Natives, Europeans, and Africans in Sixteenth-Century Santiago de Guatemala

N , , 

  -   

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N , , Robinson A. Herrera

   -   

    Austin

Parts of Chapter Eight previously appeared as ‘‘ ‘Por Que No Sabemos Firmar’: Black Slaves in Early Guatemala,’’ Americas , no.  (October ). Copyright ©  by the University of Texas Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America First edition,  Requests for permission to reproduce material from this work should be sent to Permissions, University of Texas Press, P.O. Box , Austin, TX -. The paper used in this book meets the minimum requirements of / .- () (Permanence of Paper).

   --  Herrera, Robinson A., – Natives, Europeans, and Africans in sixteenth-century Santiago de Guatemala / by Robinson A. Herrera. — st ed. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index.  --- (cloth) . Guatemala (Guatemala)—Commerce—History— th century. . Guatemala (Guatemala)—Ethnic relations—Economic aspects. . Guatemala (Guatemala)—Economic conditions—th century. I. Title. .   .'—dc 

To the memory of Marco A. Herrera

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C 

 ix Chapter One

  

Chapter Two

      

Chapter Three

    

Chapter Four

       

Chapter Five

    

Chapter Six

     

Chapter Seven

    

Chapter Eight

     

Chapter Nine

   

Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven

    -          

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  . Santiago de Guatemala and other colonial cities xii  . Barrios surrounding Santiago’s center   . Santiago’s trading partners to the north and south   . Milpas in Santiago’s axis

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      . European Artisans in Santiago, –



 . Origins of African Slaves Bought and Sold in Santiago, –   . Cabildo Members, Milpa de San Antonio,    . Cabildo Members, Milpa de San Pedro,    . Cabildo Members, Town of Escuintla, 



 . Cabildo Members, Town of San Martín Jilotepeque,    . Cabildo Members, Town of San Juan Jicotenango,    . Cabildo Members, Town of Pinula,    . Cabildo Members, Town of Mixco,  

A 

I

f I do not thank everyone here it is not because I have forgotten them. Instead of a long and necessarily incomplete list, I will thank everyone in person for their contributions. I am eternally grateful to James Lockhart. Jim’s enthusiasm for my work helped me persevere in the task of researching and writing my dissertation. I thank him for his advice and friendship. He continually inspires with his contributions to the history of colonial Latin America. Jim and Mary Ann opened their home for seminars and celebrations alike, making each event memorable. To them I owe more than I can ever repay. At UCLA I was also truly fortunate to have studied with the late E. Bradford Burns. I learned from him that history must have a sense of purpose and that, ultimately, it must strive to give voice to the forgotten. His heartfelt commitment to the history and people of Latin America solidified my own dedication to the teaching of history. Manycolleagues have generously read drafts of the manuscript. I thank Rodney Anderson, John Kicza, George Lovell, Chris Lutz, Michael Polushin, Matthew Restall, Bill Steiger, and Stephen Webre for their comments and friendship. Chris Lutz also generously gave permission to use some of his maps. Over the years, I have benefited greatly from the friendship, suggestions, and advice of Franz Binder, Joan Casanovas, Magdalena Chocano, Matt Childs, Douglas Cope, Darío Euraque, Juan José Falla, Ed Gray, Sally Hadden, Leonardo Hernández, Rebecca Horn, Jay Kinsbruner, Cathy Komisaruk, Jorge Luján Muñoz, Laurie Matthew, Murdo MacLeod, José Moya, Jeanette Favrot Peterson, Alfonso Quiroz, Pete Sigal, Lisa Sousa, Geoffrey Symcox, and Kevin Terraciano. I am also thankful for the many wonderful and generous colleagues whom I have met at Florida State University. I thank Judith Ewell andThe Americas for kindly giving permission to use materials from an article I published in the journal. I thank Peter Krafft for producing the maps with faithful attention to detail.

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It has been an honor to have worked with Theresa J. May at the University of Texas Press. Her support was essential in seeing the project to completion. I am also grateful to Allison Faust, LeslieTingle, and Carolyn Cates Wiley for their time and patience. I thank Kathy Bork for her marvelous copy editing and the anonymous readers for their invaluable comments. They helped sharpen interpretations and improve the quality of the manuscript. Research and writing was made possible by a University of Florida Library Travel Grant, the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation and the Roger Thayer Stone Center for Latin American Studies Research Fellowship at Tulane University, the Del Amo Foundation, the Department of History at UCLA, the Department of History at Florida State University, and Florida State University’s generous research semester program. I thank the directors and staffs of the Archivo General de Centro América, the Archivo General de Indias, and the Archivo Histórico Provincial de Sevilla. I am especially grateful to Doña Margarita and Ana Karla at the . I am grateful to Guillermo Náñez Falcón at Tulane’s Latin American Libraryand Richard Phillips at the Universityof Florida’s Latin American Libraryand their respective staffs for making possible productive research visits. I am deeply thankful to have such a loving and supportive family. My father, Marco, taught me that nothing is impossible. Would that he had lived to see this book published. My mother, María Elena, instilled in me a love of Guatemala’s peoples and cultures. I am indebted to my sister, Helen, and her family for their affection. I thank Verónica for her unselfish love and for never losing faith in this endeavor. Above all, I must at once thank and apologize to my daughter, Andrea, for having to endure long hours of separation while I researched and wrote.

N , , 

  -   

 . Santiago de Guatemala and other colonial cities, ca. sixteenth century. Modern-day Guatemala City appears as a point of reference.

Chapter One

C  

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he history of early Santiago de los Caballeros de Guatemala is often reduced to the defining moment of contact between Spaniards and natives. Santiago’s early history typically appears as a Manichean battle between the Spanish evildoers and the noble natives. This portrayal is not only simplistic but also exclusionary. The role of Black slaves and even of indigenous peoples from outside Guatemala remains absent from images of the sixteenth century.1 It would seem that, after the initial battles between indigenous peoples and European intruders, a colonial society miraculously burst from the ashes of vanquished native civilizations.2 Consequently, the complexity of the society that developed remained poorly understood. Making matters worse, the very study of Santiago has suffered from the notion that the city was no more than a sleepy, peripheral Spanish American settlement. Far from somnolent, Santiago developed into a bustling commercial center that resembled larger Spanish American settlements, yet it also possessed unique traits linked to its origins. Early Santiago served as the foundation on which subsequent colonial structures arose. During its first two generations, interethnic interaction and economic mechanisms that still survive came into existence. The roots of late colonial phenomena first appeared in Santiago’s early decades, a time of great upheaval and changes. Coerced modes of labor such as African slavery, the consolidation of land into large agrarian enterprises, and the dominance of export-driven economic strategies were born and developed during the sixteenth century. Indeed, the period saw the birth of what today is known as ladino Guatemala.3 Yet without a profound understanding of early society, made possible only by studying mundane documents such as those generated by notaries, the lives of Santiago’s residents have remained largely buried in obscurity and covered by a layer of misunderstanding. Peeling back the layers of historical for-

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getfulness reveals a richly textured urban center that hardly resembled an economic backwoods. Nestled in the Valley of Panchoy, surrounded by three active volcanoes, and occupying the site of modern-day Antigua Guatemala, Santiago, named after the patron saint of Spain, benefited from a temperate climate and plentiful rain. A water supplyalso existed close to the city.The fertile soil, appropriate for all manner of indigenous crops such as maize and for introduced agricultural products ranging from wheat to cattle, eventually attracted a relatively large European population. Centuries of use have not damaged the volcanic valley’s fecund soils. In fact, the same lands continue to yield harvests of staples, among them a variety of beans and vegetables. Because of its altitude (, meters above sea level), the pestilence of mosquitoes prevalent in the humid lowlands did not torment Santiago’s residents, an important consideration before insecticides and chemical repellents. The Valley of Panchoy’s meteorological benefits were not lost to Santiago’s wayfarers and residents. A traveler to Santiago in the late sixteenth century described the valley around the city as ‘‘fertile land, colder than hot, and very healthful and abundant with all manner of foods.’’ 4 Despite major ecological changes, the region continues to enjoy what is best described as an ‘‘eternal spring’’ due to its cool climate and abundant rainfall nearly year-round. What initially attracted Spaniards to the area that constitutes modernday Guatemala had little to do with climate or soil and much more to do with events in distant Mexico. Hernando Cortés and his ambitious lieutenants, Pedro de Alvarado and Cristóbal de Olid, tenuously established in the Valley of Mexico, sought to increase their wealth by expanding the number of indigenous communities under their suzerainty. Alvarado eventually headed to Guatemala and Olid to Honduras in search of the wealth and political influence that eluded them in Mexico. While the native peoples of Central Mexico eventually proved extremely profitable, the Spaniards’ immediate quest centered on liquid wealth in the form of easily transportable gold, silver, or precious stones. True, the conquest of indigenous peoples like the Mexicas yielded considerable treasure, but that wealth did not satisfy the demands of all those clamoring for immediate riches. Consequently, Spaniards pushed for rapid expansion into unexplored areas. As justification, they often cited a desire to convert natives to the Catholic faith, yet worldlier concerns also strongly motivated new undertakings. In one of his self-serving yet judicious letters to Charles V, Cortés mentions stronger reasons for

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continuing conquest. He writes of receiving news of ‘‘an island populated by women without a single male’’ and of that island’s wealth in pearls and gold.5 Tales of the wealth of exotic lands, whether truly believed or intended for distant readers, served as a catalyst for new expeditions, as Cortés makes abundantly clear.6 Cortés likely heard of the kingdoms of Utlatlán and Guatemala from natives in the Central Valley of Mexico. He sent two envoys, who returned with one hundred Quiché or Cakchiquel natives who came with appeals for possible alliances.7 Cortés receives nearly sole credit for sending the first Spanish envoys to Guatemala, yet at least one study suggests that Alvarado sent two Spaniards into Guatemala before Cortés, and that Cortés sent his representatives as a consequence of Alvarado’s actions.8 However that may have been, Guatemala soon turned into a target for further expansion by Europeans. Pedro de Alvarado undoubtedly realized that he would never attain the topmost position in Mexico, at least not so long as Hernando Cortés and others contested the position. Unfortunately, the garrulous Alvarado (Bernal Díaz del Castillo describes him as an expert speaker)9 did not leave behind written accounts of his time in Central Mexico. He did author four somewhat detailed letters of his campaigns, however. Only two of the four have survived, but they, like Cortés’ writings, were crafted to exaggerate the writer’s contributions and to shed light on his activities during the subjugation of native communities in Guatemala.10 One may infer from Alvarado’s letters that he saw in Guatemala an excuse at once to get away from Cortés’ watchful gaze and, he hoped, to find an area that he could claim as his own domain. He was following the wellestablished pattern of seeking his fortune elsewhere instead of jockeying for authority in an already-established area. Cortés himself had left Cuba and traveled to Mexico as a result of his secondary position to that island’s governor.11 While Alvarado had proven his usefulness, Cortés knew better than to have the likes of him and Olid too close by; it was better to have them occupied in distant lands than to face the possibility of powerful underlings scheming in his immediatevicinity. Hubert Howe Bancroft concurs: ‘‘Nor was the parting devoid of pleasure, for one would be rid of sometimes unpleasant interference in affairs at the capital, while the other would be independent of any superior.’’ 12 To appease his superior, Alvarado reverted to established patterns: the conquest of Guatemala began and operated under the guise of expand-

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ing Cortés’ area of influence. Bancroft writes that ‘‘the general [Cortés] could not himself undertake the work, and the best proxy was this captain [Alvarado].’’ 13 In the company of nearly five hundred fellow European fortune seekers, including his three brothers and two cousins, Alvarado traveled to Guatemala, likely with hopes of encountering fabulously wealthy kingdoms.14 In time, these individuals came to see themselves as primeros pobladores and worthy of royal favors for their meritorious service.15 Furthermore, many of the original conquerors successfully vied for the most coveted of all prizes, an encomienda.16 As with all ventures of this type, the Alvarado expedition cut a swath of destruction wherever it went.The expedition engaged in total war against the native population, just as had the Spanish army in its European campaigns.17 The idea of sparing noncombatants the brutality of war apparently escaped Alvarado’s band. Their path extended throughout Guatemala, from the contemporary border with Mexico to the central highlands and farther south to the Pacific lowlands and beyond into present-day El Salvador.18 The Alvarado expedition also relied on native auxiliaries consisting of Mexicas, Tlaxcalans (likely the best represented), and members of other indigenous ethnic groups.19 The exact number of native auxiliaries remains unknown and, for this reason, a perennially controversial topic among historians. To both aggrandize the Spanish accomplishment and diminish potential accusations of abuse, Cortés gave importance to the role of native auxiliaries only when it suited his own ends.20 In relation to the conquest of Guatemala, however, he greatly diminished the number of native allies involved. Cortés writes that Alvarado ‘‘[took] along some native nobles from this city [Mexico-Tenochtitlán] and other cities from this area and with them some people, but not many, because the distance was too great.’’ 21 Díaz del Castillo, an eyewitness to these events, concurs with Cortés when he places the number of native auxiliaries at three hundred.22 The low number of auxiliaries remains a constant in the histories written during colonial times as well.23 Like their Spanish colonial counterparts, most scholars today give a figure numbering in the hundreds.24 The Anales de los Cakchiqueles, one of the few surviving records produced by local natives, does not provide information on this topic.25 Alvarado himself gives a valuable clue for determining the number of auxiliaries. Describing the battle against the natives of Acajutla (El Salvador), Alvarado writes: ‘‘I commanded a retreat of all my people, that we were  horse and  foot and another five or six thousand Indian

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friends.’’ 26 He does not specify whether the ‘‘Indian friends’’ hailed from Central Mexico or whether they had been recruited from indigenous communities in Guatemala. Colonial historian Fernando Alva Ixtlilxochitl writes that ‘‘there were no more than seven thousand Mexicans [Mexicas] and Texcocans . . . and another thousand Cuauhtemalan [Guatemalans] present at that battle.’’ 27 His account stands in stark contrast to the oft-repeated number of three hundred native auxiliaries. He also writes that ‘‘twenty thousand warriors, very expert in warfare and of the coastal lands’’ were sent by the Nahua rulers Cuauhtémoc and Ixtlilxochitl to accompany Alvarado.28 Writing much later and using Alva Ixtlilxochitl and other sources, Bancroft puts the number of native auxiliaries at over ,.29 Francisco Fernández del Castillo postulates that a high number of native auxiliaries was quite probable because ‘‘always the Spanish went along with many Indians’’ and because ‘‘three hundred Indians would be an insignificant help for an expedition of importance.’’ 30 The evidence thus weighs in favor of a large number of native auxiliaries accompanying the Alvarado expedition more than it does for a small force. In addition to natives and Europeans, people of other ethnic groups participated in the venture. Blacks, whether slave or free, also likely accompanied the Alvarado expedition. Indeed, in nearly all the territories invaded by Spaniards, Blacks and mulattos, usually slaves but also free individuals, accompanied the first arrivals and played a small but not insignificant military role.31 At least one Black slave accompanied Cristóbal de Olid’s campaign in Honduras.32 Given that conquest expeditions often incorporated Africans, it appears that Africans likely also accompanied Alvarado.33 Whether or not Blacks accompanied the first Europeans, they would soon come to play an important role in colonial society. A multitude of distinct ethnic groups came together in Santiago. This confluence of cultures included Spaniards, Portuguese, Italians, natives of the Uto-Aztecan- and Mayan-language families, and, conceivably, at least, some Africans. The meeting of cultures was anything but peaceful. Expecting an easy victory, the Europeans found the going much tougher than anticipated, in part because natives such as the Cakchiqueles quickly adapted to Spanish tactics.They took to ambushing, digging pits as traps for horses, and putting up sharp stakes to impede the cavalry and the European infantry as well.34 Díaz del Castillo contemptuously writes that ‘‘in this province of Guatemala the Indians were not warriors because they waited in crevices.’’ 35 Among the many wounded, Alvarado himself suffered a near-fatal lesion that left him with a permanent limp.36 Tragically, thousands of natives perished in the violent confrontations.

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Immediately after their arrival, Spaniards began the process of founding a permanent settlement. Despite their efforts, initially, the city of Santiago did not have a fixed site. Its location changed as a result of natural and military factors. The first Spanish city in Guatemala—if one can call it that, since it most resembled an armed camp—was named Santiago and located at the Cakchiquel city of Iximché in . It lasted only a short time; the chronicler Francisco Ximénez refers to the settlement as a ‘‘portable city.’’ Furthermore, Ximénez further identifies the housing in the settlement as shacks made of branches and straw.37 The Cakchiqueles soon rebelled against Spanish rule. Sometime later about fifty Spanish mutineers fled. In explaining his choice of Iximché, Alvarado wrote that he ‘‘made and built a city of Spaniards that is called Lord Santiago because here it is in the center of all the land.’’ 38 Three years later, in the morewelcoming area of Almolonga, Santiago again came into existence, and following well-established patterns, a native settlement served as the foundation.39 Luck conspired against the Spaniards, and the second city suffered near complete destruction from earthquakes, flood, and fire, forcing a third relocation, in , this time to the Valley of Panchoy. The third location proved far more stable and, in recognition of its importance, the Audiencia was moved in  from Gracias a Dios (Honduras), where it had been founded in , to Santiago.40 Except for a seven-year interruption from  to ,41 Santiago remained Central America’s colonial capital until a disastrous earthquake forced yet another relocation in the late eighteenth century. Important for the development of Santiago, the Audiencia de Guatemala constituted a politically separate entity from New Spain. Guatemala stood apart from that viceroyaltyand had its own governorand high court. Designed along classic Iberian lines, Santiago followed the near ubiquitoustraza model characteristic of Spanish American urban centers. But Santiago’s traza veered from rigidly straight lines to accommodate the unplanned demands of urban growth. Rather than growing as a strictly planned city, Santiago expanded almost haphazardly as the population grew and acquired land in the center and the surrounding areas.42 By the mid-sixteenth century Santiago consisted of eight wards. Exactly when the wards came into existence remains vague, but all eight contained multiethnic populations. Following a deeply ingrained tradition that sought to provide a mantle of sacred protection over settlements and honor patron saints and Christian symbols, inhabitants used religious names to identify their wards.

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 . Barrios surrounding Santiago’s center. (Based on C. H. Lutz.)

With the exceptions of Santa Cruz and La Merced, which were named after powerful religious symbols, Santiago’s early wards bore the names of saints: San Antonio, Santo Domingo, San Francisco, San Gerónimo, Santiago, and Santa Lucía del Espíritu Santo. The city took on the name of the most important saint while the barrios, with the exception of the

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one named after Santiago, adopted the names of other saints. Santiago’s inhabitants did not choose names randomly; rather, theyadopted a sacred name to create a protective spiritual barrier around their city.43 To its European residents, Santiago, then, much like any other Spanish city, represented Christian stability from whence emanated order and domination of the largely indigenous countryside.44 Once established and properly named, Santiago and its barrios grew into a vibrant center for regional commerce.45 Unlike elsewhere in Spanish America, such as in Peru, Guatemala held little mineral wealth; Europeans were forced to rely on other commodities. Initially, native slaves, and later the export of agrarian goods, mainly cacao and cattle hides, allowed Santiago to grow into a vigorous entrepôt.46 With this wealth, Spaniards, with the invaluable help of natives and African slaves, built a city that any European of the period would have found familiar. By the s even such expensive and relatively rare possessions as books were available.47 Other Spanish cultural accoutrements such as wine, olive oil, textiles (chief among them Dutch laces and, later, Chinese silks) could easily be found in the city. All manner of clothing— at first imported and later locally made by highly trained artisans—appeared for sale throughout the city’s shops and neighborhood markets. Natives could find in Santiago goods important to them, like cacao and Mixtec textiles. And although they were far less numerous, Blacks also participated in the city’s economy either as laborers or as purchasers of goods. In short, life in the city revolved around commerce. The exact size of early Santiago’s population remains obscure. Constantly changing modes of counting individuals and shifting ethnic categories furthercomplicate the issue.The inexact records that have survived suggest that roughly five hundred European vecinos lived in Santiago toward the end of the sixteenth century. Of course, that number excludes a large segment of the population, including other Europeans who went by different labels such as residente and morador.48 Less numerous were Black slaves. I examined documents related to place of origin and dated – and have tallied a total of  Black slaves, with males outnumbering females. Santiago’s native residents perhaps totaled into the thousands. Early Santiago’s total population likely did not consist of more than eight thousand, for even in the midseventeenth century the population numbered less than that figure.49 Despite its size, Santiago still outranked humbler neighboring communities such as San Salvador. Its size combined with its political and economic

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position made Santiago the dominant urban area in Central America throughout the colonial period.

 Sixteenth-century Santiago possessed at once unique and shared traits with other early Spanish American areas. Unlike its contemporaries, namely, Mexico and Peru, it developed largely from the export of agricultural and not mineral products. Whether indigenous, like cacao, or introduced, likewheat, agricultural products drove Santiago’s growth and contributed to its economic health. Agriculture also served as impetus for the growth of the surrounding region. In other ways, especially in its multiethnic makeup, Santiago also little resembled cities with more homogeneous populations. Santiago’s population consisted of native, Spanish, and African groups. People from a host of distinct groups, some from as far away as Central Mexico, made up Santiago’s indigenous populations. A large number of Europeans and Africans from different ethnic and cultural groups also traveled to Santiago; some moved to other areas, but others stayed to form part of the city’s permanent population. The city’s multicultural sectors coalesced into an amalgamated population with cultural elements from nearly all the major groups that resided in the city. In other aspects, Santiago was similar to other sixteenth-century Spanish American areas. Coerced native labor formed the foundation of the city’s workforce. The colonial order introduced a new dominant elite in the form of encomenderos. As in other Spanish American cities, a slew of escribanos poured into Santiago to cater to the voracious appetite for documentation of transactions. Materially, the city quickly filled with symbols of civil and ecclesiastical authority, such as the ubiquitous cabildo, churches, and monasteries. Santiago’s initially smaller size and the havocwreaked bycountless natural disasters makes the city now resemble, on a smaller scale, colonial urban centers like Mexico City. The study of Spanish Guatemala has developed in phases: narratives, institutional studies, social histories, and, most recently, ethnohistorical works. The modern histories dealing with sixteenth-century Santiago have been largely confined to the institutional genre. Most of the works produced since the s have dealt with the eighteenth century. The main reasons for this have to do with the notion of an unchanging colo-

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nial era, that mechanisms extant in the eighteenth century were much like those functioning during the first one hundred years of the colony. Moreover, some of these works claim that sources do not permit a thorough study of all segments of early Santiago’s multiethnic society.Thus studies of sixteenth-century Santiago have overwhelmingly focused on Spanish institutions and, to a lesser extent, on indigenous corporations. Spanish Guatemala has also suffered from the ‘‘fringe phenomenon.’’ Historians (and other scholars) have traditionally paid greater heed to areas such as Mexico and Peru. In a way, they have mirrored colonial society, for larger numbers of European immigrants settled in those wealthier regions. Therefore, early Guatemala, and sixteenth-century Central America as a whole, has received relatively little scholarly attention. Consequently, the corpus of scholarly works dealing with early Santiago is not as large as that which treats areas such as Mexico. Nonetheless, these works provide an important foundation on which to build. While primary sources form the core of this book, I could not have written it without the noteworthy scholarly studies that came before it. Bancroft wrote perhaps the best-known narrative of the region.50 He mostly glorifies the conquerors, but his detailed account of how conquest ventures unfolded remains useful. The sources he used, the writings of the conquerors themselves, contributed to his interpreting the Spaniards’ arrival as a positive influence on the area’s natives.The popularityof grand narratives has waned in recent years, but works of this genre continue to be produced. Narrative works, such as those written by Oakah L. Jones, provide a good single source for those wishing to quickly access information on major events.51 Among the earliest institutional histories of the region are works by Silvio Zavala and Jorge Luján Muñoz.52 Both historians employ a combination of sources; not relying solely on chroniclers or a limited amount of archival research in Seville, they incorporate documents found in local archives as well. Severo Martínez Peláez’ work also falls into the institutional genre, although he does discuss different ethnic groups.53 Martínez Peláez’ work has turned into an institution itself. It is required reading for legions of Guatemalan university students, and his interpretation of colonial society has conditioned the thinking of Guatemalan historians like no other modern work. In later years, he followed William B. Taylor’s lead in the study of indigenous revolts.54 A number of significant institutional works dealing with colonial Guatemala were produced as a result of the Quincentennial. Perhaps the most notable of these is the compendium edited by Mario Monteforte Toledo.55

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

The importance of encomiendas and the impact of encomenderos on early Santiago’s formation mandated in-depth studies of the two topics. William L. Sherman studied the impact of encomiendas on the native population, while Murdo MacLeod undertook a systematic and meticulous cataloging of some of the region’s encomenderos.56 Yet the process of the allocation of encomiendas as well as a prosopographical study of encomenderos was not undertaken until very recently. Salvador Rodríguez Becerra was among the first to study how powerful locals such as Pedro de Alvarado doled out encomiendas.57 Later, Wendy Kramer made masterly and innovative use of probanzas de méritos (testimonials of merit), revealing important information about the rivalries among Spaniards caused by the desire to acquire encomiendas.58 Her monograph also clarifies the chronology of conquest events and provides a fresh interpretation of the role of family and friendship links in the process of acquiring encomiendas. In the s scholars working on Guatemala began to move away from purely institutional works. MacLeod deserves much credit for moving the field in the direction of social history.59 While still somewhat institutional in orientation, his Spanish Central America illuminates important aspects of the region’s Spanish and indigenous societies. An entire generation of historians has built on MacLeod’s work. Christopher H. Lutz also made a major contribution to the field with his social and demographic studies of colonial Santiago.60 Lutz’ works reveal valuable information about the ethnic makeup of Santiago and how it changed over time. Other scholars, like Pilar Sánchiz Ochoa, have studied the roots of the supposed early rivalry between Spaniards and criollos. She has also done significant work on the interethnic relations between natives and Spaniards.61 Santiago’s cabildo and the close ties that merchants had with that institution have received attention from both José Francisco de la Peña and Stephen Webre.62 It is noteworthy that while Peña’s study predates Webre’s by a number of years, both conclude that few impediments existed to merchants serving on Santiago’s cabildo.Webre’s interests have proved wide-ranging and fruitful; his studies of such diverse topics as the Spaniard-criollo dichotomy and potable water in Santiago have contributed to a better understanding of the colony.63 The indigenous population has also received scholarly attention, though the majority of the works treat the precolonial and contemporary eras. Only recently has a sustained effort begun to study native peoples

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during the colonial period. In the main, anthropologists and not historians have been responsible for this change. This aspect of the field can be divided into two strands: one that relies solely on Spanish-language sources, and another that uses documents in native languages (in addition to Spanish sources). Indigenous-language documents allow the understanding of the internal working of native communities. Yet the fact that a large corpus of native language sources has yet to be located mandates reliance on at least some Spanish-language documents. Scholars studying natives during the colonial period and relying mainly on Spanish-language documents have produced many important studies. These individuals tend to be trained historians (though geographers have also played an important role). Sherman’s work on native slavery (and other forms of labor) represents a great advance in the understanding of how Spaniards exploited indigenous workers in Central America.64 His work remains unsurpassed in its scope and subject matter. The geographer W. George Lovell has also done significant work on Guatemala’s natives.65 He demonstrates a keen understanding of the subtleties of native-Spanish relations. Francisco de Solano and Elías Zamora Acosta have also undertaken important scholarly work on the area. Solano stands out for his keen ability to extract much information from a seemingly small corpus of documents.66 Zamora uses a wider range of sources, and therefore his work tends to cover a larger geographic sphere.67 The important volume edited by Carol A. Smith contains works from historical and anthropological perspectives.68 Especially notable is the essay by Lutz and Lovell that traces the divide between indigenous highland and mestizo lowlands.69 Only recently have scholars working on colonial Guatemala begun to mine indigenous-language sources. Among the first was Adrián Recinos. His main concern lay in the translation and annotation of indigenouslanguage documents.70 The anthropologist Robert M. Carmack pioneered the ethnohistorical use of colonial documents written in Quiché.71 He ably culls important information on Quiché settlement patterns from his sources. Robert M. Hill and John Monaghan, perhaps as a result of influence from Carmack and other prominent scholars working with nativelanguage sources (mainly concerning the indigenous peoples of Mexico), have produced histories largely based on this type of material.72 Hill, especially, has done pioneering work with documents written in Cakchiquel.73 The paucity of substantive studies on Santiago’s early African population mandates increased reliance on works undertaken forother regions.74

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

Consequently, the works of Frederick P. Bowser, James Lockhart, and Colin Palmer have proved quite useful.75 For the colonial period, a new generation of scholars has skillfully taken on the challenge.76 Catherine Komisaruk’s dissertation analyzes the rise of Santiago’s burgeoning Black population during the late colonial period. Paul Lokken’s dissertation on Blacks and miscegenation straddles the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries and uncovers crucial aspects of the changes within Santiago’s Black population. Both works are essential reading for those seeking to better understand the rise and growth of the city’s free and enslaved Black population.

T

his book focuses primarily on the nonencomendero and nonecclesiastical populations of Santiago de Guatemala and neighboring areas.While encomenderos do appear throughout the text due to their economic and social importance, they do not condition the narrative. I exclude them in part because they have received attention elsewhere and also because too much has been made of their role in shaping Santiago’s early society. I have also excluded ecclesiastics, because, while they operated in society much as anyone else, a discussion of them would have detracted from the main thrust of the book: the growth of Santiago’s popular sectors. I discuss all ethnic groups at length, allowing for a fuller picture of the interethnic interaction in colonial society. I discuss Santiago’s Black population with equal emphasis on the roles of both women and men of African descent. I also consider natives, both those living in Santiago and those in surrounding communities. Using information I found in thousands of Spanish-language documents in local and international archives and libraries, I write about the years between  to . The book begins when Santiago’s economy started to grow rapidly and ends when the city faced a major economic crisis after the decline of the export of cacao and indigo. The chronology covers two generations, those who accompanied Alvarado’s expedition and those who knew no other home but Santiago. The book sheds light on the change in attitudes, the absorption of native culture by Europeans and of European cultural elements by natives, the rise of miscegenated populations, the growth of Santiago into a trade center that dominated the surrounding region, and the consolidation of the colonial society that expanded outward from Santiago. Throughout the book, where appropriate, I reference comparisons with other areas of Spanish America. I must emphasize, however, that this book is not a comparative history of Santiago and other areas. I have

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endeavored to keep comparisons to a minimum, making them only when they serve to better explain the unique and the shared in Santiago. Comparisons also appear in cases where they reinforce local patterns. This book mostly follows the corporate divisions that existed in early Santiago. Chapter Two and Chapter Nine deviate from the pattern, however. The use of credit proved so ubiquitous and the growth of Santiago into a regional center so essential to understanding local society that the two themes warranted their own chapters. Likewise, social organization of native people formed the heart of Santiago’s physical layout, and native communities made possible Santiago’s growth, necessitating a chapter dedicated to these themes. The book clarifies previously poorly understood elements of Santiago’s social, economic, and cultural history. In so doing, it presents fresh and controversial interpretations. The voices of the people who at one time harvested wheat, sold goods from shops, tended to the sick, and drafted legal documents come through. They are voices that for too long have been silenced.77 My hope is that the reader not only will get a better understanding of the technical aspects of sixteenth-century Santiago and indigenous settlements, but will also empathize with peoples with whom they share more similarities than differences. The peoples of Santiago loved their children, they coped as best they could with sometimes brutal circumstances, and they created strategies to deal with situations that no one could have foreseen. The book covers not only Santiago’s complex interrelated groups but also natives living in their indigenous communities. It discusses diverse groups, among them the humble, the enslaved, the university trained. In so doing it offers a window into the world of a sixteenth-century regional center and, more important, it resurrects a forgotten history.

Chapter Two

T    

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S

antiago was built by commerce. Trade in native slaves, cacao, indigo, cattle hides, beef, and mutton, among other things, allowed the city to grow. Its political importance alone would not have guaranteed growth. One can imagine early Santiago with bustling barrio markets filled with ambulatory vendors, professional merchants selling from their stores and tents, women vending all manner of goods, and all intent on turning a profit. To understand the origins of the city’s commerce, one needs first to focus on its elite mercantile specialists, the mercaderes. Perhaps better than any other group, merchants understood the intricacies of regional and transatlantic trade. Consequently, they served as the city’s purveyors of imported goods and facilitated the export of locally produced items to other Spanish American areas and eventually to Spain. They wielded economic power far in excess of the relatively small size of their group. Santiago’s growth was, to a large extent, made possible by the use of credit and debt. Like so many other members of Santiago’s economically active population, mercaderes relied on these mechanisms when undertaking all manner of transactions. Merchants in Santiago early on used both short- and long-term loans when selling, and credit allowed them to interact with colleagues in distant places. Guatemala’s lack of easily accessible mineral wealth created a need for an alternative to cash, forcing Santiago’s merchants to cope with a chronic lack of hard currency.1 They became expert at the use of distinct mechanisms that allowed them to circumvent the lack of silver. Throughout Spanish America, in fact, the lack of cash forced people to rely on this mode of exchange.Yet, rather than impede commercial development, debt allowed it to flourish. Interestingly, merchants’ familiarity with the pitfalls of credit mechanisms caused them to avoid imposing censos on theirown properties.They relied far more on cartas de obligación and, when an individual balked at payment, on cartas de poder to ensure collection.

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As the sixteenth century progressed, Santiago’s economy grew substantially. The city became the main trade center in the region. Notwithstanding this growth, it did not achieve full freedom from New Spain’s commercial influence.Throughout this period Santiago occupied a position secondary to New Spain. Santiago’s merchants maintained close ties with their counterparts based in Mexico City. Mexican compañías operated throughout the era, and at no time during the sixteenth century did they cease to function in Santiago. A few local merchants managed to bypass New Spain and import directly from Spain, yet such ventures proved short-lived because of Santiago’s weak economic position in relation to New Spain’s stronger economy. With its rich silver mines and its position as a viceroyalty, New Spain far outshone Santiago. Rather than rely wholly on merchants from New Spain or attempt direct importation, some merchants in Santiago took to purchasing goods at Puerto de Caballos (modern-day Puerto Cortés, Honduras) from ships arriving from Spain; therefore, goods that did not go through Mexico came from Puerto de Caballos. The process began early in the s and continued throughout the period. Despite these efforts, Santiago continued to rely on intermediaries, as direct importation from Spain was untenable during the early period. Despite its inability to eclipse Mexico City in terms of economic importance, by the early sixteenth century, Santiago had emerged as the center for the less-developed areas surrounding it. Its position as seat of the Audiencia in part fueled its economic growth. Occasionally, individuals who traveled to Santiago on bureaucratic errands also purchased basic and luxury goods. In addition, merchants from outside Santiagoventured to the city to sell items such as grain, livestock, and even slaves. Over time, Santiago emerged as a center of regional trading dependent on Mexico yet, in turn, depended on by marginal areas.

             Lacking readily available cash, as mentioned earlier, Santiago’s residents created elaborate credit structures that allowed them to trade their products and guaranteed a return. Further, the use of credit gave newcomers with access to liquid capital a means of entering local society. By serving as lenders of capital, or even as sellers of goods on credit, they could form reciprocal commercial and social relations with the already-established

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

population. Consequently, credit served as a wedge newcomers could use to begin the process of establishing themselves in local society. Such was the scarcity of cash in Santiago that the municipal council sought to require people to accept items such as clothing as payment,2 which suggests that bartering was not the first choice among the economically active. Try as the municipal council might, debt served as the most viable alternative to cash payment or barter among Santiago’s residents. Merchants in particular avoided barter, preferring to use credit mechanisms. Over time, promissory notes became viable replacements for cash. They usually facilitated sales, whether for merchandise or real estate, by postponing payment and allowing buyers time to amass sufficient capital to cancel debt. In addition, powers of attorney allowed individuals to transfer and sell debts to others. The imaginative uses of debt most likely originated in Europe, as similar credit structures appear in all places where Spaniards interacted.3 Credit is mentioned in the earliest records. While many promissory notes concern the sale of European goods, almost any type of merchandise, whether indigenous textiles or native or African slaves, was sold on credit.4 Without credit most merchants would have found it difficult if not impossible to engage in business. Barter would have turned into the dominant form of economic transaction, leading to an untenable situation for merchants needing capital to replenish their stock. Mexico City merchants, large suppliers to Santiago, were mostly interested in cash for their merchandise, yet they too sold merchandise on credit to their counterparts in Santiago.When debts were collected, merchants canceled pending accounts. Debts created from selling on credit proved so ubiquitous that they not only served as collateral but also were bought and sold much like any other type of merchandise. In  Blas Núñez, a pastry chef–turned– merchant, sold a fellow merchant, Diego de Herrera, a small lot of European goods. In the process, he transferred to him debts owed to a third party. Núñez had acquired the debts from another merchant and sold them to Herrera.5 Not all transactions went smoothly. Debtors often proved unreliable in their payments, causing legal entanglements. Nonetheless, especially in cases resulting from agreements ratified by promissory notes, disputes over outstanding debts did not always reach trial, in large part because of the expense of legal proceedings. Some debts were simply too small to warrant legal fees. Furthermore, litigation could potentially consume a lot of time; therefore, an examination of only judicial proceedings would

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yield little information on debt collection. In one case, Alonso Martín Cermeñal sued merchant Francisco de Barrionuevo and Hernán Bermejo for a small debt. Cermeñal invested over ten years in trying to collect the debt.6 Alternative primary sources such as powers of attorney yield much more data on renegade debtors. In  a merchant named Juan Núñez de Huelva authorized Jusepe Martín to collect nearly three hundred pesos from Diego Núñez de Huelva. Juan lent Diego the money in Mexico City, but Diego failed to pay per the terms of a promissory note. Apparently, because he was on his way to Mexico, Jusepe received a power of attorney to undertake any necessary steps to collect the debt.7 The case demonstrates both the use of promissory notes as a small-loan mechanism and the use of powers of attorney as a debt-collection device. Delinquent debtors faced hefty penalties in the form of property forfeiture. Often, the law sided with creditors, even jailing those who defaulted.The threat of public humiliation of the debtor, invariably arrested by the sheriff in a public place, seems to have served as sufficient coercion. Debtors found ways to pay their debts, or at least to renegotiate the payment schedule.8 Because of their familiarity with debt mechanisms, merchants often undertook the responsibility of collecting debts for others less expert in the art. In  Baltasar de Aguilar, one of the most active and versatile merchants of the period, received powerof attorney from a teacher, Martín de Salazar. Aguilar agreed to collect fifty pesos from a fellow Spaniard who owed Salazar the money for one year’s worth of schooling for the Spaniard’s children.9 Merchants who undertook debt collecting, payable in money or merchandise, did so knowing that thevalue of the debt exceeded its facevalue. Outstanding debts proved profitable to those willing to risk the uncertainty of collection. Again Blas Núñez’ activities prove illustrative. In a document dated , he appears as a purchaser of a debt. The language of the document proves enlightening, specifically the words ‘‘por otros tantos que me pagaste’’ [for an equal amount that you have paid me].10 The vague ‘‘otros tantos’’ might actually have been a sum smaller than that actually paid, with the difference accounting for the profit made by the purchaser, in this case, Núñez.11 In another case, a vecina of Santiago, Catalina de la Cruz, authorized a local merchant to collect eighty pesos from Juan de Ortega for a Black female slave. As in the previous case, Cruz specifically declared that the merchant was to keep the money once he received it.12

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

 . Santiago’s trading partners to the north and south.

Although the documents do not specify that the merchants who assumed debts did so because they eventually profited, it seems improbable that loans were made simply out of munificence, as is often claimed. Rather, it is likelier that a tacit understanding existed between the parties involved that collection would result in a profit. While the documents do not specifically say so, it would seem that merchants traded outstanding debts for goods from their stores. In this way, debts came to represent one more method of exchange. In addition to collecting debts, merchants also acted as short-term borrowers and lenders. Twice in  a local encomendero borrowed money from merchants. On both occasions, he specifically promised to pay in a few months.13 Some loans reached a formidable size. In  a merchant lent one thousand pesos to a vecino of Santiago.14 The borrower promised to pay in three months, and since nothing else appears in the documents, it seems likely that the agreement functioned smoothly. Merchants, compared with other members of Santiago society, rarely entered into contracts for long-term loans. Censos, common throughout the period, did not attract many merchants, especially after the s. Documents related to merchants and mortgages date from before ; after that year, the number of merchants involved in mortgages drops.



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Likely, merchants no longer found mortgages useful and had acquired sufficient liquid capital (when short-term debt did not seem a viable alternative) to make censos unappealing.15

                 Santiago nevercompletelyemerged from the suzeraintyof Mexico City, as noted earlier. Even when it developed as a regional center, it remained dependent on New Spain for the majorityof its exports and imports. Mexico City–based merchant companies appear throughout the sixteenth century, as do attempts by local merchants to circumvent them. Santiago’s merchants did undertake direct tradewith Spain, but few succeeded.Various Santiago merchants sent factors to Seville, the single most important Spanish port for trade with the Indies at this time. Several stayed as long as five years and returned with merchandise to sell in Guatemala. Sustained direct importation did not characterize the period, however. Toward the latter part of the sixteenth century, merchants in Santiago began to forge closer ties with their counterparts in Seville. Nevertheless, they never acquired sufficient success to fully eclipse the Mexico City– based companies during the first century of Spanish rule. Mexico City’s dominance began early. Representatives of Mexico City–based companies likely supplied and accompanied the numerous free agents who supported Alvarado’s campaigns. As Santiago stabilized, more merchants arrived from New Spain. Many were transient, but others made a permanent home there. These individuals became importers in their own right, independent of the company that sent them but still dealing with Mexico City’s merchants. Later, with the rise of trade with Peru, factors from Mexican compañías flooded into Santiago, and merchants from New Spain arrived in Guatemala to sell large quantities of native textiles. Apparently, the indigenous people of Guatemala had sufficient purchasing power to warrant this. The trade in indigenous textiles likely existed long before the arrival of the Spaniards and, in fact, demonstrates an acquired taste for colors and patterns that could not be produced locally. In particular, Mixtec textiles seemed to have been preferred by the indigenous peoples of Guatemala. Guatemala also attracted merchants from New Spain because of the production of cacao and indigo. Although some scholars see a decline in the economy after the slowing of the Peru trade, the decline in that

                       



trade did not in itself spell an end to economic opportunity in Santiago. Indeed, more opportunity presented itself in Guatemala than just trade with Peru.16 Relying on the tried compañía mechanism, Mexico City merchants used factors based in Santiago to expand their business. Merchants proved so ingenious that they used as factors any reliable person willing to establish links with them. At times, even artisans allied with merchants served as their factors. In  a boticario appears in a record as representative of Mexico City merchant Lázaro de San Pedro, with a power of attorney authorizing the pharmacist to undertake any actions in the name of the latter.17 The pharmacist sought products indigenous to Guatemala such as cacao; San Pedro had access to many more European products than did his counterparts in Santiago. To the chagrin of local merchants, Mexico City–based merchants had an influence that extended beyond the confines of Santiago and well into the interior of the province in important settlements such as San Salvador, where they entered into direct competition with Santiago-based merchants and merchants from the interior. Their counterparts from Mexico City competed with them even in areas considered part of Santiago’s commercial sphere.18

                             Early on, some local merchants decided to make a bid for independence from their Mexico City–based competitors. Santiago’s residents viewed the intrusion of nonresidents unfavorably, as it caused them to lose potential profits.This held particularly true for Santiago’s merchants who competed most directly with merchants from New Spain. More competition almost invariably meant less profit for locals. However, one must be careful not to take this too far; no sort of virulent or openly hostile anti–Mexico City feeling or strong ideas of localism surfaced. Manifestation of a strident Santiago identity, as asserted by some scholars, fails to appear clearly among groups I have studied. To be sure, indigenous people held onto their identities, as they had long before the arrival of Europeans, but Spaniards and their like (other Europeans mainly) never specified any sort of intensely close connection with the locality at this early juncture.19 Direct importation of goods from New Spain was seen as a viable option to buying from factors of Mexico City–based mercantile compa-



                       

nies. The importation of goods from Mexico City often required large sums of capital, making the ventures risky and necessitating investors who either had ready capital or, as in the majority of cases, could secure credit from their colleagues in New Spain. Santiago denizens like Juan de Jaén began the slow process of sidestepping Mexican compañías rather early. Jaén was involved in a compañía with a merchant who traveled to New Spain to purchase goods and arrange for their shipment to Santiago. In  Jaén imported textiles and other European goods from Mexico City.20 In another case dating from , Gaspar Rodríguez de Rivero and Martín de Villarroya organized a company to import ‘‘Castilian and indigenous merchandise.’’ 21 While direct evidence that they sought to import goods from Mexico City is lacking, the mention of indigenous products in the documents points strongly to New Spain. Contracts that specified only European products covered a much larger geographic area, Mexico City, Puerto de Caballos, and Gracias a Dios, to name just three. When indigenous goods appear in the documents, the geographic areas tend to be New Spain, more specifically, Mexico City. Rivero invested one thousand pesos, while Villarroya invested a smaller sum of three hundred pesos. The company was to last one and a half years. As the smaller investor, Villarroya had to do the legwork, obligating himself to purchase goods and later sell them in a tienda in Santiago. The requirement that Villarroya travel makes it clear who held seniority in the venture. This compañía, like other such enterprises, evidences a clear pattern: an investor who provided the bulk of the capital; a junior partner who bought and sold the merchandise; the mention of a store from which to sell goods; and the equal distribution of profit. Indeed, regardless of the amount of money invested by each partner, all contracts specified an equal distribution of profits. Those with smaller investments guaranteed an equal profit share by taking on additional duties such as traveling or selling the goods acquired by the compañía.Yet there existed a clear pecking order as to who would recoup his investment first. The senior partner had first right to collect his money from the profits generated. The passage of time did not reduce the attractiveness of Santiago as a source of profit. As late as , and no doubt far beyond, merchants from Mexico City continued their involvement in Santiago.22 Had local merchants become independent and begun to import goods directly from Spain, there would have been little need to look elsewhere in the Indies. Ironically, Mexico City merchants conveniently filled the void that they helped create: Santiago’s lack of economic independence.

                       



                   If Santiago expected to free itself from Mexico City’s dominance, it was critical that it establish direct importation and exportation links with Spain. Direct trade links would bypass the need to strike agreements with Mexico City–based companies operating in Santiago. Moreover, the purchase of goods in Spain guaranteed a lower price due to the elimination of intermediaries and the ability to deal with the many wholesalers who operated in Seville. Furthermore, factors could inspect goods at their origin, leading to the importation of better-quality merchandise. In the s at least three merchants, identified as vecinos of Santiago, traveled to Spain to transact business.23 Of these, only one, Luis de Bolaños, left behind sufficient records to make it possible to trace some of his activities. Luis de Bolaños participated in a host of schemes during his stay in Santiago. He appears in , then vanishes from the records until .24 Three years later, Bolaños emerges identified as a debtor in a last will and testament.25 A while later he traveled to Spain, where he solicited a license for return passage to Santiago in .26 Bolaños probably returned laden with merchandise. Some years later, he appears as a creditor in yet another last will and testament.27 Likely, he started off as a factor for a Seville-based compañía, and with the passage of time his interests became more local than transatlantic.28 Once rooted in Santiago, he registered as a vecino and purchased a house in the city. Localization partially explains the disinclination of merchants to participate in direct trade with Spain. Once they were established in Santiago with a business requiring constant supervision and real estate to care for, there existed little incentive for the likes of Bolaños to travel to Spain. Travel was fraught with risk, and for this reason the established merchants shied away from it. Furthermore, the lack of capital prevented Santiago’s merchants from sending factors to Spain to purchase goods. Well-connected nonmerchants also attempted to establish links with trading firms in Spain. Since direct trade required capital, wealthy encomenderos like Alonso deVargas Lobo occasionally participated in compañías dedicated to direct importation.29 When seeking to import goods from Spain, nonmerchants usuallyassociated themselves with merchants, undoubtedly in frank recognition of the important skills and ties they possessed. In  Francisco de Castellanos, treasurer of the Audiencia, and Gaspar Rodríguez, a local merchant, joined in an attempt to import a sizable amount of merchandise from Spain. The company boasted capi-



                       

talization of nine thousand pesos, with Castellanos investing sixty-five hundred pesos and Rodríguez twenty-five hundred pesos, a substantial amount for a merchant. Not all the money was in cash, for even a wealthy investor such as Castellanos could not muster such a large amount of cash in Santiago’s silver-hungry economy. In place of cash, Castellanos contributed twenty-five hundred pesos’ worth of sugar.30 The sugar and the four thousand pesos were from a debt owed him by an important vecino of Mexico City. Rodríguez agreed to take the sugar and the money with him to Seville, where he would reside for five years, ample time to conduct the business of the company.31 Some thirty-five years later, another royal official and a local merchant attempted to export hides to Seville.32 They represent typical cases of royal officials who sought to profit wherever possible. This flies directly in the face of the ‘‘threadbare hidalgo’’ notions that some historians still hold.33 With the exception of Luis de Bolaños, the cases surveyed here share some traits: all proved ephemeral in nature; none had provisions for a permanent factor structure; merchandise fell into the luxury category; and all had a nonmerchant as an associate. Not a single case of two merchants joining to import merchandise from Spain surfaced during my research. Royal officials, apart from the merchants of central areas such as Mexico City, enjoyed the greatest number of contacts in Spain and, as a result, could readily exploit these connections to find the best prices for merchandise in Seville. All the companies patterned themselves on a larger/smaller investor framework, with the lesser investor invariably functioning as the factor. The cases described here also demonstrate that during the early period direct trade with Spain was not a viable option for most merchants working in Santiago. Competition from Mexican compañías proved too great to overcome, too little capital was available, and the shipping routes favored New Spain over Guatemala by a wide margin.

   Santiago’s merchants also bypassed the Mexican compañías through Puerto de Caballos. They could buy goods at lower prices and increase their profits at the port. They saw Puerto de Caballos as an excellent source of European goods. It was used as a port by , and by  the municipal councils of Ciudad Real, the villas de San Salvador and San Miguel, and Santiago sought the crown’s help in improving the road from the port to their respective locations.34 Usually, two to three ships

                       



from Spain arrived annually at Caballos.35 They brought large quantities of European goods that cost far more in New Spain or Panama due to the presence of jobbers and the higher cost of transport to Santiago. A sort of fair probably took place at Caballos when the ships reached port, as it did at Puerto Bello.36 In addition, the port facilitated the export of locally produced agricultural products, goods from New Spain, and correspondence with Spain, both private and official.37 Caballos also served frequently as a port for European contraband, as smuggling was pursued by even well-placed merchants.38 Caballos effectively functioned as the link between Santiago and Spain; without the port, the difficulty of importing European goods would have increased substantially. Although it was initially a second choice after the port of Trujillo in Panama, by  those wishing to have goods shipped to Honduras and Santiago specified Caballos as the preferred port when contracting with shipmasters.39 Shipmasters like Juan Prieto regularly contracted haulers in Seville to load as much as twenty-eight tons of merchandise on their ships bound for Caballos.40 Trade at the port had become so brisk that by the mid-sixteenth century companies based in Seville had resident factors operating there.41 Sevillebased merchants continued to have close ties with individuals in Caballos throughout the sixteenth century. The trade proved so prosperous, in fact, that those merchants found it essential to send factors to Caballos to supervise their investments instead of relying on agreements with locals.42 Additionally, those Seville-based companies that lacked permanent factors regularly empowered individuals on their way to or from Caballos to collect debts for them.43 The trade had grown to such a degree that there existed a well-established trunk line from Seville to Caballos. Such was the port’s importance that, occasionally, even merchants from Peru traveled there.44 Thus, for Santiago’s merchants wishing to purchase goods at wholesale prices, Caballos presented an attractive alternative to Mexico City and to creating compañías with Mexican merchants.45 Furthermore, the trade at Caballos filled thevoid left by the lack of strong and permanent direct importation links with Spain.

                      Economically and politically, Santiago outranked neighboring areas and, consequently, became a commercial center in its own right. It attracted merchants from areas to its north such as Chiapas and Oaxaca (in south-



                       

ern Mexico) and Veracruz (on Mexico’s Gulf coast). Areas to Santiago’s south, like the villa de la Trinidad (in modern-day El Salvador) and Nombre de Dios (in present-day Panama), also provided clients for Santiago’s stores and artisans’ shops.46 Nevertheless, buyers from these areas usually purchased small quantities of goods. Only rarely did large-scale transactions take place, and those usually by nonmerchants. Professional merchants from more peripheral areas, such as southern New Spain, likely purchased directly from Mexico City. Ironically, Santiago’s ties were strongest with southern Mexico. This relationship did not begin with the arrival of Europeans; rather, it developed in the precolonial era.47 Santiago also traded with areas to its south, but ports in Panama gave it strong competition. Trinidad represented an important trading partner for Santiago. Its location to the south of the city, distant from anyother large Spanish urban center, made it dependent on Santiago. Its relatively small population and weak political standing in the colonial administration also contributed to its status as a satellite of Santiago. Consequently, Santiago’s merchants catered to clients from this area. By  visitors from Trinidad routinely purchased merchandise while in Santiago. Perhaps the purchases were undertaken either as a complement to other activities which had to be carried out in the city (Santiago was the bureaucratic center of the region) or as a result of a wish to buy goods at lower prices than could be had in their hometown. In addition, the possibility that there existed greater variety in quality and types of goods in Santiago might well have contributed to travelers’ preferring to purchase merchandise in the city. Santiago’s merchants unquestionably prepared to supply potential buyers from outlying areas. Juan Pérez de Soria, a merchant who mostly concentrated on the sale of European manufactured items, illustrates this trend. In one instance, he sold Luis de Ariola, a vecino of Trinidad, a silk cape with a hood for twenty-five pesos.48 Stocking such luxury items required a substantial investment. For this reason, too, merchants in Santiago were in a better position to offer costlier items. The smaller number of potential buyers and the resulting decreased likelihood of quick sales led their colleagues in lesser colonial settlements to avoid investing in expensive luxury items. Instead, lower-priced items with a higher probability of fast sale would have been their merchandise of choice. In addition to the sale of imported items, a considerable trade in wheat developed between Santiago and Trinidad. The valleys of Petapa (located near Santiago) and Izhuatán (located in southeastern Guate-

                       



mala) produced sizable wheat crops. These found ready markets in areas where production did not meet demand.Those with close ties to outlying areas manipulated their connections to sell wheat at very high prices. In  the average price per fanega of wheat fluctuated between one and three-quarters and two pesos.49 Santiago merchants such as Hernando de Aduza managed to sell wheat at nearly three and three-quarters pesos per fanega to buyers from Trinidad. The higher price may have included lading costs from the production area to a destination specified by buyers. Yet it also seems almost certain that as intermediaries between farmers and buyers, merchants like Aduza charged higher prices to safeguard their profit. Santiago’s close economic ties with Spanish cities in southern Mexico began early in the period and proved long lasting. Transactions between Santiago and settlements in areas like Chiapas began early in the century. A case dating from  sheds light on the close connections between merchants in Santiago and residents of Chiapas. That year Pedro Hernández, a Santiago tailor, bought merchandise of an unspecified nature from Santiago merchant Antón Jiménez and from Diego Martín, a vecino of Chiapas. Hernández agreed to pay them one hundred pesos for the merchandise.50 Ties between Santiago’s merchants and residents of other areas proved instrumental in carrying out successful mercantile transactions. Santiago’s ties with other Spanish settlements was maintained if not promoted by the city’s merchants. The compañía structure, so common among merchants, facilitated connections between Santiago’s merchants and individuals living outside the city. Alonso Lavado de Dueñas, one of Santiago’s largest merchants and one of the best connected to southern New Spain, sold two Black slaves to a vecino of the villa de Cavitlán in the province of Tabasco in  in exchange for  arrobas of refined sugar from the same province. Lavado did not want the sugar for himself; instead, he requested that the sugar be sent to a Spanish vecino of Chiapas.51 As transport improved and the trunk lines connecting Santiago to smaller and distant Spanish settlements consolidated, it became commonplace for people living in Chiapas to travel to Santiago to purchase goods. Business transactions, like the majority of dealings, required a great deal of confidence on the part of everyone involved. Juan Yáñez del Prado, a vecino of Chiapas, bought unspecified goods from Francisco de la Fuente in Santiago for twenty pesos, promising to pay in six months. It appears that Fuente knew Yáñez, or at least knew of him, as Yáñez failed



                       

to provide a guarantor or someone to confirm his identity. In cases that involved someone unfamiliar, perhaps a new arrival, a transient, or a person of ill repute, a witness endorsed the unknown individual. Consequently, had Yáñez been unknown to Fuente, the former would have had to find someone to vouch for his identity or, better yet, someone to serve as his guarantor. As time passed, jobbers from Chiapas took to Santiago in search of better prices. While Santiago lay some distance from Chiapas, it was still closer than Mexico City. For this reason, despite the higher prices of goods in Santiago, those wishing to purchase large quantities for resale saw Santiago as an attractive alternative to Mexico City.The higher prices in Santiago were offset by the lower lading costs. Well-known merchants like Andrés Muñoz (who, along with his brother Gonzalo Muñoz, operated many types of businesses, including pack trains traveling to Puerto de Caballos) maintained close ties with their counterparts from Chiapas. Muñoz sold a respectable amount of European merchandise to Pedro Alfonso de Estrada, a vecino of Ciudad Real de Chiapas in .52 It would appear that Muñoz had close ties with Estrada, or he would not have agreed to a debt of that size without specific guarantees of repayment. Undoubtedly, Estrada intended to resell the merchandise in Ciudad Real at a profit. Santiago boasted economic links with areas even farther to the north. Spaniards living in Antequera (in Oaxaca) traveled to Santiago to purchase goods. In  Antequera vecino Juan Mayoral purchased  pesos’ worth of merchandise from Juan de Ortega.53 Despite Antequera’s distance, Ortega trusted Mayoral sufficiently to sell him items on credit without a guarantor. This indicates that Mayoral was known in the city of Santiago and suggests a common trading relationship between the two regions. When Antequera resident Francisco Martínez finished paying off a debt to Santiago merchant Juan Pérez de Soria, the latter accepted the payment and stated the money was for ‘‘dares y tomares’’ [give and take] from Pérez’ store.54 Thus it seems that Martínez had close ties with Pérez. Not only had he purchased items on credit, but also apparently did so repeatedly. Merchants like Pérez maintained a vast network of customers that extended throughout southern New Spain. They helped increase Santiago’s role as supplier of goods to outlying areas. Santiago’s connections with Spanish settlements to the north extended far beyond Antequera. Indeed, even cities as far as Puebla (in central New Spain) were linked with Santiago. In  Santiago merchant and vecino Melchor de laTorre bought  pounds of white wax on credit from Geró-

                       



nimo Guerrero, described as a vecino of Puebla.55 In that same year, an estante of Santiago and a vecino of Puebla drew up a contract involving a debt for merchandise of an unspecified nature. Rather than money, the Puebla resident received a power of attorney to collect a debt owed to the estante.56 As in other cases involving Santiago’s merchants and people from other areas, it seems that credit played a crucial role in facilitating commercial interaction. And just as in the other cases, credit bespeaks close ties among the individuals involved in these transactions. Santiago also saw travelers from Mérida (Mexico), not as purchasers of goods, but as legal representatives, likely factors. In one case from , Don Francisco de la Neva, acting in the name of Martín de Mardatiarto, authorized vecinos from Veracruz and Mérida and a resident of Santiago to collect a debt from a ship’s captain, Juan Rodríguez. This case proves useful in its mention of vecinos of both Veracruz and Puebla. A man of some worth, as demonstrated by the appearance of the honorific ‘‘don’’ (involved, like many of his class, in commercial activity), Neva authorized the three individuals to collect  pesos.57 If Rodríguez thought that by leaving Mérida he could avoid the debt owed Mardatiarto, he was mistaken. He did not count on the close relationships between individuals involved in trade. Whether Rodríguez docked in Caballos, if he was sailing the Pacific, or Nombre de Dios in Panama, if he traveled on the Caribbean, a representative of Mardatiarto was empowered and ready to collect money from him.

