal Zone. Whittaker, in Frontiers of the Roman Empire, 204-7, points out that Rome saw no need for accommodation or acculturation on its frontiers, unlike its metropolitan policies. In a preface to Fanon’s famous book, The Wretched of the Earth, Jean-Paul Sartre discusses several of the points raised here. One may also wish to contrast British policies of “brokerage” and accommodation in northern India with British warfare on the northwest and other Himalayan frontiers. 3. Guha refers to this historiographical problem in colonial India in Elementary

166 * NOTES TO PAGES II—39 Aspects of Peasant Insurgency, 4, 79—80, 90—91, and passim. For Spanish America, see

Haslip-Viera, “The Underclass,” especially 288 and 300-302. See also Muir and Ruggiero, Microlustory. 4. Katz argues that there was a relative peace between a bloody preconquest period and the late eighteenth century, in part 2, “Pax Hispanica?” of Rzot, Rebellion, and Revolution. Klein and Barbier believe that the large amounts of tax moneys and silver retained in the American colonies paid for the long peace “and guaranteed an era of peace and stability unmatched in modern times” (“Recent Trends,” quotation on 51). Quite recently Brading has written of the church as the mainstay of the long imperial peace (Church and State, 7). s. See, for example, Floyd, The Anglo-Spanish Struggle; Powell, Soldters, Indians

and Silver. Johannessen discusses the retreat of the Spanish settlement frontier in Nicaragua in Savannas of Interior Honduras. There is a large frontier literature for the

Chaco. On the Araucanian border, see Padden, “Cultural Change and Military Resistance.” 6. Hoffman, The Spanish Crown; Andrews, The Spanish Caribbean. 7. See, for example, Sauer, The Early Spanish Main, 206; Sanchez-Albornoz, The Population of Latin America, s5—s6; Gonzalez Rodriguez, Crénicas de la sierra tarahuMATA, SL.

8. The classic account of Indian slavery, unfinished and rare, is Saco, Historia de la esclavitud de los indwos. A typical series of entradas de rescate, and the rationalizations for them, can be found in Cano, Manché and Petén; and Avendano y Loyola, Relation of Two Trips.

9. These matters are discussed in MacLeod, “Indian Riots and Rebellions.” 10. Many of the topics are discussed in Taylor, Drinking, Homicide, and Rebellion, and in Taylor’s other essays. The phrase is Hobsbawm’s (Hobsbawm, Labouring Men). n. Studies of colonial crime are few, and this area of research lags far behind similar studies in Europe and North America. For the moment, see MacLachlan, Crimnal Justice in Eighteenth-Century Mexico; Scardaville, “Crime and the Urban Poor”; and Lozano Armendares, La criminalidad. iz. See note u. Also see Ruiz Gaytan F., “Un grupo trabajador importante”; and MacLeod, “Death in Western Colonial Mexico,” §7, 73.

13. See MacLeod, “Indian Riots and Rebellions,” for a discussion of these matters. 14. For elite violence and competition, and native reactions to it, Leén Cazares, Un levantamiento, might serve as a classic example. For terror and violence used as tactics by two successive presidents of the Audiencia of Guadalajara, see Calvo, “Cir-

culos de poder,” 147. ,

15. Tovilla, in Relaciones histérico-descriptivas, describes frequent floggings that he

administered for minor offenses during tours of inspection in Verapaz villages. Of importance, and typical, is the offhand, commonplace attitudes displayed in reports to higher authorities. 16. See the sampler of cases in Borah, Justice by Insurance. 17. Laylor, Magistrates of the Sacred, 215-26, quotation on 215. For the endemic vio-

lence on plantations using African slaves, see Rout, African Experience in Spanish America, 93-104. See also Taylor, Drinking, Homicide, and Rebellion and Taylor’s other essays; MacLachlan, Criminal Justice in Eighteenth-Century Mexico; Scardaville, “Crime and the Urban Poor”; Lozano Armendares, La criminalidad; and Tovilla, Relaciones historico-descriptivas.

18. This is the general tenor of the introductory discussion in Katz, Riot, Rebellion,

NOTES TO PAGES 139-42 °* 167

and Revolution. See also Klein and Barbier, “Recent Trends”; and Brading, Church and State. 19. The various essays in Spalding, Essays, discuss the nature of the Spanish state in a similar way to the approach herein. 20. See MacLachlan, Criminal Justice in Eighteenth-Century Mexico; Scardaville, “Crime and the Urban Poor”; Lozano Armendares, La criminalidad; Ruiz Gaytan F., “Un grupo trabajador importante”; and MacLeod, “Death in Western Colonial Mexico.” 21. A leading example of this new approach is Mallon, Peasant and Nation. For a similar view of peasant politics and political leadership in Africa, see Fererman, Peasant Intellectuals. 22. Surprisingly little research has concentrated on these institutions. On Indian cabildos in Mexico, see Haskett, Indigenous Rulers. For Indian cofradias, see Meyers and Hopkins, Manipulating the Saints. For late-colonial interference in cajas de comunidad, see Tanck de Estrada, “Escuelas y cajas de comunidad.” 23. For a regional listing of events of this kind in colonial Oaxaca, see the Spores essay in this volume. 24. Meyer, Water in the Hispanic Southwest, Caceres Carenzo, Canek; and the Patch essay in this volume illustrate these directions. 25. I have sketched out the possibilities of such a continuum in MacLeod, “Indian Riots and Rebellions.”