N

early everyone involved in commercial undertakings in Santiago depended on credit, whether for transactions with locals or with individuals from faraway areas. Contrary to what was previously thought, the lack of cash did not cripple the local economy nor did it hamper regionwide commerce. Promissory notes and powers of attorney, used to transfer debts and enforce payment, allowed merchants to sell their wares unhindered by the lack of specie. Merchants, expert in the mechanisms of credit, demonstrated a preference for short-term credit and did not enter heavily into the active market in mortgages. They likely saw them as a risky investment, even though they involved real property. Those who took mortgages often found ways of removing collateral, thereby lowering the resale value of the loan significantly. Whatever the credit mechanism used, it allowed merchants to improve their position in local society by conferring the ability to act as lenders to higher-status but cash-starved individuals.58 Notwithstanding ties to other regions, Santiago remained subject to



                       

the influence of Mexico City. Santiago’s cabildo clearly realized the need to break the dominance of its northern neighbor. Occasionally, the cabildo hatched fanciful schemes in an effort to establish economic independence. In one case dating from , the cabildo, likely reacting to needling by local merchants, petitioned the crown for permission to establish trade with the Philippines.59 That Santiago had not even managed to establish sustained direct trade with Spain reveals the chimerical nature of the proposition. Yet the scheme lays bare not only the importance that commerce had for Santiago, but also the city’s willingness to explore any possibility that would erode Mexico City’s dominance. Such fruitless plans did not in any way hinder Mexico City–based companies from repeatedly sending factors to Guatemala, however. Mexico City exerted great economic power over Santiago throughout the early period. Like the cabildo’s poorly conceived ideas, private ventures created by Santiago’s merchants and nonmerchants to break away from New Spain’s dominance did not last long. Companies created for this purpose never numbered more than a few. The desire for greater profit and freedom from meddling by outside merchants led locals to import goods from Spain and, more permanently, to rely on the trade centered at Puerto de Caballos. Yet despite the importance of Caballos as a source for imported products, Santiago’s merchants could not break away from Mexico City’s resolute grasp. Santiago represents an important case of a regional trading center that grew into a secondarily central area in its own right. It simultaneously depended on Mexico City and served as the focal point for outlying, more peripheral areas. Its inhabitants realized the possibilities that this position offered them and wasted little time in creating ties with individuals from areas such as Antequera, Chiapas, Comayagua (Honduras), Yucatán, the villa de San Miguel, and Trinidad. Merchants benefited from Santiago’s position as the bureaucratic heart of the area. In the secondary trade, goods imported to Santiago via Mexico City, Veracruz, or Caballos found buyers in areas with a less-developed merchant class, providing an additional profitable outlet for those engaged in the city’s lifeblood, commerce. In the world of sixteenth-century commerce, bonds based on personal connections formed a base for mercantile links. Personal relations played a crucial role in forming links between Santiago and other Spanish areas. Connections based on mutual reciprocity, trust, and mutual benefit strengthened Santiago’s commercial ties with both close and distant Spanish settlements. Without such personal ties, the process of estab-

                       



lishing links with outside areas would have been nearly impossible not only for Santiago’s merchants but also for their competitors from Mexico City. As masters of credit and of a vast commercial network that extended throughout the Indies and, although tenuously, even to Spain, Santiago’s merchants played an indispensable role in the economic growth of the city.

Chapter Three

I  

 

S

antiago’s merchants were among the first Europeans in the region. Unlike nonspecialized traders, who participated in commercial dealings only intermittently, merchants dedicated themselves almost wholly to commerce. The city’s merchants, like their counterparts throughout Spanish America, possessed important economic connections and, in some cases, wealth that allowed the more successful among them grudging admittance into the local elite. Their riches also permitted them entry into powerful local institutions like the municipal council. Merchants participated in wholesale activity while not ignoring retail sales and, consequently, were largely responsible for keeping the colony supplied with coveted European goods.They operated stores in Santiago from which they sold European and indigenous merchandise with no apparent discrimination about who bought it. They had connections with merchants in other areas, Mexico City and Puerto de Caballos primarily, but, as time passed, with other regions as well. To a lesser extent, Santiago’s merchants also established precarious ties with Spain. In the early years, they represented large trading firms based in Mexico City, but later they acted independently, operating their own networks and supervising trusted factors. Local merchants did not immediately purchase property. Far more interested in quick profit and with the hope of returning to Spain, they preferred to rent dwellings and stores. In time, however, they came to own homes, mostly in Santiago, and property outside the city too. In later years, merchants regularly appear in the documents as sellers of land and as owners of larger parcels like wheat fields. Once they were well rooted in local society, merchants demonstrated a taste for real estate, perhaps the safest investment in an unstable economy. Santiago’s merchants did not prefer European products to indigenous goods; they dealt in both categories with gusto. In the late s cacao became synonymous with Guatemala 1 and remained important through-

                                



out the sixteenth century and beyond.2 The cacao trade offered high profits. The trade in indigo came about roughly contemporaneously with the growth of commerce in cacao. Unlike cacao, however, indigo production required heavy investment.3 Consequently, indigo sales rarely took place in the early years of the colony, because few had the wherewithal for large investments. Merchants who bought indigo did sowith the goal of quickly shipping it to Mexico City, the single largest market at that time.4 Trade of indigenous textiles, in both small and large quantities, also attracted the participation of merchants. Undoubtedly, Santiago’s merchants quickly realized the profitability of these goods and began to trade them.5 Native textiles came from such faraway places as Tlaxcala (in Central Mexico).6 Although they dealt in native agricultural and handmade products, Santiago’s merchants did not ignore the sale of European goods. As in any immigrant community, Spaniards in Guatemala sought out products to which they were accustomed. Merchants only too willingly fulfilled demand for these goods.They sold everything from European paper, string, textiles, and wines.7 In addition, they traded in goods of European and Asian origin but produced in New Spain. Silk produced in New Spain found a ready market in Santiago because of its lower price in comparison with Asian silk.8 Merchants in Santiago also bought and sold ordinary agricultural products. Some merchants sold locally grown wheat to buyers from Santiago and neighboring Spanish settlements.9 Additionally, some dealt in cattle and hides.10 Due to the potential profits, merchants also dealt in slaves, buying and selling African and native slaves much as they would any other ‘‘product.’’ Despite passage of legislation specifically banning the enslavement of natives, the trade persisted in Guatemala.11 As late as , five years after the passage of the New Laws (measures specifically prohibiting such practices), merchants openly sold indigenous slaves in Santiago.12 Merchants also participated in the longer-lasting African slave trade. Interestingly, they traded the majority of indigenous slaves, but they bore responsibility for only a minority of Black slave sales. Indeed, merchants appear in only  percent of all known documents involving African slaves.13 A highly prized commodity, African slaves were expensive and difficult to obtain, but they were a virtual cultural necessity for the majority of Spaniards.14 Merchants participated in the trade early on and remained active throughout the sixteenth century.15 Sales in Santiago in-



                                

volved small quantities of African slaves, averaging no more than two at a time. Nowhere in the documentation do there appear the massive purchases that sometimes occurred in New Spain.16 There is only one mention in the documents I examined of a sizable purchase.17 Perhaps merchants saw the sale of Black slaves as too risky, the investment too large, the availability of slaves too haphazard, or the profit margin inadequate to merit speculation. Although neverexplicitlycalled ‘‘merchants,’’ somewomen functioned in a similar manner. Not surprisingly, the women most resembling merchants by their actions were closely associated with them; in two cases, widows of merchants continued the businesses of their late husbands.18 The death of a husband allowed a woman greater freedom to act without consulting anyone.19 In this they resemble other women who were thrust into the forefront of family dealings upon the death of a husband.

   In the early years it seems that little differentiation between merchants and maestres existed.20 This could have resulted because shipmasters often sold goods that they had brought with them, thereby resembling merchants by their actions. The fact that some merchants might have gotten their start as maestres also likely bears on the lack of differentiation.21 Given Spanish sentiment against sailors, the close association between early merchants and seafarers may well have negatively affected their prestige.22 Identification of merchants was haphazard during this time. Perhaps careless labeling resulted from a notary’s idiosyncrasies or from an individual’s failure to identify himself as a merchant when having a document drafted. Arbitrary labeling proves common in the records, even late into the sixteenth century. The merchant Juan Pérez de Soria serves as an excellent example. From  to  Pérez bore the label of ‘‘merchant’’ in fewer than half of the documents I examined.23 As a result of their success, some merchants felt it no longer suited their higher station to reveal their close ties to commercial activity. Alonso Lavado de Dueñas proves illustrative. Active from the s to the s, Lavado lost the merchant label as the years progressed and his economic situation improved. In  his name appears with the title of mercader; in  he loses the label only to regain it in . By  Lavado had lost the association with mercader almost entirely.24

                                



Despite their importance to the economicwelfare of the city, merchants confronted social prejudice. Merchants aspiring to positions on the cabildo had to mask their actions as best they could.25 Merchants purchased offices, unlike others, that boasted appointments to the municipal council. This crucial distinction contributed to a grudging and not wholehearted acceptance of their presence. They may well have sat on the municipal council, but they did not come to their place through the same mechanism as did individuals with better social connections. Cristóbal de Ávila Monroy, a Portuguese, and Pedro de Solórzano, well-known merchants both, dropped the designation of ‘‘mercader’’ before serving on the municipal council. Ávila did not have the same success as Solórzano in hiding his career, however. He appears erratically labeled, while Solórzano manages to escape the label of ‘‘merchant’’ with more success.26 Not surprisingly, Ávila and Solórzano had monetarydealings with each other.27 Merchants, like other individuals who served on the municipal council, had to resort to subterfuge, as flagrant commercial activity could often result in censure.28 Merchants–turned–municipal council members in other parts of Spanish America also dropped the label of ‘‘merchant.’’ 29 Hence Santiago resembles other areas where merchants, though an indispensable part of society, did not have the highest local status. Economic success, while capable of garnering badges of prestige like municipal council membership, did not suffice as an enticement for marital alliances with the most sought after of all Spanish women, those who bore the honorific title of doña. Like the honorific don, doña did not lose much of its value during the period studied here. A true doña, undoubtedlya woman of full Spanish blood and with at least some important social connections, albeit tenuous at times, could easily make alliances far more favorable than those afforded by merchants. Fully aware of this, parents or guardians were not willing to part easily with a daughter who bore the title, unless a merchant had achieved a respectable level of wealth. From the over one hundred individuals I identified as merchants, only two managed to wed doñas.30 Not even Pedro de Solórzano and Cristóbal de Ávila Monroy married doñas. Solórzano, an astute individual, married Fabiana de Aguilar, daughter of a successful merchant like himself, while Ávila married a woman from an unassuming family.31 Most entered into endogamous marriages that helped consolidate the corporate feeling among merchants, much as it did elsewhere in Spanish America. Those who did not marry women from the merchant group wed women of social standing similar to their own. When necessary, merchants came together to openly defend their



                                

group’s interests. A case related to taxes on imported textiles exemplifies the corporate sentiment felt by at least some merchants. In  five merchants acting in the name of ‘‘the rest of the merchants’’ instigated a suit in the Audiencia.32 The merchants, all identified as vecinos, argued that an imported cloth should not require an escritura.33 The merchants opposed the legislation for two reasons. First, an escritura would make smuggling more difficult, as a careful tally of imported merchandise would make it more troublesome to sell unregistered goods. Second, and equally as important, a written account of imported cloth would facilitate taxation. Merchants in Santiago early on became vecinos. From the mid-s onward, they begin to appear in the records identified as ‘‘vecinos.’’ 34 The earliest record dates from ;35 by the late s merchants surface regularly with the label ‘‘vecino.’’ 36 Vecino status became almost a requirement for the wealthier, better-established merchants. However, not all who became vecinos were merchants of stature. Some lesser merchants also attained the coveted rank. The use of the label ‘‘vecino’’ sheds light on the stability of the merchant population. Its lack after a merchant’s name, at least in the early years, betrays the nomadic nature of many members of the group. In later years, at least by , the appearance of the label points to a higher degree of stability and willingness to commit to one area. Consequently, some merchants who lacked the ‘‘vecino’’ in the earlier years acquired the label as time passed.37 Others, like Francisco Gallardo, went through a process of acquiring the ‘‘vecino’’ label and then, without warning, lost it entirely.38 Variations in utilization may have come about because of random usage by notaries and their utter disregard for its value. After all, the label ‘‘vecino’’ was far more important to the bearer than to the notary drafting documents. Although Spaniards made up the majority of merchants, individuals of otherethnic groups also appear in the documents identified as such. Little sign of ethnic and national rivalries among merchants surfaced during my research. Portuguese merchants who operated in Santiago seem not to have been greatly affected by Spaniards’ close association between Portuguese and New Christians (recent converts to Catholicism).39 In addition to Portuguese there also appear a smattering of Italian merchants. Pablo Genovés established himself early in the colony. In time he branched out into otheractivities, mainlycattle raising.40 Prejudice against non-Spanish merchants appears more in the realm of marriage alliances than in interpersonal commercial transactions. Furthermore, while ethnicity did not directly affect the commercial

                                



dealings of non-Spanish merchants, it did affect membership in the group: the majority of non-Spaniards involved in trade did not bear the label of ‘‘merchant’’; instead, they more commonly joined the ranks of tratantes.

   In the early years, merchants appear in the records as renters and not as real estate owners. They avoided landholding, as it was a permanent link to society. Avoiding real estate ownership was also prudent because real estate was among the first things seized if a merchant defaulted on a debt.41 Exactly when merchants began purchasing and selling urban property remains vague.The earliest known case of a merchant selling urban property dates from . That year a local merchant sold a house to a cobbler for ninety pesos.42 Renting served two important purposes: it allowed ease of movement should economic opportunities cease in Santiago; and it made debt collection more difficult, as liquid capital or merchandise was easier to hide. Alonso Rodríguez, a Santiago merchant, rented a combination house and store from Jorge Endrino, a vecino, in  for sixty pesos per year.43 Thirty years later, things had changed; by , merchants appear with greater frequency in the records as landlords and homeowners who rented out their properties to further increase their profits.44 Occasionally, merchants acted as intermediaries between buyers and sellers of real estate. This afforded them an opportunity to turn a small gain in the form of a finder’s fee or some such. Furthermore, the position of intermediary allowed merchants the opportunity to serve as lenders, if not of money outright, then of goods. Hosier-turned-merchant Cristóbal Ibáñez, acting on behalf of a Spanish married couple, sold their house to Gil Gómez for  pesos in money and wine.45 While Ibáñez may have acted out of friendship, it is also likely that he later sold the wine for the couple and in the process gained from the venture. By the s merchants commonly appear as house buyers, indicating that by that time many had settled into local society, lost ideas of leaving in the near future, saw land as a positive investment, and found sufficient success in Santiago to make the costly purchases possible. Merchant Luis de Bolaños bought a house from a married couple, Juan de Cubillas and María Álvarez.46 In  yet another merchant purchased a home from a locksmith.47 Merchant Cristóbal de Ávila Monroy cajoled his mother-inlaw, Ana de Vera, to sell him part of her home as a result of an earthquake



                                

in .48 Facing a dire need for money to rebuild her house, she had no option but to enter into a deal with the crafty Ávila. The purchase of land, along with the appearance of the label ‘‘vecino,’’ also serves to measure the localization of merchants in Santiago. The adoption of the ‘‘vecino’’ label and land purchases took place at roughly the same time in Santiago, unlike in other Spanish American areas, where merchants localized at relatively later periods.The earlier localization may have resulted from the smaller fortunes generated in Santiago, which resulted in an inability to return home with much to show for their efforts. The higher social status of many merchants compared with that of their counterparts in more lucrative regions and the consequent realization that a return home might mean a drop in prestige also affected the rate of localization. After all, despite the social barriers some merchants faced, in Santiago the very successful among them could at least hope to purchase a seat on the municipal council or make an opportune marriage.

    Local merchants proved extremelyadept at diversifying their investments. They invested in anything that might yield a profit; as a result, merchants participated in the trade of indigenous products, both agricultural and manufactured. One product which in time came to be closely associated with Guatemala (and whose trade predated the arrival of Spaniards by centuries) was cacao. Cacao attracted merchants and entrepreneurs interested in achieving the wealth that seemed perpetually to elude them. Merchants did not introduce cacao consumption to non-natives (how this happened will likely remain a mystery), but they did help in its shipment to New Spain, the largest single market for Central American cacao. The sixteenth century saw a boom in the sale of Guatemalan cacao. Toward the end of the century, and primarily by the beginning of the seventeenth,Venezuelan cacao penetrated New Spain’s market and edged out the more expensive Central American varieties.49 Yet for the brief period that cacao dominated the local economy, Santiago merchants actively engaged in its trade.50 Exactly when Spaniards began to deal in cacao remains unknown, but it is clear that they came to understand the value of the crop shortly after their arrival. They began actively participating in the cacao trade fewer than twenty years after their arrival. In  Pedro de Garro, a vecino of Santiago and an encomendero related through marriage to the influential

                                



Alvarado clan, bought two hundred xiquipiles of cacao from merchant Bartolomé Díaz.51 Seven years later, Pedro Díaz de Figueroa dissolved a company founded for the express purpose of selling cacao.52 Both transactions depended on credit, the latter on a compañía agreement. Cacao may have been new, but it came into the Spanish world through easily recognizable structures. As New Spain represented Guatemala’s largest market for cacao, local merchants established enterprises to export cacao there. Initially, sellers contracted with seagoing vessels to transport the product. This method of transport had declined by , however.53 By and large, mules transported the product. In one such case, a merchant contracted with muleteers to haul cacao to Mexico City.54 In addition, cacao was transported to Puebla, Tepanco, and Tlaxcala, demonstrating the complexity of the trunk lines used for shipment of the product to New Spain.55 At least one Mexico City–based merchant traveled to Santiago to purchase cacao.56 More commonly, the trade in cacao led some Mexico City– based merchants to establish factors in Guatemala. There existed a great deal of trust between factors and their seniors.57 Factors (usually relatives, predominantly nephews, but also cousins and brothers) acted independently, informing superiors only after a transaction. Cacao also attracted vecinos of Chiapas to Santiago. In  Juan de Ortega, a local merchant, sold one hundred xiquipiles of cacao to Juan Mayoral, a vecino of Chiapas, for  pesos.58 The cacao sold at thirteen pesos per carga, a low price compared to the rate of sixty-nine pesos per carga that cacao reached some forty years later. Even in the later part of the sixteenth century, merchants placed cacao alongside other objects of value when specifying methods of payment.59 Sensing potential profit, merchants also participated in the indigo trade, yet non-merchants, and not merchants, dominated this commerce. Perhaps the situation resulted from the uncertainty of investing in a product with rather limited demand. Nevertheless, some merchants began trading in the crop before its importance increased toward the end of the sixteenth century. Successful merchant Francisco de Mesa dabbled in indigo.60 Mesa contracted with Juan Martín, a muleteer, to haul  pounds of indigo from Guazacapán, a major indigo production area, to Mexico City.61 Like cacao, indigo had a ready market in New Spain; as a result, the majority of the dye produced left Guatemala. Merchants proved far more active in trading indigenous textiles than indigo. Here the well-developed interprovincial trunk lines, so useful in the cacao trade and the importation of European goods, again proved in-



                                

valuable. There existed a sufficiently large market in Guatemala to make the importation of indigenous textiles profitable. Petty dealers took to the hinterlands to sell the cloth, employers in Santiago used cloth to pay salaries (probably assigning a higher value to the textiles than they paid for them), and indigenous people themselves bought native textiles from different parts of New Spain and Guatemala. The ever-growing pool of salaried indigenous laborers made even expensive textiles a sought-after commodity. There is no evidence of a decline in the consumption of indigenous cloth; if anything, with time the market expanded. Local merchants Blas Núñez and Andrés Barroso traded heavily in indigenous textiles. Indeed, they appear in the earliest known case which specifically involves merchants in the selling of native clothing. In  Núñez bought from Barroso ‘‘mantas . . . petates . . . vizcocho . . . mercaderías de la tierra’’ [cloaks, woven reed mats, biscuit, indigenous merchandise].62 Núñez paid nearly  pesos for the goods. No doubt, he intended to resell them to Santiago’s indigenous population. Some twenty years later, Barroso, still active in trade, sold indigenous clothing from New Spain to Alonso Martín Cermeñal, one of Santiago’s wealthiest labradores.63 Undoubtedly, the merchants trading in native textiles knew well the tastes of their buyers, as this explains the variety of cloth imported. There existed a clear preference for certain types of textiles. Items made by the Mixtecs appear time and again in documents related to indigenous cloth. The majority of the textiles sold were native blouses and skirts, intended for women and, in some cases, girls. Indigenous clothing for men did not receive the attention of either merchants or nonmerchants involved in the trade. Spanish merchants and petty dealers became the intermediaries between the producers of the textiles and the purchasers, replacing, but not completely eliminating, long-distance native merchants.

                          Always looking to profit, merchants also traded in agricultural products introduced from Europe. They bought wheat directly from growers, mainly from labradores. Merchants were not alone in this activity. Entrepreneurs, who acted occasionally much like their more professional counterparts, also had a stake in this important trade.64 However, merchants, as operators of long-distance trade networks, aided in the export

                                



of the agricultural products to areas outside Santiago. As with indigenous goods (agricultural and finished), merchants did not hesitate to trade in these commodities. Anything, as long as it generated profit, was considered worthy of attention. In some instances, merchants took a direct approach and oversaw the production of wheat instead of relying solely on farmers. Cristóbal de Zuleta, initiallya vecino of Trinidad, moved to Petapa, where he bought a sizable plot of land suitable for wheat farming in . Zuleta claimed to have participated in the conquest of New Spain and Guatemala and in the suppression of the indigenous rebellions in New Spain, further claiming to have spent sizable amounts of money during the latter.65 Zuleta represents one of the few individuals who, having lived in Trinidad, made a permanent move to Santiago. He bought the milpa de Santa María Magdalena for four hundred pesos,66 but lacking cash, he borrowed money from a widow to cover the purchase price.67 Zuleta continued to be active in agricultural commerce as both a producer and a jobber of grains. Some twelve years later, he purchased sixty fanegas of wheat from a local labrador.68 Much like Zuleta, but in a more indirect manner, Baltasar de Aguilar also involved himself in the wheat trade. In  he sold sixty fanegas of wheat to hosier Melchor de Villaviciosa.69 Merchants saw the purchase and sale of wheat as a profitable venture worthy of their attention. Yet wheat was not the only introduced agricultural product that they found lucrative. At times, merchants acted as intermediaries in the sale of cattle, horses, and sheep, although they engaged in these activities only intermittently.70 In the case of hides, merchants appear in the documents with far greater frequency, however. The documents carefully specify three distinct types of hides: cueros al pelo (untreated hides, with hair still attached), cueros curados (cured hides), and corambre (specially treated leather). Merchant Francisco Muñoz bought corambre from a Portuguese cobbler, Juan de Acosta, in .71 Another merchant, Hernando de Aduza, in addition to selling wheat and maintaining a store in Santiago, also actively participated in the hide trade. In  he traded Melchor Ruiz, a local tanner,  fanegas of wheat for one hundred cured hides.72 Two years later, he bought fifty treated hides from Ruiz, but this time he paid cash.73 Aduza acted as intermediary for Ruiz and later sold the hides to cobblers and others with a need for the product. To be sure, merchants preferred commodities of higher value, but given the local conditions, such items were more the exception than the rule.



                                

               Men were not alone in undertaking commercial dealings; women, too, participated. Although not a single woman received the label of ‘‘merchant’’ in the documents I examined, many acted in the same ways, conducted similar commercial activities, and in general behaved in a manner which made them nearly indistinguishable from their male counterparts. The majority of women active in the economy, however, functioned at the lower levels and not in large direct import or export.74 Well connected, knowledgeable about commerce, and independent minded, women often carried on the affairs of their husbands much as the latter had done when alive, as demonstrated by the case of Constanza Calderón. Her history as the widow of a merchant illustrates the activities of women involved in large-scale commercial dealings. Constanza, the probably illegitimate daughter of Francisco Calderón, one of Pedro de Alvarado’s most loyal lieutenants (he accompanied Alvarado to Peru, fought alongside him, and later returned to Guatemala in his company), did not enjoy the advantages of her legitimate siblings.75 Francisco wed Catalina Hurtado de la Hoz, one of the most remarkable women of the period, iron willed, determined, and an entrepreneur in her own right. Apparently, Hurtado de la Hoz did not interact with her husband’s daughter, Constanza, as no evidence of interaction surfaced in the documents I consulted. Evidence of Constanza’s illegitimacy appears in records related to her husband, Pablo Genovés, the same low-standing merchant of Italian descent mentioned earlier. A legitimate daughter of Francisco Calderón would, in all likelihood, not have married someone as humble as Genovés. Furthermore, the legitimate daughters of the Calderón and Hurtado de la Hoz union bear the honorific ‘‘doña.’’ 76 As important, when Genovés sought to ride the coattails of his father-in-law in an attempt to receive reward for his actions, he identified Constanza as ‘‘hija de’’ [daughter of ] Francisco Calderón.77 Nowhere does Genovés mention Constanza’s mother. If Catalina Hurtado (a woman of great importance in Santiago) had been his wife’s mother, he would not have failed to mention her. The illegitimate Constanza, perhaps a mestiza, like many in her predicament received at least some help from her father. Francisco Calderón permitted Genovés to undertake some transactions in his name, possibly to benefit Constanza to some degree.78 Genovés, an early arrival who later boasted that he helped keep the conquering forces supplied with merchandise, occupied the margins of

                                



the merchant group.79 He bought and sold a Black slave of low value, sold small amounts of European textiles, operated a huerta from which he sold the produce, and sometimes worked as a debt collector.80 Constanza seems to have had more luck in business than her spouse. The exact date of Genovés’ death remains a mystery, but by the late s Constanza Calderón appears regularly in the records as a widow. In late  she sold a silversmith one hundred pesos’ worth of indigenous textiles on credit.81 Some three months later, she sold an important local encomendero a little over  pesos’ worth of European merchandise. Like the poorer silversmith, the encomendero promised to pay his debt in six months’ time, in June, when his encomienda delivered its semiannual bounty of tribute.82 In the second case, Constanza acted with Melchor de la Torre, an individual sometimes active in trade. Perhaps the large amount of goods traded forced her to take on a temporary partner, for a few days later, she made a smaller sale without Torre. Constanza Calderón probably operated a store, if not in the plaza, then at least from her house. She took in boarders in an effort to increase her income.83 She operated freely, no one thought to stop her commercial activity, and, indeed, there was no reason to do so. Analysis of Constanza Calderón’s career gives us insight into the position of women insofaras commercial activityat the level in which she acted is concerned. The majority of women active in commerce, it is true, participated at a lower level, typically as bakers and operators of hostels. Yet, as Constanza’s case illustrates, dealing at higher levels was also possible. Unlike men, who learned the intricacies of trade at an early age and who traveled while working as junior partners, women entered commerce for reasons beyond their control, usually as a result of becoming widowed. They built on the connections of their deceased spouses, carrying on almost the same types of activities as their husbands had.

S

antiago’s earliest merchants came from the ranks of the first European inhabitants. At first, notaries did not differentiate between shipmasters and merchants. Once merchants were betterestablished in the local setting, differentiation was common in the documentary records. In Santiago’s status-conscious society, the open involvement of merchants in commercial pursuits caused them to lose a certain degree of prestige. Yet some did manage to attain coveted seats on the municipal council, if not through appointment, then at least by purchasing offices. Even wealthy merchants found it difficult to attain the single most important symbol of success: marriage to a Spanish doña.



                                

Santiago’s merchants, when there existed a need to do so, came together to defend group interests. As a group, they shared an initial desire for quick profits and an equally speedy return home.The dominant mindset made their links to Santiago weak and halfhearted. Therefore, few early merchants acquired the position of vecino, preferring instead the less-prestigious status of residente. At first, merchants did not readily settle in Santiago, preferring to rent rather than purchase property, which reflected their wish for quick wealth and a return home. But by the end of the sixteenth century, merchants were participating in the land market as actively as any other group, a strong indicator that they had decided to make Santiago their permanent home. As well, investment in land served as a viable hedge against the region’s sometimes-unstable economy. In this respect, merchants proved no different from their counterparts elsewhere. Merchants traded in many types of products, displaying both versatility and lack of prejudice. At first, primarily merchants of humble status traded in indigenous products, but in a short time, even better-placed individuals traded in them. Merchants dealt in agricultural and finished indigenous products with other Spaniards as well as with natives and Africans. Cacao, by far the best known native product, represented a large portion of all goods traded, but it did not stand alone. Merchants also traded locally grown agricultural products introduced from Europe.The rich valleys around Santiago and those toward El Salvador produced a sufficiently large surplus to allow for the export of wheat. Unsurprisingly, merchants sent wheat to neighboring areas, where it sold at better prices. Other agricultural products, cattle, goats, and hides were also traded heavily. Some merchants even became producers of agricultural products. Somewomen strongly resembled merchants in theirdealings, and even enjoyed a bit of the status that males did. Women generally operated at lower levels of trade. However, some women, like Constanza Calderón, carried out large-scale transactions. In short, economic opportunities existed for women just as they did for men. Santiago’s merchants played a crucial role in the growth of the city’s economy. Without their expertise and detailed knowledge of the intricacies of sixteenth-century trade, Santiago would have had far greater difficulty integrating into the colonial economy. Indeed, all the city’s commercial links bore the imprint of the specialized merchant group. It seems ironic that a group so essential to the city’s growth had to negotiate within social restrictions that, to a certain extent, kept them in

                                



a marginal position. Yet Santiago’s merchants had far greater social acceptance than their counterparts in other early Spanish American cities. Higher-ranking members of local society generally looked condescendingly at those who openly participated in commerce, but as long as merchants played the shell game of hiding their activities under a veneer of respectability, a select group managed to take a seat on the most important local governing institutions. The crucial role played by merchants in buying from and selling goods to the wealthy and better placed made them a quintessential part of Santiago’s economy. Consequently, even those who yearned to exclude merchants from positions of authority and power coldly realized that without their skills the personal fortunes of the affluent could not thrive. As important as merchants were, they did not work alone. Without the commercial web built with the help of petty dealers, Santiago’s economy would have suffered terribly. Furthermore, even informal enterprises such as home-based shops played an important role in the city’s expansion.

Chapter Four

T    

 

C

ommerce pervaded all levels of society and all social groups. Indeed, many if not most of Santiago’s residents participated in commercial activity in some way or other. They were rarely labeled as professional merchants, but small-scale sales, often made from the home or away from the home, were a way that poor Spaniards, Blacks, people of mixed ethnicity, women, and men could earn a living in a world dominated by their social ‘‘betters.’’ Women and men operating at the lower levels of commerce lacked the social connections and wealth that otherwise would have allowed them better positions in society. It is no surprise, therefore, that large numbers of foreigners and mestizos, two groups that invariably occupied the lower social tiers, appear among this group. Whatever the social status of these individuals, credit too proved an indispensable mechanism. Individuals on the commercial fringes, like their counterparts in the upper business tiers, relied on credit mechanisms to acquire saleable goods or simply to conduct any number of transactions otherwise impeded by the lack of cash. Thus credit allowed the lower ends of the economy to function, permitting people with little capital to enter into business independentlyoreven as partners with someone better placed economically and socially. While merchants generally controlled the large-scale importation and exportation of goods, in minor dealings involving smaller sums of money, whether out of a desire not to participate or out of an inability to compete, merchants gave way to tratantes. No economic endeavor, no matter how tiny, escaped their attention. The sixteenth-century European population, especially in the countryside, and the rural native population’s purchasing power were simply too small to support a large number of itinerant sellers. But these factors did not stop all petty dealers from attempting to sell their goods outside of the larger Spanish settlements. Francisco Ximénez describes one such visit to a native town in which the sellers, whom he identifies as merchants, but who were likely lower-

                          



ranking petty dealers, lodged in the home of a native noble, sold goods from tents, and then organized a dance and celebration.1 The ties between petty dealers and natives Ximénez alludes to remained a constant throughout the period. Most petty dealers, however, preferred to operate with greater permanency than an itinerant lifestyle permitted. Some petty dealers, after they had accumulated sufficient capital to make such a purchase possible, ran small taverns.2 Petty dealers, unlike merchants, for the most part sold retail and not wholesale. Moreover, unlike merchants, petty dealers hardly ever owned real estate but instead limited their possessions to horses and mules and other essentials for their activities. They rarely acquired the status of vecino and generally kept to a limited social circle that precluded the possibility of vying for seats on the municipal council or other unreachable symbols of power and prestige. Women also functioned at the lower ends of commerce. They resembled petty dealers in the size of sales, their low social rank, and the individuals with whom they associated. Notably, Spanish women predominated in this type of endeavor, though mulattas engaged in this activity as well. Rather than travel like petty dealers, these women operated small stores from their homes. In later years, they took to the road as easily as men,3 but during the sixteenth century, the home appears to have been the preferred site for women wanting to supplement their income with sales.

  Pettydealers differed vastly from merchants, particularly in terms of social position; not even the lowliest merchant resembled a petty dealer in this regard. Unlike the oftentimes literate merchants, petty dealers tended to be mainly analphabetic, usually having only the capacity to scribble their names, if that. The law, however, differentiated little between one trade and the other. Decrees that sought to regulate commerce routinely mentioned the two occupations in ways that discounted the differences between them. Notaries, however, applied care in not confusing the labels of ‘‘mercader’’ and ‘‘tratante.’’ Indeed, only one case of wavering by a notary came to light during my research. Alonso García, a small-time cacao vendor, is labeled both ‘‘merchant’’ and ‘‘petty dealer.’’ 4 The case dates from , not particularly late but not early in the period either.The notary’s indecision can



                          

best be attributed to García’s dealings with a certain Pedro de Arroyo, a secular cleric who also dealt in cacao.5 Perhaps Arroyo felt more comfortable having others believe he interacted with a merchant and not a petty dealer. Likely due to the near epithet quality of the title, individuals rarely appear labeled as ‘‘tratantes.’’ Petty dealers hailed from the lowest levels of society, usually former sailors or of non-Castilian lineage.6 They came from many parts of Europe. French, Italian (nearly the best represented), Portuguese, and Spanish (the majority) all participated in the long-distance, modestquantity dealings of tratantes. Of the individuals I identified by their activities as petty dealers, one-third can be identified as Italian with certainty.7 Here too my findings correlate with those for other areas of Spanish America. For largely unknown reasons, Italians gravitated toward work as petty dealers.8 In Santiago, social positions constantly shifted; some individuals repeatedly changed their standing, moving up and down the social scale, depending on their fortunes at any given time. Juan Jiménez represents an example of a petty dealer who assumed a distinct but somewhat related role. He took on the job of pregonero in , a position meshing perfectly with the duties of a petty dealer.9 The fact that residents entrusted criers with buying and selling their used goods no doubt also afforded him the opportunity to hawk his own wares.10 In going about Santiago and traveling to nearby European settlements if necessary, criers could chance upon deals, serve as debt collectors, or take on any other activity that would supplement their paltry stipends. Although the position of town crier, the lowliest on the municipal council, was often reserved for mulattos, it no doubt increased Jiménez’ status.11 No longer just a petty dealer, as town crier he could also claim official status as a representative of the municipal council. In so doing, Jiménez increased his prestige, if not in society at large, at the very least, among his social equals, and certainly among those below him. Some years after he was named town crier, Jiménez continued active in trade. In  he purchased a sizable quantity of wool from two Italian brothers. He promised to pay the debt within a month.12 The fact that the siblings trusted Jiménez to pay the large debt points to a high level of trust between them. Furthermore, that Jiménez promised to pay in a relatively short period indicates the confidence he had in a quick resale of the wool. Notably, Jiménez is not referred to as ‘‘crier’’ in the document, but, rather, as a petty dealer. At some point, he began a precipitous loss of social standing, and in the early s a prominent encomendero launched

                          



a lawsuit against him. The well-connected Juan Méndez de Sotomayor accused Jiménez of publicly insulting his honorable name.13 In a society where honor had such important implications, Jiménez paid dearly for his transgression.14 He lost the post of town crier and, more humiliatingly, he suffered incarceration, with the added punishment of having his hands chained. Not content with this, Méndez requested that Jiménez have his feet bound as well. The municipal council honored his request.Thus jailing, usually a sufficient punishment in cases involving debt, was not severe enough in a case tied to issues of honor. The added excruciating physical discomfort caused by chained hands and feet left little doubt that a similar fate would befall anyone who contested the authority of the elite. The nature of the case—it was publicly discussed among residents with many witnesses coming forward to denounce Jiménez—likely served to consolidate the authority of the local elite as it clearly demonstrated who held the reins of power. Jiménez, unfortunately, disappears from the local records after this incident, and we do not know whether he ever recovered from his confrontation with Méndez. Most petty dealers did not capture the attention that Juan Jiménez did. The majority went about their business without causing commotion. Indeed, attention from the municipal council or other authority would not have done their businesses any good. Petty dealers traded in a number of low-value commodities such as single native blouses and cloaks and, of course, cacao. Unsurprisingly, they did not deal in slaves, native or African. The reason clearly rests with the high price of slaves, particularly in the case of Blacks. Pettydealers created and relied on relationships with natives to sell their products, make headway into the native commercial sphere, have access to native labor, or, perhaps, simply to have company in their travels. It is understandable that petty dealers sought alliances outside of the Spanish cultural world, for within the boundaries of that society they occupied positions scarcely above those of the despised sailors. Ironically, while pettydealers had little status in Santiago’s European society, the very fact that they were themselves European and members of the hegemonic group provided them with status within native society. Diego Hernández represents the typical Spanish petty dealer of sixteenth-century Santiago. He hailed from the Port of Santa María (located close to Seville). His birthplace suggests that he arrived in Santiago as a sailor and later made the transition to petty dealer. His parents, humble folk like himself, resided in the same port. A close analysis of the contents



                          

of Hernández’ last will and testament, dated , reveals important information about his dealings. He traveled in the vicinity of Santiago and dealt mostly in native products.15 Petty dealers, as this case demonstrates, took on the guise of peddlers, if only temporarily, by traveling to remote sites to sell their goods. In this way, they served the market represented by individuals desirous of making purchases but unwilling or unable to travel to Santiago. Hernández counted among his clients a cousin of the wealthy Alonso Martín Cermeñal. He sold Hernán Sánchez, Cermeñal’s cousin, a cloak from the Yucatán and three skirts also of indigenous manufacture. The sale took place on an estancia belonging to Sebastián Sánchez, Hernán’s brother. Sánchez’ failure to pay Hernández as promised led to acrimonious feelings. Hernández states in his last will and testament that he had bumped into Cermeñal and Sebastián in Santiago, and they had offered to pay the debt of twelve pesos, but had failed to honor their pledge. Here, too, the importance of honor comes to light. Hernández seems to have been as upset by the debt as by his debtor’s inability to keep his word. It appears probable that Sánchez purchased the cloak for his own use and the skirts for his wife, daughter, or mistress, or perhaps he intended the clothing as a form of payment for a domestic servant of native ethnicity. Hernández also reveals a number of debtors resident in the port of Iztapa (located on Guatemala’s Pacific coast). The debtors, a mestizo, a free Black male, a Frenchman, and a Portuguese, were his social peers. The fact that he used credit to sell them goods suggests that even if he did not know them well, at the very least he knew them sufficiently to trust them to pay what they owed. Close ties between European petty dealers and non-Europeans were not uncommon. Indeed, the majority of petty dealers interacted with their social equals; they rarely did business with individuals of higher rank. Those better placed in society preferred to purchase items from merchants. Interestingly, merchants often had close relationships with petty dealers, probably because they were both customers and auxiliaries in the enterprise of selling. Given the need for mobility to reach areas of production, visit potential customers, and transport goods, it seems logical that most petty dealers sought to quickly acquire equine animals, and they invariably list these valuable possessions in their last wills and testaments. Hernández carefully lists his belongings, including four packhorses, equipment for two of the animals, and some chests made of woven reed mats. He also points out that in the hostel where he stayed he had a box with indigenous skirts from

                          



Chiapas and Tehuantepec. In addition, he owned some shoes for natives, a further indication of his close ties to the indigenous world. More important, Hernández mentions that he left some clothes with a native man from the town of Tequipaque (a prominent cacao-growing region located in coastal southern Guatemala). He trusted the native sufficiently to leave objects of value at his home and to provide him with credit. Indeed, the native man owed him nearly two pesos. Like other tratantes, Hernández had ties to a local merchant, Baltasar de Aguilar, whom he names as his executor. These types of links make sense, as petty dealers needed a source for the goods that merchants sold in bulk. Establishing connections, hopefully close if not amicable, with merchants would have facilitated establishing credit accounts as well. Hernández bequeaths his worldly belongings to his parents. Given his lowborn status, if he had a wife, she likely would have been of nonEuropean origin, perhaps native or mestiza if not of mixed African descent. In other cases involving petty dealers and non-European women, at least the children, if not the wives themselves, are bequeathed money.16 Petty dealers participated heavily in the lucrative cacao trade. The unregulated, freewheeling nature of the trade allowed all manner of individuals to take part. Lacking the large capital resources of the wealthy, they instead concentrated on small-scale transactions. While it was important in their overall dealings, cacao did not amount to a majority of the transactions petty dealers undertook. To enter the cacao trade, European pettydealers had to create close ties with natives. Through such ties, petty dealers could access cacao at more favorable prices. In the highly competitive cacao trade, social ties likely allowed them a guaranteed amount of cacao from native producers. Compadrazgo proved the most common mechanism forcreating these ties.The Vizcayan Juan de Gamboa illustrates. Gamboa lived outside of Santiago, in the town of Mita (present-day Asunción Mita in eastern Guatemala). At least some, if not most, petty dealers lived outside Santiago. The overwhelming majority of petty dealers did not own property and hence lived in boardinghouses or inns, which allowed them great mobility. Although few petty dealers owned homes in Santiago, some did come to own small house plots. Gamboa is unique in his admission that he did not make his permanent home in Santiago, but, rather, that he lived in a satellite area of the city. In his last will and testament, Gamboa states that he had been married but that his wife had died before he could dispose of herdowry.17 He identifies two compadres in his will, an indication of his close ties with these



                          

individuals, for compadrazgo establishes a clearly delineated reciprocal relationship.18 Consequently, he resembles other petty dealers who had little choice but to live among natives and to create close ties with them.19 Indeed, so close were Gamboa’s ties to his compadres that he left a sword and other valuable possessions in the house of one. Italians made up an important portion of Santiago’s tratantes. They acted much like their Spanish counterparts. A Venetian, Francisco de Lípar, exemplifies the typically hard working Italian petty dealer of the era.20 Much like other Italians, Lípar made no effort to hide his ethnicity.21 He no doubt took up his occupation because of the precious few opportunities open to low-ranking non-Spaniards during the sixteenth century. In his will Lípar documents numerous small debts like those characteristically owed tratantes. While he does not provide a detailed list of debtors or creditors, as do other petty dealers, he does state that numerous people in Santiago owed him money. His close ties to natives seem sensible, given that Lípar traded heavily in cacao and indigenous clothing. Unlike other tratantes, Lípar did make some sizable purchases.22 Yet like others in his occupation, he did not own an African slave, but instead depended on a free mulatto auxiliary. Only a handful of petty dealers could make the costly investment of purchasing a Black slave. Pedro Alemán, a mestizo involved in the cacao trade, owned a male Black slave, while Antón Martín, a Spaniard, owned a female Black slave.23 The fragmentary nature of information on the children of petty dealers makes patterns difficult to discern. It seems that on the whole the onerous nature of their work caused petty dealers to seek other occupations for their children. The son of a petty dealer named Diego Ortiz apprenticed with a barber, a major social ascension.24 A craft, even the somewhat lowly one of barbering, made for an easier life than eking out an existence from small sales of low-value goods. Petty dealers are an intriguing group. They demonstrate an entrepreneurial spirit that supposedly did not exist among immigrants to the region. In a way, they served as invaluable auxiliaries in the process of introducing European ways into the native countryside. In particular, with the advent of cacao trading, petty dealers increasingly took to areas producing the crop to serve as intermediaries between native producers and European merchants who sought to purchase the product. In areas of high cacao production, levels of wealth permitted petty dealers to profit greatly from their trade. They were so successful that the Audiencia wanted to curtail their activities. In  it sought to prohibit

                          



both merchants and petty dealers from selling goods from door to door to natives in the cacao-rich province of Soconusco.25 The legislation sought to force petty dealers to set up shops in the town plazas, no doubt to facilitate control over their activities.The legislation suggests that the transient nature of petty dealers made them difficult to tax. It also hints that at least some petty dealers did not operate from even semipermanent locales, but perhaps sold from places inaccessible to tax collectors.

                      Information on women operating small commercial enterprises in early Santiago, invariably from their homes, proves difficult to uncover. Because they relied even more on mutual trust when undertaking transactions than did their male counterparts, they rarely left a documentary record of their actions. Thus last wills and testaments represent one of the best sources of information about how women operated their microbusinesses. These documents also contain data on the types of goods women sold. Like petty dealers and completely unlike the widows of merchants, women involved in small-scale commerce usually made small sales. Interestingly, women in petty retail were usually also widows. Three women in particular, two of them widows and one the wife of a labrador, exemplify this little-known group of female entrepreneurs. Perhaps as a result of economic hardship or out of a simple desire to increase their income, women openly sold goods from their homes. Retail allowed them to augment their income in a less-invasive way than operating a boardinghouse, selling prepared food, or other tasks typical of economically active women. As well, retail allowed women the possibility of turning a profit without a major loss in status. Home-based retail allowed women to make the best of a disadvantageous economic position. Furthermore, a home-based enterprise allowed a façade of decorum to cover a potential loss in status due to blatant commercial dealings. Some women, like Antonia Beltrán, dealt primarily in textiles. Her last will and testament, dated , mentions a large amount of Spanish clothing and native skirts.26 Her Spanish ethnicity makes it doubtful that she owned the indigenous garments for personal use. She likely intended both the Spanish and the native attire for sale. The bulk of Antonia’s customers were other women, Spanish and native and undoubtedly mixed types as well.



                          

Antonia also sold jewelry from her home. In her will she explicitly mentions a debt owed to her by a man for some gold wedding bands and a small loan. The buyer no doubt was of low rank like Antonia, not because he bought the bands on credit, but because of the relatively small loan he contracted. Better-placed individuals, when they borrowed, often indebted themselves for larger sums. The small amount could have conceivably served to buy not merchandise but instead basic necessities such as food. Overall, Antonia’s possessions as listed in her will were paltry: some paper religious images; a small gold-colored chest; a silver spoon; two silver thimbles; a silver rosary; and eight pesos in cash. In addition, she mentions the clothes on her person and some ragged bedsheets that she bequeaths to a woman who cared for her in the hospital. It is noteworthy that it is mentioned in the will that illness kept her from signing, an indication that perhaps she did not hail from the lowest levels of Spanish society. Beatriz García occupied a position remarkably like that of Antonia. Beatriz had her will prepared in .27 Like Antonia, Beatriz was also of Spanish birth, and her parents were more unambiguously of unimpressive stock. Unlike Antonia, who asks for burial in the Franciscan monastery, Beatriz requests entombment in the Mercedarian monastery, the least-influential of the three main orders in Santiago.28 Unlike Antonia, Beatriz belonged to two sodalities, Vera Cruz and La Caridad, indicating perhaps that she occupied a somewhat better position than Antonia, who asks for posthumous inscription into the sodalities. Beatriz’ indirect involvement in retail (she acted through a mulatta named Isabel de Vera) further indicates her comparatively better social position. Instead of selling items herself, she used an intermediary, which distanced her from the potential stigma of operating a home-based store. Beatriz did resemble Antonia in the size of sales made—usually one or, at the most, five items. Among the things Beatriz sold through Isabel were three silver spoons, a large comforter, five gold rings, and a Spanish shirt. Isabel proved an untrustworthy auxiliary, however, as she kept the money she collected from sales. Beatriz also dealt with African slaves. She refers in her will to some objects taken from her home by slaves who belonged to a cleric. Despite their different social standing, Beatriz acted very much like Antonia in her dealings. Both women likely offered goods to visitors, in Beatriz’ case, through her partner, Isabel. Perhaps Isabel operated publicly, going about advertising Beatriz’ merchandise and attracting cus-

                          



tomers who otherwise would not have interacted with Beatriz. Antonia and Beatriz used their homes as a place where small quantities of lowvalue items were sold on credit. Neither woman gave much regard to clients’ ethnicity or social standing. In her will, prepared a yearafter Beatriz’, Catalina Díaz reveals a slightly different level of participation in the local economy. Catalina may well have been an illegitimate mestiza, as she neglects to mention her place of origin and the names of her parents, a marker of someone attempting to hide their ethnicity. Catalina married Juan de Céspedes, a wheat farmer in the area of Izhuatán.29 Another indicator of her possibly mixed background is her lack of a dowry.30 Even poor Spanish women almost invariably married with a dowry, albeit a small one. Catalina acquired close to twenty-three pesos by pawning her possessions, money that she might have used to purchase items for sale in her home or to supplement the income generated by her husband’s wheat fields. Among the items Catalina pawned were six gold buttons inlaid with pearls, two new embroidered pillows, two silver spoons, and a small sash with gold strands. Consequently, she pawned personal and household items, the very things that Antonia and Beatriz specialized in selling. Although one case does not denote a pattern, Catalina suggests that perhaps women pawned household items more often than men did. Catalina interacted closely with non-European women. She owed three pesos to Magdalena, a native from the nearby town of Chimaltenango, and a half peso to a Black slave. Exactly why she owed money to the native woman remains vague, but she did specify owing money to the slave woman for two pillows she had pawned. In this she greatly resembled low-ranking Spanish and mestiza women, who had little choice but to make connections with women of other ethnicities.When it came to social connections among women, just as in the case with men, economic necessity overrode ethnic considerations. While the evidence for the assertion that Catalina sold items from her home is not as conclusive as that for Antonia and Beatriz, some important clues did surface during my research. Catalina clearly states in her will that the home and the wheat fields owned by her and her husband were acquired during their marriage. While Spanish law instructed that all properties amassed during a marriage belonged jointly to both spouses, it does not seem probable that shewould have made such a big point if she had not substantially contributed to the real estate purchase. The fact that Catalina ordered that their house was not to be sold, but, rather, bequeathed to their children serves as another strong indicator that she aided in its



                          

purchase. In addition, Catalina mentions ownership of a Black girl, six or seven years old. She did not acquire the slave as part of a dowry, but specifies that she belongs to her. Since she does not explain how the girl came into her possession, it seems very likely that she made the purchase from profits generated by some sort of enterprise operated separately from her husband. The three women surveyed here all involved themselves at the lowest levels of the local economy. They interacted with low-ranking individuals like themselves, in the case of Beatriz, through an intermediary. All sold goods (or pawned them, as did Catalina) that were personal or household related. They dealt in small amounts, the debts never reaching the levels mentioned by women of the elite or those connected to merchants. All threewomen apparentlyoperated from their homes; in the case of Antonia and Beatriz, perhaps their social standing and ethnicity prevented them from entering the public markets. As Spanish women, or as mestizas trying to appear Spanish, as with Catalina, they were expected to behave differently from women of other ethnic groups. In other ways, the women discussed here resemble other poor individuals who entered into commerce out of a need to earn money for their subsistence.

A

s a result of their poverty, Europeans on the lower economic tiers interacted with natives and Africans, sometimes on intimate levels as lovers or spouses or at other times as business partners. The lower rungs of the commercially active all started out with little capital outlay. Petty dealers began with merchandise bought on credit and worked for others until they could strike out independently. Women who operated from home-based businesses always kept their operations small, much like petty dealers. Perhaps they engaged in trade simply to supplement their income. Just as important, individuals at the lower ends of trade relied on credit as much as did any large transatlantic merchant. The much-maligned petty dealers faced a hard task. The notion of traveling and living among natives must have had little appeal to Spanish immigrants who came to Santiago with other hopes. The economic level of petty dealers made them prisoners of the city, as they could never save sufficient capital to return to Europe, and if they did, they likely would have gone home in the same or a worse state than when they arrived. Nevertheless, pettydealers are a remarkable group. Although the majority of them tended to be poor and had little chance of acquiring urban property, some did manage to buy at least a small lot in Santiago.31 Many petty

                          



dealers were of non-Spanish ethnicity and thus operated on the fringes of society. Despite this, some non-Spanish petty dealers acquired a modicum of prosperity.32 For petty dealers, credit played an important role. As with other members of society, their enterprises would have been impossible without credit mechanisms. Some petty dealers boasted impressive debts. The Portuguese Marcos de Silva borrowed a total of  pesos from a resident of Nicaragua.33 His case proves rare, because most debts incurred by petty dealers tended to be small, the larger deals being done by professional merchants. Women, too, participated at the bottom end of the local economy. Their importance cannot be ignored. Women, who operated from their homes, as the cases discussed above amply demonstrate, had intimate contact with large numbers of non-Spaniards. Either through intermediaries or directly, these women engaged in transactions with natives and Blacks of both sexes. In the small home-based enterprises operated by some women, pawning played a crucial role. It allowed those without access to other types of loans to attain cash, while it may have allowed lenders to turn a profit by charging interest. As well, pawning may have allowed for the establishment of important reciprocal ties. Just like those who lent significantly larger amounts, women, by providing loans, however small, may well have earned the loyalty of borrowers, as debt arrangements often implied reciprocity between lenders and borrowers. Thus women were an integral part of the local economy of Santiago. The individuals discussed here hailed from some of the poorest elements of Santiago society. They constitute the voiceless whose stories remained unheard for centuries. Their activities remained misunderstood at best and unknown at worst. They proved remarkable in their resourcefulness and their inventiveness. To them trade represented a means of survival. While the majority did not achieve major success, a few did manage to substantially improve their economic standing. Yet few could hope to make much of a profit from selling small amounts of merchandise to people in an equally inadequate financial situation. Those who operated on the fringes of the commercial networks had to learn quickly to adapt to the reality that they were a permanent part of Santiago’s population.They could no more return home than they could afford not to energetically seek to earn a living through their hard work. For the lower end of the local economy to function, there existed a



                          

need for close connections among different groups. Clearly, tratantes and women who ran home-based enterprises excelled in this area. They also forged close links with other humble types in somewhat related occupations, such as muleteers and labradores. Such ties resulted in a complex web of social and economic relationships. A close analysis of how those links functioned reveals that even those with relatively little in the way of economic standing contributed to the city’s growth. Lacking their efforts, Santiago would have remained nothing more than an outpost of Mexico City. Without the arduous work of muleteers, who were responsible for the physical importation and exportation of merchandise, Santiago’s economy would have faltered. Yet no amount of importation could have fed the city’s growing population. Without the industrious labradores who toiled on thevalley’s fertile lands, Santiago surely would have gone hungry.

Chapter Five

H  

 

S

antiago’s inhabitants depended on the fruitful lands that surrounded the city and those in nearby regions. Agricultural products, whether indigenous crops like cacao or introduced products like wheat, served as one of the foundations of the early colony’s economy. The sale of cattle, hogs, mutton, horses, and mules also helped the city with much-needed infusions of money. In some cases, agricultural production was such that Santiago’s farmers even supplied neighboring settlements whose production did not meet demand. Santiago’s geographic position, landlocked in a valley surrounded by volcanoes, made transportation an urgent matter. Initially, Europeans relied on tamemes, but because of the eventually successful enforcement of royal prohibitions, the declining native population, and increased demand for more efficient transport, this practice disappeared rather early. There thus arose a need for cost-effective ways to move cargo. At first, the cost of equine beasts of burden made their use impractical. But the phenomenally quick growth of the near-feral population of introduced horses made their use at once practical and inexpensive within a relatively short time. Beasts of burden came to dominate the transport of goods in and out of Santiago. Labradores played a crucial role in Santiago’s growth. Working on medium-sized plots of land called labores, they mainly cultivated European crops, although some concentrated on native crops such as cacao. The overwhelming majority were men, but a few women also participated in this sometimes lucrative activity.They ranked below people who worked in the urban setting. The majority of Santiago’s labradores hailed from unassuming backgrounds and worked the land themselves. They acquired help only at harvest time. A minority did acquire substantial fortunes, however. Indeed, the very successful came to resemble the hacendado class of later times. Affluent farmers were not referred to as ‘‘labradores,’’ at least in the records, although they acted like their poorer counterparts.The main dis-



                          

tinction concerned the size of holdings and concomitant wealth. Some of the more moneyed labradores even managed to marry their daughters to less-influential encomenderos. Elena de Paredes’ marriage to the encomendero Diego López Recino elevated her status and guaranteed that her children would fully integrate into Santiago’s elite.1 Her father’s start as a poor labrador mattered hardly at all because of his phenomenal success and resulting wealth. The children of labradores, then, if their parents were sufficiently wealthy, could sever their connections to working the land and escape the negative status that tormented their parents.2 Arrieros took on the essential responsibility of transporting vital and luxury goods. While strict separation of tasks did not prevent rich labradores from investing in mule trains, there did exist a specialized group of muleteers.3 Muleteers resembled both petty dealers and labradores.They often sold goods along the trunk lines they traveled, just as petty dealers did, and they raised livestock, just as did labradores. Muleteers profited from the transport of all manner of goods: cacao, indigenous textiles, Castilian wine, hides, and olive oil, to name just a few. Given Santiago’s distance from ports, muleteers, to a large extent, linked the city commercially with other areas.4

 In early Santiago there existed a great demand for European and indigenous agricultural products. Beef and hides, equine animals, hogs, maize, mutton and wool, and wheat all proved lucrative and sought-after commodities. Early on, Santiago’s residents turned to New Spain as a source of beef and mutton. Once the area was cleared of all natural predators, the population of herd animals grew at an unbridled pace.5 Yet despite the increase, local production of herd animals, specifically, ovine types, could not meet local demand.6 Thus some still looked to southern Mexico as a source of cheap mutton.7 Labradores also took to growing cacao. While the cultivation of cacao initially lay solely in the hands of natives, just a few years after arrival, low-ranking Europeans learned the necessary techniques and began production of the crop. Large landed estates whose owners participated in all sorts of activities appeared early in Guatemala, as they did elsewhere in the Spanish colonies. Far-from-autarkic large estates depended on local market conditions for survival. In Guatemala these estates were, to a large extent, largely eco-

                          



nomic enterprises.8 However, the vast majority of holdings consisted not of large estates but of small plots worked by people of lower social rank. These individuals, at times of non-Spanish ethnicity, and their holdings proved the most numerous. Indeed, they outproduced the larger holders. In addition, evidence indicates that the notion that most labradores lived in Santiago does not hold true for the sixteenth century.9 To be sure, the more successful members of this group did reside in the urban area, but they were in the minority. Just two decades after the arrival of the first Spaniards, individuals like Juan Gallego were already deeply involved in agricultural pursuits. In  the illiterate Gallego formed a company with Francisco Laso.10 Gallego agreed to travel to New Spain to purchase cattle and goats. At this early juncture, local production of beef and mutton did not come close to meeting demand; therefore, those willing to make the trek to New Spain stood to profit from the inability of local stock raisers to meet Santiago’s needs. Gallego’s activities illustrate the shift from importation to local production. Indeed, by  he was among those growing wheat and raising livestock locally. As local production increased so too did the need for land. Individuals like Gallego turned to those who still retained control over some of the most fertile soils: native communities. In  Gallego leased three caballerías from the native town of Pinula (present-day San José Pinula, near Guatemala City), promising to pay twenty fanegas of wheat annually.11 Gallego exemplifies the pattern of low-level labradores marrying native women. Throughout the sixteenth century, poorer labradores took to marrying or living with native women when more favorable unions eluded them.12 These men used marriage or long-term unions to native women as a means of maintaining crucial links with local indigenous populations and perhaps even as a way of gaining access to land. Moreover, ties with local native communities were essential to safeguard laborers during the harvest season. By  Gallego’s widow, a native woman named María Gallego, operated the family farm. María, the couple’s mestizo children, and María’s son-in-law apparently all worked on the land that Juan Gallego had originally leased from the town of Pinula. By working the land as a family unit, they provided the permanent skeleton crew necessary on an agricultural enterprise. During the harvests they hired additional laborers as the need arose. Ten years later, the family vacated the land when a dispute arose over rent they owed Pinula, among other issues.13 Juan and María’s mestizo children not onlycontinued working as labra-



                          

dores, but also married rather humble labradores like themselves.14 One of their sons wed a woman with a dowry valued at only one hundred pesos.15 The unions of the Gallego offspring demonstrate the endogamous nature of marriage among labradores. Furthermore, the children highlight the fact that among the less successful labradores there existed few options but to continue working the land, as had their parents. Labradores’ ownership of African slaves proved rare, yet at least one of the Gallego daughters did possess a Black slave. Surprisingly, given the family’s lowly economic status, the slave was part of her dowry.16 In the instances when labradores did purchase African slaves, the slaves usually had either character or physical flaws, and often both, thus assuring a lower price.17 Wealthier labradores typically owned costlier healthy Black slaves, however.18 When the need for extra laborers arose, labradores usually hired native workers, as did the Gallegos.19 Purchasing African slaves to serve as auxiliaries was simply not a viable option for the majority. Labradores grew wheat and maize and raised livestock. Hernando Ramírez cultivated wheat and raised bulls and horses on land he leased from a cleric.20 Gaspar Morejón, a native of Extremadura, also operated several enterprises simultaneously, though he was more prosperous than Ramírez. Evidently in need of access to more land, in  Morejón entered into a complex lease with the native town of Mixco.21 While buying outright was the preferred method of acquisition, leasing offered the advantage of requiring less money, therefore sparing the leaseholder from having to borrow to acquire land. Like so many other Spaniards, rich and poor alike, Morejón relied on his nephew to serve as an auxiliary in his endeavors.To reward his nephew for faithful service, Morejón gave him a house in Santiago, one caballería of land, and numerous oxen and fully equipped pack mules.22 The gifts, large by any standards, demonstrate both Morejón’s prosperity and the close ties he had developed with his nephew. Rather than continue working the land some years after Morejón’s death, his nephew instead functioned as a debt collector and operated a boardinghouse in Santiago.23 Perhaps living full time in Santiago was preferable to working on an agricultural enterprise. Furthermore, leaving agricultural work entirely meant an increase in prestige for the nephew. Morejón ranked among the more successful of early Santiago’s labradores. Yet despite his wealth, he identified himself not as a vecino or even as a residente of Santiago, but, rather, as a moradoron his lands in Mixco.24 While his wealth would have easily permitted him to live in Santiago, he

                          



chose instead to make his home away from the city. Likely, he preferred to constantly supervise his agricultural enterprises. He owned large parcels of fertile land and over one thousand head of livestock. Morejón’s claim to this many animals does not seem to be hyperbole. Domesticated animals, initially brought over in small numbers, took well to the local climate and soon becamevery numerous.25 Morejón also owned four Black slaves, two males and two females.26 They undoubtedly worked as overseers on his estancias or in his homes. Like nearly everyone else involved in any sort of economic activity, Morejón relied on credit. He acknowledged numerous debts owed not in money but in fanegas of wheat. Despite Morejón’s wealth, he could not hope to marry higher than a woman of his own class. His wife, María Jiménez, hailed from a labrador family, albeit a prosperous one. The value of her dowry was eighteen hundred pesos, a large sum by any measure.27 Morejón’s marriage to Jiménez fits perfectly with the endogamous practice of labradores marrying daughters of other labradores. Furthermore, the vast majority of Morejón’s associates, mostly muleteers and other labradores, also occupied the lower stratum of society. Women also worked as labradores independently of male heads of household. Inés Sánchez and Isabel de Quesada are two of the few known Spanish women who administered their own lands, unlike María Gallego (discussed earlier), who worked the family farm with her children. Like other economically active women, both Inés and Isabel were widows. Before his death, Inés Sánchez’ husband owned an estancia in Mixco. After his death, Inés took over the enterprise and sold mares and colts to a muleteer in .28 On the same day as this sale, she rented a house in Santiago from a free mulatta.29 Perhaps after deciding to live in Santiago and lacking a home of her own, Inés needed a place to rent. Living in Santiago also provided her with easier access to markets and services provided by specialized individuals such as barber-surgeons. Additionally, the issue of personal safety, conceivably of greater importance to women living alone in the sparsely populated countryside than to men in a similar situation, might have led Inés to prefer living in Santiago. The exact date of Isabel de Quesada’s marriage to the labrador Hernando de Casoverde remains unknown, but she was certainly widowed by .The couple had seven children: Juan, Alonso, Hernando, and Isabel de Casoverde; Beatriz de Ordás; Ana de Quesada; and Inés de Rivadeneira.30 The parents, like labradores elsewhere, tried to elevate the status of Inés, their youngest daughter, with a better-sounding surname. In 



                          

Isabel hired a destitute Spaniard to work her wheat field in exchange for some fanegas of the grain.31 Much like her male counterparts, she maintained close ties to other labradores. On one occasion, she traded a large amount of wheat for a horse.32 Isabel’s actions reveal her keen planning abilities. She used the marriage of her daughter Isabel to Antón de Archila, the eldest child of a better-placed labrador, Bartolomé de Archila, to assure a close connection with that family. Isabel married Antón, a widower with three children from a previous marriage, sometime before . Her deceased father had left at least some property to his children, as Isabel empowered her husband to collect what her father had bequeathed to her.33 Given Antón’s wealth, he would not have bothered with collecting the inheritance had it been paltry. In  Antón set out for Mexico City, likely to purchase merchandise or to sell products from his estates, perhaps leaving his wife to administer his enterprises.34 As was the case with petty dealers, the ranks of the labradores contained individuals from many European nations.35 A Frenchman, Pierre Gupil, at times simply called Pedro, owned a small cattle estancia in the area close to the border with El Salvador. Tomás de Irlanda (as suggested by his surname, a native of Ireland) also worked the land. Irlanda first appears in the local records in .36 He was closely associated with individuals involved in shipping, a sure sign that Irlanda himself was originally a sailor. Also in , Irlanda was empowered to collect a debt in Yucatán.37 It seems probable that he was still a sailor and was on a ship bound for the region. Seven years later, Irlanda was eking out a living as a muleteer or shepherd.38 The latter occupation, underpaid and solitary, was reserved for the utmost in social misfits, as would have been an Irish former sailor. Irlanda proved resourceful, however, and in  he purchased a wheat milpa from a relative of Bishop Francisco Marroquín.39 It would have been impossible for Irlanda to amass sufficient money as a shepherd to buy land; instead, he relied on the well-worn mechanism of credit.40 In lieu of outright payment, he empowered the seller to collect a debt owed to him by a muleteer.41 Like others, Irlanda combined credit with debt transfer to purchase land. Indeed, he acted as both creditor and debtor throughout his life.42 His hard work paid off handsomely, as, at one point, he made as much as  pesos yearly selling wheat produced on his land.43 In this sense, too, he represents the small but successful wheat grower. Irlanda, like More-

                          



jón but distinct from Gallego, owned a house in Santiago, a sure sign of economic success.44 To supplement his income, Irlanda dabbled in the wine business. He likely intended to sell wine retail to natives and others, perhaps from his house in Santiago. He used credit to buy the wine.45 At some point, Irlanda married Francisca de la Rosa. I found no concrete evidence of Rosa’s ethnicity, but it must be remembered that labradores such as Juan Gallego and Hernando Ramírez often had little choice but to establish unions with native women.46 Irlanda faced twice the obstacles that they did in obtaining a Spanish wife, for he was not only lowborn but also an outright foreigner. It is therefore all the more exceptional that he was able to marry an apparently Spanish woman. Their only child, Catalina de la Rosa, married Francisco Sargento, no doubt a labrador as well. By  both Irlanda and Rosa had died, leaving their daughter and Sargento a small uncollected debt.47 Sargento’s strong interest in getting the matter resolved indicates an economic necessity that bespeaks low economic standing. Irlanda did not profit much from his endeavors. He did not own coveted and expensive African slaves as did his more affluent counterparts. Yet he did own at least a house in Santiago, from which he probably operated a tavern in his later years, and a sizable wheat field. He managed to marry his daughter to a fellow labrador. For these reasons, he serves as an excellent example of the non-Spaniard who had little recourse but to work at lowly tasks that, with some degree of luck, might allow him to achieve a modicum of success. Cacao has long been associated with Guatemala and, by extension, Santiago. The boom in the product supposedly led to the growth of the area and to its subsequent decline once interest in the crop diminished. Few details about how Europeans entered into the production of this quintessential native product have previously surfaced. Information on the non-native producers of cacao is important to the understanding of how indigenous crops were integrated into European agrarian practices. Spaniards became interested in cacao from the late s onward. By  mayordomos of encomenderos whose grants encompassed cacao regions began to acquire cacao groves from their native owners. In Guatemala, Europeans took to the cultivation of cacao, with native helpers, on Spanish-style estates far earlier than they did elsewhere. However, the large plantations dedicated solely to the cultivation of this crop appeared elsewhere first.48 In early Santiago, those who had sufficient capital pur-



                          

chased Black slaves to supervise native cacao producers.49 However, since most labradores could not afford slaves, they had to take on the supervisory duties themselves. Others hired indigenous laborers likely knowledgeable in cacao cultivation.50 Labradores like Alonso Martínez Redondo quickly realized the potential profit in cacao cultivation. He appeared in Santiago around . He was the son of a Spaniard and more than likely a native mother.51 Although cacao yielded significant profits for a small and fortunate group, poorer labradores like Martínez cultivated cacao independently, without the help of costly auxiliaries like Black slaves. Such was his economic state that in  he bartered two cacao milpas for one that belonged to a couple even poorer than himself—Ana Lemus and her husband, Diego de Estrada Valdés. So humble were the traders that the native noble who signed the transfer draft displayed a signature far superior to anything the labradores could manage.52 The three labradores were vecinos of the native town of Nancintla (today known as Nancinta and located in southeastern Guatemala), and their all being mestizos seems probable. Moreover, the three had intimate ties with native nobles, three of whom served as witnesses of the land transfer, and with at least one Italian. Martínez and labradores like him lived on the margins of Spanish society, inhabiting a world physicallyand culturallydistant from Santiago. Their situation demanded close links with the majority native population, as physical isolation from indigenous peoples would have proved economically unfeasible. They depended on natives for labor and access to land. More than ties to the majority native population were necessary. Martínez also cultivated connections with certain important local Spaniards. He had strong ties to the wealthy Alonso Martín Calagraño, who owned properties in the area of Martínez’ cacao groves.To bolster this affiliation, Martínez managed to have one of his sons, Baltasar Martínez, marryone of Calagraño’s dependents, a mestiza criada named Mariana de Vargas. Baltazar was a labrador like his father and a resident of Nancintla.53 Mariana’s position as a trusted dependent earned her the substantial dowry of two hundred pesos. To the Martínezes, benefits that accrued from connections with the affluent Calagraños were of far greater importance than the size of the dowry, however. In this sense, Martínez behaved much like Isabel de Quesada in his desire to use the marriage of his offspring to consolidate ties to a wealthy benefactor. The overwhelming majority of labradores shared some important traits. Nearly all, with exceptions only among those of better standing,

                          



were illiterate, able to scratch out only a few letters in the best of cases. Exceptions such asVicente de Cuevas, who boasted of owning four religious books, prove exceedingly rare.54 Labradores came from the lowest groups in Spanish society, often being sailors who wandered into the trade or individuals of non-Spanish ethnicity. Landholdings tended to be small and were dedicated to easily saleable crops, usually maize, wheat, and, on occasion, cacao. Cattle and sheep dominated livestock sales, although equine animals, particularly those intended for use in transport, also appear often in the records. Most labradores lived on their farms. In this sense, Juan Gallego, his offspring, and Martínez proved more the rule, Irlanda and Morejón the exceptions. The expense of houses in Santiago acted as an effective barrier against those wishing to move to that city. Even small houses cost upwards of three hundred pesos, a sum unobtainable even with credit by most labradores. Nevertheless, the very prosperous found it indispensable to own urban property as a means of increasing their status. Sometimes properties were bought cheaply because of mortgages imposed on them. Labradores took advantage of this situation to acquire properties they would not have had access to otherwise.55 The acquisition of rural property points to a close relationship with the local encomenderos, who often held large chunks of land and, because of their relationship with native towns, were often consulted before a community sold or even rented lands. In this respect, Santiago’s labradores prove remarkably similar to their counterparts elsewhere. Since few labradores owned African slaves, they came to rely on free native laborers instead.56 While natives of diverse ethnicities made up the bulk of the laborers, free Black workers were also hired.57 Poor Spaniards also had no option but to earn a living from hiring themselves out to labradores.Those Spaniards who had the rudiments of literacy worked as administrators for successful landowners.58 Spanish cowhands and shepherds earned salaries only slightly higher than those of natives or people of mixed ethnicity with similar skills.59 Thus skills, not a person’s ethnicity, determined high or low wages, at least when working for labradores. When labradores did not fall into the archetypal endogamous pattern of marriage, they usually struck up relationships with native women. Among labradores, mestizo children had a strong likelihood of marrying either other mestizos or low-ranking Spaniards. Children of mestizo labradores also demonstrate the same pattern. Juan de León, a mestizo labrador, married his illegitimate daughter to a Spanish labrador.60 No doubt, the mother of León’s daughter was a native woman, just as his



                          

mother had been. In the cases of more successful labrador families, mestizo children took second place to legitimate full-blooded Spanish offspring. Invariably, mestizo males tended the land while their legitimate siblings stayed in Santiago.61 Humble labradores used the marriage of their offspring to children of wealthier labradores to improve their own social position. Isabel de Casoverde’s marriage to Antón de Archila elevated her status. No longer was she forced simply to get by, as her spouse’s wealth guaranteed her greater comfort. It is not clear what the Archila family gained from this marriage other than perhaps an increase in landholdings. Labradores were typically humble types; however, some did reach levels of wealth that rivaled that achieved by encomenderos or well-placed merchants.

 Muleteers were subdivided into two large groups: mule train administrators charged with supervising the pack animals; and laborers and the lesser-trained auxiliaries entrusted with the brute work of loading the beasts of burden. Administrators of pack trains required levels of training that approximated that of some artisans. Experienced muleteers had at least some veterinary knowledge in case the animals suffered illnesses or injuries. Other essential skills included shoeing pack animals, knowledge of load distribution, basic mathematical skills to determine the load-toanimal weight ratio, and the ability to calculate lading rates. Since freighting contracts contained essential information such as pickup and estimated delivery dates as well as stipulated fees, it seems that at least some ability to read would have been required. Last, but no less important, administrators had to have navigational skills and an intimate knowledge of the trunk lines, given the poor condition of roads during the sixteenth century.62 Mule train auxiliaries had tougher work and fewer skills. They had to load and unload the pack animals at the beginning and end of a day’s travels, or more often if the going proved particularly demanding. Consequently, there existed a great divide in terms of status and salary between well-trained muleteers and their less-knowledgeable auxiliaries. At times, muleteers made small sales of goods to people from their social circle.63 Because of their low rank, they maintained close association with non-Europeans.They sought out relationships with natives, and some even had close ties with free Blacks. Muleteers were far likelier to

                          



own African slaves than were the majority of labradores. The explanation lies in the nature of the two occupations. Whereas a labrador’s main capital outlay involved the purchase of land and maybe a draft animal or two, muleteers, if successful, quickly had to invest in more costly animals and hire or purchase auxiliaries. African slaves proved ideal as aides. Therefore, muleteers who could afford to do so quickly purchased one or more.64 Many Black slaves were, if not trained in the duties of a muleteer, then at least fluent enough in Spanish to facilitate any necessary training. This does not mean that native peoples did not work as auxiliaries to muleteers. Indeed, the early years saw the frequent purchase and sale of native slaves by muleteers.65 In later years, natives contracted as free laborers with muleteers. However, it seems that, at first, Black slaves were preferred over natives. Juan Gómez Camacho appears in one of the earliest local records dealing with a muleteer. He engaged in many activities, among them trading to Peru and owning pack trains.66 At this early date, individuals such as Gómez did not receive the label of ‘‘muleteer,’’ due perhaps to the low regard in which those so identified were held.67 In  Gómez made a contract with another Spaniard to transport clothing from San Miguel to Santiago.68 The mules were, expectedly, under the care of a Black male slave. Some muleteers, like Pedro Hernández de Montesdoca, transported European goods from Puerto de Caballos to Santiago. In  Hernández laded thirty packhorses to a local merchant, but for unspecified reasons the two decided to break off the agreement.69 On other occasions, muleteers served the function of modern-day movers, hiring their services out to those wishing to relocate. In  a muleteer agreed to transport a widow, her three children, and her livestock from the port of Río Dulce to Santiago.70 Beginning rather early and continuing throughout the sixteenth century, muleteers played an important role in transporting cacao. In  Juan de Ortega laded twenty packhorses to an encomendero. A Spaniard, Andrés de Molina, identified as a vecino of Mexico City, supervised the horses.71 Some twenty-five years later, a muleteer from Oaxaca laded his animals to a local merchant.72 The cacao trade attracted muleteers from New Spain who found the transport of the crop lucrative. Sometimes muleteers made contracts to lade their animals in an area of cacao cultivation, bypassing the need to travel to Santiago. Diego Sánchez agreed to transport cacao to Central Mexico for Martín de Sotomayor.73 Both men resided in Soconusco, an area of intense cacao cultivation, though



                          

they did not live in the same native town. Muleteers based in Santiago also participated heavily in the transportation of cacao. There existed a sufficiently large demand for cacao in New Spain to guarantee locals participation in its transport as well.74 Muleteers and artisans established close mutual ties, no doubt as a result of the dependence of some manual crafts on imported raw materials and the role of muleteers in transporting these goods. Rodrigo Martínez de Guernica exemplifies this pattern. First appearing locally in the early s, Martínez cultivated close connections with artisans, namely, locksmiths and pharmacists.75 In  and  he was named executor for a pharmacist and a locksmith, respectively.76 Martínez probably came to know these individuals through his work as a muleteer, as both pharmacists and locksmiths relied heavily on imported items.77 Muleteers also created close bonds with labradores. Martínez operated several compañías with labrador Bartolomé de Archila. The two manufactured Spanish-style brick and roof tile, which they sold in Santiago. They also had another compañía dedicated to retail sales. In yet another company, the two bought land from a native town and cultivated wheat thereon.78 Martínez participated in several activities at once, a common characteristic of enterprising muleteers, who tried to invest in more than just their pack trains so as to diversify their holdings. Diversification allowed them to diminish the risks associated with transport. Martínez and Archila eventually became bitter enemies, and a suit ensued in regard to profits from all the companies they operated.79 Martínez married Juana Ortiz de Ovid. Although from humble stock like him, Juana did not hail from the very bottom of the Spanish world. She was of unmixed Spanish ethnicity and married a respectable pharmacist after Martínez’ death.80 Her case demonstrates that the spouses of at least some muleteers came from better-placed families than the muleteers themselves. Martínez and his wife had four children: Pedro Martínez de Guernica and Luisa, Magdalena, and Engracia de Guernica. At his death in , Martínez bequeathed the largest portion of his holdings to his youngest daughter, Engracia.81 Marriage among muleteers, as among labradores, was mostly endogamous and served the double purpose of consolidating relationships among muleteers and guaranteeing that the animals and expensive equipment bequeathed to children would be put to good use by spouses. Juana and Rodrigo’s children illustrate the typical pattern. Luisa de Guernica married a muleteer, Antonio Fernández. Since he was inept at business,

                          



he left her saddled with debt. She had no option but to work after his death.82 She and a locksmith operated a pack train that transported cured hides from Santiago to the port of Río Dulce.83 Magdalena de Guernica also wed a muleteer, in her case, an arriero named Periañez. Luckily for Magdalena, Periañez had better luck; his participation in the African slave trade yielded relatively substantial profits.84 Muleteers faced the constant danger of losing their livelihood. Sometimes entire mule trains and their caretakers were lost, with owners back in Santiago trying frantically to recover them.85 Like merchants, muleteers used the compañía mechanism to pool their resources and to reduce the losses incurred by catastrophes such as lost mule trains. Spanish muleteers Pedro Hernández Conquero and Juan Guerra formed a company that allowed them to surmount the devastation of losing forty mules laden with Spanish merchandise in .86 The pack train, which was under the care of a Spaniard, was on its way from Mexico City and was last seen in Oaxaca. Fearing the worst, Guerra asked his father to travel along the route taken by muleteers from Santiago to Mexico City in search of the missing animals.87 Among muleteers, ethnic differences gave way to the need for maintaining solid connection within the group. Hernández had close ties with African muleteers. In  he lent money to a Black slave muleteer named Pedro Jolofe.88 The amount was a little over twenty-eight pesos, a significant sum, considering that a fully equipped pack mule cost only a bit less.89 Hernández lent Jolofe money to allow him to pay a debt for a native named Bartolomé Merino. Ethnicity, then, at least among low-ranking individuals such as muleteers, did not serve as an impediment to close interaction. After all, the trade demanded long periods on solitary roads, made tolerable only by the interaction with auxiliaries and occasional travelers. Given work conditions, ethnic separation simply proved impractical. Muleteers were in constant need of auxiliaries. For the most part, the profitability of their enterprises made the purchase of African slaves practical. One of the earliest instances of a muleteer purchasing a Black slave dates from . Juan Rodríguez, who identified himself as a vecino of Puebla, bought a Black slave muleteer from Baltasar Álvarez for  pesos.90 Another muleteer, Juan de Pineda, bought African slave muleteers on two occasions. In  he paid five hundred pesos for a skilled slave.91 Like other muleteers, he also bought Black slaves as part of a pack train. His second purchase, in , illustrates this practice. That year he bought a slave, five mules, and thirteen hundred fanegas of limestone



                          

from a local mason.92 In the end, Pineda balked at the purchase of the slave and mules and decided to keep only the limestone.93 The more affluent muleteers spent formidable sums to acquire African slaves. In  Gerónimo de Estrada sold a fellow muleteer, Juan de Saral, four Black slave muleteers, three of whom were fluent in Spanish and one nearly fluent; twenty-eight packhorses and their equipment; and sixteen fully equipped mules for twenty-four hundred pesos.94 The fact that Saral paid the vast amount outright reveals his success, as few in Santiago could afford to pay such a substantial sum without going into debt. Muleteers also purchased pack animals separately, not as part of a more expensive African slave/pack animal package.95 Other muleteers relied on hired laborers to aid them. In  Antonio Pérez hired a mestizo, Francisco Hernández, and his native wife, Francisca Hernández.96 Francisco was to travel with Pérez and help tend the pack animals while Francisca was to work as a domestic servant in Pérez’ home, in Cazehuastlán (a defunct town of undetermined location). The couple contracted to work for two years. Each was to receive a yearly sum of thirty pesos. In addition, Pérez promised to furnish Francisca with native blouses and skirts. That Francisca was hired to do domestic duties indicates that Pérez was unmarried (there is no mention of a wife in the records) and also that Francisca was Hispanized. Indeed, Francisca specifically agreed to ‘‘wash [clothes], grind [grain], and cook food,’’ a strong indication that she knew or at least was aware of Spanish dietary customs.97 Spaniards and other individuals typically hired more native laborers than people of mixed ethnicity or free Blacks because the native population was much larger than other groups. Furthermore, native auxiliaries might also have been available for lower wages, making them more attractive as laborers. Another muleteer, Juan Martín, also employed auxiliaries. In  he hired a native from Oaxaca to accompany him on his travels. The indigenous man promised to incorporate his shod horse into Martín’s pack train.98 By this time, at least some natives who worked as muleteers had purchased pack animals of their own. To ensure that he did not lose the potential employee to competitors, Martín paid the man twenty-four pesos in advance, a common practice during the period. A large number of non-Spaniards worked as muleteers during the sixteenth century. Notably, few Italians became muleteers, but many more mestizos and mulattos entered this trade than that of petty dealer. There might have existed a support network among Italians that channeled them intowork as pettydealers instead of the more arduous occupation of work-

                          



ing with pack animals. The most numerous non-Spanish muleteers were the Portuguese. Among them was Manuel de Acosta. In  he bought large numbers of beasts of burden and acquired a substantial debt.99

L

abradores and muleteers, like the people discussed in Chapter Four, by and large occupied low positions on the social and economic ladder. Work demands placed them in two distinct spheres: the Spanish world, with its strongest base in Santiago; and the native realm, located everywhere, but concentrated in the countryside. Spaniards, other Europeans, and people of mixed ethnicity supported themselves by working. They did not possess the wherewithal to set aside their agricultural lands or their pack trains. While a reduced number did acquire ample wealth, this did not free them from the necessity of overseeing farms and livestock. No indolent, threadbare hidalgo living on fantasies of wealth appears among them. Close ties to the land, especially among labradores, likely engendered a quick realization that a return to their places of origin, in the case of Europeans, would simply never take place. Once in Santiago, the likelihood of permanently returning home simply did not materialize. If fortune smiled and money was made, return became impractical, as their wealth mandated close and direct supervision of profitable enterprises. Humble people from frugal stock, labradores came largely from the lower levels of Spanish society. Women, usually widows of labradores, had to make their way by continuing to work their land.While most labradores never managed more than to scratch out a harsh existence, some did own Black slaves and others managed to take out large mortgages, a sure sign of success, as they could not have secured such credit without respectable collateral.100 Still others managed to attain formidable wealth. Bartolomé de Archila and Magdalena de Orche boasted incomes that could rival those of well-placed merchants and affluent encomenderos.101 The children of successful labradores had little choice but to marry other labradores or humble types such as petty dealers.102 Wealth could not ease their membership into the society of the local grandees; only in isolated cases did the children of incredibly successful labradores marry lower-ranking encomenderos. Regardless of their success, labradores were beholden to encomenderos. How could it have been otherwise, when encomenderos controlled native labor, so vital at the time of harvest? In addition, encomenderos usually owned land abutting on that of labradores. In short, no amount of economic success could free labradores from dependence on encomen-



                          

deros. What is more, no amount of money could raise their status. They were in essence cultivators of the land and were thus prevented from joining the true economic and political elite. Muleteers often started out with small investments and with a bit of luck managed to acquire solid standing. They transported the bulk of the goods entering Santiago once the crown managed to enforce the outlawing of tamemes. While to them their task was profit motivated, without realizing it, they played a significant role in keeping Santiago’s economy functioning. Often, muleteers transported large amounts of European products such as wine at impressive fees. Antonio Pérez charged a local merchant nearly  pesos for hauling twenty-five loads of wine jugs from port to Santiago.103 Some muleteers achieved so much success that they could make noteworthy purchases of pack animals.104 Most, however, bought theiranimals piecemeal, with large sales being the exception rather than the norm. Muleteers, then, stood to make high profits despite their lowly position in society. The combined efforts of labradores and muleteers made immeasurable contributions to the economic growth of Santiago. The former kept the city stocked with essential foodstuffs, and the latter toiled on the commercial arteries, catering to necessity and indulgence alike. Most members of the two groups lacked wealth and access to local symbols of power like the municipal council. Prestige and high status eluded even the prosperous among them. Wealthy labradores eventually metamorphosed into hacendados who, in turn, came to hold sway over the whole of Guatemala. Ownership of vast tracts of land, combined with credit and access to markets, came to have far greater weight than prestige garnered from colonial institutions like encomiendas, which were eventually eradicated.105 Time alters everything, and those changes repeatedly invert realities once thought immutable. Such was the case with the social standing of the labradores. Initially, they occupied a position subordinate to more influential groups, yet through careful marriage alliances, formidable economic planning, and fate’s munificence, that changed, and their descendants entered into the dominion of power from which they have yet to emerge.106 Labradores kept Santiago fed, but it fell to others to process the harvested products and to meet the voracious demand for locally manufactured goods. The city’s population also depended on an array of specialized services, all of which were provided by highly skilled artisans.

Chapter Six

R   

 

D

espite their relatively small numbers, artisans made up a vital segment of Santiago’s population during the sixteenth century. The bulk were Spaniards, though native, African, and ethnically mixed individuals also worked in European crafts. Sexual differentiation also existed. Males predominated in the manual crafts; women were, of course, important, but primarily in gendered tasks such as baking. Santiago boasted nearly the full gamut of European crafts (see Table ). Those who worked with clothing, namely, tailors and cobblers, outnumbered those in other trades such as confectioners, while musicians, painters, sculptors, and watchmakers ranked among the rarest.1 Taken as a whole, artisans boasted higher status than groups such as petty dealers and labradores. Unlike the latter, more artisans could at least manage a signature. They displayed tremendous adaptability, involving themselves in commerce either to supplement income or as a full-time activity, at times (although rarely) abandoning their trades completely.2 Since merchants enjoyed relatively higher status than artisans, some sought to disguise their trades behind the label of ‘‘mercader.’’ A small number succeeded in this charade, but most did not. Few artisans exchanged the label of their trade for that of ‘‘tratante,’’ for to do so would have meant a descent on the social ladder.3 While it is convenient to discuss different types of artisans as a bloc, they did not see themselves as such. Rather, artisans were divided by their trades and thus constituted anything but a unified, coherent group. A corporate type of identity does emerge among practitioners of specific trades, however. As elsewhere in Spanish America, in Santiago certain trades carried higher status than did others. The divisions prove complex though not at all contradictory, since they betray an internal logic based on the level of training required, the initial expense in setting up shop, the raw materials used in the trade, and potential earning capacity. Barbers, since they worked with bodily fluids, had



                            

     .                     ,   –  Artisan Category Clothing-related workers Tailors, hosiers, etc. Cobblers, saddlers, tanners Ironworkers Blacksmiths, locksmiths, etc. Farriers Health-related workers Barber-surgeons Physicians Pharmacists Other workers Butchers Candlemakers, waxworkers Carpenters Confectioners Construction workers Painters, sculptors Pastry chefs Silversmiths, goldsmiths Miscellaneous (e.g., musicians, watchmakers, bellmakers) Total

Number
   
    

 




   

Sources: , Libros de Protocolo de Escribano; .

lower status than did boticarios. Similarly, sculptors occupied a better economic position than did carpenters. Santiago’s cabildo fully recognized the differences.The cabildo’s hierarchy of artisans was never more evident than when it established the order in which artisans were to walk during religious processions. In  the cabildo decided that the processional order was to consist of, from first to last, armorers, silversmiths, merchants, barbers, tailors, carpenters, blacksmiths, and cobblers.4

   Artisans accompanied the first European conquerors.The nature of early modern European warfare made indispensable the presence of armor-

                            



ers, swordsmiths, blacksmiths, and associated crafts necessary to the successful functioning of an armed expedition.5 Additionally, the reliance on horses as a primary offensive weapon guaranteed herradores an important place in military undertakings. Beyond the need for their expertise there also existed the possibility of immediate wealth, and that likely motivated some artisans to accompany the conquest ventures. The urgency for experts in manual crafts did not abate with the end of the military phase. If anything, the demand for artisans grew with the establishment of the first, transitory, and later, permanent, settlements. The newly arrived settlers desperately needed a variety of goods, some essential, such as Spanish-style bread, shoes, and others luxury items like fine clothing.6 Over twenty-three European trades existed in sixteenth-century Santiago. The city’s European and Hispanized residents, if able to afford it, demanded familiar material objects. While merchants could and did supply many finished products, they could not keep pace with growing demand. Artisans gladly supplied the settlers with their wants. Yet there existed a tense relationship between settlers and artisans at this early juncture. Not taking into account the high prices artisans likely paid for imported raw materials, some came to view them as exploiters of the poverty of colonists. Historian Antonio Remesal captures the tense situation well: And because the artisans of every genre of work, knowing how much those who hired them needed them, and because of the liberal condition they had, [they] did not hesitate to give them everything they asked for, they had become so expensive that the tailor charged a real for each stitch he made, and the cobbler sold his work so expensively that, giving others shoes with leather soles, he could place silver on his, and the farrier, if he wanted, could make all his instruments of gold.7

Like Remesal, Santiago’s residents placed the blame for high prices on artisans, ignoring the fact that artisans had to pass the costs of materials on to clients. Moreover, the small number of artisans and the demand for their work created a situation in which clients had little choice but to pay what was asked.8 Artisans, at least according to Remesal, not only gouged the needy, but, worse, they also refused to accept anything other than silver or gold as payment, and this only after they had inspected the metals themselves. Remesal claims the situation had grown so bad that tailors held onto cloth-



                            

ing even at Christmas, cobblers onto shoes, and farriers refused to return horses until they had received satisfactory payment. Such was the generalized feeling of hostility that beginning in  the municipal council enacted multiple decrees in an attempt to impose what it perceived to be a fair price scale on artisans.9 In  the municipal council went one step further and demanded that artisans receive payment in other than cash.10 While the council may have wanted artisans to receive cacao and feathers as payment, their value at the time made them a poor substitute for cash. Perhaps the refusal of artisans to provide clients with credit, thus eliminating the possibility of establishing reciprocal ties, lay at the heart of the matter. If true, their denial to accept anything but silver or gold flew in the face of the cash-starved reality faced by Santiago’s inhabitants. Despite animosity between artisans and the population and specific prohibitions against the practice, some artisans managed to obtain encomiendas. Barber-surgeon Francisco de Utiel not only secured an encomienda but also managed to bequeath it to his son. That he did so during a time of intense competition for such grants makes his achievement all the more remarkable.11 Despite his success, Utiel did not sever his links with other artisans.12 As time elapsed and the memory of the actual events of the conquest grew dim and its importance increased, even artisans who had not themselves participated petitioned for rewards. In  a cobbler tried to use his marriage to a mestiza daughter of a conqueror as leverage to secure an encomienda.13 Clearly, then, at least some artisans did not let their trade impede their attempts to petition for encomiendas. Later, with the consolidation of society, artisans lacking the necessary connections had their encomiendas taken away and given to Spaniards of higher rank.14 The majority of artisans lived and worked in Santiago. They operated their shops in the central plaza or other areas with heavy commercial traffic such as neighborhood market sites.15 However, some artisans had to conduct their enterprises outside the city. Such was the case with tanners, who created a foul stench in the process of curing and treating hides. They established their workshops in places distant from Santiago’s densely populated areas.16 Likewise, at least some butchers worked in slaughterhouses located outside (although certainly not distant from) the city.17 Slaughterhouses caused many environmental concerns, such as fetid odors and pollution of waterways. As Santiago grew, they were continually moved away from the city’s barrios to the countryside. Because shops had to be in readily accessible locations, artisans made

                            



the acquisition of urban property a priority. As a group, they were among the earliest to purchase land within Santiago’s confines.18 Here artisans differed markedly from other groups. Perhaps they realized that their crafts would not generate wealth quickly enough for a speedy return to their land of origin. Therefore, localization made more sense to artisans than to other groups, such as merchants. Land sales also reflect the close ties among artisans, as on occasion they bought and sold urban properties among themselves.19 Not all artisans could purchase urban plots, however. Many had to content themselves with renting houses or shops strategically located in Santiago’s commercial districts.20 Others took rooms in the many boardinghouses throughout the city. Regardless of the mechanism, whether rental or purchase, the majority of artisans realized that living in Santiago was imperative to their success. Living away from the city, except for those without other options, like tanners and slaughterhouse operators, meant potential loss of clients. Although Spaniards made up the majority, Italians and Portuguese artisans also lived and worked in Santiago. As in the case of merchants, an artisan’s ethnicity mattered little in the realm of professional interaction. By all accounts, a Portuguese blacksmith, Perote Cordero, operated in Santiago seemingly unimpeded by his ethnicity.21 Outside of commercial interaction, in particular, in the case of marriage unions, ethnicity did play an important role, however. Non-Spanish artisans stood little chance of making favorable marriage alliances with Spanish women. Instead, generally, they established unions with African, native, or ethnically mixed women. More than anyother group, successful artisans tended to marry women of social standing and ethnicity similar to their own. Artisans could not possibly hope to marry a Spanish woman bearing the honorific ‘‘doña.’’ Rarely did they marry women from encomendero families. Locksmith Juan Alonso managed to marry Antonia Martín, daughter of an encomendero. However, the fact that Antonia’s father was a destitute encomendero of Greek origin and her mother an indigenous woman made her less than an ideal wife, given Spanish prejudices of the time.22 Among practitioners of manual crafts, endogamy predominated, with daughters of artisans marrying other artisans. Interestingly, daughters of artisans tended to marry men who practiced different trades from their fathers’. Less successful artisans did not marry, but, rather, opted for longterm relationships with indigenous or Black women.23 All artisans, regardless of the relative complexity of their craft, went



                            

through a period of apprenticeship. Master artisans trained boys from all of the ethnic groups represented in Santiago. They had no qualms about teaching their craft to non-Spaniards. If anything, native and Black apprentices had to work harder and thus provide artisans with a greater return on their investment in room and board. The established pattern varied little throughout the sixteenth century. Adolescent boys (in rare cases, adult males) lived in the homes of master artisans, where they received room, board, clothing, and the opportunity to learn a craft.24 In exchange, the parents (or guardians) of the adolescents pledged absolute cooperation from their charges. Additionally, parents pledged to pay fines if the understudy failed to complete the stipulated course of training.25 The lengths of apprenticeships varied greatly, from one year for a swordsmith to four years for a hosier to eight years for a silversmith.26 Because of Santiago’s position as a commercial hub, boys from distant areas occasionally arrived to apprentice with artisans. Juan Manuel, an adolescent from Texcoco (in Central Mexico), apprenticed with a local barber-surgeon for four years in the early s.27 Likely a result of living arrangements, artisans formed a quasi-parental relationship with their apprentices. Since adolescents lived in close proximity to master artisans, intimate ties developed between them. Some artisans went as far as to bequeath money to former apprentices. In  pharmacist Pedro deVallejo bequeathed twenty-five pesos to a young man who had apprenticed with him for just a short time.28 While ethnicity did not greatly affect the relationships that developed between artisans and their understudies, it did affect the value of bequeathals. Confectioner Pedro de Saavedra bequeathed indigenous cloaks and Spanish-type clothing to two native boys who apprenticed with him.29 Although manyartisans attained success, some found it far more profitable to engage in commerce. As a result, numerous artisans worked in their trades and simultaneously sold goods on the side to supplement their income. Of those artisans involved in business ventures, however, few are identified in the records as merchants. Pastry chefs were eminent among those who acquired the label of ‘‘merchant,’’ hiding their trade so well that in only one case does it appear.30 Not surprisingly, these artisans interacted closely with one another and succeeded in their sham; never again do their names appear without the label of ‘‘merchant’’ once they adopt it. As a result of their reliance on imported raw materials, artisans maintained close ties with merchants. Ironworkers, for example, depended on merchants for raw materials imported from Spain.31 The growth of in-

                            



dustries such as silkworm raising in New Spain allowed the importation of silk from Mexico. Mexican silk cost far less than the varieties imported from Spain and thus found a ready market in Santiago.32 No doubt the silk, along with other materials such as string and cloth, ended up in the shops of specialists in the clothing trades.33 Master builders, on the other hand, had to use local products, as the importation of raw materials was all but impossible.34 As time went on, artisans began producing finished goods in sufficiently large quantities to allow for their sale by merchants, though in the majority of cases artisans dealt directly with clients and sidestepped jobbers.35 Artisans proved too astute to rely on intermediaries who would do nothing but cut into profits. On occasion, artisans contracted with wealthy customers for significant sums. In , when Juan Vásquez de Alvarado married Doña Isabel Ortiz de la Puente, he contracted with Alonso Ortiz and Alonso de Escobar, tailors both, to fashion clothing for them.36 Affluent individuals such as Vásquez and Puente thought little of spending up to two hundred pesos on a single item of opulent clothing. Artisans, then, played an essential role in the growth of Santiago’s economy as they functioned as both consumers of raw materials and producers of finished goods. Like so many other Spaniards, artisans purchased slaves as soon as possible. In the early years, both indigenous and African slaves were purchased. Later, because of the banning of native slavery and the greater availability of Black slaves, artisans turned exclusively to nonindigenous slaves. In addition, successful artisans hired other craftsmen as auxiliaries in their shops. Labor contracts of this nature do not appear in the documents until midcentury, an especially strong indicator that perhaps until that time the number of artisans remained small enough to guarantee the opportunity for all to venture out on their own. The contracts invariably were between artisans of like ethnicity; that is, Spaniards tended to hire Spaniards. The contracts specify high salaries and provisions for room and board.37 In one contract, it is stipulated that laundry be included; in another, clothing is mentioned.38 Hired artisans, like apprentices, lived with theiremployers and their families. Given the need for trained artisans and the possibilities available to them, it appears likely that artisans who hired themselves out were recent arrivals with few opportunities open to them. Some trades resembled each other closely because of work procedures and the types of raw materials used. As a result of these similarities, guilds that incorporated more than one trade developed.Thus by  the Guild



                            

of Tailors and Hosiers was already operating in Santiago.39 Corporations of this nature could succeed only if the trades involved shared equal prestige. Since tailors and hosiers occupied basically the same social position, a single guild for the two crafts did not detract from the status of its members. In the case of cobblers and tanners, no such guild could have functioned, since tanners stood below cobblers on the social ladder. Consequently, cobblers founded and operated an independent guild,40 this despite the fact that some cobblers acted much like tanners, curing and later selling hides to merchants eager to enter the trade in animal by-products.41 To overcome the lack of cash, artisans resorted to debt. In the majority of cases, they used credit when undertaking transactions with merchants. It might seem that craftsmen simply responded to a mechanism imposed on them. However, their using debt when dealing with each other argues for their overall acceptance of credit mechanisms among them. In addition, in their wills artisans betray the same numerous small debts typical of early Santiago.42 On exceptional occasions, artisans also used outright barter, although they relied on this mechanism rarely and only when exchanging raw materials for finished goods produced in their shops.

        -             Individuals who worked with clothing and leather collectively made up the largest group of artisans.Tailors, hosiers, and sederos numbered nearly the same as cobblers, saddlers, and tanners. An exhaustive compilation reveals that the latter group outnumbered the former by only two (see Table ). Partially because they labored in somewhat related areas, the two groups interacted closely. At least one tailor and cobbler operated a compañía. While the exact nature of the company remains vague, the venture probably manufactured apparel and shoes.43 At first, tailors purchased materials directly from merchants, an indicator that tailors probably manufactured clothing for sale in their shops.44 Cases involving both merchants and tailors become scarce in the later records. Several possibilities might explain the change. Conceivably, tailors ceased to purchase from local merchants altogether. However, this seems unlikely, given their dependence on imported items such as scissors, needles, string, textiles, and thimbles. Perhaps tailors established such close links with local merchants that they no longer relied on written contracts and instead undertook transactions based solely on mutual

                            



trust. This too seems unlikely, given the cost of the items and the need to detail purchases. Tailors might have bypassed local merchants and instead purchased goods from sellers at Puerto Caballos and elsewhere.Yet tailors lacked the necessary connections to sidestep local merchants. The absence of records related to tailors’ purchases from merchants might be explained by a shift in their role from sellers of finished clothing to contracted manufacturers. As the sixteenth century progressed, purchases of clothing imported from Spain decreased. Early documents containing references to Spanish clothing are quite numerous, while they appear with less frequency with the passage of time.45 Likely, local production of Spanish-style clothing was such that large-scale importation was no longer feasible. As well, the number of nontailors who purchased fabric from merchants increased over the years.46 This change in imports bolsters the hypothesis that local manufacturing successfully replaced imported finished clothing. The high cost of imported goods probably contributed to this change among Santiago’s population.47 Whatever its origin, whether locally made or imported, clothing ranked as one of the most noteworthy possessions acquired by Spaniards, even appearing in dowry contracts due to its value.48 Because they were unlikely to earn large amounts of money quickly, most tailors could not make the costly investment of purchasing Black slaves.49 Instead, they relied on other mechanisms to secure auxiliaries for their shops. Hosiers had even less economic success than tailors, as evidenced by their rarely acquiring Black slaves. The high prices of Black slaves and hosiers’ lower profits contributed to this situation. Much like tailors, hosiers were among the most stable of Santiago’s population. Most settled permanently in Santiago, abandoning all hope of returning to Spain. However, only a few managed to purchase homes, and those who did bought houses in marginal areas.50 Hosier Francisco Jiménez’ neighbors included a manumitted Black.51 Since hosiers could not hope to purchase edifices in Santiago’s central plaza, they had little choice but to rent space for their shops in that strategic area.52 The majority of hosiers went through life insolvent and saddled with debt.They borrowed small amounts outright instead of engaging in more complicated debt arrangements.53 At times, some of them fell into arrears on their payments and faced the humiliating possibility of imprisonment. In  Maestre Antonio was spared imprisonment only by the intercession of a merchant.54 Such was their lot that at least one hosier abandoned the trade and instead entered into a compañía with a native town, re-



                            

ceiving food and livestock from a cattle farm he agreed to manage.55 That he entered into this agreement points to the likelihood that he found his craft less lucrative than cattle raising. While his work on an agricultural enterprise proves atypical, his relations with natives bears strong resemblance to those created by others such as silk workers.56 Artisans whoworked with animal hides had somewhat bettereconomic success than those who worked with textiles. There was a lot of variation among them, however. Cobblers were the most successful, with tanners falling some distance behind. Despite their low social position, tanners played an integral and important role in the growth of the related trades of cobbler and saddler. A few cobblers worked exclusively as tanners, however. The trades were so closely connected that there existed some confusion about labeling, with some exchanging the label of ‘‘cobbler’’ for ‘‘tanner’’ with relative ease.57 The demand for tanned hides, whether from deer or cattle (both in Santiago and, later, for export), grew substantially.58 Tanners were in constant demand, and, consequently, they hired free laborers to help in their shops. They often contracted both skilled and untrained indigenous people to aid them in their enterprises.59 Those who could, purchased African slaves to serve as auxiliaries, however.60 In this sense, they differed from less-successful artisans, who were unable to purchase costly Black slaves. Tanneries represented substantial investments, as they required sizable plots of land, draft animals to transport and grind the casca (the bark of trees used in the curing process), and numerous auxiliaries in the form of free native laborers or Black slaves.61 Therefore, few tanners managed to operate their own tanneries. Most had little choice but to enter into compañías with wealthier individuals who possessed sufficient capital.62 Even otherwise prosperous tanners like Pedro Hernández, who owned tanneries, entered into compañías to keep the enterprises running.63 Due to their cost and the technical nature of leather processing, tanneries required direct supervision, and thus their operators had to live and work on the site.64 Saddlers and tanners occupied basically the same social position. Few saddlers owned African slaves, but some did possess indigenous slaves before the abolition of this practice.65 Given the importance of equine animals (in regard to both transportation and prestige), it would seem a given that saddlers would fare well in Santiago. Most saddlers did so poorly, however, that they had to engage in petty trade to supplement their meager income. The small profitability of the craft might explain, at least

                            



partially, why lower-ranking Portuguese outnumbered Spanish saddlers by a wide margin. For saddlers marriage served as one way to improve their economic position. Destitute saddler Antonio de Fuentes married Ana de Medina in part because she owned a house and truck garden in Santiago. His wife died in childbirth in , and all her property was bequeathed to Fuentes.66 Yet the acquisition of property did not make a significant change in his life. Fuentes continued trading with natives in cheap horses, onions, vegetable seeds, and native blouses and skirts from Mexico.67 Rarely did saddlers manage to attain economic success. Those like the Portuguese Cristóbal de Alfaro are the exception. A long-time resident of Santiago, Alfaro dealt in fine riding horses, selling one such animal to an affluent landowner in .68 When his daughter married a successful cobbler, he provided her with a dowry valued at nearly  pesos. It included a tannery complete with tools and three draft animals and substantial home furnishings. Few artisans in general, much less saddlers, could hope to provide their daughters with such a large dowry. Cobblers attained success before most tanners and saddlers.69 Their greater likelihood of owning Black slaves serves as a reliable indicator of their prosperity.70 Cobblers, like tailors, established their guild at an early juncture. Unlike artisans who lacked a guild, those wishing to receive the distinguished title of master cobbler had to first apprentice and later pass an exam to determine their abilities.71 The guild served a mainly ceremonial function, as individuals freely practiced the trade without interference from the guild, the sole requirement being a period of apprenticeship with an experienced practitioner of the craft. To overcome labor shortages, cobblers also relied heavily on apprentices, paying little heed to their ethnicity.When apprentices did not suffice, cobblers hired skilled indigenous workers to help in their shops.72 Rarely, a few cobblers like the Portuguese Juan de Acosta attained significant wealth. Acosta was living in Santiago by , and in that year he mortgaged a walled house plot and a skilled Black slave for one hundred pesos. Through manipulation of credit structures, he parlayed his debts into economic success.73 His use of borrowed money does not prove at all unusual. Indeed, other cobblers also relied on credit mechanisms.74 Only a small number of cobblers had Acosta’s enviable fortune. Most had to content themselves with renting homes and shops.75 Individuals like Juan Martínez Saucedo were quite transient, moving from shop to shop as their rental agreements expired.76 Stability came only when they chanced into long-term leases.