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Contributors

Christon I. Archer is Professor of History and Director of Latin American Studies at the University of Calgary, Alberta, Canada. He has written on aspects of Mexican military history, and at present he is working on insurgency and counterinsurgency during the era of independence, 1810—25, and on a study of Spanish exploration of the northwest coast in the eigh-

teenth century. Susan M. Deeds is Associate Professor of History at Northern Arizona University. She is finishing a manuscript on the effects of colonialism on northern indigenous groups. Her published articles related to this topic include “Rural Work in Nueva Vizcaya: Forms of Labor Coercion on the Periphery” and, most recently, “Double Jeopardy: Indian Women in Jesuit Missions of Nueva Vizcaya.” Kevin Gosner is Associate Professor in the Department of History at the University of Arizona. He is the author of Soldiers ofthe Virgin: The Moral Economy of a Colonial Maya Rebellion and coeditor (with Ary) Ouweneel)

of Indigenous Revolts in Cliapas and the Andean Highlands. He is currently writing a general history of the Mayas since the Spanish conquest. Murdo J. MacLeod is Professor of History at the University of Florida, Gainesville, and has written extensively on colonial Spanish America, colonial Central America, epidemics, and Native American revolts. Most recently, he is coeditor of The Cambridge History of the Nattve Peoples of the Americas: Mesoamerica.

Robert Patch is Associate Professor of History at the University of California, Riverside. He is the author of Maya and Spaniard in Yucatan, 1648182 and is currently conducting research on Yucatan’s colonial elite and

on labor and the economy in Guatemala in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. He is also writing a book manuscript entitled “Maya Revolt and Revolution in the Eighteenth Century.” Susan Schroeder is Professor of History at Loyola University Chicago. She is the author of Chimalpahin and the Kingdoms of Chalco and general edi-

190 * CONTRIBUTORS

tor of the forthcoming six-volume Codex Chimalpalin. She is currently researching Nahua intellectuals in colonial Mexico City. Ronald Spores is Professor Emeritus of Anthropology at Vanderbilt University. He is the author of numerous works on native populations in the Mixteca, most notably The Mixtecs in Ancient and Colonial Times. Currently, he lives in Oaxaca, Mexico.

Index

Acapulco, 96, 100 Apazingan, 85, 101, 104, 127 Acaxees, I, 4—I, 25, 28 apostates, 6, 13, 23

Ajijic, 84, 89, 106, 124 Arango, Lt. Col. Manuel de, 104, 107—8

Ake, Melchor, 79 Araucanians, 131

Albuquerque, fray Bernardo, 34 Arellano, Tristan de, 31 alcalde, 41, 56—58, 60-62, 64, 71, 117, I2I, 124, Aroparicuaro, 104 135; alcalde mayor, 37-38, 40—42, 45, 58— arquebuses, 11, 37, 39

60 arrows, 5, 9, 15, 88; poison, 20; bow and, xxii,

alcohol (see also borracheras), 85, 132, 134—35; 39

corn, 1471 Asia, xvill, 43, 914 alguactl, Atotonilco, Allende, Ignacio, 87 Atoyac, 104, 107, 109

All Saints’ Day, 56 Audiencia, 37, 40, 51, 60—61, 64, 136

Alonso, Lt. Col. José, 102 “Augustinian elitism” (Van Young), xiil

altepetl, xv authorities, Indian (officials), 38, 40, 44, 49, Alvarado, Pedro de, 31 $3, $6, 603 Courts, xvil, Xvi; deities, 35—

Alvarez, Cura José Francisco, 94—95 36; elites, 52, 55, $7, 6O—6I, 64, 66, 82, 139; Alvarez de Toledo, Bishop Juan Bautista, 59, king, 72—79, 81; leaders, xx1, 131, 133, 1373

61 nobility, 35, 55-56; Protector of the Amatenango, 53 Autlan, 108 Amazon River, 131 Avalos, José Gregorio, 91

Alvear y Salazar, Gov. Gaspar de, 1o—n Tarahumaras, 20; voices of, 3, 16, 87 Americas, xviii, xxi, 131-32; Spanish, 67, 131; Avellan, don Juan de, 40-41

American, 88 Aztecs, Xill, XV, XXII, 132 Analco, 38 Azetc emperor, 76 Ana Maria, 16

Anastacio, José, 91 Bacalar, 79

Anaya, Pablo, 99 Bachajon, s9—61, 64 Andes (native), 131 Balam, Tomas, 74

Andrade, Col. José Antonio, 18 banishment and exile, xii, 5, 41, 50, 79

Angamacutiro, IOI, 103 baptism, 6—7, Il, 14, 16, 24, 62, 64, 126

Angostura, 107 Barreda, Father José Antonio, 92 Afiorga, José, 109 Batallén de Puebla, 122

Antequera, 31, 34, 36—38, 42, 45 Batallén Provincial de Guadalajara, tos, 10

Antonio, José (of Zapotlan), 91 Battle of Puente de Calder6n, 87

Apaches, xviii Bautista, Juan (of Zapotlan), 91

192 * INDEX ; bayonets, 88, 99 canoes, xXil, 93, 95—IO0, 103, IOS—IO, 112, beans, 4—5, 7, 21, 103, 108, 16, 123-24 16—17, 120, 124-25

Belize, 73 Cafion de Xalpa, 90 Beltrami, J. C., 89 Caribbean, 50, 131, 32 Beltran, Lt. Antonio, 98 caridades, 54. Beneficios Altos, 80 Carranza, Juan, 103

Beneficios Bajos, 69, 80 Casabel, Lt. Col. Angel, 100

Bernardo, 18 Casas Grandes, 17-18

138 casta villagers, 134

bishops, 8, 25, 40-42, 49, 55, 58-59, 61-62, | Caso, Elias (Scarface), xvi

blacks 10, 39, 131; free blacks, 135 Castellanos, Father Marcos, 89, 95, 98-99,

Bloch, Marc, 73 13, 16, 125-27

bloodletting, 53 Caste War (Yucatan), $1, 65, 72, 75, 83 boats, 98—100, 103, I0s—7, 1O—13, 20-21; Castillo, Gov. Gabriel del, 20-21 longboats, 96, 106 Castro, Sublieutenant Manuel de, 13 Bocalan, Lt. Agustin, 106—7 catechism, 7, 15

Bokaba, 80 cattle, 8, IO—H, 17, 82, 133 Bolero (ship), 106 Cauich, Luis, 74,77, 79 Bolivar, Simon, 142 Cavo, Andrés, 35 bonfires, as signals, 103, 125 cemetary, 71 borracheras, 14, 22 census taking, $7