                            

Cobblers sold all manner of goods from their shops, a strategy devised to offset the high rents they paid and to boost their earnings. They traded different types of merchandise, including indigenous clothing from New Spain, European textiles, cloth from China, and even gunpowder.77 Although they might on occasion purchase goods from fellow artisans, cobblers mainly dealt directly with merchants.

          Although few in number, craftsmen who worked with iron proved essential to Santiago’s inhabitants. Perhaps more than any other group of artisans, they depended on merchants for their raw materials.78 There were gradients in status among ironworkers just as there were among all artisans. The most common types of ironworkers were (from least numerous to most) swordsmiths, locksmiths, farriers, and blacksmiths.With the exception of farriers, ironworkers acquired a lot of real estate and owned many African and indigenous slaves.Yet their social position was no better than that of other artisans. They created close ties with each other to deflect any social discrimination they might have experienced. Prohibitions against non-Spaniards carrying edged weapons, which resulted in only a fraction of the city’s populace buying swords, cut deeply into the opportunities for espaderos. Furthermore, most Europeans seem to have preferred the more useful muskets to swords, a practice that further decreased the potential number of clients for swordsmiths.79 Additionally, toward the latter part of the century, merchants began to import large quantities of machetes and knives, diminishing the business of swordsmiths to almost nothing.80 For such reasons, the majority of espaderos appear in the early years, when there existed greater need for their skills; their ranks severely thinned out over time.81 Despite their relative poverty, some swordsmiths managed to buy small plots of land. In  Diego López Pellejero bought two plots on credit.82 The fact that few individuals apprenticed with them also serves as a reliable indicator of the poor economic performance of swordsmiths in Santiago. It made little sense to learn a craft with such limited economic potential. Cerrajeros attained better economic levels than did espaderos. There was a lot of demand for their services. Consequently, by midcentury a large number of locksmiths operated shops in Santiago, manufacturing

                            



all manner of locks from small devices for chests to larger units for portals. That they purchased Black slaves at a higher rate than other artisans reveals their success. Some, like Miguel González, purchased several Black slaves throughout their lifetime.83 Locksmiths differed little from other individuals in their use of credit, as seen in the case of Francisco Gómez, a native of Seville, who borrowed  pesos from the children of a deceased Spaniard in .84 In his last will and testament, Gómez demonstrates his success and the fact that he acted as both creditor and debtor during his stay in Santiago.85 Interestingly, he never purchased land; instead, he rented. Despite his prosperity, he could not afford to purchase property in Santiago’s coveted central plaza. Gómez also serves to illuminate the lives of successful locksmiths. At one point, he owned three skilled Black slaves, using them as auxiliaries with the intention of selling them later.86 Although hewas married, Gómez maintained a native concubine and had an illegitimate daughter by her. Because she had an attractive dowry that included a skilled African slave, Gómez’ illegitimate mestiza daughter married a Spanish locksmith.87 The case demonstrates that ethnically mixed daughters of artisans followed the same endogamous marriage pattern as unmixed offspring: both married artisans, whether they practiced similar or different trades from their fathers. Equine animals played an essential role in the economy of Santiago. Since the city lacked access by water, goods were transported to the city exclusively by land.88 Initially, tamemes carried the bulk of merchandise both to and from Santiago.89 Later, when equine animals had become sufficiently numerous and roads more or less manageable, the numbers of animals used for transportation grew explosively. Farriers, who performed the essential tasks of manufacturing horseshoes, shoeing animals, and providing veterinary services, benefited directly from this development. Their efforts did not suffice, however, so at least one entrepreneur took to importing horseshoes from Spain as part of shipments of general merchandise.90 Farriers were poorly remunerated for horseshoe manufacture, usually charging only small fees for their work.91 With apprenticeships lasting as long as four years and poor economic promise, few trained with farriers.92 Farriers wishing to improve their circumstances quickly realized that they would not do so by working at their craft, so some took to trading horses.93 Others, like Francisco de Molina, entered into commerce



                            

to such an extent that they attempted to assume the label of ‘‘merchant,’’ though with little success.94 Active from the early s onward, Molina often traded large amounts of costly goods.95 Since his main activity was the cacao trade, he kept close ties with merchants from New Spain who dealt in cacao and at times sought to barter cacao for imported goods.96 Like all traders, Molina relied on muleteers to transport goods, and thus he created close ties with them.97 He once purchased five mules, conceivably to build his own pack train or to resell at a profit.98 Even with all his activities, Molina still managed to take on an apprentice.99 His actions mesh perfectly with his trade as farrier, for his craft provided him contacts with muleteers and cacao traders. His decision to supplement his income by engaging in trade falls well into patterns seen among other artisans. Given their training, it seems logical that farriers and herreros often intersected in their work, though the latter attained greater economic success. When they could, before the enforcement of prohibitions, blacksmiths relied almost exclusively on indigenous slaves, avoiding the purchase of costlier African slaves. When native slaves became unavailable, they took to purchasing Black slaves, however. Occasionally, blacksmiths who lacked capital entered into compañías with more moneyed individuals. In fact, compañías proved quite common among blacksmiths, perhaps more so than among other artisans. Blacksmiths used them to establish shops, pooling their forges and indigenous slaves to increase productivity and profitability.100 Unlike most artisans discussed to this point, many blacksmiths did own property.101 Yet even those who owned houses had to rent shops in more strategic locations.102 Others lived in boarding establishments.103 Santiago’s blacksmiths included many non-Spaniards. Despite their different ethnic origins, they acted in ways identical to their Spanish counterparts. The Portuguese Perote Cordero, who had left his wife in Seville, maintained close ties with many Africans, providing them with small loans.104 He had a mulatta daughter by a slave woman and specified that money be set aside to purchase the child’s freedom. He dealt much with locksmiths, possibly manufacturing iron goods for them.105 His last will and testament reveals that the majority of debts owed him were for decorative and protective iron bars placed over windows and doors, in addition to farming implements such as sickles and hoes. Cordero lived in a boardinghouse.106 The bequeathal of his tools to the owner of the establishment bespeaks the close relationship created between boarders and their lodgers.

                            



           The mining of gold and silver played only a small part in Guatemala’s economy. In  less than one thousand pesos’ worth of gold was declared at Santiago’s Casa de Fundición (mint).107 The region’s relative mineral poverty notwithstanding, a fairly sizable group of plateros operated in Santiago and worked as smiths and assayers. Most simply received the ubiquitous label of ‘‘platero,’’ however. Nevertheless, after midcentury individuals begin to appear in the records with specialized titles.108 A few arrived early and participated in the conquest of the region. At least one of Santiago’s plateros also had a hand in Peru’s civil wars.109 Plateros resembled other smiths in terms of social position and wealth, a situation identical to that of eighteenth-century Mexico City.110 The more affluent managed to acquire more Black slaves and urban property than nearly any other artisans.111 Not all owned their homes and shops, to be sure; some, like Alonso Ruiz, had no alternative but to rent.112 Others lived day to day from their meager earnings and depended on benefactors for items such as bedsheets.113 Given the modest demand for their expertise, plateros had to devise a number of ways to survive. Only a few worked solely in their occupation.114 In comparison with other artisans, only a scant number of plateros engaged in small-scale commercial activity, however.115 At least two traveled to New Spain to sell valuable items for wealthy clients.116 In addition to traveling, humbler plateros, perhaps hoping to become independent at some future time, entered into compañías with nonartisans for the purpose of establishing shops.117

     -             Artisans who worked in health-related areas ran the gamut from lowranking barber-surgeons to mid-level pharmacists.118 Although there did not exist a practical distinction between the tasks of barber and surgeon, there was some differentiation in the use of the labels.119 Some individuals appear in the records with both titles, while others bear either one or the other. Pharmacists appear simply with ‘‘boticario’’ following their name. The difference in prestige between pharmacists and barbersurgeons proves perplexing, as both tended to the sick, but the minor surgeries the latter performed may have negatively affected their status. Barber-surgeons rarely charged much for their services.120 A peso was



                            

usually commanded for simple procedures, while longer treatments that involved more elaborate tasks such as multiple bleedings might cost as much as fifteen pesos.121 And like other artisans, barber-surgeons depended on merchants for the importation of their instruments.122 A handful acquired property within Santiago’s central plaza, the city’s most dynamic economic zone.123 Others first bought barren plots and later contracted to have their houses built.124 Barber-surgeons bought and trained slaves to aid them in their work, though not many could afford such costly auxiliaries. They tended to marry women of modest stock like themselves and not the daughters of better-placed artisans. Moreover, they received bantam-sized dowries upon marriage.125 Foreign barber-surgeons faced double disdain—against both their occupation and their origin. This situation limited marriage opportunities. The Italian Sebastián Pavés barely eked out a living and had little option but to marry an indigenous woman from New Spain.126 Within the ranks of barber-surgeons there were also individuals of mixed ethnic background. They occupied the lowest tier of the economic ladder. The mestizo Tomás Martín supplemented his meager income by working as a Nahuatl interpreter.127 His poverty forced him to purchase inexpensive secondhand clothing at auctions.128 Pharmacists occupied a position above that of barber-surgeons, as noted earlier. Possibly the fact that they did not directly treat maladies through bleedings or surgeries but instead relied on indirect intervention contributed to their higher status. Apothecaries operated their pharmacies in a variety of settings. Those who could, worked in the central plaza, in locales they either owned or rented. Others worked out of their homes, saving substantial amounts on the rental of costly storefronts in more readily accessible areas.129 Pharmacists generally received better payment for their work than did barber-surgeons. Their fees for medicines varied greatly, from six pesos to seventy-five, with the quantity and types of medicines affecting price.130 Boticarios did not differ greatly from other artisans in terms of marriage, usually marrying daughters of other artisans. Francisco de Morales, for example, married the daughter of a silk worker who lived in Mexico City.131 The acquisition of ingredients presented pharmacists with constant problems. They partially overcame this by using indigenous materials for their medicinal concoctions. But shortages plagued pharmacists throughout the period. In the early years, people like Pedro de Vallejo, a boti-

                            



cario heavily active in commerce, relied on colleagues in Veracruz and Peru to supply them with essential items.132 As time progressed, boticarios embarked on a totally different path, deciding instead to attempt direct importation from Spain.133 Overall, they had little choice but to rely on merchants to keep them supplied with ingredients, however.

                   Sculptors (entalladores de imágenes or escultores) and painters (pintores) represented only a small fraction of the total number of artisans in Santiago.134 Demand for their crafts came primarily from ecclesiastics and indigenous towns. The emphasis natives placed on improving town churches, a direct carryover from precolonial times, when the temple served as a focal point for a community’s identity, led many indigenous municipal councils to hire artisans specializing in retablos (ornately carved and painted altarpieces) and religious imagery (e.g., saints).135 Art in Santiago, at least as created by European sculptors and painters, revolved almost wholly around religious themes, though, feasibly, wealthy individuals might have contracted with painters for portraits as well.136 By his own account, the Basque sculptor Miguel de Aguirre arrived in Guatemala with the first wave of European intruders.137 Like many of the first arrivals, he quickly grew restless and tried his luck in the conquest of Nicaragua, eventually receiving a small yearly sum for his efforts.138 Years after his Nicaragua venture, he bought an infirm Black male slave.139 Perhaps due to the only intermittent demand for his work, Aguirre took to trading in general merchandise, at times relying on compañías so as not to absent himself from his shop.140 Either from his involvement in trade or his craft he made a respectable living. By  he owned two houses in Santiago.141 Aguirre never abandoned his craft, doubtless because it proved profitable. He sculpted works for the churches of Guazacapán and Caluco, moneyed native towns located on the cacao belt.142 Aguirre’s wife, though herself humble, had tenuous connections to one of Santiago’s highestranking families.143 Perhaps the connection helped the couple enter one of their daughters in a local convent.144 Miguel tried to involve his son Juan de Aguirre in trade, but Juan proved a complete washout.145 Although most painters lacked Aguirre’s connections with merchants (important for obtaining contracts from native municipal councils), they still managed to achieve reasonable affluence.146 Despite impressive con-

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nections, the demand exceeded Aguirre’s capability and he could not hope to monopolize the contracts for altars and the like.147

 As a lot, artisans were almost entirely male. Yet a small number of women worked in gendered tasks, primarily as bakers. Even the vocabulary of local notaries makes it clear that the work of baker was intimately linked with women.148 Santiago’s sixteenth-century bakeries were small affairs begun with scanty investment, operated by women, and resembling best the types of business seen elsewhere in Spanish America during the same years. Juana Hernández and at least two of her daughters operated bakeries in Santiago. Juana operated her bakery early in the century while María Hernández and an unidentified sister operated theirs during the second half.149 María’s bakery likely generated substantial profit, for she owned a house and stores somewhat close to Santiago’s central plaza.150 The fact that her house also included stores, no doubt built out from the front, indicates that it was larger than most homes. María also purchased and sold African slaves, evidently to use as auxiliaries in her bakery.151 Like the majority of Santiago’s economically active population, María also accumulated multiple small debts.152 The widowed María, like many other widows, operated a relatively expensive boardinghouse wherein lived both women and men.153 Well known as a boardinghouse operator, in  María appeared as an expert witness in a suit that arose over a dispute involving boardinghouse rates.154 Information about María’s ethnicity and, by extension, her mother’s, came to light as a result of a legal dispute dating from . María accused a former boarder of publicly calling her a ‘‘perra mora hechizera’’ [bitch Moor witch]. One witness stated that García González, the former boarder, said to her that María was a ‘‘puta perra mora ladrona bieja vellaca’’ [whore bitch Moor old rogue thief ].155 The types of insults cited in the record are remarkably similar to those used in southern and Central Mexico.156 However, García González alluded to her possible Moorish ethnicity too many times for it to be discounted as a simple insult. Indeed, he openly called her a morisca.157 After spending a brief time in jail, both parties agreed to drop all claims against each other. Artisans mainly fell in the middle of sixteenth-century Santiago society. While they could not entertain pretensions to hidalgo status, neither did

                            



they occupy the lower social position of sailors and the like. Within the ranks of artisans there existed great variation and, accordingly, different levels of prestige attached to distinct trades. Since the same social differences have been identified elsewhere, namely, Mexico City, it seems logical to state that the variation was in no way unique to Santiago.158 Potential and real earning capacity possibly played a larger role than prestige in the lives of artisans. Yet the role that status played among this group cannot be underestimated. Nearly all artisans sought the accoutrements of success as determined by Spanish society. All who could afford to do so purchased African slaves, a home as close to the central plaza as possible, or, barring such a grand expenditure, any property as long as it was located in Santiago and not in the outskirts. Ownership of urban property not only helped elevate status but also provided a locale from which to operate a shop. Furthermore, the need to live a life as free of scandal as possible proved paramount. Thus artisans who engaged in questionable behavior often lost status and, likely, earnings as well. Perhaps for this reason, the barbersurgeon Juan de Salvatierra quickly married an adolescent girl after their sexual liaison came to light.159 Despite their differences, artisans’ marriage patterns were similar. The most sought after of all women were, of course, those of unmixed Spanish ethnicity—doñas. Although they could not hope to marry doñas, artisans most often succeeded in making unions with daughters of artisans like themselves.Therefore, marriage served two essential functions within the artisan community. On the one hand, it provided young craftsmen the opportunity to improve their economic situation by means of access to their wives’ dowries.160 On the other, it fostered ties between established artisans and their sons-in-law and thus perpetuated the group feeling prevalent among artisans. Marriage among artisans served the same purposes as it did among other Spaniards, ultimately binding them in ways that amicable or even commercial relations could not.

P

erhaps the most important function of artisans was the material re-creation of Spain in Santiago, and in this they succeeded beyond expectations. Either with indigenous materials or with materials imported from Europe, skilled craftsmen managed to fabricate nearly all the trappings of material culture that Spaniards (and other Europeans) coveted. Clothing, saddles, jewelry, and even pastries could easily be found in Santiago, and all at relatively reasonable prices. In this sense, artisans played a role comparable to that of mer-

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chants, who imported all manner of commodities to satisfy the demands of the immigrant population. Indeed, artisans displayed close ties to merchants both for materials imported from Spain and, to a lesser extent, for the selling of goods they manufactured in their shops.Tanners in particular came to depend heavily on merchants, as the export of cured hides increased over time. Although in no way planned, the role of artisans proved important in the development of the region’s economy. Through hard work they contributed to Santiago’s growth as a commercial hub. Like so many others, they depended on complex and oftentimes reciprocal debt and credit mechanisms when undertaking transactions. The vast commercial and credit networks on which artisans, indeed the whole of Santiago, depended did not thrive on mutual trust alone. For the entire process to succeed, complex and elaborate records were necessary. Without literate individuals, the entire net of mutual obligation, debts, credit, leases, and work contracts could not have functioned as well as it did. Education and formal training separated the literate from the analphabets and effectively served as a mark of social status. Yet education and training did not in and of themselves make the literate a part of the ruling elite, for they contended with the same economic problems as more unassuming groups.

Chapter Seven

T    

L

iterate professionals relied on the power of writing to attain economic success. Unlike other groups, professionals were highly educated, able to read and write in the demanding fluid but abstruse style of the time. Many of Santiago’s residents could barely sign their names, whereas all professionals produced smooth and flowing signatures, somewith intricate and magnificent flourishes. Since they constituted part of an educated elite, few non-Spaniards could be found among them.1 Indeed, only a handful of Portuguese operated within the group. Not a single case of a clearly identified ethnically mixed professional appeared in the sources I examined, however. This, of course, does not imply that none existed; rather, it simply points to the fact that their status was such that professionals would not have allowed epithets such as ‘‘mestizo’’ or ‘‘mulatto’’ to besmirch their names. The professional group was, for all practical purposes, the domain of men. But women were important too, as they played an essential role as marriage partners who brought (through dowries) substantial sums of money to their spouses. In many instances, women managed the budgetary matters of the household, not a minor consideration, given the size and wealth of some homes. Professionals underwent substantial training that required prolonged periods of formal schooling. Length of education depended on the profession: notaries apprenticed much like artisans while licenciados underwent university training. Their relatively high level of education notwithstanding, only a few amassed enough wealth or married women sufficiently prosperous to make the abandonment of their professions a reality. Most lived off their work, either as self-employed professionals or in the pay of a royal institution. University titles and positions in royal institutions conferred high status on professionals.There existed differentiation among professionals who worked for royal institutions, however. Oidores of the Audiencia, among the most important royal officials in Santiago, towered above



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others such as secretarios of the same institution. This resulted in part because they held licentiates (if not doctorates) and had connections that helped them attain their posts. Both oidores and secretarios ultimately benefited from their ties to the Audiencia. Any post associated with this institution, even the lowly one of porter, required sustained effort, connections, or capital.2 In time, however, new means of differentiation came about. The biggest demarcation, other than the ones previously mentioned, separated those who had purchased their offices as opposed to those who acquired their position through appointment.3 Most high-ranking Audiencia members, unlike literate professionals not connected to the institution, made strategic marriages. Royal officials who were unable to secure such marriages for themselves made sure to procure them for their children. Even treasurers, individuals far lower on the scale than oidores, managed lucrative marriage unions to daughters of encomenderos ravenous for the prestige that an alliance with a royal official would bring.4 Opportune investments (aided in no small measure by substantial dowries) allowed a few professionals to enter the ranks of Santiago’s economic elite. With success came the opportunity for a coveted seat on the municipal council.5 Cabildo members not only carried varas but also wore specially marked robes to differentiate them from nonmembers, a crucial distinction to status-conscious professionals.6 Thus sitting on the cabildo conferred on professionals the opportunity to further stand apart from those lower on the socioeconomic ladder. Some professionals held the esteemed position of alcalde on more than one occasion.7 In this sense, Santiago was similar to cities and towns throughout Spain where professionals held important posts on the municipal council and other respected institutions like the Santa Hermandad.8 Most professionals concentrated in Santiago and other large Spanish settlements. Apparently, they preferred not to venture into the countryside. At the request of Spanish residents, notaries did visit larger towns, however.9 As the European population expanded, notaries settled permanently in nearby communities such as Trinidad and Puerto de Caballos. Despite those professionals who may have lived in rural areas, the vast majority lived and worked in Santiago.

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

                     In the realm of professionals there existed a split between those who worked for governmental institutions, that is, royal officials, and those whoworked independently.The main distinction was one of status. Royal officials invariably eclipsed those not connected with institutions such as the Audiencia. In effect, nearly all licenciados and certainly everyone who held a doctorate in law had at one time oranother served on the Audiencia. However, the variances between the two groups seem minimal compared with the similarities. In regards to education, behavior, and familyorigins, they prove hardly distinguishable. The educated were ranked according to their level of schooling.Therefore, those with the least university training, such as bachilleres, ranked below licenciados, and both stood beneath those with doctorates. Notaries, on the other hand, attained their training through apprenticeships. Another important distinction involved practitioners of law and medicine. Those who held licentiates in law had higher status than those who held an equivalent degree in medicine. Also, licentiates in law outnumbered medical licentiates. Santiago had few licentiates in medicine; as a result, lower-ranking barber-surgeons provided the bulk of Europeantype health care. Spaniards’ general affinity for labels proves even more pronounced among professionals. Individuals almost neverappear in the records without their titles, whether simple ones such as ‘‘bachiller’’ or more prestigious labels such as ‘‘doctor.’’ Likewise, titles such as ‘‘notario,’’ ‘‘escribano,’’ and ‘‘secretario’’ became permanently affixed to the bearer’s name. Over time the title replaced the name entirely, as is the case in contemporary Guatemala. Yet regardless of their titles, all professionals sought wealth and improved position; whether an individual was a physician or a treasurer, the goal remained the same. Most professionals had at least tenuous claim to good birth. The level of education served as a fairly reliable indicator of a person’s origins. Licenciados usually hailed from wealthier families than did notaries. A few professionals participated in Alvarado’s initial conquest campaigns, while others arrived shortly thereafter.10 Professionals who were early arrivals could add first-settler status to the already impressive prestige guaranteed by their education. They relied on the notion of antigüedad as implied in the phrase ‘‘primeros pobladores’’ as leveragewhen petitioning for royal grants.11 Antigüedad conferred seniorityon an individual and demanded respect from recent arrivals.12



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Despite their first-settler status and the prestige conferred by their education, few professionals managed to hold encomiendas. In fact, legal restrictions barred the majority from acquiring the prized grants. Yet, as with most legislation, people found ways to circumvent the prohibitions, and more than one professional acquired an encomienda.These individuals came under strong pressure to relinquish their grants, however, and only a few managed to deflect the demands. Given their relative success, it is little wonder that professionals acquired substantial real estate holdings, both urban and rural. Taken as a bloc, professionals acquired nearly as much land as encomenderos. Not content with simply investing in Santiago, at least some professionals also bought large parcels of land in cacao and cattle production areas. Real estate, then, represented an investment more than a symbol of prestige. Land could serve as a hedge in Santiago’s uncertain economy, a fact that did not escape astute planners. Professionals also bought indigenous and African slaves—more than did nearly any other group, again with the exception of encomenderos. The very affluent even managed to rival the wealth of holders of encomiendas. Rather than depend on merchants, as did nearly all artisans, professionals competed with them and benefited from the same transatlantic connections. Consequently, many of them naturally engaged in commercial activity, occasionally importing large quantities of goods. Rather than openly deal in merchandise, they usually entered into compañías with lower-ranking individuals who acted as their factors. Some, however, made no attempt to hide their activities and brazenly operated stores in Santiago.13 Professionals sought to improve or consolidate their social status through marriage to higher-ranking women. The more successful parlayed marital alliances into long-lasting wealth and improved social standing for their families.

 Santiago counted numerous types of professionals. Preceptores de gramática (Latin grammar teachers) were among the rarest of all.14 The demand for lay education probably did not create sufficient opportunity for individuals with pedagogical training. The numerous monasteries and convents in the city undoubtedly met the demand for educating the children of those who so desired it.

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Only Francisco de Pedrosa is labeled a ‘‘preceptor de gramática’’ in the records for the period studied. He arrived in Santiago with his father around .15 Some ten years later he began operating a boys’ boarding school from his home. Depending on the academic level and age of the student, he charged from forty to sixty pesos for a year’s schooling.16 Pedrosa also accepted day students at the reduced rate of twenty pesos per year.17 Given his fees, it is not surprising that his students were invariably the scions of Santiago’s elite. Indeed, Pedrosa boasted close ties to wealthy and well-placed individuals.18 He also acquired valuable urban and agricultural land.19 His ownership of two Black slaves, one male and the other female, further illustrates his success.20 Pedrosa married María de Pineda. Although the couple had seven children, little is known about their activities. One of their children, Francisco de Pedrosa, became a secular priest and worked in a small indigenous town.21 Other individuals, while lacking the title of ‘‘preceptor,’’ nonetheless worked in the field of child education. None of them enjoyed Pedrosa’s success, however. Martín de Salazar, identified as ‘‘maestro de enseñar niños’’ [a teacher of children], and Juan de Chaves, identified as ‘‘uno que tiene una escuela de niños’’ [one who has a school for children], had little success in attracting clients.22 Perhaps those who could afford the luxury of schooling for their children preferred to place them with individuals with at least some pedagogical training, like Pedrosa, or they turned to ecclesiastical institutions. Salazar’s career proves difficult to discern, as he appears only once in the documentation. Yet his very absence from the records argues for his lack of success, as formal contracts were the norm when placing children with instructors. Chaves underwent periods of economic difficulty. In  he pawned some inexpensive gold items. Had his school been successful, he would have had little need to pawn his belongings. Since scandal often proved detrimental to reputations, and if anything a tutor needed to preserve an intact reputation, Chaves’ abuse of his wife, Ana de Medina, and their subsequent divorce could not have helped him attract students.23 Those with children to educate likely decided that Chaves’ unstable domestic life made him untrustworthy.

 Notwithstanding their small numbers, physicians played an essential role in Santiago and the local economy. While there seems to have been little differentiation between médicos (physicians) and barber-surgeons in



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terms of actual practice, there was a near chasm in terms of status. Most physicians could claim at the very least a baccalaureate, while not a single barber-surgeon could aver such a title.24 Titles proved so crucial to physicians that at least one individual attempted to assume the label of ‘‘licenciado,’’ though in reality he held only a baccalaureate.25 Interestingly, in the documents I consulted, only one physician held the title of ‘‘doctor’’ in early Santiago.26 Overall, physicians, due to both education and status, more closely resembled other professionals than barber-surgeons, despite the similarities in their trades, though physicians ranked below individuals with equivalent degrees in the field of law, much as they did in other areas of Spanish America. At least one physician acquired significant wealth and invested in diverse businesses, including an agricultural enterprise.27 Despite success, however, physicians continued practicing their profession, with other ventures serving to complement, not replace, their main source of income.28 Félix de Arguedas, the holder of a baccalaureate degree, personifies the upwardly mobile physician of Santiago. (He attempted, with varying degrees of success, to assume the higher-sounding title of ‘‘licenciado.’’) Toward the latter part of the sixteenth century, interest in indigo grew, and Arguedas wasted no time entering this business. In  he joined a compañía with a higher-ranking professional and a humble Spaniard for the purpose of indigo manufacture. Initially, the venture posted large losses, but the partners persevered, and with time the enterprise proved profitable.29 Since Arguedas was entrusted with the administration of the compañía, he undertook tasks such as the contracting of free laborers; he paid little heed to the ethnicity of potential employees.30 As demonstrated by Arguedas and the unnamed examples in the records, physicians resembled other professionals in their constant search for ventures to expand their economic base. Not all physicians stood wholly within the ranks of professionals. Some, like Damián de Rivas, had but a tenuous toehold in the group. Rivas went through life struggling both to assume the title of ‘‘baccalaureate’’ and to hide his profession.31 Originally a vecino of Trinidad, Rivas, like others in his situation, moved to Santiago and settled there permanently.32 In addition to tending to the sick, he also performed autopsies when requested by the Audiencia.33 It is noteworthy that, initially, Rivas had strong ties with artisans, but as he improved his economic position he distanced himself from them.34 He did so to create closer ties with better-placed members of local society.

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

His success becomes evident through his purchase of Black slaves and real estate.35 Interestingly, Arguedas took over Rivas’ position at the Royal Hospital after the latter’s death. When he accepted the position, Arguedas dropped the ruse of claiming to hold a licentiate.36 Apparently, it did not suit his interests to lie when dealing with a royal institution.

 Notaries were at once the most common and the most akin to artisans of all professionals. The period of training (often of shorter duration than for some manual crafts) and Spanish society’s dependence on written documents led many to choose careers as notaries. Notaries were present throughout the region. Indeed, it seems that not a single European or indigenous settlement was without a notary at one time or another. The lesser nobility provided Santiago with the bulk of its notaries. As a result, whether true or not, almost all notaries claimed to be of hidalgo origin. Unlike notaries elsewhere, the majority of those who arrived in Santiago never left the region. If theyentertained ideas of leaving, they quickly forgot them, for they simply could not make the necessary money to return to Spain. They became permanent fixtures of local society and faced little opposition in attaining seats on the municipal council, yet one more indication of the prestige and success they enjoyed in Santiago. As in nearly all of Spanish America, notaries were among the first Europeans. Beginning in the s they began to solicit royal patents for their profession, thereby assuring the legality of the documents they drafted.37 Without such recognition their documents would have carried little weight in court. Given their participation in the military phase of the conquest, it is hardly surprising that some notaries acquired encomiendas. Since they could not legally work at their profession and hold an encomienda simultaneously, some, like Cristóbal de Salvatierra, resigned their offices while others, like Alonso de Vargas, never cared to take such a drastic step.38 After the heady days of military activity, notaries usually arrived as freelancers in search of better opportunities. Perhaps excessive competition in areas like Mexico City forced the less successful to try their luck in Santiago. Whatever their reasons for moving to Santiago, newly arrived notaries quickly set up their escribanías and solicited royal approval for the exercise of their profession. A notarial office required little in the way

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of investment. Likely a desk, chairs, parchment, ink, and quills sufficed to get one started. Despite the legal urgency of acquiring the necessary royal patents, some waited before seeking confirmation of their escribanías. Juan de León lived in Santiago a numberof years before receiving his patent to officially exercise his profession.39 Like others, León spent some time in Peru and then moved to Santiago. His economic position in the early years did not look promising. In fact, he had to buy his first house on credit.40 While this is not unusual, the low price of the property points to his having little capital when he arrived in Santiago. Had he been in a better situation, he would have bought a costlier home. Over time, León firmly established himself as one of the most successful notaries in the region. As a result of his tenuous claims to the nobility and his thriving practice, he managed to marry María de Alcázar, the widow of a mid-level encomendero.41 In this he resembles other notaries who wasted little time in marrying into local society to enhance both their economic position and their prestige. Conversely, their wives often brought into their marriages respectable dowries. Juan de León merits continued discussion due to his early arrival and because many of Santiago’s notaries trained in his escribanía.When León married María de Alcázar, she already had a son, Hernando de la Barrera, from her first marriage. By all accounts, León raised Barrera as he would have had he been the natural father. León trained him as a notary and put him to work in his escribanía.42 Barrera abandoned the profession and instead dedicated himself to managing land bequeathed to him by his father. After prolonged litigation, León and Alcázar eventually lost her first husband’s encomienda to better-placed individuals.Yet the couple struggled on and acquired respectable wealth, mostly from León’s occupation and his multifaceted investments. In later years, he took to adding ‘‘de la Rua’’ to his surname, undoubtedly in an effort to improve his status. The couple had two children, Juan de Alcázar and Doña Catalina de la Rua.43 After years of study in Seville, Juan returned to Santiago, perhaps with plans of serving on the Audiencia. Unfortunately, he died shortly after his return. León made a poor decision when he arranged for the marriage of Doña Catalina to a Spaniard named Gabriel Mejía, for as soon as the two were married, Mejía instigated a suit against León requesting Doña Catalina’s inheritance and dowry. León gave the couple the sizable sum of one thousand pesos and in exchange they agreed to cease all litigation against him.44 Late in life, the widowed León married the plebeian María Balder-

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rama. Her lowly economic position is clearly evidenced by her meager one hundred–peso dowry. Possibly out of affection, he intended to bequeath her a sizable inheritance, but Doña Catalina and Mejía successfully opposed León’s decision. Perhaps León tired of their constant badgering and thus caved in to their demands.45 In the end, León died a wealthy man who counted debts owed him into the thousands of pesos. He freely associated with Santiago’s economic and social elite, the hardship of his beginnings in Santiago just a distant memory by the time of his death. Some notaries arrived in the company of officials appointed to the Audiencia and thus had stable employment, at least for the duration of the officials’ tenure. Connection with high-ranking Audiencia members allowed notaries to quickly enter Santiago’s professional group. Without this introduction, they would have been simply outsiders. Juan de Guevara, for example, came to Guatemala around  in the company of Doctor Antonio Rodríguez de Quesada. Initially, Guevara worked in the escribanía of Juan de León.46 Yet within a short time, Guevara parlayed his ties with Rodríguez into a marriage with Leonor de Celada, heir to an encomienda fortune.47 In spite of his newfound wealth, Guevara continued in practice. He eventually bought an escribanía from Juan Núñez de Soria, one of Santiago’s most-respected and well-established notaries.48 Perhaps more as a result of his marriage than of his work, Guevara acquired valuable urban and agricultural lands.49 Not all notaries arrived in the company of the illustrious, however. Some relied on help from family members, and in many cases uncles paid the passage of nephews trained as notaries.50 At least some notaries arranged for their sons to eventually take over their escribanías. The profession passed from father to son, guaranteeing continuity for both families and clients. Notarial records held tremendous value for clients. Often the copies of documents kept by notaries were the only proof of crucial transactions. In cases of sales of escribanías, the purchasing notary obligated himself to caring for the invaluable records known simply as libros [books].51 Ironically, the trend of sons practicing their father’s profession conflicted with the desire to improve a family’s status as quickly as possible. Nephews, as near perfect substitutes for sons, came to occupy positions that sons could not or would not occupy. In the absence of family, regional or town connections came into play. Notaries often had relatives or men from their home region or town working in their escribanías. In this way, sons of notaries could pursue more prestigious professions. The career

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of Luis Aceituno de Guzmán, a native of Talavera de la Reina, sheds light on the function of nephews and the strength of regionalism. Luis arrived in Santiago with help from a relative, Francisco Aceituno, a notary like himself.52 Luis’ father had also been a notary who at one time served as a procurador and headed the Santa Hermandad de Talavera.53 Presumably, both Aceitunos had legitimate claim to hidalgo status, unlike others who simply assumed seignorial airs. Francisco dedicated himself mainly to cattle ranching while Luis worked in the previously discussed escribanía of Juan de León.54 Eventually, Luis accumulated sufficient money to purchase the office from his mentor. Conceivably realizing that hewould never leave Santiago, Luis decided to look for a wife among local Spanish women. He married Isabel Godínez, widow of the conqueror Juan de Mazzariegos and a dependent of Don Juan Godínez, a past deacon of the cathedral. Isabel provided her husband with increased status and wealth. As the caretaker of Don Juan’s chantries, she managed large amounts of money before her marriage to Luis.55 However, once they married, Luis took overas administratorof the chantries. Perhaps she made this concession because of Luis’ knowledge of the legal system and his easy accessibility to drafted contracts. Isabel displayed the financial autonomy typical of widows who remarried. She undertook numerous transactions independently of her husband, a strong indicator that she managed her money separately from Luis’ holdings.56 Luis displayed the same regionalism typical of Spaniards during the period. He had at least one other notary from Talavera working in his escribanía.57 Probably as a result of not having children, Luis took his nephew Cristóbal de Aceituno into his escribanía. Cristóbal represents the second generation of Spanish notaries who worked in Santiago. Unlike his uncle, Cristóbal was born in Santiago. His mother, Inés Lobo, had connections to one of Santiago’s best if not affluent Spanish families.58 Yet the fact that Cristóbal entered the profession of notary suggests that he did not have more lucrative or prestigious opportunities open to him. It is indicative of the importance attached to Nahuatl in Santiago that both Cristóbal and Luis claimed fluency in the language. In this way their escribanía could provide service to indigenous people as well as nonnatives. Like other prosperous notaries, Luis Aceituno invested in diverse enterprises, nearly always profiting from his ventures.59 Cristóbal eventually took over his uncle’s escribanía, perhaps passing it on to his own relatives in due time. Guevara, León, and Luis Aceituno were not alone in their marriages to

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

women connected with encomenderos and other members of Santiago’s elite society. Quite a few notaries managed strategic marriages to daughters of encomenderos, though such unions became quite rare after midcentury.60 As Santiago’s Spanish population grew, men with higher status eclipsed notaries in the competition for well-connected Spanish women. Both León and Aceituno married widows, a fact that points to the difficultyof finding previously unmarried women for men like them. It must be made clear that the majorityof Santiago’s notaries did not marry women of such wealth or connections.61 Indeed, only a handful of notaries managed to marry doñas.62

 The Spanish administrative and legal system had a voracious need for notaries. Many of them did not operate in escribanías but in Santiago’s municipal council or the Audiencia. Most worked both in escribanías and these institutions, though a few opted to specialize in either one or the other. The need for those trained in the legal system was such that even those without formal university judicial training stood to gain. Procuradores, men trained as notaries but lacking licentiates in law, filled the void. In the early period, sixteen procuradores worked in the Audiencia, usually from three to four at any given time. They performed all manner of tasks, from representing clients (regardless of their ethnicity) in criminal cases to administering chantries.63 They also served the important function of providing legal counsel to indigenous corporations.64 For their services, procuradores charged anywhere from ten pesos to thirtythree pesos.65 With the proceeds from their work and, in some cases, money from dowries, they invested in a variety of enterprises: Gonzalo Román, for example, owned a tannery; Francisco Sánchez de Madrid traded in indigo.66 In general, procuradores displayed the same entrepreneurial spirit characteristic of Santiago’s economically active population.

          The secretaries of the Audiencia’s governors stood above procuradores. Secretarios never numbered more than one per region. Guatemala had its own secretario, as did Honduras and other provinces. They were often the first to become aware of problems arising over loans and other finan-



               

cial matters.67 Their position involved more than simply acting as scribes for governors. In a way, they acted like procuradores but they had higher status. Secretarios either arrived in the company of their employers or were chosen from among better-connected notaries. Pablo de Escobar serves as a good example of a local notary turned secretario, undoubtedly as a result of help from relatives or associates.68 Escobar went from working as a notary in  to serving as secretario seven years later.69 Francisco de Santiago went through a similar process. He arrived in Santiago around  as a low-ranking royal official.70 By  he had attained the position of secretario, and shortly afterward he became a judge on the municipal council.71 His close ties to wealthy landowners and merchants aided him in his quest for municipal council membership.72 While Francisco himself had little hope of entering one of the prestigious military orders, he attempted to have such an honor bestowed on his son.73 He tried to have his son enter the Order of Santiago, the most prestigious of the three orders in Spain.74 Bitter confrontations arose when one secretario attempted to trespass onto another’s jurisdiction. Diego de Robledo and Luis Sánchez entered into a prolonged legal battle over who had the legal right to reviewcases related to Santiago. As one of the earliest notaries in the region, Robledo had intimate ties with high-ranking local professionals.75 He participated in various campaigns in New Spain and Nicaragua and, as a result, received a respectable encomienda. Unfortunately for Robledo, there existed prohibitions against a secretario in the Audiencia receiving an encomienda. Some of his detractors unsuccessfully instigated a suit to have the encomienda removed from his possession. In the factious world of Santiago politics, it helped to have well-connected friends and relatives, as they could prove instrumental in offsetting pressures to surrender encomiendas. As the daughter of a prominent encomendero, Doña Francisca de Estrada, Robledo’s wife, possessed the necessary connections to deflect the attacks against her husband’s encomienda.76 Doña Francisca clearly illustrates the importance of women within the ranks of professionals. If not for her and her father’s intercession, Robledo likely would have lost the profitable encomienda. Luis Sánchez occupied a position fardifferent from Robledo’s. Early in his career, Sánchez was forced to prove his legitimacy, as some questioned his right to work in the Audiencia.77 The questions about his legitimacy reveal his tenuous footing in Santiago’s society. It was one thing to attempt to remove coveted prizes such as encomiendas but quite another to take issue with a person’s legitimacy. The rivalry between Sánchez and

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

Robledo began in , when Sánchez, acting as secretario of the province of Nicaragua, began reviewing cases that fell under Robledo’s jurisdiction.78 The enmity between the two grew into outright hatred. Later, when the Audiencia temporarily moved to Panama, Sánchez sought to occupy the office of secretario in that region and to force Robledo to take a lesser post in Nicaragua.79 He proved no match for Robledo and in the end had to renounce the Panama office in favor of his rival. Perhaps in a moment of desperation, Sánchez took to the streets of Santiago and posted placards with libelous messages against Robledo and other Audiencia members.80 The Audiencia found Sánchez guilty of libel, fined him, and, worse, exiled him from Santiago as punishment. It appears that while Sánchez lacked connections in Santiago, he had better luck with the Council of the Indies in Havana. The Council overturned the Audiencia’s ruling and also ordered that Sánchez receive the office of secretario in Panama. The rather unstable Sánchez did not wait for the final adjudication to arrive from Havana and instead escaped from jail while his case was under review. It remains unclear whether or not he took the position in Panama. Professionals as a group, then, consisted of individuals with distinct and, many times, conflicting interests. Beyond ability, personal ties, whether local or external, were crucial in gaining access to positions such as that of secretario. Sánchez had married a woman related to the influential Molina family; as a result, he had some local connections of his own, though certainly not on par with Robledo’s. Juana de Molina, Sánchez’ wife, proved a capable woman who quickly maneuvered to take over her spouse’s estate once he left Santiago.81 As per Spanish requirements, Sánchez empowered his wife to take all necessary actions in regard to the couple’s property. Thus she acted independently from him. Perhaps out of economic hardship brought about by Sánchez’ ill-conceived attempt to libel Robledo, Molina sold a house plot and African slaves owned by the couple.82 Sánchez’ absence turned Molina into an indispensable partner in the management of their property. This case does not prove unique; Spanish males at all social levels empowered wives to act as their legal representatives.83

                                   On a much higher plane stood the small number of licentiates working in the Audiencia. They mainly adjudicated disputes over land and inheritance. The majority of those who held licentiates in law arrived as offi-



               

cials attached to the Audiencia. The large number of individuals active in Santiago with at least some legal knowledge, such as notaries, procuradores, and baccalaureates, and the relatively small population created such a competitive situation that licentiates simply could not make their way without Audiencia connections. As a result of their university training and association with royal institutions, licentiates had a ready-made high-status niche that outstripped almost any position that notaries and others in similar professions could expect to attain. Yet they did not differ significantly from others involved in law-related tasks when it came to commercial dealings. Some licentiates actively engaged in the cacao trade in much the same manner as did artisans.84 Unlike Santiago’s notaries, who began their careers as bachelors in their twenties, most licentiates were older and married by the time they came to Santiago. There were, of course, notable exceptions: Licenciado Pedro Rodríguez Maldonado married a doña, daughter of a local encomendero, after he arrived in Santiago.85 Thus members of the local elite such as Sancho de Barajona realized the many advantages of having daughters marry well-connected licentiates. Barajona did not hesitate to marry one of his daughters, Doña Leonor de Barajona, to a licenciado, Juan Caballón, a judge on the Audiencia.86 When Doña Leonor was widowed, she wasted little time in marrying another royal official.87 These marriages also serve as examples of licentiates’ tendency to marry women of high social and economic status. They simply overlooked women of lower status. The reduced availability of high-status Spanish males made licentiates prime candidates for marriage to elite women, who brought with them wealth and immediate access to Santiago’s highest social circles. At times, licentiates brought along unmarried female dependents for the purpose of finding suitable local marriage partners. Women who accompanied licentiates quickly found husbands among Santiago’s elite society. In this way, licentiates, like others who engaged in the practice, could forge ties with Santiago’s elite and facilitate their entrance into local society. Licenciado Garci Jufre de Loaysa quickly found a prosperous encomendero for one of his wife’s dependents.88 He also managed to marry his son Pedro de Loaysa to the daughter of another wealthy encomendero.89 Loaysa demonstrates the strategic unions open to children of Santiago’s licentiates. Marriages of this type were possible for only a few professionals and other wealthy individuals. Marriage, whether direct or through proxy (such as that of dependents or children), bound officials

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

to local interests in ways that would ultimately prove detrimental to their expressed mission of safeguarding royal interests.90 Doctors of jurisprudence ranked above all other professionals. Invariably attached to the Audiencia, these men achieved status and wealth exceeding that held by most of Santiago’s Spanish population, including many encomenderos. They usually held the office of judge if not that of presidente of the Audiencia or governor. Doctors of jurisprudence, like licentiates, worked for years in royal administration, coming up through the ranks like other bureaucrats. As Audiencia judges they could affect a person’s welfare, and as governors they had the authority to grant and remove encomiendas and to make mercedes.91 Because nearly all decisions made by governors could be and were appealed, the process could last years and be quite costly. Consequently, not many risked falling into bad relationships with governors.92 Like licentiates, doctors of jurisprudence entered into close relationships with the local population through the mechanisms of marriage and debt. They brought along female dependents to marry local elites, while locals lent the new arrivals money to help establish themselves in Santiago. By and large, doctors of jurisprudence did not differ greatly from other professionals in their actions. Much like licentiates, they made their homes in the more expensive and luxurious areas of Santiago. They used their position to acquire wealth, at times, illicitly. Doctor Antonio Mejía serves as a prime example of an economically active Audiencia member. By some accounts, Mejía benefited greatly from his position as governor. He allegedly paid excessive salaries to some clerics, conceivably in exchange for a sizable kickback.93 Mejía survived the accusations, as they were made after an investigation of his performance that granted him immunity from suits resulting from past actions connected to his position.94 Most men in Mejía’s position got along well with the local elite.95 Yet Mejía made the mistake of angering the choleric Don Carlos Arellano. At some point, the two had traded insults and Don Carlos swore to exact revenge. In , before a multitude of witnesses, Don Carlos fatally attacked Mejía with sword and dagger.96 Don Carlos’ impressive connections secured him immediate passage to Seville, where he lived unaffected by his crime.97 Mejía’s death amply demonstrates the fragile relationship between crown representatives, of which doctors of jurisprudence were usually the highest ranking, and local patricians. Indeed, it seems surprising that more officials did not suffer Mejía’s fate, as they often made extremely unpopular decisions, particularly in regard to land.98



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Portuguese, so prevalent among lower-ranking groups, were all but nonexistent among licentiates and doctors of jurisprudence. Doctor Blas Cota presents perhaps the only and surely the most conspicuous exception. Cota, an administrator for the Portuguese crown in the Azores, traveled to Santiago with Pedro de Alvarado around .99 Cota claimed that Alvarado had promised him rewards in exchange for loyal service, prompting Cota to move with his family and retinue to Santiago. Shortly after Cota’s arrival, Alvarado died and left him without a patron; as a result, Cota lost all hope of attaining the post of governor of the Audiencia. He quickly integrated into local society by marrying a widow, Francisca Gutíerrez de Monzón. The marriage assured Cota solid standing in Santiago; otherwise, he would have been just another foreigner, albeit one with a prestigious university degree. His marriage to a moneyed woman allowed him at once to increase his status and that of his future offspring. Additionally, he participated in commercial activity, especially gold mining.100 Cota’s ethnicity and precarious beginnings notwithstanding, he behaved much like any other professional of similar status. His children, like the progeny of other doctors of jurisprudence, made extremely lucrative marriages with sons and daughters of wealthy encomenderos.101

P

rofessionals boasted stronger economic and social position than the majority of Santiago’s inhabitants. Occasionally, their wealth rivaled even that of wealthy encomenderos. Yet in the realm of interpersonal relations they displayed similarities with less economically powerful individuals. They cultivated the same close connections among members of their group as did merchants, artisans, and muleteers, to name but three. Notaries in particular worked closely with one another. Perhaps the need to share their records, pass along clients, and generally work more or less harmoniously fostered binding ties. Trained and aspiring notaries often had little choice but to work in an already-established escribanía. This too contributed to Santiago’s notaries’ forming a close circle. Even among higher-ranking individuals such as licentiates and doctors of jurisprudence, close ties proved essential for success. However, marriage did not play as large a role in cementing internal ties as it did among other groups, particularlyartisans.The relatively small population of professionals and the fact that superior unions could be made with the daughters of the established elite contributed to the trend of exogamous marriages.Ties were cultivated in different ways, likely through reciprocal understandings whereby gifts ensured future favors.

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

Professionals had little trouble marrying into elite families. Even notaries, who occupied a somewhat lower position within the professional group, managed to marry women with substantial economic holdings, although these women tended to be widows. Licenciados and doctors of jurisprudence, as a result of their ties to the Audiencia, fared even better. Theirconnections allowed them to entera world of economic and political power closed to the majority of Santiago’s residents. Those on the lower end of the social ladder had nearly no hope of such unions. Yet privilege did not bring about withdrawal from work obligations. If anything, it was precisely their work in royal institutions that guaranteed their position in society. Many of Santiago’s professionals, indeed, most of the city’s European population, depended in one way or another on coerced labor. Like all Spanish American settlements, Santiago had a substratum of Africans and natives (slave and free) who undertook the preponderance of arduous labor. In early Santiago, the European, African, and native spheres did not exist in isolation; rather, they intersected at different points and for distinct reasons. The intersections sometimes resulted from violent coercion, as when slaves were forcibly imported from the African homeland; at other times, they occurred peacefully, as when native wage laborers contracted to work with Spaniards. An understanding of early Santiago mandates a thorough discussion of the city’s understructure, for without it there exists the danger of erroneously concluding that Santiago’s growth and success resulted entirely from the skills and entrepreneurial drive of Europeans. While Europeans and their knowledge of literacy, economic mechanisms, and crafts were important, they would have withered without the contributions of Africans and natives. For too long, the crucial roles played by Africans and natives in early Santiago have been obscured. Pulling back the heavy drape of historical forgetfulness reveals the complex contours of the lives of slave and free Blacks, indigenous communities, and native workers in sixteenth-century Santiago.

Chapter Eight

A     

W

e do not know when the first Africans arrived in Guatemala. Records that concretely demonstrate their participation in the armed subjugation of native peoples have not surfaced. To Spaniards, Blacks represented an indispensable part of their culture. As such, they likely played an important role in the military phase of the initial contact between natives and Europeans.1 Chroniclers like Bernal Díaz del Castillo hardly mention the participation of Africans in the conquest of Guatemala.2 Yet evidence from other areas argues for their participation.3 Juan Bardales, a slave manumitted for his services during the fighting in Honduras, in particular, in the city of Trujillo, likely had counterparts in Guatemala. He successfully petitioned, on the grounds of his role in the conquest of the region, fora stipend of fifty pesos from the municipal council of Trujillo.4 The evidence thus contradicts the notion that Africans first reached Guatemala in .5 The Blacks in Santiago originated from many parts of the vast African continent. Unfortunately, the identification methods practiced by Spanish and Portuguese slave traders make it difficult to determine specific homelands for many slaves. Slavers identified their chattel by the port of embarkation or the lands adjacent to it. They loaded vessels in West Africa, and thus a disproportionate number of slaves are identified as indigenous to that area.6 Place of origin rarely appears in bills of sale until ; after that time, it surfaces with greater frequency.The records either state de tierra de [from the land of ] or give the place of origin as a surname. In Santiago, identification of slaves was haphazard, and in the largest number of cases does not surface at all. Place of origin seems to have played a minor role in the local slave trade at this time. Due to the many groups represented and the small numbers involved, no single ethnic group predominated (see Table ). During the sixteenth century, knowledge of Spanish (or any other valuable skills) had greater importance than place of origin. In Santiago slaves fell into the same types of categories prevalent throughout the Indies: bo-

                       



     .                                             ,   –  Origin Cape Verde Biafara (Biafada, Biafar) Bran (Bram) Berbesí (Serer) Banal, Banas (Banyun) Zape (Sierra Leone region) Jolofe (Wolof ) Guinea (Guinea Bissau) Mandinga (the Malinke of the Gambia) Other West Africa San Tomé Tierra Nova (Unknown) Southern Africa Manicongo (Congo) Angola Mozambique Spain, Portugal, Indies (Criollo) Mulatto Not specified Total

Number
    
 

   

  

Source: , Libros de Protocolo de Escribano. Ethnic and geographic names after Lockhart, Spanish Peru, p. . Note: Names in parentheses denote the different names of regions.

zal (recent arrival); ladino (knowledgeable of Spanish ways and language); and criollo (born outside of Africa).7 Ladino and criollo slaves were more valuable than their bozal counterparts. Since at this time mulattos were perforce fluent in Spanish (or at the very least Portuguese), they sold for about the same prices as ladino or criollo slaves. Skills and language fluency, and not simply the fact that they had lighter complexions, increased their value. In addition, the sex of a slave (men cost more than women) and any vices that could be detected affected price. Males tended to outnumber females, as elsewhere in Spanish America.8 The possession of African slaves elevated the owner’s status. The greater the prosperity of a given individual, the larger the number of slaves he or she owned. Black slaves served as important symbols of conspicu-



                       

ous consumption and ostentatious displays of wealth. Likewise, slaves, despite the inherent danger of premature death or illness, served as an investment. Slaves purchased relatively cheaply could later be sold for a profit. Both Black and indigenous slaves often served as collateral for long-term loans.9 On occasion, borrowers balked at paying annuities or the principal on a loan; consequently, their slaves were quickly seized to ensure that they paid their outstanding debts.10 African slaves also generated profits for their owners as unskilled laborers, overseers on landed estates, or highly trained artisans. Slave women sold goods such as bread for their masters in the local tiánguiz.11 Other women worked as bakers or as trained domestics in the homes of the better placed. Due to their exorbitant cost and the relative lack of wealth in the region, Black slaves never reached high numbers in Guatemala. In terms of population they ranked third, far behind natives and even Europeans; the proportions varied, depending on the place and time. In the early years, gold placer mining areas boasted far larger numbers of Blacks than Europeans, but still fewer than natives.12 On estancias and other agricultural enterprises, Blacks were often the only nonindigenous element. Santiago saw the largest concentration of African slaves because, above all, African slavery in sixteenth-century Guatemala was principally an urban phenomenon.13 Black and mulatto slaves served as intermediaries between Spaniards and indigenous peoples. In the frameworks of encomienda, repartimiento, and permanent private employment, they oversaw native workers both slave and free. Natives complained often of egregious behavior on the part of Blacks who lived in the countryside close to their communities. Yet relationships between Africans and natives were complex. Indeed, Blacks did not invariably have higher status than natives, as evidenced by the fact that some wealthy indigenous nobles owned Black slaves, though this proved quite rare. In the majority of cases, Europeans owned Blacks and used them repeatedly as overseers of indigenous people. Blacks and mulattos resisted slavery as best they could. Large revolts, such as those that took place in certain parts of New Spain, did not occur in Santiago during the early period.14 Flight attempts proved a constant nuisance to Spaniards, but hardly more than that. There really were not many places for runaways to hide.They were often sold while absent, with no noticeable loss in value. The small number of slaves in Santiago made impossible the creation of palenques at this time. There are suggestions in the documents that perhaps small bands of runaways harassed travelers outside of Santiago.15 Stealing, alcoholism, gambling, and lying, all

                       



of which can be seen as forms of resistance, were common. Undoubtedly, resistance also took many other forms.16 In later years, a substantial population of free Blacks and mulattos developed, manumitted or born into freedom. They occupied countless positions in Santiago, from workers on indigo obrajes to skilled artisans. They were often muleteers, as the job allowed for a great deal of freedom of movement and paid reasonably well. From the employer’s perspective, the free Black or mulatto was a mobile free agent and a Hispanized person who could be trusted with valuable movable property. (For the same reason, marginal Europeans, mestizos, and acculturated natives appeared in this role as well.) In addition, mulattos were involved in the cacao trade, a role that fit excellently with the work of muleteer. Much like women of all ethnic groups, free Black and mulatta women participated in the local economy. They incurred debts for loans and for all manner of merchandise. Among the free population there was also a relatively small number of artisans, the majority invariably mulattos. Mulattos represent a unique group. For reasons that remain unclear, most mulatto children went unrecognized by their fathers.17 Thus their parentage proves difficult to determine. Marginal individuals, in particular, foreigners such as Portuguese, were likelier to recognize mulatto children than were those in a better social position.18 Rarely did mulatto children enjoy the benefits of mestizo children in the early years. African and indigenous unions were nearly always between a Black male and an indigenous woman. Usually, though not always, progeny of such unions were recognized as legitimate. Children of European-African origin lived in Santiago, while offspring of Black-indigenous unions lived in the countryside, for the most part. Blacks and mulattos could and did own land. Although it was an extraordinaryoccurrence, slaves also purchased real estate. Often theyacted independently of their owners when undertaking such transactions.19 Those who owned property tended to be free and bought both urban and rural real estate.The plots involved were not very large, usually just a solar with a humble house built on it. Yet the very fact that they owned real estate at all bespeaks the economic success enjoyed by some members of this group.

            Travelers from Spain to Guatemala often brought along Black slaves because their high cost made them valuable and desirable. Speculation in



                       

slaves was costly, so only those with liquid capital participated. Anyone wishing to import slaves had to petition for a royal license. The grants specified purchase for personal service and not for resale. This admonition, like many others, likely went unheeded. Juan Rodríguez Palma used royal grants to take along Black slaves when traveling to Santiago. In  he received permission to take with him two Black slaves, one male and the other female.20 Importers of African slaves stood to reap handsome profits. Indeed, the temptation proved so great that some travelers stole slaves in Spain to sell in the Indies. Since thieves did not bother with licenses, it is difficult to uncover their trail. In one case, Don García de Castellanos’ slave appeared in New Spain some twelve years after being stolen in Seville. Castellanos, a vecino of Santiago, empowered two representatives to help him return the slave, named Silvestre, to Santiago.21 Most slave sales involved one or two individuals. Transactions involving three or more slaves were infrequent. Only affluent Spaniards bought large numbers of Black slaves. The largest single sale I uncovered took place in , when Juan Maldonado de Guzmán sold Don Francisco de la Cueva nine slaves, five males and four females.22 A year earlier, a cleric sold another Spaniard seven slaves, two females and five males.23 Furthermore, the limited number of Black slaves available in Santiago restricted the possibility of large sales. While a few among Santiago’s population did possess sufficient capital for multiple purchases, this did little good in light of the unavailability of African slaves. Initially, two sales patterns existed concurrently. On the one hand, Santiago’s residents bought Black slaves wherever they could locate them, usually purchasing them outside Santiago, in Spanish settlements to the south or north. Juan de Aragón purchased a slave in Chiapas in .24 The sale of Andrés (Angola) illustrates the other pattern, that of individuals traveling to Santiago to negotiate in slaves.25 Andrés’ owner, a muleteer from Puebla, traveled to Santiago to sell him to a vecino of Antequera.26 Over time, the latter pattern became dominant, making Santiago a regional center for the African slave trade. This change paralleled the rise of Santiago as an entrepôt for cacao, indigenous textiles, and other products. Those traveling to Santiago to trade in slaves mainly came from southern New Spain. A smaller number came from areas to Santiago’s south like San Salvador.27 By , if not much earlier, there existed a permanent place within Santiago for the sale and purchase of Black slaves.28 By that time, Santiago had metamorphosed into an important center for the

                       



local slave trade. Travelers from as far as Mexico City visited Santiago to sell African slaves.29 Still others continued purchasing slaves at Puerto de Caballos as they had done earlier, but the number of purchasers at Caballos dwindled as Santiago’s slave market grew in importance. In the early years, Black slaves were sold along with introduced European domestic animals, a convenient practice, because human chattel and animals were both costly and constituted single working units.30 In  a Spaniard sold four Black male slaves, trained as muleteers, and a large number of horses, mules, and their equipment for twenty-four hundred pesos to a Basque.31 The rise in prices of Black slaves concomitant with the devaluation in the price of domestic animals led to the near disappearance of joint sales as the sixteenth century progressed, however. By the s slaves and domestic animals appear together in the records only when part of land sales, although these types of sales were infrequent.32 Sometimes as many as three slaves were sold along with the land they worked.33 Since no one knew better the workings of an estate than the slaves who lived on the land and helped manage it, buyers of agricultural enterprises considered the inclusion of slave supervisors necessary to the successful operation of such endeavors. Slave sales separate from land or animal sales prove most common in the documents. The oldest cases date from the early s.34 Often demand surpassed availability, as the encomendero Juan de Espinar was well aware. In  Espinar wanted to purchase two thousand pesos’ worth of Black slaves at Caballos. Given that at the time a young bozal male cost from eighty to  pesos, Espinar intended to purchase eighteen to twentyfive slaves. Knowing that Africans invariably arrived in small numbers (if at all), he instructed his representative to purchase other merchandise in the absence of quality slaves.35 Any person who could afford to do so purchased a Black slave or two. Artisans, in particular, bought them as both auxiliaries and investments. As elsewhere, they purchased unskilled slaves, taught them their craft, and sometime later sold them for substantial profits.36 In  a cobbler bought a bozal male from a local merchant for  pesos.37 Twenty-six years later, locksmith Miguel González bought a male slave from a local merchant.38 Undoubtedly, the cobbler and González bought the slaves to teach them their trades, since highly skilled Black slaves were quite valuable. In  a Black slave trained as a cobbler sold for five hundred pesos, roughly twice the average price of an untrained ladino male at the time.39



                       

Occasionally, married slaves were sold together, a practice that demonstrates both the existence of conjugal pairs and that at least some owners preferred to sell spouses as a unit.40 The practice began early, an indication that possibly from the onset, slave unions existed in Santiago. In  Don Francisco de Alegrías sold encomendero Cristóbal Lobo two slaves described as ‘‘marido y muger’’ [husband and wife], both ladinos from New Guinea.41 The place of origin of the couples is usually absent from the records;42 however, in cases where it does appear, typically the wife and husband hail from different regions. In  the sale of a slave couple reveals their names to have been Antón Berbesí and Lucía (Tierra Nova).43 Threeyears later in a similar sale, the husband is identified as Biafara and his wife as Manicongo.44 It remains unknown how these mixed couples were created. Sales of couples sold as a unit, unlike individual slave sales, were very rare.45 Rarer still were sales of entire families. The large amounts of money needed to purchase a whole family made such sales unattractive to buyers, who preferred to acquire slaves piecemeal.46 Transactions involving mothers and their children also occurred. The purchase of a mother and child allowed for at least some benefits. Lactating slave women could double as wet nurses in the households of owners or elsewhere.47 In addition, the slave child could, if reared with the owner’s children, serve as a playmate or caretaker. Sometimes, though rarely, pregnant women were purchased. In these cases, sellers had to assume the risk that, should the woman die in labor, the buyer must be returned the purchase price.48 Now and then, women were sold along with their newborn. In  the widow María del Mármol sold a criollo slave and her four-month-old baby to another widow, María del Mercado.49 Probably Mercado bought the slave with the notion of selling the child once it had grown a bit. For whatever reason, she paid the substantial price of  pesos for the mother and infant. More often, and tragically so, children were sold apart from their parents. Since children cost a fraction of what an adult did, they may have represented a sort of investment, as they could be kept until such time as their sale would prove profitable. Children, however, worked far less than adults and represented something of a short-term loss to owners. The seller in these instances might have stood to gain more from the sale than if he had reared a slave child. Interestingly, sales of boys outnumber girls three to one in the records. Buyers might have felt that they could more readily exploit the working capacity of boys than of girls. When identified, criollos naturally far outnumber all others. Indeed, of the twenty-one cases I discovered, fifteen are specified as criollos. Five

                       



were born in Santiago, an indicator that Black slaves did reproduce in the city.50 The remaining cases either lack place of origin or else occurred outside Guatemala. Slave women and their children surface in numerous cases.51 In one instance, a slave woman was said to have three children, all of them close in age, indicating frequent pregnancies.52 Notably, only three mulatto children appear in the transactions.53 In cases involving children of mixed ethnicity, where it is likely that Europeans fathered the children, it proves difficult to determine paternity. Sales of children appear around midcentury, the earliest dating from . That year a barber-surgeon sold a ten-year-old boy named Juanico to a merchant for fifty-three pesos.54 The youngest child sold appears in a sale by María del Mármol (the same woman mentioned above) to a vecino of Trinidad in . She received one hundred pesos for a three-year-old boy named Marcos. María stated that Marcos was the son of a slave who belonged to her.55 The next youngest was six-year-old Alejo, who sold for nearly  pesos in .56 Most children sold tended to be a little older, about eight to ten on average. The demand for Black slaves was such that even the disabled, infirm, or aged were bought, if at somewhat lower prices than young and apparently healthy slaves. In  forty-year-old Diego (Bran), said to have an open sore under one of his big toes, sold for  pesos.57 That same year, Nicolás Berbesí, a slave said to suffer from sores, sold for  pesos.58 Even older slaves found buyers, although they sold for paltry sums. Sixtyyear-old María sold for forty pesos in .59 The purchasers may have surmised that the lower price offset the potential dangers of buying sickly or older slaves.

                     Black slaves primarily functioned as servants in urban households. Sometimes, particularly in the cases involving women, slaves did triple duty, working as household servants, as aides in home-based enterprises, and as the sellers of the goods they helped manufacture. The amount of work varied depending on the activities and, likely, the attitude of owners. Yet African slaves also fulfilled a variety of tasks, some in areas distant from Santiago. Since the cost of African slaves was extremely high, only very profitable enterprises relied on chain gangs. Mining ranked as one of the few such undertakings. Early on, Spaniards sought to increase their wealth



                       

by investing in mines. Individuals like Pedro de Alvarado invested heavily in the silver mines of the Río de Guayape (in Honduras).60 Two types of mining took place in early colonial Central America. In Honduras and Huehuetenango (in northern Guatemala), gold was mined along the banks of rivers. In other areas, such as Matapán (in El Salvador), silver pit mining predominated.61 The inhospitable climate, disease, poor diet, and onerous work schedules led to a high death rate among indigenous slaves in both types of mining, with areas of placer activity taking the heaviest hit. Spaniards came to rely heavily on Black slaves as essential to the very success of mining ventures.62 Even in the planning phase of their operations, mine owners mentioned Black slaves as being necessary above all else.63 Before the successful abolition of indigenous slavery, Black and native slaves worked together at the mines, with the latter far more numerous. Spaniards saw indigenous slaves as an essential component of all their mining enterprises.64 They did not differentiate between male and female indigenous slaves: both sexes performed essentially the same tasks.65 The low cost of indigenous slaves negated any preferences mine owners might have had for male over female labor. Mine owners did have gender-based preferences when it came to African slaves. Invariably, Black male slaves outnumbered Black female slaves at the mines. The situation likely resulted from the greater availability of males in the local slave markets and European perceptions that males made better workers than females.66 Given their prejudices and the high cost of Black slaves, miners were leery of purchasing females, and thus they concentrated on buying mostly males. Mining proved a risky enterprise; only a handful of miners achieved sufficient success to purchase large numbers of African slaves, and most miners barely earned a subsistence living.67 Consequently, despite mining’s greater profitability compared with other enterprises, only a fraction of the total Black slave population worked in the mines. Black and mulatto slaves provided essential labor on agricultural enterprises as well. In the records I consulted, Black slaves do not begin to appear in this role until after midcentury.68 The number of Black slaves involved in agricultural enterprises remained rather low, with the majority working in relatively small cacao groves.69 The profitability of cacao makes the presence of slaves in groves unsurprising. Indigo cultivation, also a lucrative enterprise but less so than cacao, boasted a smaller number of Black slaves. The overwhelming number of workers on indigo-

                       



producing lands were free laborers of all ethnicities, even low-ranking Spaniards.70 The acquisition of Black slaves proved too costly for most labradores, and in their place free natives and, later, persons of mixed ethnicity were hired. Only the more successful could afford to put Black slaves to work on agrarian enterprises.71 Invariably, slaves made up the skilled cadre that administered estates. Infrequently, entire slave families lived and worked on agricultural lands quite distant from Santiago. In , for example, a family of four criollos lived on a wheat field in Izhuatán.72 Not always did male slaves accompany slave women, to be sure. Sometimes Black slave women worked alone, administering profitable ventures like cacao groves. Ana Martel, a slave belonging to an encomendero’s widow, lived on and managed a sizable cacao grove. In  Martel was living with one of the widow’s sons, and the widow asked that Ana be returned to the grove.73 A year later, the widow manumitted Ana, who at the time was said to be sixty years old.74 Ana’s manumission likely resulted from her advanced age, the little economic value she still had, and perhaps affection. As a result of their position as intermediaries, Black slaves living on estancias or other agricultural enterprises often behaved badly toward natives. As caretakers or workers on rural lands, Africans often represented the first line of foreign intrusion into the native world. In numerous instances, they preyed on indigenous people, forcibly taking from them food or any other items they desired. Black slaves thus acted much as any Spaniard would have. Native towns sought to ameliorate the damage Blacks caused. An effort to create a buffer zone between land owned by Spaniards and land owned by indigenous communities was one such attempt. The municipal council of Caluco sought to buy back alienated community lands in  75 to ‘‘prevent the damage from the Blacks and cattle’’ from neighboring lands in Spanish hands.76 The perception of Blacks as meddlesome outsiders created tension in indigenous communities; consequently, Africans found few allies when dealing with native towns. Slave muleteers played a crucial role in Santiago’s economy. Although the occupation was dangerous and arduous, some slaves managed to profit from it because theyoperated with a great deal of trust from theirowners.77 The case of the remarkable Pedro Jolofe illustrates.78 Jolofe’s owner, Magdalena de Escobar, widow of the muleteer Hernán



                       

Martín, operated her husband’s mule trains after his death. At some point, Jolofe received a carta de poder from Escobar to operate a mule train she owned. In  Escobar renewed the carta to make sure that Jolofe’s position continued. Not only was he empowered to make lading contracts (and to collect all debts), but he could also purchase Black slaves and equine animals necessary for the train.79 He also had authority to purchase land and cattle in Escobar’s name. Using the power granted him, Jolofe hired indigenous muleteers. In the process, he developed close relationships with them.80 Jolofe operated the mule train and managed large sums of money. He made two lading contracts with merchant Pedro de Solórzano, on one occasion charging him  pesos and on the other collecting eight hundred.81 His last will and testament (the only such local sixteenth-century will drafted at the behest of a Black slave thus far uncovered) reveals that he owned two large parcels of agricultural land, which he received as reward for his service to the crown.82 Jolofe’s land, located not too distant from Santiago, provided him with income additional to that he earned as a muleteer. The preponderance of Santiago’s Black population lived and labored close to or in the city, with the greatest number working as domestics trained in Spanish ways. So ubiquitous was urban slavery that Black slaves occasionally even performed valuable service for persons with physical disabilities.83 Gender-based division of laborchanged whenever the situation demanded it, but, in general, males tended to perform heavy labor while women worked at tasks such as cooking. Moreover, Black slave women worked in home-based enterprises owned by Spaniards. Slave women such as Leonor Panadera (a baker) and Leonor Cocinera (a cook) did double duty as domestics and laborers.84 Some Black women and indigenous people of both sexes sold bread and prepared foods like goat stew in the tiánguiz.85 Highly skilled slaves, the elite of their group, represent another facet of slavery in Santiago. Invariably male, slave artisans not only were more valuable but also exercised authority over untrained slaves and free workers. Furthermore, they sometimes acted independently and unhindered by oversight. As early as , Black slaves worked as skilled carpenters in the mining industry.86 In the late s and the early s, at least one Black slaveworked as a swordsmith and two others as expert locksmiths.87 After midcentury, around the s, slave artisans became more common in Santiago.Tanner Juan del Castillo had by  trained two Blacks, both

                       



named Francisco, in his craft, while artisans like barber-surgeons also trained Black slaves in their craft.88 Some slaves oversaw large and costly projects. Around  Domingo, a slavewhowas a master mason, had as manyas fifteen indigenous workers under his direction during the building of a grain mill.89 Others slaves, like Bartolomé and Juan Arada, operated a grain mill located close to Santiago.90 Rarely, slave artisans purchased their freedom by means of elaborate contracts with their owners. The contracts stipulated the operation of shops and monthly payments divided into two portions, one a required amount and the other money that went toward the price of purchasing the slave’s freedom. Given the high price of slaves in general, only artisans or those involved in other lucrative work could hope to purchase their freedom. Master blacksmith Hernando Vásquez, for example, entered into an agreement in  with his owner’s representative to purchase his freedom.The representative and Vásquez settled on  pesos as a just price.91 Vásquez agreed to pay the money within four and one-half years or lose his bid for freedom. He was to work independently, with the sole requirement that he pay a little over twenty pesos monthly. Santiago’s population of African and mulatto slaves developed a number of strategies to maintain family groups. Slave families appear in the records as nucleated units when living on estancias or other rural settings. In Santiago, family members rarely lived together, however. It could scarcely have been otherwise, as married slaves were often separated from spouses by sale.92 But separation did not make families any less meaningful.93 The fact that slaves often married free individuals complicates matters further. As in other regions of Spanish America, the majority of such unions consisted of African men and indigenous women.94 Some Black slave men married free Black and mulatta women, to be sure.95 Unions between enslaved and free Blacks appear in the documents toward the latter part of the period, a result of the lag between the arrival of African slaves and the growth of a free Black population. Free native and Black slave unions took place earlier in the century. A singular case dating from  alludes to the possibility of a native male fathering a child with a Black woman.The document contains the nebulous wording ‘‘Juan Pérez Indian . . . who said he was father of Pedro of mulatto color thirteen years old.’’ 96 Given the dominant pattern of Black women maintaining



                       

unions with either Black or European men, it seems very unlikely that Pérez fathered the child.

         Running away was the most common form of resistance in early Santiago. In fact, flight and subsequent recovery were so widespread that runaway slaves did not lose any of their value when sold. Spaniards knew that slaves would run away, and they expected to capture them, even if it took years. The fact that Africans had few places to hide and even less likelihood of surviving independently contributed to this conviction. As early as , owners complained of runaway slaves.97 Desperate owners even empowered indigenous people to serve as auxiliaries in recapture attempts. In  a cleric empowered a Spaniard, Melchor de la Mesa, and a native named Melchor to capture a slave who had fled to Chiapas.98 Half of all runaway cases involved criollo slaves. Since criollos knew the Spanish language and ways, they could more easily move about. The case of Juan, a Black slave born and reared in Cáceres (Spain), proves one of the more unusual. Juan, described as fully literate by his merchant owner, and apparently enjoying his owner’s absolute trust and confidence, administered some gold mines in Guayape. He worked at the mines from the date of his purchase, , without any reported incidents.99 But sometime in  Juan fled toward Nicaragua. He made his way to Santo Domingo, where he likely blended into the large Black population on the island. Despite his literacy and ability to get to the distant island, Juan’s owner eventually located him. So entrenched was the notion of running away that on occasion wives and husbands jointly made a bid for freedom.100 Although in the majority of cases men appear more often as runaways, women could and did take flight.101 Even adolescent girls ran.102 Invariably, female runaways were criollas or ladinas; not a single case of a female bozal running away surfaced during my research. While Spanish law required that a seller list all of a slave’s known faults, not everyone complied. Occasionally, Spaniards of suspect reputation sold troublesome slaves without mentioning their shortcomings, but not all sellers were as shady. Most dutifully listed the deficiencies of slaves for fear of having to return the purchase price if the buyer could prove deception. Owners often tired of dealing with slaves who stole, gambled, or

                       



drank excessively and sold them.103 At times, vices manifested themselves in combination with a tendency to run away. Owners might decide to recover as much of their investment as possible before a slave either stole their possessions or took flight. In  Alonso de Paz sold the Audiencia’s porter, a twenty-year-old male named Baltasar. Paz listed Baltasar’s faults as ‘‘huydor e ladron e borracho e jugador’’ [runaway, thief, drunkard, and gambler].104 Paz further identified Baltasar as a great scoundrel (‘‘un gran bellaco’’). In  a labrador sold a muleteer a slave identified as ‘‘ladron y huydor y borracho’’ [thief, runaway, and drunkard].105 Sales of slaves for similar conduct appear with some regularity in the documents.106 Despite any faults they might have possessed, even problematic slaves did not go from one owner to another with frequency. Some, like María, a criolla born in Trujillo (Panama) and identified as a ‘‘drunkard, runaway, and thief,’’ proved so indomitable that their owners simply had no choice but to sell them as quickly as possible. During an eight-month period, María changed owners five times.107 No other slave I located in the documents comes close to this number of transactions. Theft represented for slaves an opportunity both to gain financiallyand to exact a form of vengeance. The taking of tools or the like allowed them a small measure of comfort when dealing with those who held power over them. Yet the ability of slaves to pilfer items of value also benefited nonslaves. Consequently, low-ranking Spaniards occasionally joined slaves to acquire suspect merchandise. In  Micaela, a mulatta slave belonging to a wealthy encomendero, stole three jugs of wine. She gave one to her lover, Gaspar de Torres, and sold the other two to a Spaniard.108 Torres later sold the wine, perhaps splitting the money with her. Micaela thus managed to acquire money for herself and her lover through her illicit actions. On extremely rare occasions, slaves resorted to outright violence, some even going as far as killing their overseers. Either situations allowing for violent confrontations did not occur often, or slaves simply did not see an immediate benefit in the use of violence. In one exceptional instance, Baltasar de Camiña, a petty dealer of Portuguese origins, supervised the manufacture of pitch by some slaves owned by Antonio de Larasa. Camiña and the slaves lived away from the city, likely traveling there only when they had sufficient pitch to sell. The isolation of the operation made it an ideal place for violent confrontations. In  one of the slaves murdered Camiña.109 His body was found at the work site. No one ever investigated the murder, and none of the slaves were punished. No doubt, Camiña’s Portuguese descent and poverty (a mule and a horse ranked as the most



                       

valuable of his possessions) made his murder an event of little importance to the local authorities.The extraordinary fact that a Black slave murdered him implies a major degree of resistance, however.

                   The bulk of sixteenth-century Santiago’s Black and mulatto population consisted of slaves. A few managed to live outside the oppressive institution of slavery, however. Some either purchased their freedom or were manumitted. As time went by, the free African and mulatto population became self-perpetuating, growing to a sizable portion of the population.110 By  the Audiencia was complaining that in Santiago and a large area around the city there were many mestizos, mulattos, and free Blacks wandering about.111 The lack of censuses, a large corpus of parish records, and similar data for the sixteenth century makes even speculation about the size of this group difficult. Whatever its exact size, one thing seems certain: the free Black and mulatto population played an important part in Santiago’s social development. Free Blacks and mulattos performed essentially the same roles as their enslaved brethren. They mostly worked as domestics, salaried and free to move about, but without much gain in status.112 Free Africans and mulattos had much higher status than indigenous people did, however. In , when two tanners formed a company, they agreed to hire ‘‘un negro o un yndio que trabajase’’ [a Black or an Indian to work].113 The fact that ‘‘Black’’ appears before ‘‘Indian’’ makes it clear which ethnic group was preferred, at least by the two tanners, when it came to workers. Notably, free unskilled Blacks received higher salaries than mestizo artisans. In  Gaspar de Córdoba, a mestizo farrier, contracted with an accountant for two years to perform unspecified tasks, ‘‘lo que le mandare’’ [whatever he should order him to do].114 That same year, a free Black, Antón Girón, entered into a similar one-year contract with a notary.115 Córdoba agreed to work for twenty-five pesos yearly, while Girón was to receive thirty. In certain instances, mulattos received even higher salaries than Spaniards. In  an unskilled mulatto laborer on an indigo plantation made seven and one-half pesos monthly, while an unskilled Spaniard made six.116 The rarity of free Blacks combined with the small European population contributed to the relatively high salaries paid to some of the former. The fact that those unable to afford African slaves sought the services

                       



of free Blacks trained in European crafts also contributed to the wage situation. A sizable number of free Blacks worked on estancias, yet another instance of the free population’s continuing to work in the same occupations as Black slaves. Free Africans working in this capacity appear in the records by . In that year a free Black, Francisco Bermúdez, hired on with a local labrador for two years, agreeing to care for maize and wheat fields and to look after some hogs.117 Some forty years later, a free mulatto from Cuernavaca (in Central Mexico) went to work as administrator of an estancia owned by an encomendero.118 He received eighty-five pesos for a year’s work. Either due to blood relationships or through ties forged as trusted domestics, free mulattos made important connections among Santiago’s European population, a crucial factor in securing better economic possibilities. Although its exact size remains a mystery, early Santiago’s total mulatto population wielded a disproportionate amount of economic power within the free population of African descent. The situation resulted from the close ties to Spaniards forged through familial bonds. As with their mestizo children in later years, Spaniards rarely legitimized their mulatto offspring, yet they did not completely break from mulatto relatives. A pharmacist in Santiago bequeathed his mulatto nephew a substantial amount of money, perhaps to ensure that he receive some sort of training.119 Not only familial ties linked mulattos to Spaniards, however. Mulatta women created ties through their role as nannies.120 As trustworthy dependents, nannies could request favors for theirchildren or siblings. Such a strong bond existed between mulatta domestics and their employers that, occasionally, domestics testified in criminal disputes on their employers’ behalf.121 At other times, mulattos served as witnesses for wellplaced and low-ranking Spaniards alike.122 Some mulattos went as far as to risk their lives in defense of employers. In , when Don Carlos Arellano attacked an Audiencia judge, Doctor Antonio Mejía, his mulatto servant threw stones at men who attempted to defend the royal official.123 Many mulattos worked as muleteers. Some contracted with Spaniards for respectable salaries. In  a mulatto, Juan de Cáceres, worked for an Italian petty dealer.124 Cáceres independently operated two mule trains owned by the petty dealer and made six and one-half pesos monthly.125 Eighteen years later, a mulatto muleteer named Juan de Lora received forty-five pesos for six months’ work.126 At least some mulattos owned



                       

mule trains outright, a valuable and expensive investment. Others entered into elaborate compañías with Spaniards.127 Not all free mulattos and Africans worked as muleteers; a few worked as petty dealers. Measures dating from  that dictate the size of loads of cacao specifically mention free Black and mulatto petty dealers.128 In later years, even free Black women became active traders in cacao and other goods.129 Some mulattos preferred to deal in items of lesser value than cacao. In  Juan Pérez served time in jail for refusing to pay a native man for four loads of salt.130 Others, like Pedro Ruiz, dealt in wheat.131 Yet others even worked as fishermen, either on their own boats or on boats owned by others.132 The roles occupied by free mulattos proved nearly limitless. No profitable task went unexplored by Santiago’s enterprising population of African descent. Since the majority of the free Black population lived in Santiago, the bulk labored as domestics. Free African and mulatta women appear often in the documents as domestics. Some mulattas, like Francisca de Castellanos, spent years working in a single household. Francisca labored in the home of sculptor Miguel de Aguirre.When he died, his family ignored the fact that they owed her back pay. In  Francisca successfully sued Aguirre’s daughter and widow.133 On occasion, mothers and daughters hired out as teams to work in Spanish homes.134 Likely, they sought to lighten the work and increase their earnings. Perhaps in a bid to improve the condition of their children, free mulatta mothers put them to work in Spanish homes. Like other destitute peoples, mulatto children received only a pittance. Isabel de Chaves put her two children to work for a beata.135 The children, identified as tenyear-old Catalina and four-year-old Juan, were to work for fifteen years in exchange for food, clothing, and shelter. Isabel must have faced great hardship to accept such an agreement.136 Long-term contracts such as the previous, at least for children, took place intermittently. More than employer, the person hiring children in a way committed to rearing them and keeping them in the household until they reached adulthood, if not beyond. The children in effect became criados. As a group, mulatto artisans enjoyed greater status, greater economic opportunity, and higher salaries than unmixed African artisans did. It was mulattos and not unmixed Blacks who trained as artisans most often. Not a single example of a free unmixed Black artisan surfaced in the documents I examined. In view of the advantages presented by a manual craft, parents and other guardians logically sought to place mulatto children in

                       



apprenticeships with artisans. Seeking better opportunities for her son Juan, in  Polonia, a freed slave, apprenticed him with a silversmith for seven years. Some nine years later, a thirteen-year-old mulatto adolescent named Pedro apprenticed with a blacksmith.137 On occasion, slave parents apprenticed their freeborn mulatto children with mulatto artisans. In  Juan de Aguilar, a Black slave, apprenticed his son Pablo with a mulatto cobbler named Juan de Molina.138 Since Pablo’s mother, identified as a mulatta named Bárbola, was free at the time of his birth, he escaped bondage. The apprenticeship contracts for mulattos do not vary at all from those involving Spanish children. Mulattos trained most often as cobblers, tailors, or farriers, crafts held in somewhat low regard.139 But they also worked in relatively higher status trades such as silversmithing. After completion of training, mulatto artisans worked independently. At times they even took exams to enter guilds. Regardless of their trade, they underwent the same process of testing as any Spaniard seeking to earn the coveted title of master craftsman. In  Francisco Pacheco, a mulatto from Trinidad who had trained in New Spain and Guatemala, had to prove his skill before three master cobblers, all members of the local guild; he passed the exam handily.140 In the case of the cobbler’s guild, at least, nothing precluded the admittance of mulattos. Apparently, other guilds also lacked prohibitions against mulatto members in the early period.While few in number, artisans like Pacheco occupied the topmost position within the group of free Blacks and mulattos.

        Nearly all of Santiago’s economically active population of free and slave Africans and mulattos probably tried to invest in land. Among the free population, mulattos owned far more land than did Blacks. The roots of the difference lie in the greater economic success mulattos enjoyed. In the majority of cases, the purchases were in Santiago, but, occasionally, mulatto labradores also acquired land in the fertile valleys surrounding the city.The plots, whether urban or rural, were small.Transactions involving large parcels of land were the domain of Spaniards and other Europeans. Blacks and mulattos invariably purchased land from people of ethnicities different from their own. By necessity if not by design, the free population interacted mostly with people outside of their immediate group, much as they did in virtually all aspects of their lives.



                       

Blacks appear in the records rather early as landowners, from about midcentury onward. In  Antonio Beltrán, on his way to Mexico City on business, agreed to leave his house lot in the care of Francisco Ruiz.141 Beltrán’s low-value property lay somewhat outside of Santiago and bordered on a truck orchard owned byan Italian merchant.Twelveyears later, a mulatta domestic, Catalina de Marroquín, who was connected through past employment to the influential family of deceased bishop Francisco Marroquín, rented a house, also located on the outskirts of Santiago, to a widow.142 When it came to purchasing land, mulattos sought inexpensive plots, as their budgets did not allow for costly purchases. Like Spaniards they looked to natives for inexpensive real estate. Indigenous people often sold their property at low prices, both because of the small size of their lots and out of economic necessity. María Rodríguez, identified as a free mulatta married to a Black slave named Rodrigo, purchased a thatch-roofed house from Pedro de León and Catalina López, natives from the ward of San Francisco, in .143 Home ownership permitted individuals like María freedom from rent and provided them with an invaluable permanent residence. By  free mulattas María de Paredes and Luisa de Castellanos also owned houses in the same ward.144 The women presumably operated some sort of enterprise, perhaps selling items in the tiánguiz, as they purchased the properties independent of outside help. The fact that all three lived in San Francisco also points to the existence of a mulatto population in that barrio. African slaves also owned land, albeit rarely. Slaves’ ownership of property depended on the relationship they had with their owners. Slaves who had contractual agreements with owners had greater opportunities to acquire property. Some Black slaves, like the married couple María and Juan de Dueñas, purchased several bits of property. In  Juan and María, slaves of a widow named Inés Larios, sold a solar (with a house and baking oven built on it) to a notary named Villalobos for one hundred pesos.145 The solar abutted on another house lot and some corrals also owned by the Dueñas couple.146 The fact that the slaves sold Villalobos a solar with an oven on it serves as a reliable indicator that they operated a baking enterprise. With the profit from their bakery they could pay the monthly dividends required by their owner and invest in the purchase of property. Cases such as those of María and Juan prove exceedingly rare. Free individuals, not slaves, and, above all, mulattos participated in the majority of transactions involving land and people of African descent. In addition to urban property, Blacks and mulattos also owned agri-

                       



cultural land. They joined the many Europeans and mestizos involved in growing crops such as maize. Francisco and Gaspar Ruiz, the children of free mulattos Francisco Ruiz and Ana Barrera, bought ‘‘un pedazo de tierra’’ [a piece of land] located close to Ciudad Vieja in .147 Likely, others followed their example and purchased land suitable for growing grain and raising livestock. Free African labradores who purchased land, like their counterparts who bought house lots, enjoyed a success that escaped the majority of their Black and mulatto counterparts. But it must be stressed that not all Black and mulatto labradores owned land. A free Black named Mateo Cerrato rented land from wealthy Spaniards on which he raised hogs with the help of a native auxiliary.148

U

nlike the preponderance of Europeans, who arrived in Santiago of their own volition, Africans largely, if not entirely (at least in the early years), came involuntarily as slaves. Blacks served as auxiliaries during the initial contact between European and indigenous peoples, and individuals like Juan Bardales played an essential role in the conquest of Santiago. African slaves represented a heterogeneous mix of distinct cultures; no one group predominated. Spaniards demonstrated no preference for any given cultural group. Indeed, in most cases, sellers and buyers neglected to mention the place of origin of slaves. Faced with the urgency of bridging language differences, Africans, much like the natives who adopted Nahuatl as a lingua franca, quickly learned Spanish, if not to better understand the demands of owners then at least to communicate with each other. If for no other reason than shared language, Blacks belonged to the cultural sphere of Spaniards. On an individual basis, Black and mulatto males established long-term relationships with native women. Yet as a group, Blacks apparently did not get along well with native communities. To native corporations, they represented so many more Spaniards. The interaction between groups and individuals must be differentiated, however. Black and mulatto slaves proved indispensable in agricultural enterprises.Their knowledge of Spanish practices made them ideal candidates for work on distant estancias and farms. In tasks such as driving mule trains, African slaves also proved vital. Slave artisans, though much less numerous than unskilled Blacks, made up the elite of the group. Their greater earning capacity made them likelier to purchase their freedom, an opportunity that escaped the



                       

majority. Males made up the bulk of artisans, with women performing gender-based tasks such as cooking, baking, or selling in the tiánguiz. The largest number of slaves consisted of household servants, who undertook essential tasks within Spanish homes. Either forcibly or consensually, some male owners engaged in sexual relations with their female slaves, contributing to the growth of the mulatto population. Slaves did not accept their situation without resistance. Some attempted to ameliorate the drudgery of their lives by drinking and gambling. Others stole from their owners as a means of acquiring cash and exacting revenge. However, these made up a minority of cases compared with the number of slaves who opted for flight. Although male runaways outnumbered females, there were also runaway female slaves. By some accounts, Spaniards, because of their long experience with slaves of distinct ethnicities, almost expected slaves to resist. Its small size notwithstanding, the free Black and mulatto population played an important role in Santiago’s economy. Most of the free population worked as domestics, while a smaller number worked as muleteers and petty dealers. A small fraction, mulattos in particular, worked as artisans. In most cases, free mulattos enjoyed greater success than free Africans, because of the close associations that mulattos had with Spaniards, some of whom came to depend heavily on mulatto servants. The close relationship between domestic and employer permitted mulattos to reap many benefits. Despite rapid growth, Santiago’s European, African, and mixed residents remained a relative minority compared with the large numbers of indigenous peoples who lived, worked, and traveled to the city. For all intents and purposes, Santiago existed as a Spanish city within an indigenous world. The entire city evidenced a marked indigenous influence, from the types of building materials used to the main exports like cacao to the ubiquitous consumption of corn tortillas. In effect and practice, Santiago exuded native cultural elements. A symbiotic codependence between the Spanish, African, mixed, and native spheres, initiated at the inception of contact, grew and evolved throughout the sixteenth century. Furthermore, the very growth of the city was conditioned and influenced by indigenous sociopolitical organizational practices. Outside the city, native settlements dotted the countryside, some small and others large, all influencing and in turn influenced by Santiago.

Chapter Nine

I  



D

espite a precipitous decline as a result of contact with Europeans, throughout the sixteenth century indigenous peoples collectively made up the largest group in what today constitutes modern Guatemala.1 Natives also made up the majority in early Santiago. Variations in language and culture notwithstanding, Spaniards referred to all natives with the collective term indio. There also existed diversity in the types of indigenous settlements. Three main types existed during the sixteenth century: the barrios that formed within Santiago; the milpas that surrounded the city; and towns, which existed throughout the region and contained the bulk of its indigenous population.2 Santiago’s barrios grew as native migrants from both milpas and towns moved to them. At least some Spanish officials saw the natives resident in barrios and milpas as a boon to Santiago’s European population, since they provided labor and essentials like food.3 Santiago thus benefited from native corporations in its proximity.4 The indigenous corporations within Santiago were based on both native and Spanish models. Some wards consisted mostly of natives, even late into the colonial period. At least some barrios originated as milpas. Indeed, at times, Spanish notaries could not decide whether to identify a native communityas a barrio ora milpa.The majorityof Santiago’s barrios had an indigenous administrative structure akin to a municipal council. As in almost every native town, the positions on the municipal council were reserved for members of the precolonial nobility.5 Within the different barrios, natives from numerous distinct ethnic groups lived side by side. In addition, Europeans, Blacks (both slave and free), and people of mixed descent inhabited the wards. Although segregationist legislation existed, physical separation of Spaniards from natives did not take place.6 In fact, the contrary occurred.7 The origins of the milpas in Santiago’s immediate vicinity remain obscure. Some scholars argue that the city’s milpas came about because of Spanish intervention. While there is evidence pointing in that direc-



                        

tion, conclusive documentation for the postcontact creation of all milpas around Santiago has not surfaced.8 Spaniards founded some but not all of the milpas in the Valleys of Panchoy and Almolonga. Yet even in cases where Spaniards might have played a hand, the mechanisms for such settlements undoubtedly existed long before the contact period. In spite of the European intrusion, indigenous towns tried to function more or less as they had in the precolonial era. But given the drastic changes brought about by colonial rule, this was no easy task. Of the many changes that took place, the adoption of Spanish-style municipal councils ranks among the most conspicuous. Without exception, every major native town had a cabildo and the prerequisite members, alcaldes, and regidores. Larger towns boasted municipal councils that better mirrored those of Spanish corporations in terms of the number of council members. Using their experience in Central Mexico and elsewhere, Spaniards included the position of gobernador in the cabildo structure introduced in Guatemala.9 In this regard, Guatemala does not prove unique; Spaniards introduced the Nahua modified cabildo structure wherever they could.10 For the most part, the indigenous hereditary nobility administrated the municipal councils and played an essential role in the operation of the indigenous corporations. Through municipal council membership, nobles came to form a barrier, albeit a permeable one, against Spanish intrusion. When considered as a group, native nobles ranked among the most economically successful of all indigenous peoples. Much of their wealth derived from precolonial times, but some of these nobles, such as those from the cacao-growing areas, also benefited from opportunities that developed in the colonial period. In their decision-making capacity, nobles could affect the entire corporation they governed. Since they were a part of their communities, I shall not discuss them as a separate group but, rather, as members of the corporations in which they lived.

                Santiago presented a mosaic of different indigenous peoples. In addition to natives from Guatemala (whose exact time of arrival in the area remains mostly speculative), there were a substantial number of ‘‘indios mexicanos’’ [Mexican Indians, or Central Mexican auxiliaries].The indios mexicanos were mostly Tlaxcalans, but there were also groups like the Zapotecs among them. All provided invaluable aid to the Spaniards during the military phase of the conquest.11 Determining when distinct groups ar-

                        



rived at Santiago proves perplexing. Some came with the first Spaniards (mostly auxiliaries from New Spain) while others are identified as descendants of freed native slaves. Regardless of their time of arrival, once in Santiago, many natives settled into the multiple barrios that constituted the city’s core. Each barrio was further divided into smaller units called parcialidades or partes. The parcialidad was integral to the structure of the barrio. It had such importance that, when identifying themselves, natives often gave the name of their parcialidad as well as that of the barrio. As the subunit of the barrio, the parcialidad served to help natives identify with a smaller entity, a driving force in Mesomerican identity patterns. Indeed, the parcialidad bears great resemblance to the Nahua calpolli in that both were subunits of larger structures.12 Apparently, the situation was not unique to Santiago. The same sort of multiethnic barrios divided into parcialidades, but made up of Mexicanos and Guatemaltecos [Guatemalans], existed at Ciudad Vieja, the capital city that predated Santiago.13 Not all barrios in Ciudad Vieja, however, were this complex. The barrio of Malongo opted for simplicity and simply referred to one subunit as the ‘‘parcialidad de los yndios’’ [the subdivision of the Indians].14 In other cities, namely, San Salvador, an entire ward was named ‘‘barrio mexicano.’’ 15 Rubrics such as ‘‘mexicano’’ hid the distinct ethnic groups that made up this category. All the individuals might have been from one community, but it seems very unlikely. Nearly every barrio had a cabildo that functioned as a means of indigenous self-rule.16 How these political entities operated remains vague, however. Native nobles manned the posts on barrio cabildos, but how they ascended to the position remains unknown.17 To designate their status within the native world, nobles were uniformly referred to as principales. In  the native Diego de Sibajá appeared in a document labeled as ‘‘yndio principal’’ of the barrio of Santo Domingo.18 Within the barrio, the municipal council’s principales held offices such as alcalde and regidor.They could not, however, aspire to the higher-ranking office of gobernador, as it did not exist on barrio cabildos. Barrios were in essence under the political jurisdiction of Santiago and as such had no need for the office of gobernador. In addition, the position was characteristic of the complex traditional kingdoms which became towns under colonial rule. The kingdoms were grander in scale than barrios, necessitating the higher office of gobernador. In any case, nobles played an important part in barrio life. In addition to serving on the cabildo, native nobles worked in the barrio



                        

churches, identified by the term ‘‘teopantlaca’’ [people of the god house]. Consequently, native nobles played an important civil and religious role within the native barrio populations. Teopantlaca could easily have transcended ethnic differences because of their position within the religious life of the community. This would have permitted them to achieve a measure of authority in a multiethnic environment. Here lies a clue as to how municipal council members were chosen. Teopantlaca might have used their role in the church to get onto the barrio’s municipal council.19 Indeed, so important was the position of the teopantlaca that they even initiated a prolonged legal suit that sought to free a sizable portion of Santiago’s native inhabitants from tribute payment.20 Their participation in the lawsuit reveals their sometime role as community advocates. Barrio cabildos functioned all through the sixteenth century and no doubt long after that. Even past midcentury, natives had to seek the approval of the barrio cabildo to undertake transactions such as land sales. The same rules of land transfer at work in native communities elsewhere operated in the barrios of Santiago. Cases involving Santo Domingo’s native inhabitants illustrate trends at work in other wards. In  a vecino of the barrio of Santo Domingo had to seek the approval of the cabildo before apprenticing his child with a Spanish artisan.21 A year later, when Ana wanted to sell a house lot to a silk weaver, she had to petition the barrio cabildo for approval. As a resident of the barrio of Santo Domingo, she needed the consent of the ‘‘judges and community of the said town’’ before selling the property.22 She had bought the land from the cabildo and hence needed its permission before transferring the property. In the early years, natives identified themselves by their place of origin, not by the barrio in which they lived. Yet as time passed, they came to identify more with the barrio and less with the communities where they originated. The major exception to this trend was the Mexicanos, who perpetually sought freedom from taxes based on their contributions during the conquest. Early on, those natives like the Mexicanos who aided the Spaniards were exempted from encomienda labor and other forms of tribute payment.23 Indeed, such was the status of native auxiliaries that on occasion some even asked for monetary allowances from the Audiencia. Even noblewomen sought rewards for their participation in the conquest. In  the noble Nahua Doña Luisa, who claimed to have arrived with the first Spaniards, successfully petitioned for a yearly allowance of nearly thirteen pesos.24

                        



Natives who had no vested interest in maintaining an identity linked to a nonbarrio community rarely gave more than their ward’s name when identifying themselves. Perhaps the second generation of natives, born in the barrios, no longer saw a benefit in identifying with their parents’ home. In multiethnic barrios, children born of parents from different native groups might have preferred to simplify matters by using the barrio as an anchor of identity and, in this way, avoid any quibbling in determining patrilineal or matrilineal identification. Some, like the Quiché from Utlatán, took an entirely different route. Rather than identify themselves as members of a barrio or an outside community, their dominant position allowed them to modify the barrio name to reflect their origins. Their population stronghold, the barrio of Santa Cruz, was initially known as Santa Cruz Utlatán in deference to their homeland and in frank recognition of their dominant position in that barrio. For others, identification with the parcialidad and not the barrio had greater importance. These individuals saw themselves as members of a smaller subdivision than the wards. The case of Juan Rodríguez (also identified as Juan Martín), a native vecino of the barrio de Santa Cruz, sheds light on this practice.25 A criminal case brought about by Rodríguez’ pummeling byother natives illuminates how the barrio came to serve as the basis of identity. Rodríguez, a vendor in the tiánguiz, was on his way home when four men, vecinos of Santa Cruz as well, proceeded to hurl rocks at him. Later they held him down while one man smashed a large stone on his head.26 Some natives named in the document asserted their identity through the parcialidad. One witness is identified as a vecino of the barrio of Santa Cruz ‘‘de la parte de los utlatecas’’ [of the subdivision of the Utlatecas]. Another identified himself as a vecino of the barrio of San Francisco ‘‘de la parte de los guaximaltecas’’ [of the subdivision of the Guaximaltecas].27 During the s Santa Cruz had not yet fully consolidated into a fullfledged barrio. It was referred to erratically as ‘‘barrio de Santa Cruz’’; on one occasion, it was labeled ‘‘milpa de Santa Cruz.’’ There is little possibility that different places are being named, as the place names appear in reference to the same individual in all the accounts.28 As well, Santa Cruz lacked a church building large enough to accommodate all its inhabitants. Its residents traveled to a nearby barrio for larger religious affairs such as traditional dances. One of those accused of attacking Rodríguez related that on the Sunday when the alleged assault took place, ‘‘despues de aber baylado’’ [after having danced] in the monastery of Santo Domingo,



                        

Rodríguez asked the accused and many other natives to his house for something to eat.Why the seemingly friendly invitation led to violence remains unknown. Had Santa Cruz boasted its own church (or other building) suitable to the needs of the community, its residents would not have gone to another barrio to perform.29 As demonstrated by the example, barrio or, in some cases, parcialidad replaced the corporation of origin as the reference point for identification. The identification of indigenous people by barrio differed from the way things worked in the Spanish world. When referring to themselves, Spaniards usually used the larger corporation of Santiago as a reference point. They would almost invariably identify themselves as a vecino of Santiago, not of a particular barrio—and never as a resident of a parcialidad. For natives the label of ‘‘vecino’’ served as a status symbol, just as it did among Spaniards. It denoted status by separating the transients from the permanent population. Unlike Spaniards, natives did not see themselves as members of the community of Santiago, but as residents of one of the wards, one of its subdivisions, or a milpa. Spanish notaries quickly adapted to this and when using the label ‘‘vecino’’ to identify a native almost always followed it with the barrio or other community from whence the native originated. Spaniards, at least the ever-pragmatic notaries, adapted to native ways of identifying themselves rather than embark on a complex process of negotiating identity practices.

     After the conquest, the word ‘‘milpa’’ became common in the Spanish of Mexico to mean a cultivated field. It came from the Nahuatl milpan, ‘‘on the field or fields,’’ from milli, ‘‘field,’’ and from pan, ‘‘in or on.’’ 30 The final n was so weak in Nahuatl that the Spaniards did not hear it, nor did they realize the construction was a locative. The word was carried from Central Mexico throughout the surrounding areas, including Guatemala. Here it soon took on a different and broader meaning, referring both to the agricultural enterprises of Spaniards and the settlements of indigenous people, particularly around Santiago. The word proves nearly ubiquitous in the local records, appearing more often than the Spanish cognate huerta.31 A question arises as to why the Spaniards fastened onto ‘‘milpa’’ instead of other Castilian synonyms like ‘‘labor’’ or ‘‘heredad.’’ Perhaps the explanation lies in the indigenous meaning of the word. Natives in Guate-

                        



 . Milpas in Santiago’s axis. (Based on C. H. Lutz.)

mala likely closely associated the concepts of cultivated fields and a settled population.32 Communities established milpas outside their usual orbit to acquire products that would not grow in their local environment.33 Consequently, agricultural lands, distant from the original community, necessitated a permanent population to maintain them. Initially, Spaniards used the word ‘‘milpa’’ specifically when referring to a field whereon indigenous people lived.34 Further evidence of the association of cultivated fields and population may be seen in the creation of the post of juez reformador de milpas. Local officials created the office ostensibly to coerce natives into pro-



                        

ducing more agricultural products for Santiago. It did nothing but lay an onerous additional burden on the indigenous population, however. Among other duties, the officials were charged with keeping natives on milpas from wandering about and forcing natives to till vacant fields near Santiago.35 The prohibition against wandering natives implies the notion of permanent settlement at work in the minds of the local Spanish authorities. While true that the position of juez reformador was predicated on the exploitation of natives, its very existence points to a recognition among Spaniards that milpas functioned best with a permanent native population. The use of ‘‘milpa’’ to identify a settlement did not occur only in Santiago. In fact, this usage is found in neighboring El Salvador as well.36 Despite its usage to identify settled fields, milpa also retained the meaning of a simple agricultural lot, as in Mexico. A Spanish labrador stated in his  will that he had given natives who worked in his brickyard milpas with which to sustain themselves.37 Thus Spaniards came to use the word to express both settled agricultural plots and cultivated fields. At first, Spaniards associated ‘‘milpa’’ with indigenous crops, namely, maize and cacao. In time, the word also referred to the most European of all crops, wheat. The phrase ‘‘milpa y tierra de pan llevar’’ [milpa and wheat field] is common in the documents.38 By the late s, a new usage began to appear. The phrase ‘‘y tierra de pan llevar’’ following ‘‘milpa’’ was replaced by ‘‘milpa de pan llevar’’ [wheat milpa].39 The word became a blanket term for any sort of small agricultural endeavor. Time also modified the location of milpas. At first, they were understood to be near Santiago, but later, a field’s proximity to Santiago did not in any way condition the use of ‘‘milpa’’ as an identifier.40 There seems to have existed a common understanding about what constituted the size of a milpa, as the records are vague when it comes to proportions. Milpas were smallish affairs, however, as bigger plots of land had clearly defined boundaries. Additionally, larger fields, usually dedicated to the cultivation of wheat, were never identified as milpas. Instead, Spaniards used the phrase ‘‘tierra de pan llevar’’ to identify larger agricultural fields. Some settled milpas, notably those closer to Santiago, had significant populations. Their inhabitants identified themselves with the milpa in which they lived. Indeed, so strong was the sense of identity that some natives accumulated money to purchase alienated milpa lands from Spanish owners.41 Toponyms distinguished the numerous milpas. Their use resulted

                        



from the indigenous practice of naming agricultural fields, whether settled or not. Initially, most milpas likely had solely indigenous names.42 Milpas later took on the names of first or notable Spanish owners, regardless of how many times the property had changed hands. A milpa owned by Luis Dardón retained his name and came to be known as the milpa de Dardón.43 The same held true for the milpa de Luis de Alvarado and the milpa de Pedro González Nájera.44 Both Spaniards and natives referred to milpas by the names of saints.45 In , when the Spaniard Francisco de Morales sold a milpa to Cristóbal de Zuleta, he gave the milpa’s name as Santa María Magdalena.46 Natives usually preferred the saint’s name when referring to a milpa. In  when a native woman called Ana and her daughter were asked their place of origin before they were hired as domestics, they named the milpa de San Juan.47 Some milpas had both a saint’s and a secular name. In such cases, natives most often referred to the milpa by the saint’s name and Spaniards by the secular name. Likely, the saint’s name held greater importance for natives than it did for Spaniards because natives associated cultivated fields with deities. Furthermore, since Spaniards honored the memory of their fellows by using the names of past notable or first owners, natives might have seen the use of saint’s names as a way to undermine Spanish preferences. Moreover, a process similar to the Nahua and Mixtec traditions of associating land with saints might also have affected naming patterns among Santiago’s indigenous population.48 Indigenous people living in milpas paidterrazgo to the Spanish owners of the land on which the milpa was located. But not all milpa inhabitants accepted this requirement without resistance.The case of the residents of the milpa de la Beata proves significant on two counts: first, because the natives succeeded in avoiding the payment of terrazgo to exploit a rock quarry located on the milpa; and second, because in the ensuing lawsuit, information about the foundation of the milpa came to light. In  the nobles of the milpa refused to pay terrazgo to the new owner, Francisco de Pedrosa.49 They appealed to the Audiencia, citing the milpa’s convoluted ownership history. Jorge de Alvarado, Pedro de Alvarado’s brother, had granted the land to Gaspar Arias de Ávila. Later Arias sold the land to a cleric named Pedro Martín. The natives stated that they had come to live in the milpa during Martín’s ownership. This confirms that settlement of at least some milpas resulted from Spanish intervention.50 During Martín’s time they worked three days a week for him as terrazgo payment.



                        

At an unspecified time, the cleric gave the lands to his sister, the beata Catalina de Zuleta. Notably, during her ownership the milpa acquired the name milpa de la Beata. Zuleta proceeded to sell half of the milpa to her nephew Cristóbal de Zuleta (the same Zuleta who is discussed earlier in this chapter). In  Catalina reduced the terrazgo from three days a week to one. The indigenous inhabitants stated in their suit that when Pedrosa bought the land in , they labored for him one day a week, just as they had done for Zuleta and her nephew. Growing more ambitious, the natives then argued that they should no longer have to pay any terrazgo. Surprisingly, their petition was successful, and the Audiencia found that they owed nothing to Pedrosa.Thus the indigenous inhabitants of the milpa de la Beata demonstrated corporate unity by using the Spanish legal system to avoid the payment of usufruct fees. With time, the larger milpas began to acquire the label of ‘‘pueblo.’’ The milpa de San Andrés had, by , grown to such a size that a Spanish notary felt compelled to write ‘‘pueblo y milpa de San Andrés.’’ 51 The case of San Andrés proves rare, as generally there was no vacillation about the use of the terms ‘‘pueblo’’ and ‘‘milpa’’: the former were much larger than the latter. Once sufficient size and complexity merited the label of ‘‘town,’’ the ‘‘milpa’’ tag disappeared. Larger milpas, just like wards, possessed nearly complete native cabildos, though they differed significantly from full-scale pueblos in that they lacked the office of gobernador. Most of the information on milpa cabildos has disappeared, but the documents in the criminal proceedings against some members of the cabildo of the milpa de San Antonio, known to Spaniards as the milpa de Juan Chaves, survive nearly intact (see Table ).52 In addition to shedding light on a milpa’s cabildo, the suit also strongly demonstrates that inhabitants of milpas identified fully with the entities as communities. On Holy Thursday in , the members of the cabildo of the milpa de San Antonio jointly resolved to absent themselves and the milpa’s residents from their work obligations at the Franciscan monastery in Ciudad Vieja. Their decision let loose a chain of events that at once demonstrates the corporate identity of San Antonio and the resilience of indigenous religious practices.The following day, Friar Juan de Viedma asked a mestizo, Francisco Hernández, and a native, Miguel Gómez, constables both, to investigate why work obligations had been shirked.53 The constables provided nearly identical testimony.54 The information they provided indicates that large milpas like San Antonio possessed churches that became focal points of corporate identity and, at times, as in

                        



     .              ,               ,  Member

Position

Francisco Hernández Juan López Juan Pérez Francisco de León and Francisco de Castro Tizun Juan García Pedro

Alcalde Regidor Escribano Past Regidor Principal Past Mayordomo

Source:  ... (April ).

the case of San Antonio, of resistance. They stated that inside the milpa’s church the residents of San Antonio had built a stepped monument to which they made offerings by lighting many candles and placing money, cacao, and other things on a petate [reed mat].55 A makeshift cross was placed next to the offerings. The constables expressed dismay that the cabildo members, and no doubt other principales as well, had given the church’s cross to children to play with. Furthermore, they stated that the natives had said mass earlier that day. The stepped mound, cacao, and the reed mat make it certain that a precolonial rite took place that day.56 Yet the presence of a rustic cross in the vicinity of the mound demonstrates that at least some overt symbols of Christianity were incorporated into the ceremony. The natives manifested the contempt in which they held the cross by using it as a toy to keep the church’s milpa’s children entertained. Overall, the case illustrates that even in areas immediately surrounding Santiago, precolonial religious beliefs bubbled up beneath a veneer of conversion. As a representative of colonial order, the mestizo Hernández was singled out by cabildo members for the harshest treatment when he and the other constable attempted to take control of the situation. The insults hurled at him parallel those used by natives in southern Mexico.57 Hernández was called a ‘‘moro y judio ladron vellaco’’ [moor, Jew, thief, and scoundrel], the very insults that Spaniards used against one another. In an allusion to Satanic practices, he was told that he kept ‘‘cabras y otras cosas feas’’ [goats and other ugly things]. By inverting the accusation of tergiversation against Hernández, the natives sought to legitimate their own practices. In addition, they contested his authority by mocking the vara he carried.58 In essence, then, patterns of insults used at least by



                        

the members of this native community did not differ from those used by the dominant colonial group. The most vociferous of the renegades was the notary Juan Pérez. Hernández complained that Pérez, who yelled at him in Nahuatl, told him that he did not care in the slightest what the prior of the Franciscan monastery or the bishop thought. He asked Hernández what he was doing in his town, what was his business there, and did Viedma want him (Pérez) to go to his town to burn the church? Pérez illustrates the sense of corporation felt by the cabildo members and some one hundred other natives who were also present at the ceremony. Milpas, then, resembled other corporations which saw themselves as cohesive units when faced with outside meddlers. Flexing its greater authority and power, the Audiencia ordered the immediate arrest of all the cabildo members. In the classic mode of resistance by flight, all the town’s principales fled, never to be seen again by Spanish officials.59 They left behind paltry holdings such as a few chickens and turkeys and some wooden benches. Like other native corporations, milpas leased land to Spaniards, thereby raising funds. Usually, the money collected was used to make improvements to local churches and other manifestations of corporate pride. In  the cabildo of the milpa de San Pedro, known also as the milpa del Tesorero (so called after its founder, the royal treasurer Francisco de Castellanos), leased a wheat milpa to a labrador, Juan de Cardona.60 Trying to avoid confusion, the Spanish notary labeled San Pedro a ‘‘pueblo’’ and the land in question a ‘‘milpa.’’ Both the reference to San Pedro as a pueblo and its ability to rent out a milpa show the large size of this community. Cardona agreed to hold the land for five years and to pay San Pedro nearly thirty-eight pesos yearly. For the first year, San Pedro forgave the debt in exchange for Cardona’s promise to build a brick wall around the entire leased milpa. That he promised to do so indicates that the leased milpa must not have been very large and that the town likely sought to protect its lands from grazing animals. Clearly, then, milpa cabildos served the same function as cabildos of wards and towns. When possible, they sought to safeguard the interests of the community and to represent their corporations in dealings with Spaniards. In addition, cabildos aided in maintaining social order within the native polities (see Table ).