Bravo, Eugenio, 91 Central America, 30, $7, 131 Brizuela, Capt. Anastacio, 103 Cerro Chino, 104

Buenos Aires, 132 Chaco, 131

bullets, Indians protected from, 77, 82 ouasinan BO

Burgoa, Francisco de, 33, 35-36 Cha nla XVI

burial register, 137 Chan] a, A Bustamante, Carlos Maria de, 84 an, Joseph, 73, 76

Bustamante, Pablo, 98 Chan Santa Cruz, 65

cabecera, 33 127

Chapala, 84, 96, 99, 101-2, 104, 19, 21-24,

cabildo, $6, 60-61, 70-71, 73, 75, 1355 137-38, Chatinos, 30, 33~34

141 Chiapas, XI, XV1, XIX, XX1, 47, 49, §2, 55-57,

Cacique, 4, 6, 1, 31, 35-37, 42-43, 45, 55-56 §9, 66, 83; Chiapanecos, 50, 56;

9 °T> M5 bd O's > Py 5) > Oxchuc, 53

s’ 22), * hile ed(coun 9/35 131

aj Joe ToT. 81, 135, 138; CACtCAZJO, 31,33 = Chichimeca War, xx

caja de comunidad, 56, 58, 60, 141 cna von a 38 4

aon ah uistobal 76, 78 Chilam Balam, 75

Calleja, Viceroy Felix, 90, 93, 100, 102, Chiles oo 3 3 61, 64

1O9—TO, 4 Chimalpahin, xv, Calnek, Edward, 64 Chinantecs, 44xvi

calpixque, 138 Chinipas, 16

calpotls (. calpule), 70, 136-37, I4 choirmaster (maestro de coro, teniente de

Camino Real Bajo, 80 cOr0), 56, 63, 71, 74, 77

Campeche, 73, 80 Chol (Maya), so

Cafiada-Cuicateca-Papaloapan, 44 Chontales, 30, 33, 40, 44; Tehuantepec-

Cancuc, 50-st, 60—65 Chontales, 46; Chontales-Huamelula, Candelaria, Maria de la, 60, 62, 65 46 Canek, aon mt 70, 72-73, 76-78, 80— — Christian, William, 54

83; Rebellion OF, 69 churches, xiv, 7, 9, 15, 18, 4.0, 56, 62—64, 71,

Cafiizares, Francisco, 14. 77-78, 83, 89, 92, 99, 126, 31, 37-39, 141; cannabalism, ritual, 4—6 bells of, 14, 24, 26, 62; of Jesuits, 5; tricannon, 37, 78, 98—IOI, 103, 106, 1I0o8—9, 12— bunals of, so

14, 120, 123 Cisteil, 69—81

Canoa Grande de Cutseo (canoe), 97 Ciudad Real, 47, 49—s0, 58-59, 62-63

INDEX °* 193

cloth (manta), 6—7, I, 14, 58, 60, 85 cult, 49-50, 54-56, 60, 62-63, 66, 83

clothing, 7, 13, 19, 124 Cumuato, 117 club (bludgeon), 9, 75, 94 Curaco, 132 Coatzacoalcos, 33 curate (see also priest), 47, 55, 57, $961, 89, Coaxintecuhtlhi, 31 IOI, 121, 134, 137-38, 141

Cochineal, 43 curer, native, 53

Cocomorachi, 19

cocoliztl: (see also disease), 5 Cusihuiriachi, Is, 17, 19—20

Cocula, 96 dance, ritual, 7, 23; dancing, 10 cofradia, s6—57, $960, 64, 135, 137, 141, Davis, Natalie Zemon, 51

books of, 62 debt peonage, 141

Cofradia de San Sebastian (in Chilon), 57 Delgado, Lt. Col. Juan, to

Cofradia de Santa Cruz (in Sibaca), 57 demon, 8-9, 13, 63

Coixtlahuaca, 37 cepression, economic, $7 Colima, 91, 96, 99, 104 Diz M, Nn 1, 14, 63, 78, 93 Comanches, xviii 1aZ, ANTONIO, 95, 97

comet, 7, 10 Diaz, Magdalena, 63

fess; 116, 132, 135; epidemic, IO—M, 14,¢ 16, confession, 7 34, 7,heal; Conchos, 4, 9-H, Is, 17, 19, 28 disease, xx, xX1, 4-557, Ul, 25, 395 555 59, 106,

CONGTEGACION, XX1, 4, 13-14, 23, 25, 55, 138 20, 24, 109, Mid, 125, 133, 135; Neal's OF,

Constitution, Mexican (1910), x1 dj ve intr unity. 36: int ; Constitution of 1812 (Spain), 109 ve anity See 30, Intercom

contraband, 88de los, , 91 . Dolores, Juan Andrés Contla (near Colima), 91 “div; Ys 44-45 ivino30; caudillo,” 36

corn (maize), 4—7, 10, 13, 16, 19—21, 26, 85, Domi .

99, 103,Some 108, 16,ominicans, 123-24 Domnguc?, 64—6547, 9, 34,Jacinto, 40, 43-44,

49-50

corporal punishment (see also flogging), 55, 56— 60 o_ °

7, Dragones36, de 41 Nueva corregidor, d Galicia, 98 Cortés, Marqués Hernando, xiii, xv, xx ream states, 53 -

ra ? PB

yee INS drinking (see also alcohol; tesgtiinada), 7, 33,? q38, 42; estate of, 31 I, 53

Cortéz, Jose, 13 drought, 20, 34 Cos, Dr. José Maria, tot, 108 d ki

Cosgaya, Capt. Tiburcio de PUB Faking» 33 C 8 os rs d » 75977 drum, 5, 62; drummer, 105, 119, 122