                        



     .              ,             ,  Member

Position

Francisco Pérez Diego Tuiz and Alonso Larios Pero Gómez, Diego Pérez, Agustín López, Martín López, and Francisco González Domingo Álvarez

Alcalde Regidor Principal Escribano

Source:  ....f. (--).

 Numerous large indigenous towns surrounded Santiago long before the arrival of Europeans. However, Spaniards could have created at least some of these towns in the same way that they created certain barrios and milpas. Moreover, some towns adopted Spanish ways more quickly because of their proximity to Santiago and its relatively large Spanish population. Regardless of their proximity to Santiago, all towns shared some characteristics.61 All native towns paid taxes.Truly, given the efficiency of tribute collection, it seems difficult to imagine a single entity labeled ‘‘town’’ by the Spaniards escaping the payment of tax either to an encomendero or to the crown. All indigenous towns possessed complete cabildos. Unlike the cabildos of milpas and barrios, town cabildos boasted the office of gobernador. Spaniards in Guatemala, as elsewhere, gave the creation of encomiendas the highest priority.62 And as in other moderately marginal areas, encomiendas lasted much longer in Guatemala than they did in Central Mexico or other regions with a large European population. The hereditary native nobility served as intermediaries for the collection of tribute.63 The encomendero, through a mayordomo or other authorized agent, exacted tribute from the principales of a given town.64 At least some towns (much like the wards in Santiago), if not all, had some form of cellular organization.65 Escuintla, located in southern Guatemala, serves as an excellent example of a community divided into smaller subunits.66 Given the situation in Santiago, it seems improbable that Escuintla’s shared cultural tradition with the Nahuas was solely re-



                        

     .              ,              ,   Member

Position

Don Juan Fuentes Don Juan Cali Don Pedro Tahua, Agustín Migua, and Don Pedro Queçaltahua Don Martín Piyo Don Diego Elías and Don Juan Tapia Don Juan Vásquez and Don Juan Suchil Don Juan Acate and Don Juan Cecali

Gobernador Alguacil Mayor Regidor Principal Cacique, Alcalde, Parcialidad San Pablo Cacique, Parcialidad Santiago Cacique, Parcialidad San Andrés

Source:  ....f. (--).

sponsible for this type of arrangement.67 The cabildo presided over the entire town, with the office of gobernador superseding all others. Yet representatives from each of the three constituent parts also sat on the cabildo, undoubtedly, to safeguard their interests (see Table ). By certain accounts, some of Escuintla’s nobility possessed considerable wealth.68 In  the cacique Don Juan de Fuentes, the alguacil Don Juan Cali, and their families purchased costly indigenous clothing, including a Mixtec blouse, from an Italian tratante.69 Don Juan’s wife, Doña Catalina, and other female members of his extended family also purchased goods from the same petty dealer.70 Don Juan owned an adolescent Black slave named Catalina, whom he purchased around  from a royal official for twentycargas of cacao, a further indication of his wealth.71 Therefore, at least some of Escuintla’s hereditary nobility had access to relatively large amounts of money, as evidenced by the purchase of expensive textiles and the ownership of a Black slave. Some of the wealth possessed by native nobles derived from their position as tribute collectors, no doubt, much as it did in the precolonial era. Nobles had to pay a higher rate of tribute than did commoners (a situation also possibly with preconquest precedent). The  tasación for the town of Zapotitlán (in present-day Mazatenango) required the nobility to pay far more than non-nobles.72 Despite their privileges and sometimes wealth, native nobles had a heavy tax burden imposed on them. The higher tax may well have served as a leveling force to assure that the nobility did not become overly independent from the commoner population.

                        



For various reasons, many native towns sought to have tribute obligations reduced. Here, too, the hereditary nobility played an important part, as it served their interests to have tribute reduced. Yet native nobles attempted to manipulate the Spanish legal system to reduce the obligations imposed not only on them but also on members of their communities. In  the nobles who sat on the cabildo of San Martín Jilotepeque sought the help of a Spanish procurador in their quest for tribute reduction as a result of deaths and the flight of some community members (see Table ).73 Similarly, the town of San Juan Jicotenango sought to strike a bargain with their encomendero. The cabildo argued that, since the town had been relocated to Ostuncalco (in Quetzaltenango) due to congregación, they could not possibly meet their tribute obligations of eighty-eight cargas of cacao (see Table ). However, the town would be glad to give one hundred finished native cloaks in place of the cacao as long as the encomendero provided the raw cotton.74 The cabildo won the concession, and the encomendero agreed to provide them with the cotton in exchange for the indigenous cloaks that were to be delivered over a year’s time. Occasionally, acrimonious disputes between native towns arose over land, and the cabildos and individual nobles played a crucial role. Hence natives used the Spanish legal system in an attempt to prevail over their rivals. Here, too, nobles represented community interests. In  the cabildo of Initepeque (likely located in southern Guatemala) hired a procurador to represent it in a dispute with the town of Atezcatempa (located in southeastern Guatemala) over some land.75 The suit named the cabildo members of Atezcatempa as well as the town’s encomendero. More common were disputes involving Spaniards and natives. Early      .              ,                      ,  Member

Position

Martín Gómez Diego Solís Gonzalo Vásquez Diego López Gonzalo Vásquez

Cacique Alcalde Regidor Alguacil Principal

Source:  ....f. (--).



                        

    .              ,                  ,  Member

Position

Don Juan de la Cueva Francisco Méndez and Juan Carrillo Francisco Tirado, Baltasar Gómez, and Martín Pérez Don Gabriel de Barros de Samillán Don Juan Cortés, Don Pedro Puertocarrero, Juan Jiménez, Juan Méndez, and Diego López

Gobernador Alcalde Ordinario Regidor Escribano Principal

Source:  ....f. (--).

on, Spaniards, often in cooperation with royal officials, went after land they wanted, regardless of who inhabited it. The towns nearest Santiago felt the greatest pressure to surrender their land. Yet indigenous corporations did not passively accept the loss of their land; they contested Spanish land encroachment, much as they did in other regions. In  the town of Sacatepéquez sought to have a land grant denied to a Spanish labrador named Pedro Domingo Rodríguez. Not wanting to hire a procurador, the cabildo of Sacatepéquez requested the help of their encomendero, Bernal Díaz del Castillo.76 At first, Díaz del Castillo took up the case against Rodríguez, but later, in a betrayal of the town’s trust, he sought a grant of the same lands for himself.77 In the end, both Spaniards received large chunks of the town’s land. Actions such as Díaz del Castillo’s undoubtedly led the majority of native towns to disassociate themselves as much as possible from encomenderos. As the century progressed, native towns showed a marked preference for individuals with legal training, either formal or informal, over encomenderos when empowering legal representatives. A less aggressive way of losing land, but nonetheless as damaging, was through land purchases. The process began early, with encomenderos among the first to acquire lands in this way.78 The case of the town of Atiquipaque and its encomendero, Martín de Guzmán, illustrates. In  Guzmán purchased a piece of land of undetermined size from the cabildo.79 (Atiquipaque’s location in an important cacao region demonstrates that Spaniards became interested in cacao early in the century.) In exchange for the land, Guzmán gave the nobles twelve cargas of cacao, twenty machetes, and ten native cloaks, a trifling amount in exchange for the potential cacao yield of the land.

                        



This case is far from unique; beginning years earlier, cacao served as a mode of payment in land purchases.80 In later years, either Spanish coin or a combination of money and yearly installments of produce were paid by Europeans seeking to acquire lands from native towns.81 Some towns successfully reacquired once-alienated land. Land sold cheaply or lost by force required major investments to reacquire. Consequently, usually those native towns with steady incomes, such as that derived from the sale of cacao, could reacquire alienated lands. In  the cabildo of Caluco (in present-day El Salvador) wanted to purchase some cacao milpas that had been lost to one of its encomenderos. The nobles actually empowered one of the encomenderos, Alonso Gasco de Herrera, to bring the legal action in their name.82 The nobles discussed the matter at length and decided that recovery of the land was the only way to avoid losses caused by Blacks living in the vicinity and by wandering cattle.83 Similarly, they authorized Gasco de Herrera to purchase any other lands that abutted on the town’s holdings.84 In  the town of Pasaco (located close to present-day El Salvador) paid the widow of its encomendero well over  pesos for a cacao milpa.85 Towns in need of money, either to pay tribute or to improve churches, faced a difficult decision: whether to sell land or not. Some declined to sell their land and instead resorted to the mechanism of leasing. The towns of Pinula and Mixco (both located relatively close to Santiago) engaged in this arrangement. In  Pinula’s cabildo leased substantial acreage to three Spanish labradores (Table ). Instead of money, the renters obligated themselves to pay annuities in the form of wheat.86 Some of the labradores reneged on their promises. However, rather than permit the permanent alienation of the land, the town of Pinula filed successful suits against the families of Juan Gallego and Francisco Delgado, both of whom      .              ,           ,   Member

Position

Don Juan Pedro Gómez and Martín García Francisco Hunchin and Francisco Chux Andrés Martín Antón Gómez and Francisco

Cacique Alcalde Regidor Alguacil de la Iglesia Alguacil

Source:  ....f. (--).



                        

     .              ,        ,  Member

Position

Don Domingo and Don Francisco Quiñones Don Diego López and Juan de Aguilar Don Domingo and Pedro Hernández

Cacique Alcalde Ordinario Regidor

Source:  ....f. (--).

had leased lands from the town in . In  Pinula won suits against the heirs of the two debtors; both had died before the initiation of the legal action.87 Other towns, like Mixco, engaged in false land sales as a means to raise money (Table ).88 Such sales, masked by promissory notes, lacked the legal safeguards against abuse inherent in formal lease contracts.

N

ative towns were under pressures such as population loss and land encroachment. They faced these problems as corporations, oftentimes represented by the nobles who administered the cabildos. Nobles were in no way saviors of their communities. Many manipulated their towns for their own benefit, with little thought for thewelfare of the community.89 Yet as the cases presented here demonstrate, without the cabildos, native towns would have lacked an important unifying force that allowed them to answer the challenges brought on by colonial rule. Santiago’s indigenous barrios, organized into cells and possessing cabildos, became the center of life for natives living in the city. Over time, even native migrants came to identify with their barrios or at least with the parcialidad in which they lived. The importance of the barrios to indigenous peoples cannot be overestimated, yet how those barrios came into existence remains buried in mystery. I postulate that settlements of the type called ‘‘milpas’’ in Guatemala grew into barrios. My impression is that the bulk of Santiago’s barrios originally began as milpas and, over time and because of their proximity to the city’s core, consolidated into wards of the city. If, in fact, most of the wards began as milpas, then more credence can be given the argument that not all the barrios were purely Spanish creations, but, rather, a result of indigenous mechanisms already in place, namely, the dispersed settlement patterns of some Maya groups.90 The case of Santa Cruz Utlatán illustrates the trend of milpas metamorphosing into barrios.91 A small Spanish nucleus (recently moved

                        



to the Valley of Panchoy), surrounded by multiple milpas, over time grew into the city of Santiago. Not all milpas grew into barrios. Some became communities in their own right, subject politically to Santiago, but operating very much on their own. Natives living in these large communities likely did their best to confront the new realities that came about with the arrival of Spaniards. Among the most intrusive of the changes to which natives living on milpas had to adapt was the payment of terrazgo to the new owners of the land. Some milpas were indeed founded by Spaniards. However, this would not have been possible without an existing mechanism for this type of settlement. The fact that milpas had cabildos whereon native nobles sat makes it amply clear that similar settlements existed in the precontact period. Otherwise, the functioning of native cabildos would have been made much more difficult if not outright impossible. The other type of milpa, that of a purely agricultural field or enterprise, continues to exist. Native towns demonstrated a resilience that truly astounds. They took on Spanish symbols such as churches and made them their own. Indeed, the church, just like the preconquest temple, came to symbolize the town. Native towns spared no expense in beautifying their churches. In , for example, the town of Petapa paid over  pesos to a Spanish sculptor for a retablo.92 Towns possessed cabildos, better developed than those of milpas and wards, which served an indispensable intermediary function. Cabildos sold, leased, and even bought back communal lands. As in other areas, whenever possible, cabildos helped keep the hereditary nobility in power and maintain continuity in native leadership.93 Natives contributed to Santiago’s growth collectively through their sociopolitical polities and individually with their labor, skills, and tribute. Indeed, perhaps the single greatest contribution made by natives to Santiago was their labor. On their shoulders an entire urban center developed. They worked in all manner of enterprises, from agricultural fields to shops that specialized in European manual crafts. Santiago offered economic opportunities to natives, and thus it attracted a large number of indigenous migrants seeking work. The result was a multiethnic indigenous population that spoke a cacophony of languages and that ultimately made mighty contributions to the cultural confluence that characterized early Santiago.

Chapter Ten

I  

T

he need for indigenous laborers in Santiago and in agricultural and mining ventures both nearby and distant from the city brought about many forms of interaction. Initially, in Guatemala native labor was channeled mainly through the encomienda. Sometime later, repartimiento provided laborers for the colonial society. Encomienda and repartimiento, despite their coercive nature, were quite distinct from the more nefarious, and much shorter-lived, institution of native slavery.1 Native slaves who worked in domestic capacities came into close contact with Spaniards, much as naborías did. Additionally, native slaves in the areas around Santiago functioned as auxiliaries on agricultural enterprises. They became such an integral part of the ventures that they were often sold along with the land on which they labored.2 In this respect, they differed little from African slaves, who were also included in land sales. In the area of pricing, however, the contrast between native and Black slaves could not have been greater. African slaves cost far more than even the most expensive native slaves did. Native wage laborers, though a minority compared with those involved in encomienda or repartimiento mechanisms, grew in importance as the colonial society consolidated. Santiago’s vibrant economy led natives to seek employment within and outside the city. A pattern of natives traveling to estates around Santiago in search of work, whether pastoral or agricultural, emerged. Others stayed in the city and worked as domestics or, in some instances, as highly skilled artisans. Consequently, Europeans who lacked access to coercive labor mechanisms and who could not afford Black or native slaves contracted with free native laborers. The demand for native workers was such that to secure their labor, advances in coin and merchandise were commonplace. But the advances should be not taken to mean that ‘‘debt peonage’’ characterized relations between free nativewage laborers and Europeans. Indeed, employers rou-

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

tinely complained to government officials of natives absconding with cash advances. The problem grew to such proportions that toward the end of the sixteenth century the Audiencia sought to punish employees who did not meet obligations to which they had agreed in exchange for an advance on salary.3 Despite the risks, employers realized the importance of cash advances when contracting with laborers. Women and men both received advances. Depending on the situation, women sometimes contracted to work in Spanish households while their husbands received merchandise as an advance on their wives’ salaries. With earnings from salaries or some other enterprise, economically successful natives purchased land in Santiago. They did not acquire large or costly parcels, but they did purchase house plots in what was arguably the most expensive real estate market in the region. Real estate in Santiago, compared with similar plots elsewhere, proved inaccessible to most non-Spaniards. Native peoples, either alone or through their community, quickly learned to function within colonial labor systems. Rather than acting as passive agents, natives confronted the labor demands of colonial society, often benefiting from their relations with European employers. The same process of incorporating European elements and adapting them to their particular needs that allowed native communities to maintain cohesion during the first century of contact served them in dealing with either coercive or remunerated labor mechanisms.4

               In the early years, enslaving native peoples proved a profitable venture for Spaniards in Central America. Markets for native slaves existed throughout Spanish America. Indeed, many were sent as far as Peru.5 Such was the scale of exportation from Honduras and Nicaragua that even Guatemala received indigenous slaves.The fact that Guatemala imported native slaves from neighboring regions while it exported slaves to Peru proves particularly ironic. Since fewer slaves departed than were imported, Guatemala saw a net gain in native slaves. The ready importation of native slaves, and the ease of enslaving local indigenous peoples, contributed to the low prices paid for native chattel laborers. Initially, the crown supported the enslavement of natives in Guatemala; up to seven natives could be legally enslaved by a single Spaniard (osten-



 

sibly for household service). Yet abuses proved so great that by  that number was reduced to four natives per Spaniard. Those who did not exceed the maximum allotment could freely export their slaves.6 Reconsidering its decision in light of continued mistreatment, the crown finally sought to end the trade in native slaves. Credit for suppression of native slavery largely goes to Alonso López de Cerrato. Yet he did not act alone; he enjoyed the full backing of the crown and a changing demographic and economic situation that no longer made indigenous slavery a viable option.7 Furthermore, Cerrato also had, as a result of intense pressure, the support of Santiago’s municipal council.8 Outside of Santiago, especially in areas distant from the vigilance of Cerrato and his supporters, legislation aimed at prohibiting native slavery went largely unheeded. Even in relatively close areas such as San Miguel, Spaniards held onto native slaves as late as , long after legislation banning the practice had been effectively imposed in Santiago.9 The low price of indigenous slaves and the practice of branding remained constants until the complete eradication of native slavery. Due in part to natives’ low cost, Spaniards had few qualms about mutilating them. Native slaves are often described in the documents not only as bearing the brand of the king but also as having the names of previous owners branded on their faces. As in other matters, the crown vacillated on the issue of branding native slaves. In  it prohibited the practice, only to revoke the ban two years later.10 Occasionally, imported native slaves sold for high prices, as was the case with Francisco, a native of New Spain, whose owner sold him for forty-eight pesos in .11 Costlier (and perhaps better-trained) slaves were brought from New Spain for sale in Santiago. The price of fortyeight pesos, relatively high for a native slave, reflects Francisco’s fluency in Spanish and his training as a barber.12 Spaniards also purchased native slaves from the Yucatán and from areas to the north such as Pánuco.13 Alonso Aguilar bought a native named Alonso, described as possessing a ‘‘nose split down to the lips in the mode of the Huasteca,’’ in  for fifty pesos.14 Just a few months later, he sold Alonso. The quick resale is not unusual. Often, Spaniards bought slaves for the sole purpose of profiting by a later sale. The fact that the buyer paid fifty pesos, the same amount that Aguilar had paid for Alonso, does point to something unusual, however. Unknown to the second buyer, Alonso was a chronic runaway. No doubt, Aguilar sold him for this very reason. Indeed, two years later Alonso fled and his owner empowered a procurador to aid in his capture.15

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

Training, much more than ethnic origin, seems to have accounted for the higher prices of imported native slaves, especially in cases involving individuals from New Spain. Despite the numerous native slaves in Santiago, highly skilled indigenous slaves proved rare. In the early years, Spaniards trained indigenous slaves in many crafts without closing off any one trade to them. Some native slaves were even trained as pharmacists, a trade requiring extensive instruction and close contact with Spaniards.16 When in  two Spanish blacksmiths entered into a compañía for the purpose of setting up a shop, they carefully listed their individual property, which included two native slaves. The two male slaves had at least some training as blacksmiths, as the partner who owned them was to receive ten pesos a year as compensation for their labor in the shop.17 As in other regions of Spanish America, artisans in Santiago often taught slaves their craft to use them as auxiliaries or to sell them later at a higher price than they paid.18 Highly trained native slaves sold for prices far above those of unskilled ones. A confectioner, Diego Jiménez, sold a skilled slave (trained by him) named Diego to a merchant for  pesos in .19 More commonly, however, Spaniards preferred to train African slaves in manual crafts. Natives, with less resistance to European diseases, proved a riskier venture, for time and effort invested in their training might come to nothing. In addition, in the late s there also existed the possibility of losing native slaves to royal prohibition. In  tailor Pedro Ternero attempted to have two indigenous slaves returned to him who had been ordered freed by a member of the Audiencia.20 His petition predated forceful action against indigenous slavery in Guatemala by only a few months.21 Ternero argued for the return of the slaves, though he claimed that they belonged not to him but to someone else; he had been hired simply to train the slaves as tailors in exchange for future payment.22 Native slaves often worked on large chain gangs. So indispensable was native labor to agricultural enterprises that natives were considered linked to the land they worked. In  García de Aguilar mortgaged a milpa and fifteen native slaves, both male and female, to Inés de Molina.23 A year later, a cleric sold a fellow Spaniard a milpa along with eight native slaves for four hundred pesos. The price included the slaves (four males and four females), the land, all the harvested maize, and unidentified miscellaneous items.24 Two years later, García de Salinas bought a milpa and all the slaves located thereon, paying close to  pesos for the land and ten slaves, six males and four females. It is notable that four slaves are described as having their wives with them while the two other males ap-



 

parently lived unaccompanied on the milpa.25 This hints at a possible wish by the owners for a self-perpetuating native slave population and a means to keep the slaves from running away by allowing them families. Slaves tied to a vicinity, either by marriage or because of children, were less likely to run away. Indigenous slaves also played an important role in mining. In  Cristóbal Lobo mortgaged some of his holdings to a wealthy encomendero. Among the mortgaged holdings were twenty Black male slaves and ‘‘una quadrilla’’ [a gang] of native male and female slaves.26 All the slaves worked as placer miners in an area identified in the documents as Alux. Although it was rare, some owners manumitted native slaves, either during their lifetimes or as part of a testamentary request. In  a slave named Catalina was manumitted at herdeceased owner’s testamentary request. Catalina’s owner, a woman identified only as Medinilla, apparently had great affection for her. Medinilla’s heirs paid  pesos for Catalina at the auction of her mortgaged property.27 The high price they paid indicates the privileged position that Catalina had within their household. Some native slaves decided not to take a chance that they would be manumitted and instead took legal action to obtain their freedom. In  four natives—Francisco; his wife, Juana; Gaspar; and Juan—jointly filed suit against their owners for holding them against their volition. Francisco and Juana also sued for the freedom of their two daughters, held in bondage in the same household.28 They argued that as free natives they could not be held in captivity. Worried that in the end the plaintiffs would meet with success, their owners relented before the final verdict. The courts imposed a stiff fine on the former owners, and they also had to pay each of the natives nearly nine pesos for each year of illegal bondage. It seems that news of legislation freeing native slaves had become widespread in Santiago and that at least some natives knew of the changes. Armed with this knowledge, natives took the initiative in fighting for their freedom. Their actions also bespeak at least some familiarity with the Spanish legal system. Without such an understanding they would not have known how to initiate their suits.

                     The city saw constant migration of natives from other regions, including distant places. Santiago had a large native transient population involved in commercial dealings. Native muleteers made brief layovers, while some-

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what more permanent indigenous merchants also called Santiago home. Natives traveled to Santiago for a variety of reasons, whether to receive training as artisans or to join the city’s unskilled labor pool. Perhaps as a result of depopulation, labor recruitment practices, or indigenous traditions, the majority of the migrants tended to be male. In  Juan and Diego, natives of Nicaragua, apprenticed with a hosier and a tailor, respectively.29 Thirteen years later, Juan López, another native of Nicaragua and fluent in Spanish, earned his living by going about Santiago hauling firewood with a horse.30 In  one Ana and her tenyear-old daughter (both from Chalchuapa, El Salvador) made their way to Santiago.31 Natives also traveled from distant Comayagua. In  an orphaned child named María appeared in Santiago. It remains unclear how she got there from Comayagua.32 Gracias a Dios also contributed to Santiago’s heterogeneous indigenous population. Juan,Tomás, and Francisco all moved from there to Santiago between  and .33 Economic connections bound indigenous peoples from New Spain and Santiago. Over time, the former acquired vecino status in the city. In  Domingo Hernández, who was but fifteen at the time, moved to Santiago.34 On occasion, individuals like Cristóbal López did not specify their exact place of origin but simply stated that they were from New Spain.35 Others explicitly named their communities. Miguel Hernández pointed out that he was a native of the town of Santa Fe, ‘‘which is near Mexico City.’’ 36 Others had their place of origin coaxed from them. Francisco Canto’s hometown of Xochimilco would have remained unknown had he not lived amancebado with an indigenous woman named Isabel. This caused the authorities to investigate his place of origin.37 Still others were identified by their ethnic group. A Spanish speaker named Juan was simply known as a Chichimec (as the inhabitants of northern Mexico were called).38 At no time did the Spanish authorities attempt to legislate against indigenous migration from other regions. They either paid little heed to this phenomenon or they were oblivious of it. That Spaniards simply massed all indigenous peoples under the rubric ‘‘indio’’ makes it probable that they did not realize the multiplicity of native groups represented in Santiago. Given Santiago’s multiethnic native population, there was a need for a lingua franca. While Spaniards would have liked Castilian to play this role, it did not. Instead, a native language, Nahuatl, came to serve as the standard language of interaction for natives of different ethnic groups.39 Whether the situation paralleled a precolonial situation or not remains

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uncertain.40 The large number of Nahuatl-speaking auxiliaries who accompanied the Spaniards and the high status that they enjoyed had much to do with the importance assigned to the language.41 So pervasive was the use of Nahuatl that even natives from nonNahuatl-speaking areas relied on Nahuatl translators and interpreters. Spaniards came to depend on Nahuatl to such a degree that they used it even when cognizant that the indigenous people they were dealing with hardly understood it, if at all.42 Initially, Nahuatl interpreters were referred to as nabartatos.43 Later, they were referred to as speakers of lengua mexicana.44 In  a native muleteer named Diego, self-identified as hailing from Chiapas, sought out the help of a nabartato.45 That same year, a Mixtec named Bartolomé also used the services of a Nahuatl interpreter.46 A year later, a native from Gracias a Dios was said to speak Nahuatl.47 Nahuatl, then, served as the lingua franca for transactions among natives in Santiago. Consequently, natives traveling to Santiago, either as permanent residents within the city or as temporary laborers on the outlying agricultural lands, had little choice but to learn at least the rudiments of the language to better communicate with indigenous peoples already living in the city. Spaniards saw the study of Nahuatl as a necessity.48 So esteemed was the ability to speak the language that at least one Spaniard tried to use his fluency as proof of his worthiness of royal favors.49 Toward the close of the sixteenth century, Spanish notaries claimed fluency in the language.50 Whether they in fact spoke Nahuatl fluently remains open to question. A prominent notary who claimed to speak Nahuatl at times relied on someone else to interpret for him.51 Natives like Martín de la Cueva also appear often as translators in documents drafted by supposedly fluent notaries.52 Nevertheless, the very fact that notaries claimed fluency underscores the importance attached to Nahuatl in Santiago’s Spanish society.

              Spaniards began contracting with significant numbers of native wage laborers around the early s. The timetable indicates that only when native slavery came under attack did Europeans begin to look to indigenous free laborers as a viable alternative. Before then, native slaves fulfilled the labor needs not met by other coercive mechanisms. Economic opportunity in and around Santiago, and also on distant agricultural enterprises, led many natives to leave their communities in search of better

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opportunities elsewhere.53 Some may have left for other reasons, perhaps to escape debts or tribute or problems of other kinds. While some returned to their places of origin, others took up permanent residence in their new home. Not all the free laborers came from distant communities. Many lived in the wards that circled the central plaza, while others came from the neighboring milpas. Yet others bypassed Santiago completely and made contracts with the mayordomos of landed estates close to their communities. The majority of the contracts between natives and Europeans were unwritten, leaving only a fraction of such arrangements for posterity. Often, wives and husbands were hired as a single working unit. As with slaves, Spaniards did not often differentiate between male and female wage laborers.54 Both were used indiscriminately when needed, with little apparent regard to gender. Sometimes the wife earned income while the husband invested herearnings in small commercial ventures.Young native children, orphaned or otherwise uncared for, were entrusted by their parents or guardians to Spaniards. Interestingly, the children received a salary, albeit a pittance in the best of cases. The employers of these children promised to teach them basic skills such as Spanish-style washing and sewing. In addition, young natives apprenticed with skilled artisans in hope of one day becoming independent practitioners. Forms of payment varied wildly, from small-denomination coins to larger monetary units such as pesos. At times, indigenous clothing served as payment. Native women, especially, received partial payment in the form of indigenous-style skirts and blouses. Invariably, room and board was an understood part of the salary. Only in scattered instances did the employee sleep and eat at her or his own home. The compañía structure also occurred in native-Spanish interaction. Compañías served to create strategic partnerships that guaranteed natives a higher wage than they would have received otherwise. Native wage earners worked as essential auxiliaries on landed estates. So ubiquitous were native agricultural workers that by the early s they had displaced Spaniards in positions like cowhand.55 Spaniards, however, held onto the supervisory positions in agricultural concerns, no doubt as a result of their literacy, even if elementary. Indigenous people quickly acquired European agricultural techniques that owners valued. In  Juan, a nativewho had been reared in the home of a Spanish labrador, contracted to work for one year in a local labrador’s wheat fields. The labrador agreed to provide him with room and board and twenty pesos as salary.56 In  Juan Méndez, a native from Chiapas,

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contracted with an encomendero to work on a cattle estancia. No doubt, Juan possessed some specialized knowledge; otherwise, the encomendero would have resorted to coerced labor.57 Five years later, Lorenzo, a vecino of the barrio of Santo Domingo, contracted with a wealthy Spaniard to work on his estancia. Lorenzo’s salary also reflects his abilities as a cowboy.58 And like Juan, Lorenzo got money up front to guarantee that he would not contract with someone else. Demand for skilled native agricultural laborers was such that a cash advance was frequently necessary. Natives also worked in Spanish homes at all manner of tasks that would at one time have been undertaken by native slaves, other coerced workers, or even naborías. Spaniards hired both indigenous women and men as domestics. Surprisingly, some earned respectable salaries, an indication that they likely possessed valuable skills. In  Juan Pérez, a native from the town of Tecocistlán, contracted with a royal official foroneyear’s work for twenty-five pesos.59 While it remains unclear exactly what the duties of the indigenous males entailed, they likely undertook essential household duties such as tending to horses and gardens and generally aided in the upkeep of the house. Much like adults, native children were often put to work in Spanish households. They were guaranteed shelter, food, and clothing (a part of all such contracts). Perhaps they did not have access to basic essentials otherwise. Salaries, however, were extremely low, often just a few pesos yearly. There was no appreciable difference in the number of boys and girls hired. Whether boys or girls were incorporated into the household resulted merely from circumstance, not from a preference for one sex over the other. It is also notable that salaries did not differ according to sex. The average length of the contracts hovered around six years, some going as long as eight. However, occasionally, especially where boys of fifteen were concerned, contractual agreements did not exceed one year.60 The case of an orphan named Juana, from Ciudad Vieja, illustrates typical contracts involving children in Spanish homes. Eight-year-old Juana had her working relationship with Leonor López codified in .61 Juana was already living with López at the time the contract was made. Shewas fluent in Spanish as well as Nahuatl. Little Juana, like all orphaned children, had the contract prepared for her by a municipal council official entrusted with such tasks. She obliged herself to work for six years. López promised to pay her twenty pesos at the end of the contract. Additionally, in  an eight-year-old named María was put to work for a Spaniard by her mother, the widowed María Chinchilla.62 In the latter case, the child was to work for four years. María was to receive all the native blouses and

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skirts she needed during the time of heremployment. Indeed, several contracts specifically indicate that girls—never boys—were to get indigenous clothing as part of their salary.63 Children, much like adults but perhaps with greater facility, acquired Spanish culture during their employment and in the process became part of the Hispanized native population. Indigenous women were favored above all as domestic workers. Some tasks, like cooking, washing, and the work of wet nurse, were genderspecific and, as a consequence, required female native laborers. Native women worked as cooks who combined knowledge of preparation of both native and European foods to satisfy the demands of their employers. Contracts for indigenous domestics often specifically hold the women responsible for making ‘‘pan y chocolate’’ [a European-style bread and chocolate drink]. The ability to make European-style bread was likely learned in a Spanish home, and even the preparation of cacao, a longstanding indigenous tradition, was made to conform to Spanish tastes.64 In  Catalina, a woman said to speak only Nahuatl, contracted with a Spaniard named Juan de Céspedes.65 Among her duties was work in the kitchen making bread and chocolate. On the whole, domestics made less money than other salaried workers did. Among the lowest paid were native women entrusted with a variety of tasks. Catalina, a widowed vecina of the barrio of Jocotenango, contracted with Diego Hernández for two years.66 Hernández required her to wash clothes, cook, and make and sell bread. Despite her multiple duties, Catalina’s salary was a meager one and a half pesos a month. Interestingly, she took the job to pay off a large debt to an indigenous merchant. Probably before her mischance, Catalina operated her own commercial enterprise, as she owed the money for clothing. Four years later, Francisca Pérez went to work for a Spanish woman for six months in exchange for six pesos, payable in coin and clothing.67 Indigenous women, then, because of the close interaction they had with Spaniards, brought elements of their indigenous culture into Spanish homes and Spanish culture into their native communities. In the process, they aided the cultural exchanges and miscegenation that characterized early Santiago. Wet nurses, known in Guatemala as chichiguas, came to form a requisite part of well-established Spanish households. Chichiguas acted like nannies in that they were entrusted with the rearing of children. They were required to breast-feed infants at all hours, to wash their clothing, and to clean soiled diapers.68 There existed expectations about the work of chichiguas. In one case, a native woman contracted to work ‘‘in the

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manner of the other Indian chichiguas,’’ an indication that her employers felt her duties to be understood.69 This hints at an established tradition of native chichiguas within Spanish homes. Because of the intimate role they played in rearing children, wet nurses had better status and generally higher salaries than other domestics. Some employers even came to have affection for their chichiguas. In her will, Catalina de Zamora, a memberof a once-prosperous encomendero family, requests that four masses be said for Catalina, the wet nurse ‘‘de mys hijos’’ [of my children]. In addition to rearing all of Zamora’s children, Catalina also bore the baptismal name of her employer, an indicator of a long-standing relationship.70 On occasion, chichiguas used their position to secure loans for their husbands. In  native Juan Bautista borrowed nearly thirty-eight pesos from Juan García with the explicit understanding that the debt would be paid from the salary of Bautista’s wife, chichigua to García’s children.71 At other times, chichiguas received their salaries in coin and merchandise so as to allow their spouses to sell the goods. In  María de Chaves agreed to work for a Spaniard in exchange for a salary that consisted of thirty-seven pesos, in coin and native clothing, European cloth, and a carga of cacao.72 María’s native husband, Francisco Álvarez, received the merchandise, which he probably sold as a petty dealer. Teams of wives and husbands—rarelyentire families—also contracted as laborers. Married teams provided estate owners the opportunity to hire two types of employees at once: males to perform field labor, and their wives to work as domestics. Furthermore, in the largely unsupervised context of rural enterprises, family units served as a guarantee against unauthorized abandonment of work sites. The majority of these teams consisted of unskilled or semiskilled workers. However, artisans and their wives also hired on as one working unit, though this proved infrequent.73 Cases begin to appear in the records around the late s, which demonstrates that by that time the labor pool of natives in Santiago no longer consisted only of single individuals, whether female or male, but often of married couples as well. Unlike with chichiguas, where the husband benefited from the wife’s position, in the case of teams, husbands were usually the primary employees and wives were auxiliaries, remunerated at a lower rate than their husbands. Less frequently, the reverse occurred; that is, husbands served as secondary employees. Married teams also existed among Spaniards, though they were not nearly as common as among indigenous people. The discrepancy might be explained by both the low overall numbers of Europeans who appear

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in labor agreements and the fact that Spanish women did not play as large an economic role as did native women within unions such as marriages. Wife and husband teams most often worked on landed estates, both pastoral and agricultural. In all such cases, husbands consented to perform the heavy field labor of planting and harvesting or tending cattle, while wives agreed to work as domestics in houses located on the estates. In  Diego Sánchez, his wife, Catalina, and their children all contracted to work for Luis de Cabrera, a well-to-do labrador. Sánchez, identified as an ‘‘yndio Guatemalteco’’ [Guatemalan Indian], agreed to move his family to a cattle estancia in Pasaco for three years.74 In exchange, Cabrera agreed to pay him a total of forty-five pesos and to provide food for Sánchez’ family. Fifteen years later, the same Luis de Cabrera hired Pedro Hernández, Carolina, his wife, and Juana, theirdaughter.The natives, all from the milpa de Juan Pérez, agreed to relocate to Cabrera’s wheat field. The family agreed to work for only one year at the stipulated salary of thirty pesos, a significant improvement.75 In addition, wholly unlike the previous case, a salary for Carolina and Juana is mentioned in the contract. The women agreed to receive clothing instead of money for their labor. In  a couple, Pedro López and Juana Hernández, both said to be fluent in Spanish, contracted for one year with the encomendero Don Diego de Herrera.76 Pedro promised to tend cattle, while Juana consented to make food and beverages for the other workers on the estancia. In exchange, they were to be paid thirty-five pesos. As in other cases, to secure their labor, Herrera advanced the couple twenty-one and a half pesos. Other teams performed work as domestics in Spanish homes. Although the duties of males are not specified, it is probable that they tended gardens or cared for household animals. Wives performed the usual gender-specific tasks. In  Andrés and Catalina, both from the milpa de Cabrera, contracted with a silversmith.77 The artisan agreed to pay them thirty pesos for one year’s labor. Twelve years later, Don Álvaro de Lugo and his wife, Doña Isabel Ortiz de la Puente, members of Santiago’s elite, contracted with natives Ana and her husband, Domingo Hernández, both identified as fluent Spanish speakers, towork for twoyears.78 Ana was to wash clothes, cook, and make tortillas. The stipulation of tortillas shows that even in the homes of elite Spaniards, quintessentially native foods like tortillas had taken hold. The couple’s salaries did not vary; each was to get about a peso a month, but Ana received an advance of eight pesos while Domingo got only six. Apparently, Ana was the more valued of the two.

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 

Not all natives worked at low-skill jobs. A fortunate few, like muleteers, earned relatively high salaries. From the mid-sixteenth century on, many natives began entering the ranks of Santiago’s muleteers. Much like their counterparts on landed estates, indigenous muleteers did not occupy positions of authority. In fact, only rarely did they operate mule trains independently. In the preponderance of cases, they went about ‘‘loading and unloading’’ the pack animals.79 Others were expected to ‘‘bring grass, firewood, and other things’’ while accompanying the pack trains.80 The work of a muleteer presented many dangers, not the least of which were the animals themselves. In  Francisco Hec, a native from the town of Aguacatlán, accompanied a Spaniard named Francisco del Pulgar and a group of packhorses as they made their way from Tecpán to Santiago. Hec’s horse delivered a mortal kick to his abdomen. He was left moribund on the road as Pulgar rode off for help.81 A day later, Hec died of internal injuries, but not before cursing the horse with typical Spanish insults.82 There were also dangers from brigands and severe weather.83 Despite the dangers, natives sought employment as muleteers because muleteers commanded higher salaries than did most other skilled laborers. In fact, competition was so intense that in nearly every case I investigated, native muleteers received cash up front from their employers. To be sure, this created temptation. In  Martín, a vecino of the barrio of San Francisco, attempted to abscond with the payment. However, he was not successful and spent some time in jail.84 Contracts varied from six months to one year; rarely were they longer than that. In  Baltasar López went to work for Andrés Vásquez for seven months.85 Vásquez agreed to pay López four pesos monthly and gave him nineteen pesos in advance.That sameyear, Francisco, a bilingual native from the milpa de Santa Ana, entered into a six-month contract with a local muleteer at the rate of five pesos a month.86 Like Baltasar, Francisco received an advance: money for a pending debt and for his provisions. To attract workers, muleteers sometimes paid salaries as a combination of money and livestock. Diego, a native from Chiapas, received cash and two colts for one year’s work.87 He too got money up front. For reasons that remain vague, salaries for indigenous muleteers began to drop precipitously starting in the mid-s. By  the average salary fluctuated from two and a half to three pesos monthly.88 Perhaps too many natives had become qualified for this once-lucrative occupation. The more fortunate natives managed to acquire European-type skills that permitted them to work as artisans. Apprenticeships provided Spaniards with inexpensive labor and allowed natives to learn valuable skills.

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

Apprenticeship contracts for natives and Spaniards differed little. Even the length of the contracts was nearly identical.89 So large was the number of natives acquiring skills in Spanish manual crafts that by the late s they began to challenge the predominant position of Africans in many trades.90 In the main, native boys aged seven to fifteen served as apprentices. Concrete evidence for native apprentices dates from , although they undoubtedly apprenticed earlier. In  Pedro, a native from Tabasco (in southern Mexico), apprenticed with a tailor, Francisco Sánchez.91 The apprenticeship was to last three years, during which Sánchez obligated himself to teach Pedro his craft. A native, Martín de Salvatierra, a vecino of Santo Domingo, was considered a highly skilled blacksmith by , indicating that he had apprenticed years earlier.92 Despite the existence of apprentices in the early years, it was not until about the s that appreciable numbers of natives became apprentices. Occasionally, apprenticeships resulted from familial connections. In  a native named Juan Rodríguez apprenticed with his uncle, Baltasar de Bozarráez, a Spanish silversmith who had married a native woman.93 Juan’s sister, also just a child, was put to work in the Bozarráez household as well. The decision to apprentice Juan and to put his sister to work, perhaps caused by economic hardship, was made by their parents. It seems that among some native families important decisions such as apprenticing children were made jointly. While Juan’s apprenticeship arguably resulted from his family connection, other natives who apprenticed with silversmiths had no such ties.94 Given the high cost of the tools and raw materials required for this profession, it is remarkable that any natives trained as silversmiths, as they had little likelihood of ever setting up shop independently. Yet the fact that the craft did not have a significantly greater status advantage over others explains in part why natives had no trouble in training as silversmiths.95 Indigenous people were also well represented among cobblers and tailors. Not only teenaged natives apprenticed; occasionally, older married natives sought training in Spanish crafts.96 In the multicultural world of Santiago, not all natives trained in European crafts; some successfully adapted native skills to European norms. Masonry, a well-established craft in the precolonial period, undoubtedly continued to be important among natives. In just one case, fifteen natives worked on the construction of a wheat mill, presumably quarrying, hauling, and fitting stones.97 Native artisans were not a rarity in Santiago. Some natives who had mastered European techniques even contracted with Spaniards to teach



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Black slaves. Bernaldo de Los Ángeles, a native from distant Tlaxcala and resident in the Valley of Almolonga, illustrates. In  Los Ángeles, a master weaver who specialized in producing European cloth, contracted with Gaspar de Troche to teach weaving to a Black slave (likely belonging to Troche).98 Troche agreed to pay Los Ángeles seventy pesos and a horse for his work, a truly impressive salary for the period. (Los Ángeles also boasted a magnificent signature, one more sign of his elevated position in indigenous terms.) Most native artisans could not expect to make salaries as high as that of Los Ángeles, yet their wages were better than those of unskilled natives. In  Juan Guernica, an indigenous mason, charged a Spaniard twenty pesos to build some water tanks and a wash basin in his house.99 By the late sixteenth century, at least some indigenous artisans did not earn much from their crafts, even though they were usually better paid than unskilled natives. In  a native cobbler, Juan Vásquez, was contracted to work at the rate of two and one-half pesos monthly, a salary comparable to that of a less-skilled indigenous muleteer.100 Tanners also received relatively low salaries. In  Melchor Alves, a vecino of the barrio de La Merced, contracted with a Spanish tanner, agreeing to work for one year in exchange for twenty-five pesos.101 Hat makers were also underpaid.102 Low wages may have resulted from a glut of certain types of native artisans. The mechanism of the compañía, in addition to wage labor, served to bring natives into the labor market. Native/Spanish compañías appear throughout the period. They differed little from the usual arrangement in which one individual functioned as the investor and the other provided the labor. A native’s ethnicity does not seem to have hampered his ability to gain from compañía structures. One of the earliest compañías created by a Spaniard and a native dates from . That year, Tristán de Abrego and a native named Alonso forged a compañía with the specific purpose of selling goods. Abrego, a Spanish mercader, drew up a contract with Alonso (identified as a native of the town of Vinea in the Valley of Comayagua) which required Alonso to travel to Chiapas or anywhere Alonso saw fit. Abrego provided Alonso with a packhorse equipped for cargo and fifty pesos in cash; Alonso provided forty pesos of his own. With the ninety pesos, Alonsowas to purchase indigenous cloth and other merchandise of his own choosing, then travel about selling the goods for cash.103 Alonso promised to keep an account of all dealings (suggesting that he boasted some degree of literacy). All profits, as in almost all compañías, were to be divided equally. A year later, another merchant set up a

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

compañía with two indigenous partners for the purpose of shipping cacao to Mexico City.104 Nearly thirty years later, compañías continued in use among natives and Spaniards. They even proved useful for ventures as diverse as fishing.105

 Given that natives made up the majority of Santiago’s population and that they were likely there long before the arrival of the Europeans and Africans, it should not amaze us that they owned land within the city. Throughout the sixteenth century, artisans appear in transactions involving land, although the value of the properties tends to be low. Early on, indigenous men and women both bought and sold land, with no discernible gender-based difference in the transactions. In cases of spouses transferring land, the typical Spanish legal requirements applied. Put another way, wives and husbands had to grant each other permission to initiate transactions. Single women acted independently and played a large part in the selling and acquisition of property. Skilled artisans, because of their relatively better economic position, ranked among the first to acquire urban properties. In  a native tailor, Pedro Sánchez, bought a house from a low-ranking encomendero for twenty-two pesos, a sure sign of its unpretentiousness.106 During the mid-sixteenth century, prices for Spanish homes ranged from as little as one hundred pesos for a humble affair to ten times as much for the lavish houses of the elite.107 However, the mere fact that Sánchez amassed the purchase price reveals that he had at least some economic success. By midcentury, indigenous artisans like a barber-surgeon named Domingo commonly appeared in the records as owners of urban properties.108 Some native artisans also sold urban property. In  a native tanner and his wife sold notary Luis Aceituno de Guzmán a thatched dwelling located in the barrio de Santo Domingo. Aceituno paid nearly thirteen pesos for the property.109 The Aceituno family managed to acquire a lot of property in Santo Domingo due to the low prices they paid natives for the houses they bought. In  Inés Lobo also bought a thatched house from a native couple. She paid silversmith Juan Hernández and his wife forty-three pesos.110 The home was located in Santo Domingo. At times, natives dealt with the religious orders active in Santiago. The Dominicans, in particular, both donated to and bought land from indigenous people. In  they donated a small house plot to a trusted native

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auxiliary named Francisco Pérez, whom they had reared since infancy.111 Pérez occupied the high rank of native vicar (entrusted with such duties as maintaining the native choir). Pérez had been promised the land five years earlier and had a document written in Nahuatl to prove his claim. However, the Dominicans, despite their long-standing reputation for kindness to natives, paid indigenous people low prices for property, just as did any other Spaniards.Threeyears after the donation to Pérez, the order bought a walled-off house abutting on the door through which carts entered the monastery from native Martín Pérez. He received only a meager payment for the property.112

I

ndigenous slaves were brought from all over Mesoamerica, though they arrived in Santiago mainly from New Spain, Pánuco, and Yucatán. Male slaves outnumbered females, and all underwent the painful ordeal of branding. The prices paid for the slaves varied, from a low of thirty-two pesos for a male from Yucatán in , to a high of close to  pesos paid in , also for a male.113 As the prices reveal, indigenous slaves were not as valuable as Black slaves. Yet native slaves played an important role in the development of the region’s economy. Whether working in mines or in milpas, they contributed to Santiago’s growth. Fortunately, the tradewas relatively short-lived, though it lasted far beyond the edicts drafted to prohibit it. Natives from the entire region traveled to Santiago, though the great majority of indigenous migrants came from neighboring towns. They relied on Nahuatl, a language that, while not indigenous to the city, served as the lingua franca. Nahuatl facilitated interaction among different native peoples and Europeans, smoothing the transition from outsider to permanent denizen. Newcomers to Santiago, like its established native inhabitants, contributed to the city’s cultural confluence. Once native slavery began to fade, those in need of inexpensive labor had little recourse but to turn to paid native workers. Purchasing African slaves proved far costlier than hiring natives either short term as seasonal auxiliaries during harvests or as the permanent cadre on agricultural enterprises. Although native wage earners as a whole numbered less than corvée laborers drafted through encomienda and repartimiento, they nevertheless were much more important than previously thought. Whether as unskilled workers entrusted with simple tasks or better-paid artisans, natives completed all mannerof tasks.Women and men both took on work in Spanish homes, and native wet nurses became indispensable in Spanish households. Children—orphans without the support network

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of family or community members willing to rear them or affected by economic devastation that forced parents or relatives to place them in Spanish homes—labored as domestics. A smaller number of natives worked as artisans.While not all artisans garnered high wages, some, like muleteers, did manage to earn significantly better pay than the unskilled. With their earnings, natives bought property in Santiago. The purchase of property symbolized permanence. Those buying land did so perhaps in recognition of their ties to the city. Natives routinely sold land, albeit at low prices. The low prices reflect the smallness of lots, their poor location, and the humble houses built thereon. Low property prices might also indicate that natives were not as apprised of the value of their land as were Europeans. Natives took an active and determining role in their lives. They engaged colonial institutions and created strategies to cope with the onerous demands of increased tribute and loss of status that resulted from the imposition of colonial rule. They most certainly did not simply capitulate to the demands of colonial rule. Instead, they confronted, sometimes violently, the situations created bychanges to a market-driven economy.They quickly learned that succeeding in the colonial system meant finding a means of earning wages. With their earnings, natives could satisfy tribute obligations, acquire essential items such as food, or purchase luxury goods such as imported clothing. For native slaves, migration was enforced and undoubtedly a traumatic experience. Santiago represented an economic temptation for free native migrants that offered greater opportunities than their home communities. As the single largest Spanish settlement in the region, Santiago acted as a magnet for all types of native migrants, most of whom decided to stay in the city. From unskilled domestics to highly trained artisans, all saw the benefits of traveling to Santiago. And all, likely unwittingly, made cultural, social, and economic contributions to the rise of sixteenth-century Santiago as a regional center. Without their work, the city would not have prospered.

Chapter Eleven

T  - 

T

hroughout this book, themes such as credit, trade, and interethnic interaction serve as a foundation for a social history of early Santiago. Commercial transactions, largely based on credit structures and undertaken by a plethora of diverse individuals, proved ubiquitous among Santiago’s population. Trade promoted interaction among people of different ethnic groups. To a large extent, only small sections of Santiago’s commercially active population have received attention from pioneering scholars, however.1 Commerce at the lower ends, an essential component of early Santiago, has been mostly ignored. Early Santiago’s society mirrored patterns and trends identified elsewhere. In many ways, this betrays a lack of innovation by the European settlers who sought to re-create their material world in Guatemala. They simply continued to rely on institutions and practices that had proved successful in the past, namely, those developed in the Central Valley of Mexico. Santiago was not a carbon copy of other areas, however. Aspects of its society prove unique because of the different situations encountered there. The development of Santiago in the Valley of Panchoy, from scattered native settlements into a thriving commercial center, little resembled the rise of Mexico City, an already-established and substantial native settlement in the precolonial era. In part, the uniqueness of Santiago lay deeply buried in thousands of long-ignored, mundane documents.2 Official documentation that permits an understanding of institutions and social aspects at topmost levels has formed the bulk of sources used previously.3 Consequently, little was known about early Santiago’s differences from and similarities to other sixteenth-century Spanish American urban areas. Because its society was poorly understood, Santiagowas categorized as a marginal economic area. This led to conclusions about its development that did not always mesh with colonial realities. True, economically, San-

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tiago initially ranked so far behind larger Spanish settlements like Mexico City that it deserved the ‘‘fringe’’ label, but after  or so, Santiago began to expand rapidly.4 My proposed chronology defies accepted notions that Santiago remained a fringe area until the mid-seventeenth century. A series of booms and busts, first identified by Murdo MacLeod, characterized early Santiago’s economy.5 Yet even in times of economic contraction, the city’s population never shrank to a point that it became necessary to shut down vital institutions like the municipal council. Once established, the structures of colonial rule allowed for shrinkage and growth, with the latter dominating the former. I argue that, more than a fringe area, early Santiago best resembles a regional center, an urban area dependent on larger cities but in turn depended on by lesser settlements. Santiago may have depended on Mexico City, but smaller settlements like Trinidad, San Salvador, and Gracias a Dios depended on Santiago. As the sixteenth century marched onward, Santiago’s mastery of its surrounding region increased. Residents of smaller settlements saw it as an ideal place to undertake commercial transactions. In fact, they were able to find goods at lower prices there than they could at home. European immigrants to Santiago had, by the second generation, if not earlier, established connections with other Spanish settlements, to both the north and the south. As a result of Santiago’s commercial activity, there developed a need for the large-scale production of grains, beef, mutton, and other staples to feed the burgeoning population. Consequently, large landed estates appeared early in Santiago—all the more remarkable considering that it began as a ‘‘portable city.’’ So shaky was the city’s first site that its founders, headed by Pedro de Alvarado, could not even agree on where to build the settlement.6 From humble beginnings, Santiago grew into an important commercial center, thanks to the contributions of its multiethnic and multicultural population.

    The lack of specie has often been cited as a reason for Santiago’s poor economic performance. The evidence presented here makes it clear that credit served to overcome the poverty of silver.The use of credit, whether in short-term loans or long-term mortgages, was in no way unique to Santiago.While large amounts of silver were mined in Peru and Mexico, much of it was not available for local consumption, making credit an essential mechanism, even in silver-rich areas of Spanish America.7 Furthermore,

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loans served to establish reciprocal relationships (among all residents of Santiago) little different from those created by godparentage.8 In fact, some loans were made with a tacit understanding that they would never be repaid, while others were collected only after the lender’s death.9 Merchants were indispensable to Santiago’s economy not only because they kept the city largely supplied with all manner of imported commodities and helped export locally produced goods, but also because they served as lenders and providers of credit. They played a crucial role in helping transform the city into a commercial entrepôt. Not just Spaniards but Portuguese and Italians could be found among the ranks of local merchants, although, for the most part, Spaniards, with only a couple of glaring exceptions, held the highest positions. While merchants enjoyed some status, onlya handful entered the ranks of the elite. Those fortunate enough to join the economically powerful invariably did so through marriage alliances with well-to-do women, most often widows. Their wealth, however, permitted them to purchase seats on the municipal council and increase their prestige in the process. The position of merchants in Santiago differed from the position they occupied in similarly sized cities.While their level of prestige resembles greatly the status enjoyed by merchants in Mexico City, the fact that they also sat on Santiago’s municipal council during the same era resembles practices in smaller settlements. Santiago’s position, landlocked but between Mexico City and Peru, increased its administrative importance. The fact that the Audiencia in Santiago remained active until the late eighteenth century (with an interruption of only a few years in the s) mandated a visit to the city by those seeking to present concerns before that institution. Merchants were quick to exploit these circumstances and to establish themselves in the city. Additionally, European merchants attempted to tap into international trade routes, mainly through Puerto de Caballos; thus, they were mostly responsible for the import and export of European agrarian and finished products. For many natives, Santiago represented a center for the trade of items such as native textiles, cacao, and quetzal feathers, undoubtedly a continuation of commercial activity begun in the precolonial era. Largely because of their greater economic leverage, Spanish merchants displaced their native counterparts, becoming intermediaries for tribute items. As a result, indigenous merchants had little choice but to buy these goods from Europeans. Non-native petty dealers also cut deeply into the markets of indigenous merchants, as they dealt directly with native nobles.