Cotita On . ; Sh 04-05 drunkenness, 14, 18, 75 48 » 123, 2 Durango, 3-4, 8—10 Cton > 4,5

court martial, 89 earthquake, 10 Coyachi, 15 Ecuador, 131 comme’ 65 elder, 4, 12, 14-5, 24, creat, 141 | E] Guaparron, to 53

crops (see also specific crops), 4, encomienda, 4, 6, 25; encomendero, 31, 37,

Croquer, Marcelo, 13 39, 45, $5

cross, 9, 25-26, 47; talking, 65, 83 English, xii1, 73, 76, 88, 131

crossbow, 37,39 entrada, 3, 16, 131, 133; entrada de rescate, 132, crown, mn ot 20, §8, 82, 90,(army : 365 oasurgeon), ¥y SACH,IOI i 100,ueOlflClals OF,61,3979,scobar

crucifix, 9, 99 escribano, §6, 60, 71,74,78

Cruz, Antonio de la, 63 Espolosin, Sublieutenant Juan, 12-13 Cruz, Brig. José de la, 84, 87-89, 91-93, Estancia Huntulchac, 77

9§—I02, 104-12, 114.—28 Etla, 44 Cuéllar, Lt. Col. Juan, 107 famine, 59 cuchteel, 70

Cuicatecs, 44 Fanon, Frantz, 130 Cuiseo, 84 Farriss, Nancy, 70 y

Cuilapa, 38 Fausan, 42 Culhua-Mexica empire, 31 feasting, 10

194 * INDEX Feast of the Presentation of the Virgin Guajardo Fajardo, Gov. Diego, 13

Mary, 9 Guanacevi, 3, 9-10

Fernandez de la Fuente, Capt. Juan, 18,20 Guanajuato, 93, 96-97, 109, U5

Fernandez de Retana, Capt. and Gen. Guarisamey, 10

Juan, 18, 20-22 Guatemala, 30, 34, 51, $3, 57, 70 Fernando VII (king), m, 12 Guatimape, 9

Fernando en su Trono (Teresa; cannon Guerrero, 30, 33

launch), xxii, 12-14 guerrillas, 1, 87, 93, 95-96, 99, 104, 106,

fiesta, 5, 14, $4, 56 108, 05, 126-28

Figueroa, Father Gerénimo, 6 Gulf coast (tierra caliente), 22, 30, 33, 50

fiscal, 56, 60-62, 64, fiscal de doctrina, 71 guns, 82, 98, 100, 103, 107

07, 220 125, 128

fish, 85, 07; fishing, 84, 94, 97, 99, 102, 16, gunboats, 96, 106—7, 10, 12—13, 15, 120, 123,

flight, xiv, 29, 37, 41, 44, 46, 93-94 gunpowder, 77, 98 flogging (whipping), x11, 9, 16, 18, 20—21, Gutierrez, Canuto, 91 40—4l, 50, 73, 79, 91-92, 134, 137-38, 140 Gutierrez, Capt. Luis, 24

flower wars, XV, XVI, XX, 132 Gutiérrez Brockington, Lolita, 42

Font, Father Juan, 8 Guzman, Gordiano, 107 food, xvi, 16, 18, 2I—22, 37, 4.7, 58, 99, 108, Guzman, Nujfio de, xx Franciscans, xix, 4, 9, 1, 47, $0, 55, 73

Fr ench (franceses), xiii, 19, 22, 89 hacendado, 6, 87, 97, IOl, 121, 134

friar, 34, 54555 §8, 133 haciendas, 7, 9, 72, 81, 87, 99, 107, m1, 018,

fi “eros, XV 121-24, 133, 137, 141

Hacienda de la Palma, m

Galli, Lt. Juan, 97-98 Hacienda de los Cedros, too galliot, 109, 10 Hacienda de Mochitiltic, 93 Garcia, Agustin, 61 Hacienda de San Francisco Tizapan, 107 Garcia, Ens. Felipe, 100 Hapsburg empire, 57, 139

Garcia, Lazaro, 65 Havana, 79, 132

Garcia, Sebastian, 60 Hermosillo, José Maria, 103 gauchupines, 89—90 Hernandez, Apolonio, 16-17 Gay, Antonio, 33-36 Hernandez, Alcalde Esteban, 17 General Cruz (gunboat), 13 Hernandez, Maria, 65

gentile, 6, 13-14, 23, 26 Hernando, don, 37 .

Gibson, Charles, xx Herrera y Tordesillas, Antonio de, 33 Gobernador Juez de Policia del Campo Hevia, Ens. Juan de, 112, 18 Fortificado de Tlachichilco, 19 Indalgo, 79 Godoy, Mariano Carlos, 91 Hidalgo, Father Miguel, 85, 87 God: the Father, 8, 23; the Son, 25 holy oil, 78, 82

Gogoyjito, 9—10 Holy Week, 56 Gomez, Juan, 49-50 Homun, 80

Gdémez, Miguel, 60 Honduras, 30, 50

Gomez de la Gloria, Sebastian, 62 horses, xviii, 10, 82, 96, 122—23, 125-26

Gonzalez, Capt. Bartolo, 17 Huamelula, 41; Chontales of, 46

Gonzalez, Sebastian, 62 Huatulco, 40-41

Gonzalez de Vergara, Martin, 59 Hueytiupan (Guatemala), 63 governor, 19, 49, 58, 72, 79; Indigenous, 15,

17, 28, 39-41, 56-57, 76, 017, 124 Ibarra, Francisco de, 3

grain, 14, 19, 99, M—L, 117, 19 Ichmul, 80 grapeshot, 02, 14, 19 idolatry, xiv, 4, 7—9, 25, 55, 65, 59; talking

grenades, 98, 102, 12 idols, 8

Gryalva Valley, 57 images, religious, 49—50, 54

Gruzinski, Serge, 65 Inca, 132 Guadalajara, 85, 87, 89, 94, IOO—102, 105, Indé, 3

IO9—I0, 114, 16, 122, 126—27 indulgence, bulls of, 76, 82 Guadalajara, Father Tomas de, 3—16, 21 Infanteria de Guadalajara, 22