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Yet, in spite of their smaller numbers, native merchants, often from areas outside Santiago, continued trading in traditional items such as cacao late into the sixteenth century.

      While merchants dealt in large amounts of general goods, they depended on petty dealers to sell items retail inside and outside of Santiago. Petty dealers have received greater attention in other regions, but how they operated in Santiago has been largely unknown.10 They hailed from the humblest European stock. Along with natives and individuals of mixed ethnicity, they made up the overwhelming number of petty dealers, no doubt because of the transient nature of the occupation. Regardless of their ethnicity, petty dealers could never hope to attain the wealth of more successful merchants. Italians, likely because of their position as outsiders, constituted a large percentage of the petty dealers active in Guatemala. Much like merchants, though on a much smaller scale, European tratantes dealt in all types of goods with no apparent restrictions. They traveled into the countryside and established close ties with natives, often becoming godfathers of native girls and boys, undoubtedly as a means to establish reciprocal relationships with the children’s parents. Like other members of the European world, tratantes brought Spanish ways to indigenous communities. Other petty dealers worked in Santiago, dealing in food items such as bread, with the more successful ones hiring natives to aid them in selling goods in the local markets.11 Non-European petty dealers appear even less frequently in the documents than others involved in this trade. Given the small scale of theirdealings, this seems natural, as hardly anyone bothered drafting documents for the sale of native cloaks or bushels of salt.They operated no differently from their European counterparts, however. Indeed, legislation designed to curtail the activities of petty dealers involved in trading cacao did not differentiate between the activities of individuals of non-European ethnicity and those of European descent.12 No doubt, they traveled outside of Santiago to interact with natives and other low-ranking individuals like themselves. The roles and activities of women in early Santiago have represented a lacuna in the study of the colonial period. Only within the last ten years have scholars working on Spanish Guatemala begun to payclose attention to the topic. Within Santiago, women of European extraction owned a



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number of businesses, the most common being small shops (without fail, operated from their homes), bakeries, and boardinghouses. The transactions, with the exception of those undertaken by bakers, were usually small, involving a few pesos at the most. Women who sold goods from their homes dealt in indigenous and native products, namely, textiles and apparel. They interacted with other women as well as with men of all ethnicities. In addition, women depended heavily on credit, and at times even served as pawnbrokers. Not all women relied on pawning, however. Some made lucrative loans from which they gained merchandise that they sold later at a profit.13 Women, then, used the same credit and debt mechanisms as did men. Those who understood how those mechanisms functioned invariably profited much more than those who had a poor grasp of complicated debt structures. The expense of urban properties and the increase in the number of European immigrants to Santiago after midcentury caused a substantial demand for Spanish-style lodgings. Perhaps partially in response to the expansion, the number of boardinghouses in Santiago increased over time. Moreover, European women, usually unattached widows, operated most of these enterprises. These women served the vital function of providing lodging for both males and females who could not afford other types of housing in Santiago. Even those who would eventually purchase homes had to live in boardinghouses until they established themselves in the city.14 Women of other ethnicities also played important roles in the local economy. However, unlike European women, who often acted independently, they usually worked as sellers of goods for employers or slave owners, though at least a small number of free Black women functioned as market vendors. Non-European women usually worked in genderspecific roles in Spanish households, as free laborers, slaves, or, in many cases, as draft laborers for encomenderos. African slaves supervised natives in these households.

   Those involved in agrarian enterprises, while mostly originating from the lower rungs of Spanish society, ran the gamut from unsuccessful small farmers to very wealthy owners of large landed estates. When comparing wealthy labradores with those who merely subsisted, a typical pattern emerges: former mayordomos of encomenderos (and others closely con-

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

nected with this group) dominated the ranks of thewell-to-do, while those who lacked such overt ties to encomenderos typically were less prosperous. Affluent labradores were usually at least rudimentarily literate, while those on the bottom could hardly scratch out a few rough lines. Their wealth notwithstanding, all labradores occupied a position comparable to that of muleteers, above tratantes but below artisans. Occupation, family connections, and formal education were stronger determinants of social standing than wealth alone. Labradores maintained close ties with each other. The better placed lent money to their less-successful counterparts to acquire land or to improve their holdings. A few labradores entered into compañías, not unlike those established between merchants.The near-universal model for compañías involved one or more investors and lower-ranking individuals who performed the meanest tasks. Those labradores who invested least had to live on the farms and supervise the laborers. The consolidation of large estates took place in Guatemala at a relatively early date. By the early s large estates were already a fixture of Santiago’s society. However, the majority of agrarian enterprises were small endeavors owned by low-ranking labradores, a situation similar to that in sixteenth-century Mexico.15 Initially, Spaniards exploited land close to Santiago, clearly as a means to save on transport costs to market. Since production did not meet demand, foodstuffs were imported from southern Mexico. With time, Santiago’s labradores reached production levels that allowed them to export items such as hides to Spain. Concurrently, lands located somewhat distant from Santiago, especially those located in the fertile valley of Izhuatán, also served to grow introduced agricultural crops.16 Spaniards used the same lands as had natives to grow indigenous crops such as cacao and indigo.17 Since livestock required flat, open spaces, areas such as Escuintla proved ideal for the purpose.18 Those involved in agricultural production and animal husbandry were largely responsible for the intrusion of European representatives (whether Spaniards or their African auxiliaries) into the predominantly native countryside. A small number of Spaniards worked as laborers on agrarian enterprises, but most operated as administrators. The majority of workers, however, were non-Europeans. Black slaves, native wage workers, and people of mixed ethnicity provided the skilled permanent cadre while native draft laborers, through either encomienda or repartimiento, provided the mass labor necessary during harvest. Eventually, non-Europeans also entered the ranks of labradores by owning and independently



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operating small enterprises dedicated to agrarian production. Mestizos, because of the many unions between low-ranking Spanish labradores and nativewomen, appear most often in this capacity. A smaller numberof free Africans and mulattos also worked land dedicated to agriculture, though it seems that only a small fraction of them owned land; most simply rented plots from Spaniards. Non-European labradores undertook tasks such as growing wheat and raising livestock such as hogs and behaved no differently from Spaniards involved in similar activities. Women also participated in agriculture in diverse capacities, some as wives to labradores, others as workers on farms, and yet others as selfreliant farm owners. Spanish women do not appear in the documents as laborers but, rather, as wives and, in the case of widows, as independent labradores. Native and Black women, on the other hand, appear less often as spouses and more frequently as laborers. Additionally, some women entered into contracts as auxiliaries to their husbands, invariably agreeing to perform gender-specific roles. Ethnicity was an important determinant of the positions occupied by women within the labrador group, much as it was among nearly all other occupations in early Santiago.The total number of women involved in agriculture was relatively low, though this does not diminish their importance. Muleteers had their roots in the lowest levels of Spanish society. They were usually former sailors and were often of non-Castilian extraction, with people of non-European ethnicity entering into the occupation in ever-larger numbers as the sixteenth century came to a close. Successful merchants, realizing the cost benefits of owning mule trains, often purchased pack animals and hired skilled muleteers to manage them. However, independent muleteers, at times starting out as employees, operated the majority of the Santiago-based pack trains. Muleteers stood to make significant profits from their work, charging as much as eight hundred pesos to transport cacao from groves in southwestern Guatemala to Mexico City.19 Prices for lading fluctuated greatly, from thirteen to four pesos per pack animal.20 The main reason for this change lies in the increasing number of cargo animals and the concomitant competition for lading contracts, which forced muleteers to lower prices to stay competitive. What had once been a highly profitable trade little by little became less lucrative. Muleteers of non-European ethnicity, whether natives or mulattos, behaved in much the same way as Spaniards, the main difference being one of scale, since Europeans customarily owned the larger enterprises.While

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

in the majority of cases, natives, Africans, and mixed types worked for Europeans, either as slaves or free laborers, a small number managed to operate pack trains independently. In addition, some muleteers of mixed ethnicity entered into compañías with Spanish mule owners, promising to administer the pack trains in exchange for half of the profits. NonEuropeans who worked as free laborers received relatively high salaries; slaves, particularly in the case of Blacks and mulattos, operated with a high degree of autonomy. Native slaves, perhaps because of their unfamiliarity with Spanish language and practices, did not have anywhere near the independence that Africans did.

 Europeans sought to re-create as best they could most of the accoutrements of their material culture. As a result, therewas great need forartisans trained in European trades. Initially, Europeans, mostly Spaniards and Portuguese, worked as artisans with Black and native slaves as auxiliaries. Within a short time, Black slaves trained in European crafts were operating shops. European artisans saw no impediments to training natives, and after midcentury a sizable number of natives trained in Europeanstyle trades worked in Santiago. Additionally, at an indeterminable time, mestizos and mulattos began entering the ranks of artisans. It has long been thought that in Santiago only Spaniards were practitioners of European crafts. Furthermore, the prevalent notion has been that Spanish artisans first taught natives their crafts and only later taught mulattos.21 I postulate that these assertions, in light of the documentary evidence presented in the previous chapters, prove baseless. Europeans practiced manual trades, taught free and enslaved Africans and natives (concurrently, in some cases), and, within a short while, trained peoples of mixed ethnic descent in European crafts. Furthermore, there did not exist any sort of understanding that one ethnic group would be trained before another or that training would take place in any specific order. The social position of artisans depended on the standing each had within their specific groups, although European artisans usually stood above artisans of other ethnic groups. Within their respective groups, artisans enjoyed modest to high status. Generally, Spaniards assigned middling rank to artisans, though some Portuguese and mestizo craftsmen did not fare as well. Because of their greater earning capacity, native artisans enjoyed better status within their group, and Black and mulatto



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artisans occupied the highest rank within their communities. European artisans usually earned better incomes than muleteers and labradores and acquired more African slaves and urban property than the other two groups. Additionally, the stable nature of most manual crafts placed their practitioners far above petty dealers. Taken as a group, artisans enjoyed significant prosperity. European artisans frequently purchased costly Black slaves and property located in Santiago. Artisans of African descent, mulattos mainly, also acquired more real estate than others of their ethnicity. Native artisans, particularly those trained in Spanish crafts, earned higher wages than unskilled indigenous free laborers. Slave artisans, who in most cases were African and mulatto, had quasi-independent relationships with their owners and often were required only to provide a stipulated monthly payment in exchange for near autonomy. Indeed, African artisans were among the very few slaves who purchased their own freedom. Female artisans, usually confectioners and bakers, constituted a small group. Panaderas operated some of the most lucrative enterprises in Santiago. They sold bread (through intermediaries such as African slaves) in the barrio markets. Panaderas behaved like their counterparts in other areas of Spanish America, using the proceeds from their enterprise to purchase urban property and costly African slaves.

            Spaniards dominated the ranks of professionals. In fact, only a smattering of non-Spaniards, nearly all Portuguese, appear in the records as professionals active in early Santiago. The status of professionals depended on factors such as formal schooling, connections to royal institutions, and family networks. Consequently, professionals encompassed individuals of many ranks, from middle-ranking notaries to influential doctors of jurisprudence. Despite their differences, all professionals possessed at least rudimentary literacy, with the majority being fully literate. Professionals were divided into two large blocs: physicians, and those connected in some way to the colonial administrative apparatus. While most physicians boasted solid economic standing, they nonetheless had lower status and prestige than professionals who did not work in the healing arts. For the most part, professionals attained high levels of economic success and used their wealth to purchase large numbers of African slaves and costly urban property. Many sought to diversify their investments

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by purchasing pasture and agricultural land. Others participated in commerce, either directly or through proxies.They manifested the same commercial zeal as merchants and other economically active local elements. Professionals in Santiago hardly differed from their counterparts in other areas of Spanish America, but it seems that the smaller pool of highranking men allowed professionals in Santiago (and similar settlements) greater participation on the municipal council. Moreover, local professionals cultivated ties to Santiago’s elite through service in this exclusive institution.22

                  Africans, both slave and freed, and their descendants made important contributions to Santiago’s hybrid culture. As valuable intermediaries, Africans enjoyed higher status than indigenous peoples. Despite their expense, such was the demand for African slaves in Santiago that even sick slaves could fetch a handsome price. African slaves in Santiago bought property and served as witnesses in legal disputes without the consent of their owners, despite legal prohibitions against these practices. In Santiago, as in nearly all societies that tolerated slavery, women and men in bondage actively resisted their condition. No large-scale slave upheavals took place during the sixteenth century, however. Slaves resisted in less-organized ways, usually opting for flight and disobedience. Although smaller in number than African slaves, mulatto slaves, perhaps because of blood ties with their owners, enjoyed special privileges often closed to unmixed slaves. They sold for higher prices and dominated the ranks of slave artisans. The free Black and mulatto population, though small, played an essential role in the economy. Most worked as muleteers or cultivated small plots, with a significant number entering into apprenticeships with artisans. In the majority of cases, free Africans continued in the same occupations they had while enslaved.

     Most of Santiago’s wards had sizable native populations. Indeed, in some they were the majority. Many of the barrios possessed a native-run Spanish-style municipal council that at times attempted to safeguard the



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interests of the indigenous inhabitants. Milpas close to Santiago grew to such an extent that they were eventually incorporated into the city as wards. Furthermore, numerous indigenous towns surrounded Santiago. Indigenous migrants traveled to Santiago from nearby milpas and native towns and settled permanently in the city. There was also a large population of natives from central and southern Mexico, most of whom arrived with the Spaniards as auxiliaries. Native migrants from other parts of Central America, namely, El Salvador and Honduras, added to the city’s diverse indigenous population. Natives from distinct cultural and linguistic groups made the existence of a lingua franca necessary. Nahuatl, a language from Central Mexico, served this purpose. Over time, Spaniards and other members of their cultural sphere wishing to communicate with natives also came to rely on Nahuatl. Natives in Santiago did not meekly comply with colonial rule. Native towns, for example, often successfully used the Spanish legal system to regain alienated lands. In their capacity as representative of their corporations, the indigenous nobility acted as mediators between the native and Spanish worlds, often manipulating introduced legal mechanisms to their benefit.While this mediation might have resulted from self-interest rather than altruism, without the cohesion provided by municipal council structures administrated by native elites, indigenous communities would not have been able to adequately function as corporations within the colonial order.23 Indigenous culture proved both resilient and flexible. Through processes of syncretism and convergence, natives retained many elements of their religious beliefs while manifesting overt adherence to Christianity. Many native cultures survived precisely because of their adaptability. The indigenous population of Santiago quickly adopted European trades. Wife-and-husband teams of indigenous workers labored as domestics or as administrators of small agrarian enterprises owned by Spaniards. Santiago’s native wage laborers, though a small percentage of the overall population of native workers, played an important role in the city’s economy. Without their labor, those in need of auxiliaries and unable to afford Black slaves, and those who lacked access to coerced labor mechanisms, could not have operated their enterprises.

I

n general, the field of sixteenth-century Spanish Central America remains untilled ground for historical research. While the pioneering works of Martínez Peláez, Luján

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Muñoz, Lutz, Kramer, MacLeod, and Sherman set the stage for other scholars, in the case of early Guatemala, few historians have taken up the challenge. The same problems that plague the study of early Guatemala (lack of resources and the unavailability of funds) also afflict the study of other Central American countries. Yet despite these major impediments, scholars have persevered and produced notable works.24 Without an understanding of events that occurred in the first two generations, conclusions about the development of later periods prove difficult, however. Thus, there exists an urgent need for works that deal with the early Spanish Central American societies. As the colonial period consolidated, trends and patterns established in the first century of Spanish rule continued unabated. Some of the trends continue to operate, in slightly mutated forms, to be sure, in contemporary Guatemala. The system of ethnic categorization that placed Europeans in the topmost position and lighter-complexioned individuals below them on an ethnic and economically based ladder originated in the early period, but it did not disappear then; if anything, it has gained strength. In the nineteenth century, concepts of Positivism and Social Darwinism gave pseudo-scientific sanction to deeply held discriminatory beliefs transposed from Spain in the sixteenth century.25 Furthermore, corvée labor practices like repartimiento continue to serve as a means to acquire labor cheaply for large plantations well past the time of those practices’ supposed eradication.26 Sadly, the introduction of cash crops such as coffee only exacerbated the burdens on agricultural workers that originated in the precolonial era and that were made worse during Spanish rule.27 Until recently, repartimiento served to provide native recruits for poorly equipped counterinsurgency squads and to repair roads.28 As Marc Bloch writes, ‘‘the past continues to dominate the present.’’ 29 Today the site of sixteenth-century Santiago—Antigua Guatemala— fills with tourists from around the world. Its well-lighted streets bustling with cars and nightclubs, remnants of buildings destroyed by earthquakes, and cosmopolitan population might seem the farthest reality from the first decades of colonial society. Yet there are elements of early Santiago that still pervade the city. Antigua boasts a multitude of vendors hawking all manner of wares, from cheap trinkets to finely made native textiles; homes that employ indigenous domestics and nursemaids; and Easter processions that follow centuries-old routes.The soul of early Santiago inhabits the entire city. In this book I have tried to bring sixteenth-century Santiago to life— to rescue its humble and ordinary residents from historical forgetfulness

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and to give the once-silent past a voice. I have tried to demonstrate that although Spaniards founded the city, it would have remained a transient camp had it not been for the work of natives. Indeed, native labor built the first permanent Spanish-style homes in the area.30 Later, that same native labor, in tandem with Africans, contributed to the growth and expansion of Santiago. All along, women from all of the city’s ethnic groups contributed to its development. By the close of the sixteenth century, the first generation of Europeans in Santiago would not have recognized the city. Time and natural disasters have erased many of the physical symbols of early Santiago, but the memory of its first inhabitants should not be buried in the ruins of once-proud stone buildings. It is my hope that this book contributes to a clearer understanding of the growth of early Santiago and the impact of its expansion on peoples from all ethnic groups. Of all the sources I consulted, none touched me as did the words written by a native notary some four hundred years ago: ‘‘So that all may remember them, I leave here the names of all who have gone.’’ 31 I have sought to do just that, to resurrect the forgotten.

N 

  . I use both the generic term ‘‘Black’’ and the more precise label ‘‘African’’ when discussing peoples of African descent.While colonial records use labels such as ‘‘negro’’ [Black male], ‘‘negra’’ [Black female], place of origin or ethnicity-based derisive monikers like ‘‘negrito’’ and not the term ‘‘African,’’ I think it necessary to make clear the connection with Africa that slaves from that continent had with their homelands. . When I am referring to the whole group and not to specific subgroups, I employ the term ‘‘European’’ rather than ‘‘Spaniard.’’ While Spaniards made up the overwhelming majority of Europeans who came to Spanish America, other European ethnic groups also participated in the early settlement and growth of colonial society. To clarify the complex picture of the different Europeans operating in Guatemala, I use what are in some instances modern ethnocultural and national labels, such as ‘‘French’’ and ‘‘Italian,’’ but where appropriate, I use the specific place of origin. . Although, initially, the designation referred to language fluency, by the late colonial period, ‘‘ladino’’ identified people neither Spanish nor native. Much more inclusive than ‘‘mestizo,’’ ladino included Blacks and nearly all categories of ethnic miscegenation. See Severo Martínez Peláez, La patria del criollo, p. . . The original reads ‘‘tierra de buen temple, mas fria que caliente, y muy sana y muy abundante de comydas de todos generos’’ ( Juan de Pineda, ‘‘Descripción de la Provincia,’’ p. ). . The original reads ‘‘una isla poblada de mujeres, sin varón ninguno.’’ Cortés promises to investigate the matter and to pass on the news to the king (Hernán Cortés, Cartas de relación, p. ; also quoted in Irving Leonard, ‘‘Conquerors and Amazons in Mexico,’’ p. ). Bernal Díaz del Castillo (Historia verdadera, p. ) supports Cortés’ claim, writing that Cortés ‘‘tuvo noticia que en la provincia de Guatemala había recios pueblos de mucha gente e que había minas’’ [learned that in the province of Guatemala there were heavily populated towns and there were mines]. For an analysis of Cortés’ writing, see Hernán Cortés, Letters from Mexico; and José Rabasa, Inventing America, pp. –. . Irving Leonard, Books of the Brave, pp. –. . A description of these events appears in Cortés, Cartas de relación, p. .



         – 

For the possible ethnicity of the native representatives, see William L. Sherman, Forced Native Labor, pp. –. Also quoted in Wendy Kramer, Encomienda Politics, p. . . John Francis Lynch, ‘‘Concepts of the Indian and Colonial Society,’’ pp. –. . The original reads ‘‘sabía muy bien platicar’’ (Díaz del Castillo, Historia verdadera, p. ). . For a succinct but cogent analysis of the historical value of the Alvarado letters, see Robert M. Carmack, Quichean Civilization, pp. –. . A discussion of general aspects of Spanish conquests appears in James Lockhart and Stuart B. Schwartz, Early Latin America, pp. –. . Hubert Howe Bancroft, The Works of Hubert Howe Bancroft, vol. , p. . . Ibid., p. . . The exact number totaled , divided into  cavalry and  infantry. . Archivo General de Centro América (hereafter ) .... (, copy of original dated --), Probanza de Méritos de Juan de Arágon. I have converted the Spanish date form, which places the day before the month, into the contemporary U.S. practice of placing the month before the day. Thus, the final two digits of an archival date string, unless otherwise indicated, refer to the sixteenth century; -- therefore means September , . . Kramer, Encomienda Politics. . See Geoffrey Parker,The Army of Flanders; Judith Hook,The Sack of Rome. . Kramer, Encomienda Politics, pp. –. . A petition for exemption from tribute has native auxiliaries identifying themselves as ‘‘indios mexicanos tlaxcaltecas çapotecas yotros’’ [Mexican,Tlaxcalan, Zapotec, and others] (Autos Fiscales: Guatemala: Archivo General de Indias [hereafter ]: Sig.: Justicia,  [fechas extremas –]). See also Díaz del Castillo, Historia verdadera, p. . . On one occasion, to demonstrate the magnitude of a revolt by fellow Spaniards against his authority, he claims to have dispatched  Europeans and thirty thousand native auxiliaries to quell the revolt. See Cortés, Cartas de relación, p. . . The original reads ‘‘lleva algunas personas principales, así de los naturales de esta ciudad como de otras ciudades de esta comarca, y con ellos alguna gente, aunque no mucha por ser el camino tan largo.’’ See ibid., pp. –. . Díaz del Castillo, Historia verdadera, p. . . See Francisco López de Gómara, Segunda parte, p. ; Antonio de Herrera y Tordesillas, Historia general, p. . . See, for example, Adrián Recinos, Pedro de Alvarado, p. ; Christopher H. Lutz, Santiago de Guatemala, p. . . Adrián Recinos, ed., Memorial de Sololá, p. . . The original reads ‘‘mande que se retrareche toda mi gente que eramos ciento de cavallo y ciento y cincuenta peones y otra de cinco o seys mil yndios

         – 



amigos nuestros.’’ Quotation from the facsimile of the  edition of Pedro de Alvarado’s letters. See Pedro de Alvarado, An Account of the Conquest of Guatemala, p. . See also idem, Relación hecha por Pedro de Alvarado, p. . . The original reads ‘‘no había más que hasta siete mil mexicanos y texcucanos . . . otros mil de Cuauhtemalan.’’ See Fernando Alva Ixtlilxochitl, Obras históricas de don Fernando Alva Ixtlilxochitl, p. . Alva Ixtlilxochitl’s work richly details the plight of the native auxiliaries. . The original reads ‘‘veinte mil hombres de guerra, y muy expertos en la milicia y tierras de la costa’’ (ibid., p. ). . Bancroft writes that accompanying the Europeans were ‘‘over twenty thousand picked native warriors’’ (The Works of Hubert Howe Bancroft, vol. , p. ). In the supporting note Bancroft cites evidence that demonstrates, at least in my mind, that the number of native auxiliaries ran into the thousands. . Francisco Fernández del Castillo, Don Pedro de Alvarado, pp. –. . See Peter Gerhard, ‘‘A Black Conquistador in Mexico’’; Henry Kamen, ‘‘El negro en hispanoamérica’’; James Lockhart, The Men of Cajamarca, pp. – and –; and Matthew B. Restall, ‘‘Black Conquistadors.’’ For a discussion of Blacks in the military during the whole of the colonial period, see Peter M. Voelz, Slave and Soldier. .  ... (), Probanza de Méritos de Juan Bardales. . See Beatriz Palomo de Lewin, ‘‘La esclavitud negra,’’ p. . . See Recinos, Memorial de Sololá, p. . . The original reads ‘‘en esta provincia de Guatemala no eran guerreros los indios, porque no esperaban sino en barrancas’’ (Díaz del Castillo, Historia verdadera, p. ). . Alvarado, An Account of the Conquest of Guatemala, p. . See also idem, Relación hecha por Pedro de Alvarado, p. . . Francisco Ximénez, Historia de la Provincia, pp.  and . . The original reads ‘‘hize y edifique en nombre de su magestad una ciudad de españoles que se dize la ciudad de señor Santiago porque desde aqui esta en el riñon de toda la tierra.’’ See Alvarado, An Account of the Conquest of Guatemala, pp. –; see also idem, Relación hecha por Pedro de Alvarado, p. . . Janos de Szecy, Santiago de los Caballeros de Guatemala en Almolonga, pp. –. . See Domingo Juarros y Montúfar, Compendio, pp.  and –. . Ibid., pp.  and ; Fernando González Davison, Guatemala –, p. . . Lutz, Santiago de Guatemala, pp. –. . Fray Antonio de Remesal, Historia general, p. . . Richard L. Kagan and Fernando Marías, Urban Images, p. . . See David L. Jickling, ed., La Ciudad de Santiago de Guatemala. . See Murdo J. MacLeod, Spanish Central America. . One document names at least six romance books:  ....f



         –  

. (--), Last Will and Testament of Diego Garcés. For a useful though somewhat limited quantitative study of books in a Spanish American area, see Carlos Alberto González Sánchez, ‘‘Los libros de los españoles.’’ . See Pineda, ‘‘Descripción de la Provincia,’’ p.  (also quoted in Lutz, Santiago de Guatemala, p. ); and Sidney D. Markman, Architecture and Urbanization, pp. –. . Lutz, Santiago de Guatemala, p. . . Bancroft, Works of Hubert Howe Bancroft, vols.  and . . Oakah L. Jones, Jr., Guatemala. . Silvio Zavala, Contribuciones; Jorge Luján Muñoz, Inicios. . Martínez Peláez, La patria del criollo. . William B. Taylor, Drinking; Severo Martínez Peláez, Motines de indios. . Mario Monteforte Toledo, ed., Las formas y los días. . William L. Sherman, ‘‘Indian Slavery’’; idem, Forced Native Labor; MacLeod, Spanish Central America. . Salvador Rodríguez Becerra, Encomienda y conquista. . Kramer, Encomienda Politics. . MacLeod, Spanish Central America. . Christopher H. Lutz, ‘‘Santiago de Guatemala’’; idem, ‘‘Population History’’; idem, Santiago de Guatemala; W. George Lovell, Christopher H. Lutz, and William R. Swezey, ‘‘The Indian Population.’’ . Pilar Sánchiz Ochoa, Los hidalgos de Guatemala; idem, ‘‘Poder y conflictos’’; idem, ‘‘Españoles e indígenas.’’ . José Francisco de la Peña, ‘‘Comercio y poder’’; Stephen Webre, ‘‘Antecedentes económicos.’’ Fora useful studyof the municipal council in the latercolonial period, see José Manuel Santos Pérez, Élites. . Stephen Webre, ‘‘El cabildo’’; idem, ‘‘Water and Society.’’ . Sherman, Forced Native Labor. . W. George Lovell, ‘‘Settlement Change’’; idem, Conquest and Survival. . Francisco de Solano, ‘‘La población indígena’’; idem, Los Mayas. . Elías Zamora Acosta, Los Mayas. . Carol A. Smith, ed., Guatemalan Indians. . Christopher H. Lutz and W. George Lovell, ‘‘Core and Periphery.’’ . Adrián Recinos, Crónicas indígenas. . Robert M. Carmack, ‘‘Toltec Influence’’; idem, Quichean Civilization; idem, Historia social; idem, The Quiché Mayas. . Robert M. Hill II and John Monaghan, Continuities. . Robert M. Hill II, The Pirir Papers; idem, Colonial Cakchiquels. . A few scholars have briefly examined the roles of Black slaves in Spanish Central America, but to date no substantive published works have appeared. See Thomas Fircher, ‘‘Hacia una definición’’; Nigel Boland, ‘‘Colonization and Slavery’’; Beatriz Palomo de Lewin, ‘‘La esclavitud,’’ pp. –; idem, ‘‘La esclavitud negra’’; idem, ‘‘Esclavos negros’’; Jorge Luján Muñoz, Agricultura.

         –  



. Frederick P. Bowser, The African Slave; James Lockhart, Spanish Peru; Colin A. Palmer, Slaves of the White God. . Catherine Komisaruk, ‘‘Women and Men’’; Paul Lokken, ‘‘From Black to Ladino.’’ . Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Silencing the Past, p. .

         . MacLeod, Spanish Central America, pp. –. . Remesal, Historia general, p. . . See Linda Greenow, Credit and Socioeconomic Change; Louisa SchellHoberman, Mexico’s Merchant Elite, pp. –; Águeda Jiménez-Pelayo, ‘‘El impacto del crédito.’’ .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . The outcome of the case remains unknown:  ... (-). For another prolonged legal dispute, see  ... (mid-). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  .....f. (-). .  ....f. (--). Baltasar de Aguilar bought and sold European finished goods, agricultural products, and native textiles. See  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ... .f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f . (-day not specified-);  ....f. (--), f. (--), and f. (--). . Lockhart has also found that ‘‘otros tantos’’ usually occurs with a statement of debt from a person who declares he received the amount owed when actually he received less, the difference being the lender’s profit or interest. Personal correspondence with James Lockhart. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . For mortgages and other debts, see Alfonso W. Quiroz, ‘‘Reassessing the Role’’; idem, Deudas olvidadas. For information on annuities, see Bartolomé Bennassar et al., Estado, pp.  and . See also Slicher van Bath, Real hacienda; Antonio Domínguez Ortiz, Política fiscal; Modesto Ulloa, La hacienda real. . MacLeod, Spanish Central America, p. . .  ....f. (--). For another case of Mexico City mer-



         –  

chants and their links with Santiago-based merchants, see  ... .f. (--). .  ....f. (not dated). . See Sánchiz Ochoa, Los hidalgos de Guatemala. .  ....f. (--). . The original reads ‘‘mercaderías de castilla y de la tierra’’ ( .. ..f. [--]). .  ....f. (--), f.  (--). . Andrés Muñoz (: Sig.: Indiferente, , n. [fechas extremas ]); Luis de Bolaños (: Sig.: Indiferente, , n. [fechas extremas ]); Gaspar Alonso (: Sig.: Indiferente, , n. [fechas extremas ]). .  ....f. (--); Confirmación de Oficio: Juan de Chaves: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco de Guevara. . Luis de Bolaños (: Sig.: Indiferente, , n. [fechas extremas ]). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Agustín García. . Even late into the period, some Seville-based compañías continued to send factors to Santiago. See Archivo Histórico Provincial de Sevilla (hereafter ): Escribano: Francisco Díaz de Vergara; Número de Legajo: .; Fecha: ; I Folio: ; Número de Oficio: . . : Escribano: Gaspar de León; Número de Legajo: .; Fecha: ; IV Folio: ; Número de Oficio: . .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). In later years, Castellanos continued his involvement in transatlantic trade, although through intermediaries to hide his direct involvement ( ....f. [--]). .  ....f. (--). . Peter Stern states that ‘‘Spaniards had not come to the New World to farm, herd cattle, grow sugar cane, or dig silver themselves, but rather to live like hidalgos (noblemen), and to profit from the tribute and labor of others’’ (‘‘Gente de color quebrado,’’ p. ). . Autos de Bienes de Difuntos: Juan García: : Sig.: Contratación, , n. (fechas extremas ); Cartas de Cabildos Seculares: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . Cartas de Cabildos Seculares: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . Allyn C. Loosley, ‘‘The Puerto Bello Fairs.’’ . Autos de Bienes de Difuntos: : Juan Antonio Ginovés: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas –); : Escribano: Diego Gabriel; Número de Legajo: .; Fecha: ; I Folio: ; Número de Oficio: . : Escribano: Benito Luis; Número de Legajo: ; Fecha: ; I Folio: [erased by moisture];

          –  



Número de Oficio: . Cartas de Cabildos Seculares: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . Visitas Audiencia de Guatemala: : Sig.: Escribanía, A (fechas extremas –). . : Escribano: Alonso de Cazalla; Número de Legajo: .; Fecha: ; I Folio: ; Número de Oficio: . . : Escribano: Alonso de Cazalla; Número de Legajo: .; Fecha: ; I Folio: ; Número de Oficio: ; and : Escribano: Alonso de Cazalla; Número de Legajo: .; Fecha: ; I Folio: ; Número de Oficio: . . : Escribano: Alonso de Cazalla; Número de Legajo: .; Fecha: ; I Folio: ; Número de Oficio: . . : Escribano: Benito Luis; Número de Legajo: ; Fecha: ; I Folio: [erased by moisture]; Número de Oficio: . . : Escribano: Benito Luis; Número de Legajo: ; Fecha: ; I Folio: ; Número de Oficio: ; : Escribano: Benito Luis; Número de Legajo: ; Fecha: ; I Folio: ; Número de Oficio: ; and : Escribano: Benito Luis; Número de Legajo: ; Fecha: ; I Folio: ; Número de Oficio: . . : Escribano: Benito Luis; Número de Legajo: ; Fecha: ; I Folio: ; Número de Oficio: ; and Folio: . See also Juan Bautista Antonelli and Diego López de Quintanilla, Relación, p. . .  ....f. (--). . For brevity’s sake, Villa de la Trinidad will be referred to only as Trinidad. The Villa de San Miguel, which shared a similar name with the Villa de San Miguel Petapa, will be treated in a similar way. San Miguel will refer to the villa in El Salvador and San Miguel Petapa to the villa near modern-day Guatemala City. Chiapas presents a somewhat prickly case.The province included Chiapa de Indios, Chiapa de Españoles, and Ciudad Real. To simplify things, only Chiapas has been used in this particular case; however, the documents do not always distinguish between Chiapa and Ciudad Real. Indeed, maybe Chiapa de Españoles and not Ciudad Real was on the mind of the notary. The reference used in the document will be used here. For example, if the document states Ciudad Real de Chiapa, then only Ciudad Real will appear here; likewise, if only Chiapa appears, then it will also appear alone herein. . Anne M. Chapman, Puertos de intercambio. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). Lavado was involved in the sale of slaves some years before this transaction:  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--).



          – 

.  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . Documents of this complexity, in which people collect debts for others, prove quite common:  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (-- to --). . See Michael A. Polushin, ‘‘Bureaucratic Conquest.’’ . Cartas de Cabildos Seculares: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --).

  . MacLeod, Spanish Central America, pp. –. . In the s an official of the southern Guatemalan town of Escuintla, an area of extensive cacao cultivation, called for measures to increase production to its former levels:  .... Also quoted in John Francis Bergmann, ‘‘The Cultural Geography of Cacao.’’ . See Manuel Rubio Sánchez, Historia del añil; José A. Fernández Molina, ‘‘Colouring the World in Blue.’’ .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (not dated);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ... .f. (–). . For a discussion of the production of silk in Mexico, see Woodrow Borah, ‘‘Silk Raising in Colonial Mexico.’’ For prices of Mexican and Asian silk, see  ....f. (--), f. (--). . For locally produced silk, see  ....f. (-day not specified-);  ....f. (--). For locally grown wheat, see  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). . Sherman, Forced Native Labor, pp. – and . .  ....f. (--), f. (--). . Over  documents, slave sales, powers of attorney, letters of debt, last wills and testaments, and other types of records mention slaves (both Black and native). I arrived at this percentage by limiting the count to documents that specify either a sale or a purchase of slaves by a merchant. . Due to their rarity and expense in early Guatemala, Black slaves served as an indicator of economic success. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);

          – 



 ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-day not specified-). . See Ward Barrett, The Sugar Hacienda, pp. –; Charles Verlinden, ‘‘Cortés como empresario económico y la mano de obra esclava.’’ .  ....f. (--). . Compare Mary Elizabeth Perry, Gender and Disorder, p. . . Hunt found similar patterns of behavioramong Spanish women in theYucatan: Marta Espejo-Ponce Hunt, ‘‘Colonial Yucatan,’’ pp. –. . See  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-), f. (--), f. (--), f.  (--). . Schell-Hoberman, Mexico’s Merchant Elite, p. . . See especially James Lockhart and Enrique Otte, Letters and People, pp. –. . Pérez de Soria appears without the label ‘‘mercader’’ in  and  ( ..f. [--];  ....f. [--]). Also during the early s his name appears followed by the label in  ....f . (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). . For a thorough discussion of the functioning of nonecclesiastical Spanish municipal councils, see Constantino Bayle, Los cabildos seculares. . For Solórzano’s activities, see  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. ();  . ...f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--). For his labeling as a merchant, see Webre, ‘‘Antecedentes económicos.’’ For Monroy, see  ....f. (--; not identified as a merchant), f. (-; identified as a merchant), f. (--; not identified), f. (--; not identified), f.  (--; identified). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). . Webre, ‘‘Antecedentes económicos,’’ p. . . See Keith A. Davies, Landowners, p. . . The wealthy merchant Antonio Maldonado wed Doña Beatriz de Vivar, while the poorer Juan Bravo secured an alliance with Doña Isabel de León ( ....f. [--];  ....f. [--]). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). . The original reads ‘‘los demás mercaderes.’’ .  ....f. (). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--).



         – 

.  ....f. (--), f. (--);  .. ..f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (not dated), f. (-), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (-), f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ... .f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-), f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ... .f. (--). . Antonio Benavides, identified solely as a merchant in , had by  become a vecino ( ....f. [--];  ....f. [--]). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). . Stanley Hordes, ‘‘La Inquisición,’’ p. . See also Seymour B. Liebman, The Jews. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). . See Lockhart, Spanish Peru, p. . .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). The earthquake took place on December , , and destroyed over eighty homes. Eleven Spaniards and an unknown number of natives perished (Cartas de Cabildo Seculares: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. [fechas extremas --]). See also Bancroft, The Works of Hubert Howe Bancroft, vol. , p. . . See Eduardo Arcila Farías, Comercio entre Venezuela, p. . . I agree with MacLeod’s periodization. The first mention of cacao dates from . The trade grows in importance, reaching a peak at around  and trickling out thereafter. See MacLeod, Spanish Central America, pp. –. .  ....f. (--). For Garro’s family connections, see Kramer, Encomienda Politics, p. . .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  .....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--).

         –  



.  ....f. (--). . One document reads ‘‘qualesquier maravedis pesos de oro ducados plata joyas moneda ganados esclavos cacao mercaderías bienes muebles’’ [any maravedis, gold pesos, ducats, silver, jewelry, coin, cattle, slaves, cacao, merchandise, and moveable goods]:  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). I use Patricia Rieff Anawalt’s translations of manta as cloak and guipil as blouse: Indian Clothing, pp.  and – . In the documentation, the word ‘‘manta’’ can also refer to European textiles. However, in every single case in which a nonindigenous cloth is involved, the type of textile will immediately follow the word, e.g., manta de burago or manta de holanda. ‘‘Manta’’ by itself in the documents I examined universally refers to an indigenous product. .  ....f. (--). Likely, Cermeñal intended to use the clothing as partial payment for laborers on his estancias or domestic servants in his home. . I use the term ‘‘entrepreneur’’ to denote a nonmerchant involved in commercial or other economic dealings. . Méritos y servicios: Cristóbal de Zuleta: : Sig.: Patronato, , n., r. (--, copy made on --). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (-day not specified-). .  ....f. (not dated, but early  seems most probable). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . See John E. Kicza, Colonial Entrepreneurs, p. . .  .... (--), Probanza de Méritos de Pablo Genovés. .  ....f. (--). .  .... (--), Probanza de Méritos de Pablo Genovés. .  ....f. (--), f. (not dated, but early  seems most probable). .  .... (--), Probanza de Méritos de Pablo Genovés. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-), f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--).



          –  

.  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Hernán García.

  . Ximénez, Historia de la provincia, p. . .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). . See Leslie Lewis, ‘‘In Mexico City’s Shadow,’’ p. . .  ....f. (--). The document reads ‘‘Alonso García Mr [abbreviation for mercader] tratante.’’ . See also  ....f. (--). . See Lockhart and Schwartz, Early Latin America, p. . . Like other Europeans, Italians often took on Spanish surnames, perhaps to avoid ready association with their homeland. . See Lockhart and Otte, Letters and People, p. . .  ....f. (--). . See Mary Elizabeth Perry, Crime and Society, p. . . So humble was the position that Santiago’s first crier took the post only under the threat of ten lashes. See Ernesto Chinchilla Aguilar, El ayuntamiento colonial, p. . .  ....f. (--). .  ... (--). . See Mark A. Burkholder, ‘‘Honor and Honors.’’ .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Diego Hernández. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro Hernández;  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Hernando Ramírez. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan de Gamboa. For a thorough discussion of Spanish legal regulations regarding dowries, see Eugene H. Korth, S.J., and Della M. Flushe, ‘‘Dowry and Inheritance.’’ . For the importance of godparenting in Spanish America, see George M. Foster, ‘‘Cofradía.’’ . Relaciones y Cuentas de Bienes de Difuntos: : Sig.: Contaduría,  (fechas extremas –). . Bienes de Difuntos: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco de Lípar. (A near duplicate copy appears in  ....f. [-].)

          – 



. Only three other tratantes could be said to match Lípar in the large sums of capital involved. See  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco Blanco;  ....f. (--);  ....f . (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro Hernández;  ... .f. (--);  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Antón Martín. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-), Last Will and Testament of Antón Martín. .  ....f. (). .  ... (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Antonia Beltrán. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Beatriz García. . In Santiago the Dominicans were the most influential order, the Franciscans next, and the Mercedarians last. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Catalina Díaz. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--).

  .  ....f. (--). . See Anthony Pagden, ‘‘Identity Formation,’’ p. . .  ....f. (--). . Informaciones: Oficiales Reales de Guatemala: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas ). . Juarros y Montúfar writes of one case in  in which a fierce puma caused much damage to the sheep herds: Compendio, p. . . For an excellent analysis of the rapid growth of introduced European herd animals, see Elinor G. K. Melville, A Plague of Sheep. .  ....f. (--). . See Francisco de Solano, Tierra y sociedad. For comparative purposes, see especially Jan Bazant, Cinco haciendas; David A. Brading, ‘‘The Capital Structure’’; Davies, Landowners; Reinhard Liehr, ‘‘Orígenes’’; and Rik Hoekstra, ‘‘Profits.’’ . Lutz and Lovell, ‘‘Core and Periphery,’’ p. . .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--).



        – 

.  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro Hernández;  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Hernando Ramírez. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). . Among that small number was Alonso de Valencia ( ....f . [--];  ... .f. [--]). Valencia even purchased a slave identified as blanco (White) ( ....f. [--]). See also  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan Benítez. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-), f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Hernando Ramírez. .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). For a discussion of the role of nephews in Spanish America, see Lockhart and Schwartz, Early Latin America, pp.  and –. .  ....f. (--); Bienes de Difuntos: Antón Rodríguez: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Gaspar Morejón. . For importation of animals, see Licencia a Eugenio Moscoso: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f. (--) and Licencia a Gabriel de Cabrera para llevar animales: : Sig.: Indiferente , l., f.r–v (--). In just a few years, introduced animals had multiplied at an alarming rate. The number of goats and equine animals bought and sold continued to be small, never numbering more than a hundred at one time, however ( ....f. [];  ....f. [];  ....f. [--]). Later sales of bovine animals prove staggering, some as high as twenty-five hundred. The prices of livestock fell with the rise of production ( ....f. [];  ....f. [--];  ....f. [--];  ....f. [--]). Fine riding horses, however, are a different matter entirely. They kept their value throughout the sixteenth century. The following list contains citations followed by the price for a single animal:  ....f. (--), ninety pesos;  ....f. (--), one hundred pesos;  ....f. (--), seventy pesos; 

         –  



....f. (--), two hundred pesos;  ....f. (--),  pesos. See also Francisco Vázquez, Crónica, p. . . In  Gaspar Morejón sold a male slave whom he did not mention in his last will and testament. Perhaps he bought and sold the slave after he drew up that document ( ....f. [--]). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Gaspar Morejón. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan Gómez. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Antón Martín;  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Hernando Ramírez;  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Hernando Ramírez. .  .. (--). . See Robert James Ferry, The Colonial Elite, pp. –. .  ....f. (--), f. (--);  .. ..f. (--). .  ....f. (). .  ....f. (--). The fact that only his father is identified in the document makes Martínez Redondo’s ethnicity suspect, as in these cases the mother tended to be native or of mixed ethnicity at best. Hiding the identity of a non-European mother protected the status of children of mixed descent, at least on paper. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--).



         – 

. Autos de Bienes de Difuntos: : Sig.: Contratación , n., r. (). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), f.  (--) are but a few of the many records involving labradores and native workers. .  ....f. (--);  ... f. (-);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro Hernández;  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Hernando de Soria;  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Bartolomé de Archila;  ....f. (--). . See Lockhart, Spanish Peru, p. . .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (the type of letter, position in the protocolo, and Cabrillo’s shipping to Peru indicate that the date quite possibly is somewhere around January ). . We can infer that the label became more common as a greater number of individuals, usually from the lower ranks and persons whose status would not suffer as a result of adverse labeling, entered into this activity. Indeed, records where individuals are specifically labeled ‘‘arrieros’’ are quite rare before the s. The label of ‘‘arriero’’ becomes more common in the records from the s on. .  .. ..f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f . (--);  ....f. (--);  ... .f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro de Vallejo;  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco Gómez. .  ....f. (--).

         – 



.  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Bartolomé de Archila. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Bartolomé de Archila. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Antonio Fernández. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ... .f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ... .f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f.  (--). .  ....f. (--). . The original reads ‘‘labar y moler y guisar de comer’’ ( ... .f. [--]). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--) and f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Bartolomé de Archila;  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Magdalena de Orche. . One of their children, María de Archila, married tratante Gonzalo de la Rosa ( ....f. [--], Last Will and Testament of Bartolomé de Archila). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). . Lowell Gudmunson and Héctor Lindo-Fuentes, Central America, p. . . Stanley J. Stein and Barbara Stein, The Colonial Heritage, p. .



          –  

  . Onlyone musician, an unnamed individual living in Santiago in , appears in the documents (Relaciones y Cuentas de Bienes de Difuntos: : Sig.: Contaduría,  [fechas extremas –]) (For musicians in eighteenth-century Santiago, see Alfred E. Lemmon and John A. Crider, ‘‘An Early Guatemalan Book.’’ Likewise, only one campanero (bellmaker) and relojero (watchmaker) surfaced ( ....f. [--]);  ....f. [--]). . I disagree with Sánchiz Ochoa’s notion that many artisans in sixteenthcentury Santiago abandoned the practice of their trade in a vain attempt to attain seignorial status. See ‘‘Españoles e indígenas,’’ pp. –. . See Lockhart, Spanish Peru, p. . . Why the cabildo included merchants among artisans remains unclear; see Juarros y Montúfar, Compendio, p. . . See Héctor Humberto Samayoa Guevara, Los gremios, p. . See also  .... (, copy of original done on --), Probanza de Méritos de Juan de Arágon. . See Martínez Peláez, La patria del criollo, p. . . The original reads ‘‘Y porque los oficiales de todo género de obras, conociendo la necesidad que de ellos tenían los que los mandaban hacer, y como por la condición liberal que tenían no repabaran en dar todo lo que por ellos les era pedido, se habián encarecido tanto, que el sastre salía a eral cada puntadad que daba; y el zapatero vendía tan cara su obra que dando a otros zapatos con suela de cuero, los podía echar en los suyos de plata; y el herrador hiciera si quisiera todos sus instrumentos de oro.’’ See Remesal, Historia general, p. . . Horacio Cabezas Carcache, ‘‘Oficios europeos,’’ p. . . See Rafael de Arévalo, transcriber, Libro de actas, p. . . Remesal, Historia general, p. . . I rely on Kramer’s identification of Francisco de Utiel as a surgeon (Encomienda Politics, p. ). In the local records not once does he appear so identified ( ....f. [--], f. [--];  ....f. [--], f. [--]). .  ....f. (--). . See Arévalo, Libro de actas, p. . .  .... (--), Probanzas de Méritos de Francisco Hernández de Illescas and Hernando de Illescas. .  ....f. (--);  ... (--). .  ....f. (--);  .... .f. (-). .  ... f. (--);  ....f. (-). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--).

          – 



.  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--);  . ...f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). . Autos Bienes de Difuntos: Perote Cordero: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (--). See also Autos de Bienes de Difuntos: Relación Enviada por Diego García: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan Griego. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco Gómez;  ... (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ... .f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (not dated);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro de Vallejo. . Autos Bienes de Difuntos: Pedro de Saavedra: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--). . See Ernesto Chinchilla Aguilar, Historia del arte; Sidney David Markman, Colonial Architecture; Verle L. Annis,The Architecture of Antigua Guatemala; Luis Luján Muñoz, ‘‘Presencia de sirenas’’; Heinrich Berlin-Neubart, Ensayos; Carlos Ayala, ‘‘La arquitectura.’’ .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). . The original reads ‘‘gremio de sastres y calceteros.’’ ( .. . []). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--).



    – 

.  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan de Losa;  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco Gómez;  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro de Salas. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), f.  (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). . Informaciones: Oficiales Reales de Guatemala: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ... .f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). .  ....f. (--). . Bienes de Difuntos: Pedro de Velasco: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--). .  .... f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). .  ....f. (--);  ... (--);  ....f. (--). . : Escribano: Diego Gabriel; Número de Legajo: .; Fecha: ; I Número de Oficio: . .  ....f. (--), f. (--);  .. ..f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . Autos Bienes de Difuntos: Perote Cordero: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas --). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Ana de Medina. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--).

         – 



.  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f . (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ... .f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . A....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (between -- and --), Last Will and Testament of Francisco de Villalobos;  ....f. (--);  .. ..f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan de Gamboa; Bienes de Difuntos: Diego de Montesdoca: : Sig.: Contratación, B, n., r. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Antón Martín;  ....f. (--), f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco Blanco;  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco Gómez. . Gómez lists thevalue of two trained slaves and their tools at  pesos ( ....f. [--], Last Will and Testament of Francisco Gómez). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco Gómez. . Informaciones: Oficiales Reales de Guatemala: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas ). . Sherman, Forced Native Labor, pp. –. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Antón Martín;  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Hernán García, and f. (--). .  ....f. (--).



         –  

.  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (not dated). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (not dated), f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-), Last Will and Testament of Ana de Medina;  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Catalina Díaz;  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . Autos de Bienes de Difuntos: Relación Enviada por Diego García: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas ). . Autos Bienes de Difuntos: Perote Cordero: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas --). .  ....f. (--). . Libro de Cuentas del Contador Francisco Zorilla: Guatemala: Sig.: Patronato, , r. (fechas extremas –). Large quantities of gold also appear in  ....f. (--), f. (--). . The records mention two plateros de oro (goldsmiths) (Autos Bienes de Difuntos: : Licenciado Cristóbal Rodríguez Andino: Sig.: Contratación , n., r. [fechas extremas --];  ....f. [--]). Cosme Román, who appeared as a platero in the early years, later received the label of fundidor (assayer) ( ....f. [--];  ....f . [--]). However, since plateros also functioned as assayers, Román’s change of labels does not seem at all remarkable. .  .... (--), Probanza de Méritos de Pedro Hernández Atenciano. . Kicza, Colonial Entrepreneurs, pp. –. . For Black slaves, see  ....f. (--);  .. ..f. (--);  ....f. (--);  .. ..f. (--). For urban real estate, see  ....f. (-); Bienes de Difuntos: Pedro de Velasco: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas ); Autos de Bienes de Difuntos: Cristóbal de Ribera: : Sig.: Contratación , n., r. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco Rodríguez de Zúñiga;  ....f. (--); and  ....f. (not dated). Additionally, at least one platero owned a cattle ranch ( ....f. [--]). In sixteenth-

          – 



century Seville, silversmiths were also among the most prosperous artisans. See Blanca Morell Peguero, Mercaderes y artesanos, p. . .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-), Last Will and Testament of Antón Martín. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Magdalena de Orche. .  ....f. (--), addendum to the Last Will and Testament of Juan Merino;  ....f. (--), addendum to the Last Will and Testament of Gonzalo de Alvarado. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan Gómez. .  ....f. (--);  ... (). .  ....f. (--). . The category of health-related serves to differentiate this group of artisans from others involved in purely mechanical tasks. . This situation appears to have existed elsewhere in Spanish America. See Lockhart, Spanish Peru, p. . .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro de Vallejo. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Melchor Robledo. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Melchor Robledo. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Sebastián Pavés. .  ....f. (--). . Bienes de Difuntos: Diego de Montesdoca: : Sig.: Contratación, B, n., r. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). . Bienes de Difuntos: Diego de Montesdoca: : Sig.: Contratación, B, n., r. (fechas extremas );  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco de Guevara. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco de Morales. .  ....f. (--), f.  (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro de Vallejo. .  ....f. (--), f.  (--). . Since there existed little difference between the two arts, local notaries frequently confused the labels of ‘‘pintor’’ and ‘‘entallador.’’



        – 

. For a study of eighteenth-century Guatemalan retablos, see Gustavo Alejandro Ávalos Austria, El retablo guatemalteco. . For the later period, see Miguel Álvarez Arévalo, Iconografía aplicada. . Informaciones: Miguel de Aguirre: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas ). Miguel might have been related to Juan de Aguirre, a lay Franciscan brother identified as the first European sculptor in Santiago. Juan is credited with making religious statuary for the Franciscan monastery in Santiago and for Diego de Landa. See Vázquez, Crónica de la provincia, p. ; Heinrich Berlin-Neubart, Historia, pp.  and . .  ..... ‘‘A’’ (--), Probanza de Méritos de Pedro González;  .... (--), Probanza de Méritos de Francisco Hernández de Illescas and Hernando de Illescas; Relación de los oficios, corregimientos y ayudas de costa que el presidente Landecho ha proveído en este año: : Sig.: Guatemala,  (fechas extremas --). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (not dated), Last Will and Testament of Juan de León de la Rua. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). . Informaciones: Miguel de Aguirre: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan de Aguirre. . In  Juan murdered an important local merchant. The reasons for the murder remain unknown:  ....f. (--); Autos de Bienes de Difuntos: Relaciones de Caudales de Bienes de Difuntos: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas ). . Aguirre’s work with Guazacapán was facilitated by a local landowner closely connected with the same merchants who dealt with him [Aguirre] ( ....f. [--]). .  ....f. (--). . See Lockhart, Spanish Peru, pp. –. See also  ....f . (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--). . María’s neighbors included a silversmith and a candlemaker as well as some individuals of better economic standing (Autos de Bienes de Difuntos: : Sig.: Contratación , n., r. [--]). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ... (--);  ... (--). . Autos de Bienes de Difuntos: Cristóbal de Ribera: : Sig.: Contratación

         – 



, n., r. (fechas extremas --);  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Rodrigo Hernández. .  ... (--), copy of the Last Will and Testament of Pedro de Banares. .  ... (--). She sided with the client and stated that the boardinghouse owner exaggerated his estimate of the per diem. .  ... (--). . Taylor, Drinking, pp. –. . María complained, ‘‘siendo como soy buena cristiana muger honrada . . . y pues a los nuebamente conbertidos no se sufre semejantes ynjurias’’ [being as I am a good Christian honorable woman . . . and since such slanders against the newly converted are not allowed] she had to defend her faith with the words ‘‘buena cristiana’’ and not ‘‘cristiana vieja’’ [old Christian] point directly to her non-Spanish identity. When a person was accused of being a Moor, Jew, or Converso (a recent convert to Catholicism), the wording used in defense resembled more the following: ‘‘cristiano viejo y de limpia generacion’’ [old Christian of clean generation] ( ... [--]). The term ‘‘old Christian’’ referred to a person of Christian lineage; a ‘‘new Christian’’ meant a person recentlyconverted. Perhaps even more telling is María’s claim that ‘‘such slanders against the newly converted are not allowed.’’ This statement is little more than a tacit recognition of her status as a New Christian. . Kicza, Colonial Entrepreneurs, p. . .  ... (--).The case falls into patterns of premarital sexual relations identified by Lavrin in eighteenth-century Mexico. See Asunción Lavrin, ‘‘Sexuality.’’ . Although women usually kept control of their dowries, they often allowed their husbands to use the gift as collateral for loans. However, on occasion, when relations between spouses went sour, women succeeded in having their dowries returned from their husbands ( ....f. [--];  ....f. [--]).