Guaguitepeque, 61—63 Infanteria de Toluca, 22

INDEX ® 195

Infanteria Provincial de Puebla, 102 Lopez, Dominica, 49—s1

Inguanzo, Capt. Antonio, 123 Lopez, José Miguel, 17

Iniguez, Capt. José Maria, 94 Lépez, Juan, 64

irrigation dam, 17 Lépez, Nicolas, 60, 62 Isla de Chapala, 106 Lépez, Rafael, 17

Iturbide, Agustin de, 96 Lépez Austin, Alfredo, 6s Itza (Maya), 75-76 Lépez de Gémera, Francisco, 33 Ix Chel (Yucatec Moon Goddess), 65 Los Corrales, 104, 107

Ixtac Quiauhtzin (Pedro de Alvarado), 31 Los Reyes, 104, 108—9, 116, 123, 126

Ixtepec, 40 Lucero, fray Gonzalo, 34

Ixtlan, 99 Luna y Arellano, Capt. Tristan, 35

Jalisco, Simon, xv 74 Jamaica,30 131Maas, macehualtin,

Fa 3 bi

Jamay, 84, 99, 124 machetes, 75, 88, 91, 95 Jesuits, xx, XXx1, 4-9, I-22, 25—28, 50, 131 Macias. Luis, 95

jovae osu) 8, 62—63, 78 MacLeod, Murdo, 57

Jucumatlan Il, 107, 112 Madrid, 89

;12224, >> oe 126 Mama (village), 80 17, Mani, 76, 80 Juquila, 33 Mh; 79 Juiquilpan 84-85, 93, 103—4, 108, 10, 16— Malagara, 18, 21

’ maize. See corn

kinship, 7, 12, 23, 26, 70, 141 Namie, Capt. Martin, 124

knives, 14, 88 arTarisini, 55 Marin, Joseph Francisco, 20

La Barca, 84—85, 94, 99, 17, 123 Masamitla, 85, 92-93, us, 122; Valle de, 104, labor, xiii, xvi, xvii, 4, 6-7, 2-13, 517, 19— 109-10, 118 20, 23, 25-27, 33; 35, 37-42, 44-46, 56- Masias, Rafael, 92

La Costa, 80 Maxcanu,76 0

58, 79, 102, 117, 123, 128, 133, 138-39, 141 Mass, 8, 15, 18, 49, 56, 59, 62, 64

ladino, 15, 134 Mayas, x1, XVI, XX1, XXxi1, 8, 49-50, 52-54,

Lago de Zapotlan, no 56-58, 60-67, 69—71

Laguneros, 9 mayordomo, $7, 62, 64, 78, 131, 134

59 Mazatecs, 44

La Hospital de Santa Marfa de Caridad, Mazateca-Cuicateca, 31 Lake Chapala, xix, xxi, 84—85, 87-96, IoI— measles, 4, 1, 20

9, Mi, 14—I5, 7—I9 meat, 14, 74; 99, W7, 123

La Palma, 103, 08 9

lances, 39, 91, 94, 96, 98—99, 122 Melchor, don (of Santiago Papasquiaro),

La Piedad (town), 103, 125 Menchaca, Lt. Luis de, 121-22

La Sauceda, 9-10 Méndez, Cristdbal, 61-62 Las Estacas, 90 Méndez, Domingo, 60 Lavorios, 73 Mendoza (rebel leader), 109—10 lawsuits, 37 Mendoza, don and Viceroy Antonio de, legal system, 37, 43-46, 137 33, 35-36

Lemos, fray Laureano de, 41 Mercado, José Maria, tor

Lexarazu, Candido, too Mérida (Yucatan), 76—77, 80

Linares, Lt. Col. Angel, 88, 93, 95, 97-98 Mesoamerica, 30, SI, 53, 131 litigation (see also legal system), xv, xvi, Mesoamerican man-god, 65

XVI meson, 75

livestock, xx, 6—8, 12, 16, 19, 24, 26, 42, 45, messianism, 4, 6, 8—9, 16, 75, 83 , 84—85, 89, 102, MI—I2, 118, 124, 126, 128, mestizo, 4, 9, 28, 39, 47, 50, 85, 87-89, 102,

133—34; manures, I4 108, MM, 127-28

Lockhart, James, xvi Mexica, xv

locust infestation, 59 Mexico, xv, 55, 90; independence of, 1x, x,

Lépez, Agustin, 60—61, 64 XX, 84-85, 87, 128 Lépez, Antonio, 60, 62 Mexican Revolution, xvi

196 * INDEX Mexico City, x111, xvi, XV, 7, HL, 13, 19, 34, Navarro y Torres, Capt. and Col. José,

37, 4.0, §0, 89, 98, 100, IS, 128 102, 10§, 10, 12—21

Mexico Tenochtitlan, x1, xx Negrete, Lt. and Lt. Col. Pedro CelesMezcala, 84, 94, 96-97, 99, IOI, 104, Mm tino, 88, 90, 91, 92, 93, 96, IOO—IOI, 103— Mezcala Island (Isla Grande de Mezcala), §, 109, 15, 123-24, 126, 128 XIX, XXli, 85, 87, 89, 95-96, 98-99, IoI- ~~» Nejapa, 40, 44-45 §, 107—9, MI—-12, 14-18, 120, 122, 124—25; Nenela, 71, 77

Isla Chica de Mezcala, 95, 105 Neumann, Father Joseph, 16, 19

Michoacan, xvi, 30, 85, 96, 104 New Laws, 43

44, 46 Nicaragua, 131

Mijes, 30, 33, 38-39, 445 Mijeria, 33, 40, New Mexico, 1, 8,9

29 nomadic Indians, 20

millenarianism, xv, xix, 4, 8, 9, 16, 24—25, Nicolas el Tuerto, 19

milpas (fields), 6—8, 14, 16, 18, 21,26, 70,90, | Nueva Galicia, xxii, 84, 89-90, 93, 96, 98,

138 100—I02, 109, M$, 126-28

mines, 4, 6—7, I, 13-17, 20, 35, 41-42, 45 Nueva Vizcaya, xx, I-3, §—7, 17, 20-21, 23,

miracles, 54—55, 60—61, 98— 25-29 misericordia. 3S 99 Nunez de la Vega, Bishop Francisco, 55, 59

27 . Oakes, Maud, 53

missions, XV, 4—7, 9, IIs, 17-22, 24—25,

Mixteca, 37~—38, 42-46; Mixteca Alta, 31; Oaxaca, xix, xxi, 30, 33-34, 36, 38, 40-46,

southeastern, 33 §0, 133

Mixtecs, xxi, 30, 33-34, 37-38, 44-45 obraje, 41,140

Mixtequilla, 40 Ochoatequi, 100

Mixt6n War, xx Ocosingo, 59, 62-63

Mococha, 80 Ocotlan, 35, 99, 108, 16, 124; Ocotlan-

mojon, 37 Ejutla-Miahuatlan, 44 monogamy, 16, 26 Ocozocoatla, 50 Monroy, fray Joseph, 47, 49—so oidor, 40-42

Montano, 100 Ortiz de Foronda, Father Diego, 17—18 Montemayor y Cuenca, don Juan Fran- Oxchuc, 53

ba 5

CISCO, 40—41 Ozolotepec, 40

Montezuma, 73-74, 76, 81-82

Morelos, Father José Maria, 96—97, 100, Pacheco, Diego, 75

104 ; Pacific coast, 30—31, 33, 44, 88, 96—97, 104

Moreno, Capt. Joaquin, 98 padrones, 58

Moret, don Miguel, 92 Palafox, Gerardo, 91

Morya, Sublicutenant Jose, 98 Palmero, Andrés, 100—101

Mosquito Indians, 76 Palo Alto, 99 mulattoes, 4, 9, 22, 28, 87—89, 91, 102 pampas, 131

mules, 9, 10, 17, 104 Panama, 100, 132 munitions, 94, 100, 103, M1, 124 Papigochi, 13, 21

Mufiz, Manuel, 100, 104 parctalidad, 70-71

Murga, Lt. Manuel, 13 Pardinas, Gov. Juan Isidro de, 18—20, 22 muskets, 88-89, 94—96, 98—I00, 102, 105— pardons, 18, 90—-91

6, 108—9, M—I4, 119 Parral, 13-14, 17, 20 partido, 69, 80

naguales, 52-53, 64, 65 partido del rey, 101-2, 07 Naguerachi, 17, 20—22 partido rebelde, 101 Nahuas, xvili, xxii, 87, m Pastor, Col. Manuel, 93-94 Namiquipa, 17 Pax Americana, 129 Naranja (Michoacan), xvi Pax Britannica, 129 Narvaez, José Maria, 14 Pax Colonial, xiii, 30

Nash, June, 53 Pax Hispanica, 129, 131, 38 nativistic movement, 43 Pax Romana, 129

Navarette, Father Luciano, 103 peace, XIN, XVH, XXUL, 5, 12, 14, 18, 21, 41, M1,

Navarro, Ignacio, 100 125, 129, 134

INDEX ° 197

Pedro José, 18 ranchos and rancheros, 9, 71, 87, 97, IOl, M1, Pefia y del Rio, Capt. José del, 10 118, 121, 1223-24

Pencuyut, 77 rancherias, 4, 6, 12, 14—I5, 20, 29, 87, 128, 138

penitence, 50 Rancheria de Columba, 99 Pénjamo, IOI, 103 Rayon, Rafael, 100

Pérez, Domingo, 60 veal (mining town), 9

Pérez, Francisco, 62 reduccton (see also congregacion), 70 Pér CZ, Lucas, 60—62 regidores, 56, 60—6I, 64, 71, 135

Pérez, Nicolas, 17 Regimiento de Guadalajara, 122 Peru, 555 82 repartim tento, 4, 13, 16-17, 19, 25, 37, 41~42, pestanuela, 47 45; 58-59, 69, 72,745 de MEVCANCIA, 58 Petalsingo, 62—63 resiMenci@, 20-2, 23 petate, 49 resistance, Passive, XIV, XX1, 3—I5, 23, 46, 85 Peten, 131 revitalization movements, xv, x1X, XXII, 25, Pérez Verdia, Luis, 84 Regimiento Provincial de Querétaro, 88

Peto, 76,8080 45; a 81-82© ; Petulillo, VEYEZUELD,

Pigs, 74, 77, 82 : :; Rincon de Pimas, 17Leon, , a tor

Rey Fernando (warship), 115

pipiltin, xv Rio, Col. Manuel33 de, 93 , Rio Alvarado,

pirates (French), 19 , ; Rio Conchos, pistols, 88, 98, 100, 102, 105, 120 ,

3

xvil, 133, 138, 141; cacao, 47; Rio de Oro, 104, HO Plantations, > en one140 om Rio de Grand Santiago, 94 sugar, Rio 106, 109, 12—13, 117 TO RIT ANE, 22, 124 Poblana, olvevn > , , Rio Tizapan, 106-7 P hd ys Rivera, Leopoldo, 91 bo yt lane 4, 25 rocks. See stones

Portier “C Ree nd 124, Rodriguez, Lt. Col. Francisco, 88 Por Icr, ol. Kosendo, 88, 91 Roman, Pilot Antonio, 107

or a » 139 José Jorge, 18 Posilegui, 22 Roman, Romero Frizzi, Maria, 37—38 presidios, XIV, XVU, 8, 17—18, 20—21, 38; as Rosas, Encarnacion, 94—95

_ prison. , 126 royalists, xxii, 85, 87-104, 106-16, 18—20,

priests, Xvi, 12, 15, 17-18, 25, 34—35, 40, 43, 122-24, 126—28 49-50, 55-57, 59, 6I-64, 73-74, 77, 83, Ruiz de Apodaca, Viceroy Juan, 125, 127

389 Ruiz de Pujadas, Francisco, 19

Princesa (longboat), 106 principales, 14-15, 24, 34-35, 40-41, 43, 55— Sacalaca, 80

S75 04 sacraments, xiv, 8, 25, 77, 82—83

prioste, $7 sacrifice, of captives, xv; of children, 4 Provincias Internas, 10 Sahuayo, 84, 017

provisions, 85, 89, 103, 108, 14, 18—20, 124 Saint-Domingue, 132

Puebla, 30, 41, 44, 89, 102, 122, 128 Salas, Lt. Bernardo, 88

pueblos, 10-1, 17, 22, 27, 38, 41, 45, 47, 49- Salazar, Gonzalo de, 31 $0, $7, $9, 62, 64, 73, 77, 7980, 128, 136 Salgado, Brig. Joaquin, 126-27

Pueblo rebellion, 1, 3 Salgado, José Trinidad, 107, 1o9—10

Puesto de la Queseras, 90 Salvador, Juan, 16 Pueblo de Tlasascala, 88 sambos-mosquitos, 131 Puerto de Urepetiro, 88 San Andrés (villages), 3, m

San Antonio (the saint), 54

Quautlatas, 8, 25 San Antonio (the town), 126

Querétaro, 89 San Blas, 98, 100—I01, 106, 15; Marine De-

Quetzalcoatl, 36 partment of, 96—97 Quintanar, Capt. Luis, 88, 101, 103-4, 109— = Sanchez, Gabriel, 60

Il, 15, 18, 122-24, 126, 128 Sanchez, Father Manuel, 18

Quitupan, 122 San Cristébal (in Mérida, Yucatan), 80

198 * INDEX San Fernando (launch), 99—101, 103,107,112 Sierra Zapoteca, 31, 33, 36, 38-39, 42-44,

San Francisco de Conchos (presidio), 17— 46

18, 21 silk industry, 43

San Gerdénimo, 104 silver (see also mines), 3, 4, 6, 15, 62

San Ignacio de Zape, 9 Simojovel, 63 San Ildefonso Villa Alta, 36—37 sin, 9, 46, 54

San José de Basis, 6 Sinaloa,

San Luis (town), 84, 124—25 Sisoguichi, 16

San Mateo Copulalpa, 40 StL, 42 . -

San Miguel (boat), 106, 13-14, 07 slaves: black, 4, 9, 40, 133, 138; Indian, xiii,

San Miguel de Allende, XI 4, 6, Hi, 25, 28, 34, 36 San Pablo Valley, 1 slings, 39, 88, 91, 95, 97, 99, 13

San Pedro Caro, 84, 16-17 smallpox (see also disease), 4—5, 7, 20

San Pedro Chenalo, 49-50, 62 Soconusco, 57 San Pedro Ixican, 84, 94, 16 Solehaga, Capt. Manuel, 124

San Pedro Piedragorda, tor Solis, Francisco, 37

Sanroméan, Juan Nepomuceno, 90 oon of God (icon), 8

San Sebastian (saint), 50 Sort (ottin HO, Us

Santa Ana, 109 corr (officer), 100 Santa Barbara, 3 Sean 75 Santa Catalina de Tepehuanes, 7, 9 P ash 575 ~~ . 132 Santa Columba, 12 76, saffard cach a fice. Santa Cruzada, 82Stern, a sno ce, 76 7 Steve, 52 Santa Hermandad, 135 ~* St. Dominic, §5 Santa Marta, 49-50, 60 Santana, Gov. and Lt. Col. José, 94—9 St. Joseph, 47

99 a 27 " " ’ 5s St. Peter, 62

tamePapasquiaro, . stones (rocks), xxii, 88,91,9195,—IOl Santiago 7, 9—10 \ )> XXII,17, 17, 88, 97-01,

San Vicente de Chiapa, 50 107s BST 14s 37 24

S Gerénj Pas 5 Suarez, Manuel, too

Saul 3 arate 3 Suarez de la Serna, Capt. Antonio, 124

» Ie ) un Od, II

Sebastian, don, 35 swine. See pigs

secretarto, 61 swords, 96, 98, 105 , Seguras, 103. syncretism (religious), xxil, 17, 51, $4—55, 82 Semenario Clerical de Guadalajara, 91

Sefior de Camichin, 99 Tah dziuh, 79-80

SENOrLO, 55 _ Tahdzibichen, 70, 80

Sentero, Sgt. Cristobal, 12 Tamazula. 91, 104, 109, 08

SCrMONS, 15, 49, 55 Tamazulapan, 37, 46

Serna, Bishop Marcos de la, 59 Tangancicuaro. 85. 17

Serrano, Lt. Col. Antonio, 94 Tapatia, 13 Sevilla, Francisco de, 36 Taqui Onqoy (Taki Ongoy), 8, 82

sexual promiscuity, 14, 16, 18 Tarahumaras, xx, I, 3, 6, 7, 9-23, 25, 27-29,

shaman (hechtcero, chiman), 4-5, 7—9, 12, 77

b 14, 25, 53, 64—65 75, Tarascan-speaking shotguns, 98 I communities, xxii, 87, sans, 49-50,§7 $4, taxes, 61, 63—65 Father 3—16 1DaCa, 4.0,Tarda, 56, 59, 71,José, 123, 139

sickness. See disease Taylor, William, so Sierra Alta (Yucatan), 80 Teguciapa, 10

gra aaa (Pucaran), 80 ae iuantepec, 30—3I, 1erra de Ocotlan, 7 eKanto, 8033, 36, 40—42, 44-46

Sierra de Toloquilla, 18 Tekax, 77

of, 3-4 Temax, 80

Sierra Madre Occidental, 3, 12, 25; Indians Tela, 80

INDEX * 199

Tenango, 60, 63 Uluapa, Capt. José, 13 tentente, 71, 73, 76 United States, 90

tentente de coro. See choirmaster Urdinola, Governor, 5—6, 28

Teocuitatlan, 107, 109, m, 125; Sierra de, 10 Uruapan, 85, 100, 104, 109 Tepehuanes, xx, 1, 3, 5—8, 10-14, 23, 25-29, Uxmal, 76 77

Tepiquena (gunboat), 02, 07 Valladolid (Yucatan), 80

Teporaca, 18 Valladolid (Morelia), 87, 93, 96—97, 101,

Tequecistepec, 37 105, 109, IIs, 18, 125-26

Teresa (Fernando en su Trono; cannon Valle de Masamitla. See Masamitla,

launch), XX, 12—14. Valle de

tesguinada, 3-14, 23 Valle de San Bartolomé, 13

Texas, 19, 22 Van Young, Eric, xii

Thompson, E. P., 51, 67 Vargas, José Maria, 107-10

Tibolon, 72 Vargas, Field Marshall, 26-27

Tiholop, 73, 77-80 Vazquez, Nicolas, 63, 65 Tihosuco, 76, 80 Velasco, Canon Lorenzo de, 107 Tila, $9, 63 Velasco, Sebastian, 61 Tingiiindin, 17 Venegas, Viceroy Francisco Javier, 96

Tiquiapan, 35 Venezuela, 132 | Tixcacaltuyu, 69-70, 74-75, 79-81 venganza, 17

Tixmeuac, 74, 77, 80 Ventura y Moreno, Francisco, 92

Tizapan, 84, 97—98, 103, 107, M, 112, 16 Veracruz, Xv, 30, 41

Tlachichilco, 84, 94—95, 98-100, 103, 10S— _——- Vesga, Gov. Mateo de, 1

7, WO—Ill, 12, 14-, 16, 18—2I, 123-26 vestments, 10, 63, 77, 82

Tlacolula, 44 VICATIO, 34, 63, 92

tlatole (consulta), 14. VICETOY, XVI, XVI, 19—2I, 33, 35-37, 40, 58,

Tlaxcalans, x11, xx, 7, 28 96, 100, 102, 109, 115, 125, 127

Tobosos, 20 vigil, 50, $4 Tocotepec, 108 villas, 31, 36—37, 45

Todos Santos (Guatemala), 53 Villa Alta, 38-41, 44-46 Toluquena (gunboat), 106, 109, 13, 17 Villa de Aguilar, 3 tools, XVII, XX, 6—7, IO—II, 13, 24 villages, indigenous, 4, 5, 10, I5, 17, 19, 35,

Topia, 3-4, 9 40, 43, $0, $4, §6~57, 60-62, 64, 69—

Toribio, Basilio, 17 72, 74-75, 7781, 84—85, 87, 89-91, 94— Torquemada, fray Juan de, 33 95, 98—99, IOI—3, IO6—7, Ml, 17-18, 1222—

Torre, fray Tomas de la, 34 23, 125-28, I3I, 133-37, 140-42

Torres, José Antonio, 85 Villalba, Col. José, 102 Torres, José Antonio (the younger), 125 Villamil, José, 100

Torres, Father Miguel, 103 Villa Rojas, Alfonso, 53 Torre y Tobilla, Francisco de, 50, 62 violence, xill, XIV, XV1, XX11, XXII1, 14—15, 30—

tribute, xi, Xvi, 33, 37-41, 44-46, 58—59, 31, 33, 37-38, 40-41, 44, 46, 50, 64, 67,

72-73, 126, 138, 141 84, 90, 93, 95, 128-42

Tucumudagui, 1 virgins, in Xixime rituals, 5 Tumbala, 59, 63 Virgin Mary, 9, 49-50, 55, 60-63, 65, 825 tumultos, 31, 38 Maria, 49, 62; Virgin of Our Lady of tupiles (topiles), 71 the Rosary, 62; Our Lady, 77; Holy Tutuaca, 18, 20 Mother, 47; Blessed Mother, 49, 54—

Tututepec, 31, 33 _ $5, 62 7 Tuxcueca, 99 Visitas, 17, 49, 54, 138; visitas pastorales, so Tuxpan, 104, 109 Viso, Sublieutenant Francisco, 122

Tzanlahcat, 80 Volcan de Colima, 104 Tzeltales, xxi, 50-51, 53, 59—61, 65—66, 132

Tzotziles, 47, 49-50, 62 Wallace, Anthony, xix Wasserstrom, Robert, 61

Jacinto 35—36

Uc de los Santos, Jacinto. See Canek, weapons (see also specific weapons), 10, 26,

200 * INDEX | whipping. See flogging Yaxcaba, 69, 80

witchcraft (brujeria), 18, 65 Yepdmera, 17—19 Wolf, Eric, 52 Yucatan, Xvil, XX, XX1, XXII, 30, 5I, $5, 69, 73,

women: black and mulatta, 10; indige- 76-77, 80, 82 nous, §, 7, 9—Il, 16-19, 22, 25, 41, 49, 90,

MI—I2, 17, 124, 128, 136, 140; Spanish, 37, Zacatecas, 9

74, 82, 99, 102 Zacoalco, 85, 91, 93, 96, 108-9 Zamora, 85, 87, 93, 96, 103—4, 117, 123-26

Xacona, 103 Zapatero (mountain), m

Xamay, 92 Zape, 7, 9, Ximénez, Francisco, 59 Zapotecs, XX1, 30, 33, 38, 44 Xiximes, xix, XX, 3—6, 8-10, 28—29 Zapotiltic, 104, 109

Xocchel, 80 Zapotlan, 85, 91-93, 96, 103-4, 108—11, 08,

Xocotepec, 84, 99, 108, 119, 124 122—23

Zarate, Julio, 84 Yajalon, 63 Zeitlin, Judith, 42 Yaqui Indians, 10; as oarsmen, m5 Zinacantan, 47, 49—50, 65

Yaqui Rebellion, 3 z0calo, x1

Yaqui Raver, 17 ZOques, 33, 44, 49—50, 56