  . I am using Lockhart’s definition of ‘‘professional’’; see Spanish Peru, p. . . Confirmación de Oficio: Antonio Solano: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . Autos entre Partes: : Sig.: Justicia, , n., r. (fechas extremas – ). . Autos entre Partes: : Sig.: Justicia, , n., r. (fechas extremas – ). . Municipal councils serve as an excellent source fordetermining the members of the local elite. See David. A. Brading, Miners and Merchants, pp. –.



         –  

. Juarros y Montúfar, Compendio, p. . . Cartas de Cabildos Seculares: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . On the Santa Hermandad, see Henry Kamen, Spain –, pp. –; Marvin Lunenfeld, The Council of the Santa Hermandad. .  ....f. (--). . Informaciones: Juan de Rojas: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas ). . Alonso Pérez Arévalo: Guatemala: : Sig.: Patronato, , n., r . (fechas extremas --), Probanza de Méritos de Cristóbal Lobo; : Sig.: Guatemala: Patronato, , n., r. (fechas extremas --); Méritos y Servicios: Cristóbal de Zuleta: : Sig.: Patronato, , n., r. (fechas extremas --). . See Lockhart and Schwartz, Early Latin America, p. . . Autos Fiscales: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia, , n. (fechas extremas ). . A systematic study of lay education in early Guatemala has yet to be undertaken. For the ColegioTridentino and the Universidad de San Carlos de Barromeo, see John Tate Lanning, The University; idem, The Eighteenth-Century Enlightenment; José Mata Gavidia, Fundación de la universidad. . Informaciones: Francisco de Pedrosa: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan Benítez;  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . Autos Bienes de Difuntos: Licenciado Cristóbal Rodríguez Andino: : Sig.: Contratación , n., r. (fechas extremas --);  ....f . (--);  ....f. (--);  .... (--), Probanza de Méritos de Francisco del Valle Marroquín. . The land may have been inherited and not bought:  ....f . (--);  ... (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). . Informaciones: Francisco de Pedrosa: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas –). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-), Last Will and Testament of Hernán García, and f. (--). Salazar is mentioned, but no details of his life appear in José Mata Gavidia and Alcira Goicolea, ‘‘Educación,’’ p. . .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ... (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), addendum to the Last Will and Tes-

          –  



tament of Gonzalo de Alvarado; Bienes de Difuntos: Testimonio de cantidades Arcas de Bienes: : Sig.: Contratación, , n. (fechas extremas –);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ... (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--). . For Blacks, see  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--. For Spaniards, see  . ...f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f . (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--). For mestizos, see  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (not dated);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco de Lípar (a near duplicate copy appears in  ..f. [--] and  ... [--]). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan Merino;  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (not dated). .  ...f. (--). . Pleitos de Audiencia de Guatemala: : Sig.: Escribanía, B; Antonio de Morales, Escribano Público de Santiago: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.v–v (fechas extremas --); Escribanía a Diego Gil: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f. (fechas extremas --); Juan de León, Escribano de Número de Santiago de Guatemala: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.v (fechas extremas --). . Renuncia de Cristóbal de Salvatierra, Escribano Público: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.–V (fechas extremas --); Titulo de escribano para Alonso de Vargas: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.–v (--). . Nombramiento de Escribano del Número: : Sig.: Patronato, , n., r. (fechas extremas --); Juan de León, Escribano de Número de Santiago de Guatemala: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.v (fechas extremas --). .  ....f. (--). . Nombramiento de Escribano del Número: : Sig.: Patronato, , n., r. (fechas extremas --); Juan de León, Escribano de Número de Santiago de Guatemala: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.v (fechas extremas --). . Cartas de Cabildos Seculares: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan de León de la Rua.



          – 

.  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan de León de la Rua;  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--). . Confirmación de Oficio: Luis Aceituno de Guzmán: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). .  ....f. (--). Guevara received two thousand pesos as dowry. He also managed an excellent marriage for his brother, Francisco de Guevara, with the widow Doña Casilda Hurtado, also with a dowry of two thousand pesos ( ....f. [--], Last Will and Testament of Francisco de Guevara). Undoubtedly, the siblings benefited greatly from Doña Casilda’s ties to the well-to-do Hurtado de Mendoza clan ( ....f. [not dated]). It is noteworthy that Doña Casilda’s first husband (Francisco de Guinea) was himself a royal official (Informaciones: Francisco de Guinea: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. [fechas extremas ]). . Confirmación de Oficio: Juan de Guevara: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). Guevara’s father was also a notary. .  ....f. (--);  .. f.  (--). . Confirmación de Oficio: Juan de Chaves: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . Juan de León specified that his libros be handed over to Luis Aceituno de Guzmán when Aceituno purchased his escribanía ( ....f. [--], Last Will and Testament of Juan de León de la Rua). . Confirmación de Oficio: Francisco Aceituno: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). .  .... (--), Probanza de Méritos de Luis Aceituno de Guzmán. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f.  (--). . Confirmación de Oficio: Hernando Niño de Baraona: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . Confirmación de Oficio: Cristóbal Aceituno: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --); A....f. (--). . Aceituno owned valuable land dedicated to raising bullocks ( . ...f. [--]). He also realized early on the profit that could be had from buying urban land cheaply from indigenous people and poor Spaniards ( ....f. [--], f. [--], f. [--];  .. ..f. [--]). Occasionally, he resorted to outright barter, exchanging one house for another with natives ( ....f. [--]). He also owned a sizable number of Black slaves, likely to work in his home and to help in his escribanía ( ... .f. [--];  ....f. [--]).

         –  



. Autos Fiscales: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia, , n.. Año  (fechas extremas –); Confirmación de Oficio: Alonso López de Utiel: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . Confirmación de Oficio: Francisco de Paz: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --); Confirmación de Oficio: Antonio de Peralta: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --); Confirmación de Oficio: Alonso de Juera: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --); Confirmación de Oficio: Juan García: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --); Confirmación de Oficio: Blas Hidalgo de Sierra: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . Autos Fiscales: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia, , n. (fechas extremas –). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ... (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-), f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ... .f. (-). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). . Escobarcultivated a close relationshipwith Francisco del Valle Marroquín, one of Santiago’s shadiest but most upwardly mobile professionals. Escobar’s rise to secretario might have resulted from this connection. His descendants worked as notaries until the eighteenth century. See Jorge Luján Muñoz, Los escribanos, pp. –. .  ....f. (--);  .... (--), Probanza de Méritos de Francisco del Valle Marroquín. . Informaciones: Francisco de Santiago: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--);  ... (--). .  ....f. (--);  ... (--). . Informaciones: Francisco de Santiago: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas ). . See John Lynch, Spain under the Hapsburgs, p. ; A. W. Lovett, Early Hapsburg Spain, pp. –. .  ... (--); Informaciones: María de Alcázar y Juan de León: : sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas );  ... . (--), Probanza de Méritos de doctor Blas Cota; Confirmación de Oficio: Juan de Guevara: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --); Cartas de Cabildos Seculares: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . Autos Fiscales: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia, , n. (fechas extremas



          –  

–). MacLeod also cites Robledo as an example of the flexibility of prohibitions against crown officials acquiring encomiendas (Spanish Central America, p. ). . Autos Fiscales: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia, , n. (fechas extremas –). . Autos Fiscales: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia, , n. (fechas extremas –). . Autos Fiscales: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia,  (fechas extremas – ). . Autos Fiscales: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia, , n. (fechas extremas –). .  ....f. (). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ... .f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ... f.  (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ... ();  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). Her marriages illustrate the facility with which widows remarried without any apparent loss of status for their new husbands. .  .... (--). . Pedro de Loaysa left Spain for Santiago in  (Pedro de Loaysa: : Sig.: Indiferente, , n. [fechas extremas ]). His father was already serving on the Audiencia and conceivably had prepared the way for him to marry Doña María de Herrera (Informaciones: Pedro de Loaysa y Ana de Carriedo: .: Sig.: Guatemala, , n. [fechas extremas ]). As the daughter of Don Diego de Herrera, the encomendero of a rich cacao area, Doña María no doubt brought a sizable dowry to her marriage. Apparently, the couple returned to Spain permanently (: Escribano: Baltasar de Godoy: Número de Legajo:  Fecha: ; I Número de Oficio: ). . See Polushin, ‘‘Bureaucratic Conquest.’’ . Governors made mercedes outside of Santiago, while the municipal council had authority over mercedes located within the city limits. See Horacio Cabezas, ‘‘Los primeros veinticinco años,’’ p. . . Encomienda del pueblo de Tepetón a Vicencio de Napolés: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.v– (fechas extremas --); Informaciones: Elvira de Guzmán: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--). . Autos entre Partes: : Sig.: Justicia, , n., (fechas extremas –). . Sherman, ‘‘Indian Slavery.’’

          –   



. Pleitos de Audiencia de Guatemala: : Sig.: Escribanía, B (fechas extremas ). . Confirmación de Oficio: Hernando Niño de Baraona: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). .  ... ();  ... (--). .  ...., Probanza de Méritos de Doctor Blas Cota. .  ....f. (--). .  .... (--), Probanza Secreta de Méritos de Paulo Manuel Cota.

  . Lockhart, Spanish Peru, pp. –; Palomo de Lewin, ‘‘La esclavitud negra.’’ . Díaz del Castillo, Historia verdadera. . See Restall, ‘‘Black Conquistadors’’; Gerhard, ‘‘A Black Conquistador in Mexico’’; Lockhart, The Men of Cajamarca, pp. – and –; Kamen, ‘‘El negro en hispanoamérica.’’ For a discussion of Blacks in the military during the whole of the colonial period, see Voelz, Slave and Soldier. .  ... (), Probanza de Méritos de Juan Bardales. . See José Joaquin Pardo, Efemérides, p. . Pardo’s claim is often cited and repeated. Also see Mayra Valladares de Ruiz, ‘‘Capítulo IV,’’ p. . . See Gerald Cardoso, Negro Slavery; Robert Edgar Conrad, World of Sorrow; Philip D. Curtin,The Atlantic Slave Trade; Herbert S. Klein, Slavery in Latin America; Rolando Mellafe, Negro Slavery. . See Lockhart, Spanish Peru, pp. –. . See Bowser, The African Slave, p. . .  ....f. (--). See also  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ... (--). .  ....f. (--). . Tiánguiz, from Nahuatl for ‘‘market,’’ was commonly used by Spaniards in Guatemala. See  .... (--), Probanza de Méritos de Francisco Hernández;  ... (--);  .... (--), Probanza de Méritos de Cristóbal de Cepeda. Earlyon, Spaniards understood the importance of the commercial interaction that took place at the tiánguiz; accordingly, they attempted to legislate against abuse of the native sellers. See Francisco Antonio de Fuentes y Guzmán, Recordación florida, p. . .  ....f. (--). . In this sense, Santiago resembles other regions of Spanish America more



           –  

than the plantation patterns seen in coastal Brazil and the Caribbean. For the early Spanish Caribbean, see Herbert S. Klein, Slavery in the Americas. For Brazil, see Stuart B. Schwartz, Sugar Plantations. . See David M. Davidson, ‘‘Negro Slavery.’’ . A few documents allude to the possibility of such phenomena, but they fail to provide exact dates, specific location, or other crucial information. See Carlos Alfredo Álvarez-Lobos Villatoro and Ricardo Toledo Palomo, eds., Libro de los pareceres, pp. , , and . For a discussion of runaway communities in other regions, see José L. Franco, ‘‘Maroons’’; Stewart Schwartz, Slaves, pp. –. . Francisco Moscoso provides a succinct and useful discussion of distinct forms of resistance in a Spanish American colony: ‘‘Formas de resistencia.’’ See also Palmer, Slaves of the White God, pp. –; Hilary Beckles, Natural Rebels, p. . . Beckles and Bush discuss mulattos in slave societies in the English Caribbean. See Beckles, Natural Rebels, and Barbara Bush, Slave Women. For Iberian perceptions of Blacks, see Emilia Viotti da Costa, ‘‘The Portuguese-African Slave Trade.’’ . There did not exist a generalized taboo against Spaniards marrying mulattas. In sixteenth-century Seville, some Spaniards married mulattas and lived with them within the confines of the city, although it seems that this was a phenomenon that took place among the poorer elements of society (Autos de Bienes de Difuntos: : Sig.: Contratación , n., r. [fechas extremas --]). For a fuller discussion of Blacks in Seville, see Ruth Pike, ‘‘Sevillian Society.’’ .  ....f. (--). . Licencia para Esclavos de Juan Rodríguez Palma: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f. (fechas extremas --). See also Licencia de Esclavos a Eugenio Moscoso : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.v– (fechas extremas --); Licencia de Esclavos a Gabriel de Hurueña : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.v– (fechas extremas --); Licencia para Pasar Esclavos a Gonzalo de Ronquillo, : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.–v (fechas extremas --); Pedro Rodríguez de las Barillas: : Sig.: Indiferente, , n. (fechas extremas ). In addition to Black slaves, a few travelers brought costlier white slaves of unspecified descent. Licencia de Esclavos a Gabriel de Cabrera: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.–v (fechas extremas --). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). Sales of seven and five slaves, respectively, appear in  ....f. (--) and  ... .f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . To provide information on a slave’s possible ethnic group, in parentheses I include the place name as it appears in the documents. The document in this case

          –  



reads ‘‘Andrés de tierra Angola’’; thus I have abbreviated it to Andrés (Angola). In cases where ‘‘tierra de’’ does not follow the baptismal name, I have left out the parenthetical symbols. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . Autos Bienes de Difuntos: : Sig.: Contratación , n., r. (fechas extremas --); Autos de Bienes de Difuntos: Relaciones de Caudales de Bienes de Difuntos: Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . This does not mean sales did not take place before this time. Rather, it merely reflects the chronology established by surviving records. .  ....f. (--). . See Bowser, The African Slave, p. . .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . Compare the following:  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  . ...f. (--). . The study of other areas is essential for a better understanding of institutions like the slave family within the context of early Santiago. See, for example, Kátia de Queirós Mattoso, Ser escravo, pp. –. .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . In addition to the above examples, see  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. ();  ....f. (--). . See Robert Edgar Conrad, Children of God’s Fire, pp.  and –. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ... (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Gaspar Morejón;  ....f. (--).



          –   

.  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). See also  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). Likely, the child’s mother was none other than the slave woman sold with her newborn by Mármol. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). See also  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). See also Beckles, Natural Rebels, pp. – and . .  ... .f. (--). See also Linda A. Newson, ‘‘Silver Mining.’’ .  ....f. (--). . See Álvarez-Lobos Villatoro and Toledo Palomo, Libro de los pareceres, p. . .  ....f. (--). . Cartas de Cabildos Seculares: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  .... (), Probanza de Méritos de Francisco de Castellanos;  ....f. (--). .  .... (), Probanza de Méritos de Francisco de Castellanos; Cartas de Cabildos Seculares: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . They more than likely functioned as agricultural workers earlier than the sources betray, however. See Lockhart, Spanish Peru, pp. –. .  ....f. (--). For Black slaves on large cacao plantations, see Robert Ferry, ‘‘Encomienda.’’ .  ..... f. (--);  .....f . (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (). .  .... f. (--). Martel’s manumission resembles patterns seen in colonial Argentina and Brazil. See Lyman L. Johnson, ‘‘Manumission’’; Stuart B. Schwartz, ‘‘The Manumission.’’ .  ....f. (--). . The original reads ‘‘evitar los daños de los negros y ganados.’’ .  ....f. (--).

          –   



. Jolofe is also discussed in Chapter Five. .  ....f. (--). The wording of the document differs sufficiently from standard formula so as to leave little doubt that Escobar meant to grant Jolofe the precise privileges outlined. .  .....f. (--), f. (--), f. (-). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro Jolofe. Unfortunately, he does not specify the nature of his service. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). .  ....f. (--). See also  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Sebastián Pavés;  ....f. (--). .  ... (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Sebastián Pavés;  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco Gómez. .  ....f. (--);  ...  (--). .  ... (--). .  ....f. (--). . Vásquez’ owner initially paid five hundred for him, but that price included fifty pesos’ worth of tools. He acquired Vásquez at a relatively low price at a cleric’s public auction ( ....f. [--]). .  ....f. (--). . See Beckles, Natural Rebels, pp. –. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). . The original reads ‘‘Juan Pérez yndio . . . padre que dixo ser de Pedro de color mulatto de hedad de treze años’’ ( ....f. [--]). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--). . For unknown reasons, the cleric rescinded the power of attorney ( ....f. [--]). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). .  ....f. (--).



           –   

. Owners in other areas of Spanish America made similar complaints. See Kris Lane, ‘‘Captivity and Redemption,’’ pp. –. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--);  . ...f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). . Bienes de Difuntos: Baltasar de Camiña: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas ). . See Lutz, Santiago de Guatemala; Jesús María García Añoveros, Población. .  ... (--). . See Kimberly S. Hanger, Bounded Lives, p. . .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro Vallejo. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Hernando Ramírez. .  ... (--);  ... (--). .  ....f. (--);  ... (--);  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Juan de Gamboa. . Pleitos de Audiencia de Guatemala: Escribanía, B. . Bienes de Difuntos: : Sig.: Contratación, , n., r. (fechas extremas ). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-), Last Will and Testament of Francisco de Lípar (a near duplicate copy appears in  ..f. [--]). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ... .f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ... (--). .  ... (), Last Will and Testament of María Flores. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--).

           – 



.  ....f. (--). . Beatas were a standard feature of early Spanish America. See Jesús Imirizadu, Monjas; Perry, Gender and Disorder, pp. –; Francisco Pons Fuster, Místicos. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ... .f. (--). The case represents one of a handful that actually required a slave to find a legal representative ( ....f . [--]). Spanish law denied slaves the right to serve as witnesses or to make any type of escritura without a license from the local authorities. Few followed the law. Black slaves appear numerous times as witnesses in both civil and criminal suits ( ....f. [--];  ... [--];  ... [--];  ....f. [--]). As these examples demonstrate, Black slaves also appear in notarized records without any sort of license or permission from their owners. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). Juan and María had a good deal of independence from Larios. The transaction took place on October , , and Larios did not receive notification of the sale until five months later. . A....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--).

  . For discussions of the decline of the native population, see Robert M. Carmack et al., eds., The Historical Demography; Lovell, Conquest and Survival, pp. –; Lovell et al., ‘‘The Indian Population’’; Thomas T. Veblen, ‘‘Native Population Decline’’; Solano, ‘‘La población indígena’’; Elías Zamora Acosta, ‘‘Conquista.’’ For an excellent survey of the current literature, see W. George Lovell and Christopher H. Lutz, Demography and Empire. . I rely on the terminology used by Spanish notaries. Notaries did not always clearly differentiate between barrios and milpas; however, between these and the word pueblo (town) there did not exist much confusion.



         – 

. Carta del Presidente Antonio González al Rey: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). . Native migration to Santiago resembles the situation in eighteenth-century Mexico City. See Patricia Seed, ‘‘Social Dimensions,’’ pp. –. . See Lutz, Santiago de Guatemala, pp. –. . I agree fully with Robert Patch’s assessment that colonial society cannot be divided into native and Spanish segments (Maya and Spaniard, p. ). The two groups were intimately related. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). . At present, the majority of historians working on colonial Guatemala conclude that the different religious orders, namely, Dominicans and Franciscans, created the milpas and towns which surrounded Santiago. Taking central and southern Mexico as an example, it seems doubtful that Spaniards founded all of these distinct polities. I argue that some of the milpas and towns existed in the precolonial period. . See Lockhart and Schwartz, Early Latin America, pp. –. For a discussion of the position of gobernador, see Charles Gibson, The Aztecs, pp. –; James Lockhart, The Nahuas, pp. –. Gobernadores are at times referred to as ‘‘caciques.’’ I rely on the terminology used in the documents cited. . Robert S. Haskett, ‘‘IndianTown Government,’’ pp. –; Matthew Restall, The Maya World, pp. –. . See Lutz, Santiago de Guatemala, pp. –. . See Lockhart, The Nahuas, pp. –. Robert M. Hill postulates that the parcialidad was built on existing subunits of native towns (‘‘Social Organization’’). On occasion, parcialidades also resulted from Spanish intervention, as was the case with those created for native auxiliaries. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). A group of natives known as mexicanos also lived in San Miguel (Comisiones: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia,  [fechas extremas ]). .  ....f. (--). . Lutz, Santiago de Guatemala, pp. –. . Sherman provides a survey of nobles in several towns, but does not concern himself with the indigenous nobles within Santiago (Forced Native Labor, pp. –). .  ....f. (--). . This fits identified patterns in Central Mexico, where native nobles easily went from civil to ecclesiastical institutions. . Autos Fiscales: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia, , n., r. (fechas extremas –). .  ....f. (--).

         –  



. The original reads ‘‘alcaldes y communidad del dho [dicho] pueblo’’ ( ....f. [--]). . Establecimiento de Indios en Guatemala: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.–v;  ....f. (fechas extremas --);  .. ..f. (--);  ...f.v (--), f.v (--), f. (--);  ...f. (--);  ...f. (--); Autos Fiscales: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia,  (fechas extremas –). .  ...f. (--). . The fact that Rodríguez gave one name to the Spanish authorities while his attackers knew him by another name demonstrates the looseness with which natives used Spanish surnames at this time. .  ... (--). . Lutz found that Guaximaltecas refers to a Mayan ethnolinguistic group, mainly Cakchiquels: Santiago de Guatemala, pp. –. .  ... (--). .  ... (--). The document does not mention any special festivity or specific reason for visiting the monastery. . Fray Alonso de Molina, Vocabulario, p.  (part ). . In only one of the many documents I consulted does the notary replace ‘‘milpa’’ with ‘‘huerta.’’ The notary refers to the ‘‘milpa del Obispo’’ as the ‘‘huerta del Obispo’’:  ... (--). . Milpas resemble the dispersed populations found by Farriss among the Yucatan Maya. See Nancy M. Farriss, ‘‘Nucleation,’’ pp. –. . A mechanism similar to one used by the Andeans apparently functioned in Guatemala. For the Andean model, see John V. Murra, ‘‘El control vertical.’’ .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). The documents refer to indigenous slaves on the milpas. Documents treating free indigenous people on milpas date from later periods. . See MacLeod, Spanish Central America, pp. , , and ; Manuel Rubio Sánchez, Jueces reformadores, pp. –. . Comisiones: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia,  (fechas extremas ).The document refers to ‘‘los yndios que biben en las mylpas de Martarto y Perulapa’’ [the natives who live on the milpas de Martarto and Perulapa] in connection with the payment of tribute. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Bartolomé de Archila. .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-).



          –   

.  ....f. (--). This document deals with a milpa located in the area of Izhuatán, some distance from Santiago. .  ... (--). . A document dealing with the town of Caluco gives the name of a cacao milpa as Pancota. No saint’s name or anything else appears after Pancota. The name undoubtedly originated in the precontact period ( ....f. [--]). The practice also had its counterparts closer to Santiago. .  ....f. (--). . Fuentes y Guzmán, Recordación florida, p. . . Lutz, ‘‘Population History,’’ p. . .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). Also see  ....f. (--). . See Lockhart, The Nahuas, p. ; Kevin Terraciano, The Mixtecs, p. . . Pedrosa’s career is discussed in Chapter Five. .  ... (--). See also Ximénez, Historia de la provincia, p. ; Lutz, Santiago de Guatemala, p. . .  ....f. (--). . This information confirms Lutz’ observation that this milpa was founded by Juan de Chaves. However, I disagree with his addition of Aguas Calientes to the name. In the documents I consulted, the milpa is identified as Juan de Chaves or as San Antonio, never as San Antonio Aguas Calientes ( ....f. [--];  ....f. [--]). Likely, the Aguas Calientes was added after the sixteenth century. See Lutz, Santiago de Guatemala, p. . Interestingly, San Antonio also had an indigenous name, likely antedating Chaves or San Antonio. A document dating from the reign of Philip II refers to litigation (which unfortunately remains unspecified) between the heirs of Juan de Chaves and indigenous people living on a milpa named Quilianapa. I infer that Quilianapa is the same milpa as San Antonio (Orden de Resolución de Pleito: : Sig.: Patronato, , r. [Fechas extremas --]). .  ... (April ). . In Guatemala, as in other regions of Spanish America, namely, Peru, Spanish-speaking natives served often as informers or auxiliaries in investigations of idolatrous behavior (Rolena Adorno, ‘‘Images of Indios Ladinos,’’ pp. –). . The petate symbolized authority in the precolonial period and continued to do so far into the colony. See Francis Robicsek, A Study in Maya Art. . For the ceremonial importance of cacao, see Arturo Gómez-Pompa et al., ‘‘The Sacred Groves.’’ . Taylor, Drinking, pp. –. See also Richard E. Boyer, ‘‘Respect and Identity’’; Sonya Lipsett-Rivera, ‘‘ ‘De obra y palabra.’ ’’ . Spaniards, too, engaged in this practice when challenging the power of officials:  ... (--). . See Nancy M. Farriss, Maya Society, p. .

           –  



.  ....f. (--). . Important aspects of colonial life in native towns appear in Hill, Colonial Cakchiquels; Hill and Monaghan, Continuities; Janine Gasco, ‘‘Una visión conjunta’’; and, to a lesser extent, Sandra L. Orellana, The Tzutujil Mayas. . Kramer discovered that encomiendas were created immediately after the military phase of the conquest (Encomienda Politics). . Azzo Ghidinelli, ‘‘Reconstrucción histórica,’’ p. . . The role of encomienda as a form of interaction between natives and Spaniards is well documented. See Farriss, Maya Society; Manuela Cristina García Bernal, Yucatán; Lockhart, The Nahuas and Spanish Peru; MacLeod, Spanish Central America; Rodríguez Becerra, Encomienda y conquista; Sherman, Forced Native Labor; Zamora Acosta, Los Mayas. . Hill found that the term ‘‘parcialidad’’ was used by Spaniards to describe subunits in several indigenous towns, specifically, Sacapulas, Tecpán Guatemala, and Totonicapán (The Pirir Papers, pp. –). . Colonial Escuintla remains a largely unexplored topic. See Lawrence H. Feldman, Papers of Escuintla. . See William R. Fowler, ‘‘La distribución prehistórica’’; idem, The Cultural Evolution. . In  Juan de Pineda surmised that natives in cacao-growing regions possessed remarkable levels of economic wealth. See ‘‘Descripción de la provincia,’’ p. . . ‘‘Cacique’’ was used by Spaniards to identify leading native nobles. Over time, natives adopted theword and used it as an honorary title. See John K. Chance, ‘‘The Caciques of Tecali.’’ .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco de Lípar (a near duplicate copy appears in  ....f. [-]). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  .....f. (--). .  .....f. (--). .  .....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ... (April ). . We find similar situations in other parts of Spanish America. See James Lockhart, ‘‘Encomienda and Hacienda’’; Robert G. Keith, ‘‘Encomienda’’; William B. Taylor, ‘‘Landed Society.’’ .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--), f.  (--). .  .....f. (--).



          –  

. Natives constantly complained about damage to their fields caused by marauding livestock (see Charles Gibson, Tlaxcala, p. ). . Caluco was a prosperous town, and in the mid-s it paid a Spanish sculptor  pesos for a retablo ( ....f. [--]). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-), f. (--). . See Farriss, Maya Society, pp. –; Lovell, Conquest and Survival, pp. –. . The same process seems to have been at work with the barrios of Santa Isabel Godínez, Santa Ana, San Bartolomé Becerra, San Felipe, Espíritu Santo, and Jocotenango. .  ....f. (--). . Some towns did not have such luck. Caciques and other nobles were sometimes thrown out of power by encomenderos (Sherman, Forced Native Labor, pp. –, ).

  . Native slavery lasted longer in Guatemala than in Central Mexico, but not as long as in more peripheral areas such as Paraguay. See Sherman, ‘‘Indian Slavery.’’ .  ....f. (--). .  ... (--). In the absence of a rural constabulary, enforcement of such legislation proved difficult if not impossible. Even for the late colonial period, strong evidence supporting widespread debt peonage has not yet come to light. See Juan Carlos Solórzano, ‘‘Haciendas,’’ p. . . Some scholars have postulated that even modes of native dress were molded by colonial decrees. See Martínez Peláez, La patria del criollo, pp. –; Francis Polo Sifontes, Historia de Guatemala, p. . I disagree with these conclusions, however, as the historical records demonstrate that natives had a great deal more agency in their lives than Spaniards would have liked. . See MacLeod, Spanish Central America, pp. –; Linda A. Newson, ‘‘The Depopulation.’’ The number of indigenous people sent from Guatemala to Peru never neared the vast numbers shipped from Honduras, much less from Nicaragua. . Licencia paraTraslado de Esclavos en Guatemala: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.–v (fechas extremas --); Licencias de Esclavos: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.–v (fechas extremas January ).

          – 



. MacLeod, Spanish Central America, p. . .  ...Tomo Uno (--); Cartas de Cabildos Seculares: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas --). A detailed discussion of López de Cerrato’s actions appears in Sherman, ‘‘Indian Slavery.’’ . Comisiones: Guatemala: : Sig.: Justicia,  (fechas extremas ). . Indios Esclavos en Guatemala: : Sig.: Guatemala, , l., f.–v. .  ....f. (--). .  ... (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Francisco de Morales. .  ....f. (--). . Lockhart, Spanish Peru, p. . . Jiménez originally bought Diego in  ( ....f. [-]). See also  ....f. (--). Just five days after Diego’s sale, the merchant made a quick ten pesos’ profit when he sold Diego to two Spaniards:  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . Sherman, ‘‘Indian Slavery,’’ p. . .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). See also  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . Ejecutoria del Pleito de Cristóbal de Cueto: : Sig.: Patronato, , n., r. (fechas extremas --). .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). See also  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ... .f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . Laura Matthew has also reached the same conclusion: ‘‘El náhuatl,’’ p. .



         –  

. One of the problems lies in the fact that the records date mostly from the latter part of the sixteenth century, which makes assumptions about the precontact period tenuous. See Carmack, ‘‘Toltec Influence.’’ In Central America, but not in the areas immediate to Santiago, there existed large pockets of speakers of Uto-Aztecan languages. See Ricardo Castañeda Paganini, La cultura tolteca-pipil, pp. –; Solano, Los mayas, p. . Karen Dakin has pioneered the translation of Nahuatl documents generated in Spanish Guatemala; see Dakin and Christopher H. Lutz, Nuestro pesar. . The situation in Santiago has a parallel in Antequera. See John K. Chance, Race and Class, p. . . Visitas Audiencia de Guatemala: : Sig.: Escribanía, A (fechas extremas –). The document is a visita [roughly, an investigation] of Alonso Rodríguez Vizcaíno, vicar of the town of Acajutla and surrounding areas. One witness stated that the natives of the region did not understand ‘‘lengua mexicana’’ (Nahuatl) well, but Rodríguez simply ignored the fact and continued using that language with them. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). Mixtecs were not an insignificant minority in Santiago. They settled in a milpa named San Juan de los Mixtecas ( ....f. [--]). The tremendous popularity of Mixtec textiles argues for a strong precolonial contact between the Mixtecs and the natives of Guatemala. .  ....f. (--). . By , if not much earlier, the cathedral had a chair assigned for the teaching of Nahuatl:  ....f. (--). .  .... (--), Probanza de Méritos de Juan Hernández Nájara. .  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . In the modern era, too, the need to supplement scant income has served as a strong impetus in driving natives to seek work outside their towns. See John M. Watanabe, Maya Saints, p. . .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Pedro Hernández;  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). See also  ....f. (--).

          – 



.  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). . By the early s, and undoubtedly long before, the practice of politely offering guests a cup of chocolate had become well rooted in local society:  ... (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). See also Weber, ‘‘The Wet Nurses.’’ . The original reads ‘‘en la manera de las demas yndias chichiguas’’ ( ....f. [--]). .  ... .f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Catalina de Zamora. .  ....f. (--), Last Will and Testament of Luis García. .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f.  (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). . The originals read ‘‘cargando y descargando’’ ( ....f. [--]). . The originals read ‘‘traer yerba, leña, y otras cosas’’ ( ... .f. [--]). .  ... (--). . Witnesses claimed that Hec stated that he wanted a knife to kill ‘‘el cavallo hijo de puta’’ [the son of a whore horse]. .  ... (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--).



         –  

.  ....f. (--);  ....f. (-). Fully trained silversmiths are identified in  ....f. (-);  ....f. (--). . Kicza, Colonial Entrepreneurs, pp. –. .  ....f. (--). .  ... (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--).

  . See Rodríguez Becerra, Encomienda y conquista; Webre, ‘‘El cabildo,’’ and idem, ed., La sociedad colonial. See also MacLeod, Spanish Central America; Sánchiz Ochoa, Los hidalgos de Guatemala; Lawrence H. Feldman, A Tumpline Economy; Valladares de Ruiz, ‘‘Capítulo IV’’; Hill, Colonial Cakchiquels; Lovell, Conquest and Survival; Lutz, Santiago de Guatemala. . Falla’s prodigious cataloging of notarial records from  to  will facilitate the work of those wishing access to the mundane documentation of the early period. See Juan José Falla, Extractos . . . , años de –, and idem, Extractos . . . , años de –. . See Lanning, The University, and idem, The Eighteenth-Century Enlightenment; Chinchilla Aguilar, El ayuntamiento colonial; Sherman, Forced Native Labor; Miles L. Wortman, Government; Adriaan C. Van Oss, ‘‘Pueblos’’; Martínez Peláez, La patria del criollo. . For a definition of ‘‘fringe’’ as it applies to Latin American colonial cities, see Lockhart and Schwartz, Early Latin America, p. . . MacLeod, Spanish Central America. . Kagan and Marías, Urban Images, p. .

         – 



. For Mexico, see Greenow, Credit and Socioeconomic Change; JiménezPelayo, ‘‘El impacto del crédito.’’ For Peru, see Quiroz, ‘‘Reassessing the Role.’’ . See Foster, ‘‘Cofradía.’’ . Quiroz found this phenomenon in Peru as well (Deudas olvidadas). . Hunt, ‘‘Colonial Yucatan,’’ pp. –. .  ... (--). .  ... (--). .  ....f. (--);  ... .f. (--). . Informaciones: María Hurtado de Arbieto: : Sig.: Guatemala, , n. (fechas extremas ). . See Gisela von Wobeser, La formación de la hacienda, p. . .  ....f. (--), f. (--). .  ....f. (--), f. (--);  ...  .f. (--). .  ....f. (--). .  ....f. (--);  ....f. (--). .  ... .f. (--);  ....f. (--). . Valladares de Ruiz, ‘‘Capítulo IV,’’ p. . . See Webre, ‘‘Antecedentes económicos.’’ . See Restall, The Maya World, p. . . Darío Euraque has done important work on sixteenth-century Honduras: San Pedro Sula. See also Mario Ardón Mejía, ed., Agricultura prehispánica. For Nicaragua, see Pedro Joaquín Chamorro Zelaya, Límites de Nicaragua; Patrick S. Werner, Los reales de minas. Even Costa Rica, a country that has traditionally provided greater resources for historians, awaits a thorough study of its formative decades. Elizabeth Fonseca provides a broad overview in Costa Rica colonial. . E. Bradford Burns’The Povertyof Progress is a useful surveyon the impact of positivism and Social Darwinism on Central American and Latin American intellectuals. See also Jesús Julián Amurrio González, El positivismo en Guatemala. . For a general discussion of coercive labor practices, see David McCreery, Rural Guatemala. . See Julio Castellanos Cambranes, Introducción; and idem Café y campesinos. . I am thinking here of the Patrullas de Autodefensa Civil [Civilian Selfdefense Patrols], which relied on impressed indigenous males chosen by the native heads of each town in a process which resembles greatly the functioning of encomienda and repartimiento labor. See Susanne Jonas, The Battle for Guatemala, pp. –. See also Victor Perera, Unfinished Conquest. . Marc Bloch, French Rural History, p. . . Remesal, Historia general, p. . . The original reads, ‘‘Para que todos los recuerden dejo aquí los nombres de todos los que se fueron’’ (Recinos, Memorial de Sololá, p. ).

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Alcalde. Municipal magistrate. Alguacil. Constable. Amancebado. In an intimate relationship outside of wedlock. Antigüedad. Seniority. Arriero. Muleteer. Arroba. Unit of measure equal to twenty-five pounds. Audiencia. Regional high court. Bachiller. Baccalaureate. Barrio. City ward. Beata. Woman who wore a habit and behaved like a nun, but who was not fully affiliated with an order. Boticario. Pharmacist. Bozal. Recent arrival. Caballería. Unit of measure consisting of sixteen to thirty-two hectares. Cabildo. Spanish-style municipal council. Cacique. From the Arawak; used to identify chieftains and other high-ranking native nobles. Campanero. Bell maker. Carga. Unit of measure equal to about fifty pounds. Carta de obligación. Promissory note. Carta de poder. Power of attorney. Casca. Bark of trees used in leather curing. Censo. Long-term mortgages using manydifferent types of propertyas collateral. Cerrajero. Locksmith. Chichigua. From Nahuatl; wet nurse. Compadrazgo. Ties created through the vehicle of sponsoring children at christening. Compadre. Godparents who sponsor children during rite of christening. Compañía. Ad hoc venture or company. Congregación. The bringing together of dispersed native settlements. Corambre. Specially treated leather. Criado(a). Man or woman reared in the household, often of native or mixed background and, on occasion, the illegitimate child of the householder.

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Criollo. Black slave born outside the African homeland; later taken to mean Spaniard born in the Indies. Encomendero. Holder of an encomienda. Encomienda. Patent to collect tribute and labor from indigenous communities. Entallador de imágenes. Sculptor. Escribanía. Notarial office. Escribano. Notary. Escritura. Notarized document. Escultor. Sculptor. Espadero. Swordsmith. Estancia. Ranch; land dedicated to animal husbandry, mainly cattle, but also sheep. Estante. Temporary resident. Factor. Junior representative for a compañía. Fanega. Bushel and a half of grain or other agricultural product. Fundidor. Assayer. Gobernador. Governor; municipal council position created to satisfy native demands. Guipil. Blouse. Hacendado. Wealthy owner of large landed estate. Herrador. Farrier. Herrero. Blacksmith. Hidalgo. Common term for nobility. Huerta. Truck garden. Indio(a). Indian; used to identify native peoples. Labor. Medium-sized plot of land. Labrador. Yeoman farmer. Libro. Notary’s book. Licenciado. Licentiate, a university degree below that of doctorate. Maestre. Shipmaster; also used to designate a master artisan. Manta. Cloak. Mayordomo. Estate manager. Médico. Physician. Mercader. Large-scale merchant. Merced. Grant of land. Mestizo(a). Person of mixed indigenous and European parentage. Milpa. Cultivated field and native settlement. Morador. Transient. Mulatto(a). Person of mixed Black and European descent. Nabartato. Corruption of nahuatlato (speaker of Nahuatl). Naboría. Indigenous dependent. Notario. Notary. Obraje. Sixteenth-century workshop primarily dedicated to textile manufacture.

      Oidor. Judge of the Audiencia. Palenque. Large runaway slave community. Parcialidad, parte. Subdivision within an indigenous community. Peso. Monetary unit measured in various ways, such as fine gold. Petate. Reed mat. Pintor. Painter. Platero. Silversmith. Platero de oro. Goldsmith. Preceptor de gramática. Latin grammar teacher. Pregonero. Town crier. Presidente. President. Primeros pobladores. First settlers. Principal. Native leader who operated in an indigenous community. Procurador. Person without university training who practices law. Pueblo. Town. Real. One-eighth of a peso. Regidor. Alderman. Relojero. Watchmaker. Repartimiento. Ad hoc allocation of labor. Residente. Semipermanent town or city dweller. Retablo. Ornately carved and painted altarpiece. Secretario. Governor’s secretary. Sedero. Silkworker. Solar. Small urban house plot. Tameme. Native load bearer. Tasación. Tribute assessment. Teopantlaca. People of the House of God. Terrazgo. Usufruct fees paid for leased lands. Tiánguiz. From the Nahuatl; marketplace. Tienda. Literally ‘‘tent,’’ but used to mean a store. Tratante. Petty dealer. Traza. Gridiron pattern of Spanish American cities. Vara. Staff carried by cabildo members to signify their authority. Vecino(a). Citizen and permanent resident. Xiquipil. Indigenous measure of about . pounds.

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 Archivo General de Centro América () Archivo General de Indias () Archivo Histórico Provincial de Sevilla ()

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uel Serrano y Sanz, editor, Relaciones históricas y geográficas de América Central. Madrid: Librería General del Victoriano Suárez, : –. Polo Sifontes, Francis. Historia de Guatemala: Visión de conjunto de su desarrollo político-cultural. León, Spain: Editorial Evergráficas, . Polushin, Michael A. ‘‘Bureaucratic Conquest, Bureaucratic Culture: Town and Office in Chiapas, –.’’ Ph.D. dissertation, Tulane University, . Pons Fuster, Francisco. Místicos, beatas y alumbrados: Ribera y la espiritualidad valenciana del S. XVII. Valencia: Edicions Alfons el Magnánim, . Quiroz, Alfonso W. Deudas olvidadas: Instrumentos de crédito en la economía colonial peruana –. Lima: Fondo Editorial de la Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, . . ‘‘Reassessing the Role of Credit in Late Colonial Peru: Censos, Escrituras and Imposiciones.’’ HAHR , no.  (): –. Rabasa, José. Inventing America: Spanish Historiography and the Formation of Eurocentrism. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, . Recinos, Adrián. Crónicas indígenas de Guatemala. Guatemala City: Publicaciones Universidad San Carlos de Guatemala, . (Second edition .) . Pedro de Alvarado, conquistador de México y Guatemala. . Reprint, Guatemala City: Centro Nacional de Libros de Texto y Materiales Didácticos ‘‘José de Pineda Ibarra,’’ . , editor. Memorial de Sololá, Anales de los Cakchiqueles, título de los señores de Totonicapán. P. Dionisio José Chonay, translator. . Reprint, Guatemala City: Piedra Santa, . Remesal, Fray Antonio de. Historia general de las Indias Occidentales y particular de la gobernación de Chiapa y Guatemala. Volumes  and . . Reprint, Madrid: Ediciones Atlas, . Restall, Matthew. ‘‘Black Conquistadors: Armed Africans in Early Spanish America.’’ Americas , no.  (): –. . The Maya World: Yucatec Culture and Society. Stanford: Stanford University Press, . Robicsek, Francis. A Study in Maya Art and History: The Mat Symbol. New York: Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, . Rodríguez Becerra, Salvador. Encomienda y conquista: Los inicios de la colonización en Guatemala. Seville: Publicaciones de la Universidad de Sevilla, . Rubio Sánchez, Manuel. Historia del añil o xiquilite en Centro América. Volumes  and . San Salvador: Ministerio de Educación, Dirección de Publicaciones, . . Jueces reformadores de milpas en Centroamérica. Guatemala City: Sociedad de Geografía e Historia, . Samayoa Guevara, Héctor Humberto. Los gremios de artesanos en la ciudad de Guatemala (–). Guatemala City: Editorial Universitaria, . Sánchiz Ochoa, Pilar. ‘‘Españoles e indígenas: Estructura social del valle de Guatemala en el siglo XVI.’’ In Stephen Webre, editor, La sociedad colonial en Guate-

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mala: Estudios regionales y locales. La Antigua: Centro de Investigaciones Regionales de Mesoamérica, : –. . Los hidalgos de Guatemala: Realidad y apariencia en un sistema de valores. Seville: Publicaciones de la Universidad de Sevilla, . . ‘‘Poder y conflictos de autoridad en Santiago de Guatemala durante el siglo XVI.’’ Anuario de Estudios Americanos  (): –. Santos Pérez, José Manuel. Élites, poder local y régimen colonial: El cabildo y los regidores de Santiago de Guatemala, –. Plumstock Mesoamerican Studies, Centro de Investigaciones Regionales de Mesoamérica and Universidad de Cádiz. Salamanca: Gráficas Varona, . Schell-Hoberman, Louisa. Mexico’s Merchant Elite, –: Silver, State, and Society. Durham: Duke University Press, . Schwartz, Stuart B. ‘‘The Manumission of Slaves in Colonial Brazil: Bahia, – .’’ HAHR , no.  (): –. . Slaves, Peasants, and Rebels: Reconsidering Brazilian Slavery. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, . . Sugar Plantations in the Formation of Brazilian Society: Bahia, – . Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, . Seed, Patricia. ‘‘Social Dimensions of Race: Mexico City, .’’ HAHR , no.  (): –. Serrano y Sanz, Manuel, editor. Relaciones históricas y geográficas de América Central. Madrid: Librería General de Victoriano Suárez, . Sherman, William L. Forced Native Labor in Sixteenth-Century Central America. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, . . ‘‘Indian Slavery and the Cerrato Reforms.’’ HAHR , no.  (): –. Smith, Carol A., editor. Guatemalan Indians and the State,  to . Austin: University of Texas Press, . Solano, Francisco de. Los mayas del siglo XVIII: Pervivencia y transformación de la sociedad indígena guatemalteca durante la administración borbónica. Madrid: Ediciones Cultura Hispánica, . . ‘‘La población indígena de Guatemala (–).’’ Anuario de Estudios Americanos  (): –. . Tierra y sociedad en el reino de Guatemala. Guatemala City: Editorial Universitaria, Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala, . Solórzano, Juan Carlos. ‘‘Haciendas y ladinos en Guatemala (siglo XVIII).’’ Anuario de Estudios Centroamericanos  (): –. Stein, Stanley J., and Barbara Stein. The Colonial Heritage of Latin America: Essays on Economic Dependence in Perspective. New York: Oxford University Press, . Stern, Peter. ‘‘Gente de Color Quebrado: Africans and Afromestizos in Colonial Mexico.’’ Colonial Latin American Historical Review , no.  (Spring ): –. Szecy, Janos de. Santiago de los Caballeros de Guatemala en Almolonga. Guatemala City: Instituto de Antropología e Historia, .

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Taylor,William B. Drinking, Homicide and Rebellion in Colonial MexicanVillages. Stanford: Stanford University Press, . . ‘‘Landed Society in New Spain: A View from the South.’’ HAHR , no.  (): –. Terraciano, Kevin. The Mixtecs of Colonial Oaxaca: Ñudzahui History, Sixteenth through Eighteenth Centuries. Stanford: Stanford University Press, . Trouillot, Michel-Rolph. Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History. Boston: Beacon Press, . Ulloa, Modesto. La hacienda real de Castilla en el reinado de Felipe II. Rome: Librería Sforzini, Centro del Libro Español, . Valladares de Ruiz, Mayra. ‘‘Capítulo IV, Estructura social de la colonia.’’ In Mario Monteforte Toledo, editor, Las formas y los días: El barroco en Guatemala. Madrid: Sociedad Estatal Quinto Centenario, Turner Libros, : –. Van Oss, Adrian C. ‘‘Pueblos y parroquias en Suchitepéquez colonial.’’ Mesoamérica , no.  (): –. Van Young, Eric. Hacienda and Market in Eighteenth-Century Mexico: The Rural Economy of the Guadalajara Region, –. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, . Vázquez, Francisco. Crónica de la provincia del Santísimo Nombre de Jesús de Guatemala. . Reprint, Guatemala City: Biblioteca ‘‘Goathemala’’ de la Sociedad de Geografia e Historia, . Veblen, Thomas T. ‘‘Native Population Decline in Totonicapán, Guatemala.’’ Annals of the Association of American Geographers , no.  (): –. Verlinden, Charles. ‘‘Cortés como empresario económico y la mano de obra esclava.’’ Historia Mexicana , no.  (): –. Voelz, Peter M. Slave and Soldier: The Military Impact of Blacks in the Colonial Americas. New York: Garland, . Watanabe, John M. Maya Saints and Souls in a Changing World. Austin: University of Texas Press, . Webre, Stephen. ‘‘El cabildo de Santiago de Guatemala en el siglo XVIII: ¿Una oligarquía criolla cerrada y hereditaria?’’ Mesoamérica  (): –. . ‘‘Water and Society in a Spanish American City: Santiago de Guatemala, –.’’ HAHR , no.  (): –. , editor. ‘‘Antecedentes económicos de los regidores de Santiago de Guatemala, siglos XVI y XVII: Una élite colonial.’’ In StephenWebre, editor, La sociedad colonial en Guatemala: Estudios regionales y locales. La Antigua: Centro de Investigaciones Regionales de Mesoamérica, : –. . La sociedad colonial en Guatemala: Estudios regionales y locales. La Antigua: Centro de Investigaciones Regionales de Mesoamérica, . . ‘‘The Wet Nurses of Jocotenango: Gender, Science, and Politics in LateColonial Guatemala.’’ Colonial Latin American Historical Review , no.  (): –. Werner, Patrick S. Los reales de minas de la Nicaragua colonial y la ciudad perdida de Nueva Segovia. Managua: Instituto Nicaragüense de Cultura, .

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Wobeser, Gisela von. La formación de la hacienda en la época colonial: El uso de la tierra y el agua. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, . Wortman, Miles L. Government and Society in Central America, –. New York: Columbia University Press, . Ximénez, Francisco. Historia de la Provincia de San Vicente de Chiapa y Guatemala de la Orden de Predicadores, volume . Guatemala City: Biblioteca ‘‘Goathemala’’ de la Academia de Geografía e Historia de Guatemala, . Zamora Acosta, Elías. ‘‘Conquista y crisis demográfica: La población indígena del occidente de Guatemala en el siglo XVI.’’ Mesoamérica , no.  (): –. . Los mayas de las tierras altas en el siglo XVI: Tradición y cambio en Guatemala. Seville: Excelenticima Diputación Provincial de Sevilla, . Zavala, Silvio. Contribuciones a la historia de las instituciones coloniales en Guatemala. . Reprint, Guatemala City: Estudios Universitarios, . Zilbermann de Luján, Cristina, editor. Historia general de Guatemala. Volume , Siglo XVIII hasta la independencia. Guatemala City: Asociación de Amigos del País and Fundación para la Cultura y el Desarrollo, .

I 

Acajutla, conquest,  Aceituno, Luis, , n. Aceituno de Guzmán, Luis, ,  Acosta, Juan de, ,  Aduza, Hernando de, ,  Africans, , , , , , , , , ; and agriculture, –, , ; as apprentices, ; and conquest, , ; as intermediaries, ; and land, –; marriage, ; as muleteers, , , ; and natives, , ; population, , ; status of, , ; terms, n.; unions with Europeans, ; unions with natives, . See also African slaves; Free Africans; Mulattos; Santiago African slaves, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; as artisans, , –, , , ; as barbersurgeons, –; as carpenters, ; categories, –; chain gangs, ; children, , , – , ; and conquest, , ; as domestics, , , , ; ethnicity of, , , , –n.; families, , , ; importation licenses, ; as investments, , –; and land, , , ,

, ; legal status, n.; and literacy, ; and loans, ; as locksmiths, ; manumission of, , ; marriage, , ; and miscegenation, , ; mining, – , , , ; as muleteers, , –; names of, ; and natives, , , ; occupations, ; and powers of attorney, , , ; pregnancy, , ; prices of, , , ; and resistance, –, –, , ; sales of, , – , –; Santiago slave market, –; self-purchase, , , –, ; sex ratio of, , – , ; skills, , , , ; slave trade, , –; and status, –, ; stolen slaves, ; as supervisors, –; as swordsmiths, ; unions with artisans, ; unions with natives, , ; wet nurses, . See also Agriculture; Artisans; Bozal; Criollo; Debt; Labradores; Ladino; Merchants; Mulattos Agriculture, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; Africans, , –, , ; African slaves, , , , , , ; hides, , , , , ,





, , ; labor, ; land, ; livestock, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , –n.; maize, , , , , ; mulattos, –, ; usufruct fees, ; wage labor, ; wheat, , , –, , , , , , , , , , ; wool, . See also African slaves; Cacao, Haciendas; Horses; Indigo; Merchants; Milpas; Professionals Aguilar, Baltasar de, ,  Aguirre, Juan de, , nn., Aguirre, Miguel de, –, , nn., Alva Ixtlilxochitl, Fernando, , nn., Alvarado, Jorge de,  Alvarado, Luis de,  Alvarado, Pedro de, , , , , ; and conquest, –, ; and encomiendas, ; family, ; letters, , –; and mining, ; and Peru,  Anales de los Cakchiqueles,  Anawalt, Patricia Rieff, n. Antequera, ,  Antigua (Guatemala), ,  Archila, Antón de, ,  Archila, Bartolomé de, ,  Arellano, Don Carlos, ,  Arrieros. See Muleteers Artisans, , , , , , , , –, n.; and African slaves, , , , , , , , , , , , , ; apprentices, , –, , ; Basques, ; children, , , , , ; and commerce, , , , , , ,

, ; and compañías, , , ; conflicts, –; conquest, –, , , ; dowries, , ; and encomenderos, ; and encomiendas, ; and ethnicity, , , , , , –; fees, – , , –; guilds, –, , ; and labels, , , ; and land, , , , , , , , , , ; localization, ; marriage patterns of, , , , , , ; and merchants, –, , , ; as merchants, , ; and muleteers, ; and natives, , , ; and native slaves, , , , ; and natural environment, ; raw materials, –, , , ; as renters, , , ; status, –, , , , , , , , –; types, , , , ; unions with Africans, ; unions with mulattos, and wage labor, , ; unions with natives, , , ; women as, , –, . See also African slaves; Bakers; Barber-surgeons; Blacksmiths; Boardinghouses; Carpenters; Cobblers; Credit; Debt; Farriers; Italians; Locksmiths; Mestizos; Mulattos; Municipal council; Natives, Pharmacists; Physicians; Portuguese; Professionals; Tailors; Tanners Audiencia, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , n.; and commerce, ; governor, , , , ; moved to Santiago, ; positions on, ; president, ; social control, . See also Royal officials Ávila Monroy, Cristóbal de, , –

 Bakers, ; and bakeries, –, ,  Balderrama, María, – Bancroft, Hubert Howe, , , ,  Barajona, Doña Leonor de,  Barajona, Sancho de,  Barber-surgeons, , , ; African slaves as, –; apprentices, ; status, – Bardales, Juan, ,  Barrios, , , , , , , , , , , , , ; Jocotenango, ; markets, , ; Merced, , ; and natives, ; San Antonio, ; San Francisco, , , ; San Géronimo, ; Santa Cruz, , ; Santa Cruz Utlatán, , ; Santa Lucía del Espiritu Santo, ; Santiago, ; Santo Domingo, , , , , . See also Tiánguiz Barter, , , , , , , , ; land, , – Beatas,  Beltrán, Antonia, – Blacks. See Africans; African slaves; Free Africans; Mullatos Blacksmith, , ,  Bloch, Marc,  Boardinghouses, , , , ; and artisans, , ; and women, , ,  Bolaños, Luis de, , ,  Bowser, Frederick P.,  Bozal, –, ,  Bozarráez, Baltasar de,  Cabildo. See Municipal council Cacao, , , , , –, –, , , , , , , , , , ,



, , , , , , , , , –, , , n., n.; land, ; milpa of, , ; and religious rites, ; trade, –, , , , , , , , , , ; as tribute, ,  Cacique. See Native nobles Cakchiquels, , ; rebellion, ,  Calderón, Constanza, –,  Caluco, ,  Camiña, Baltasar de, – Carmack, Robert M.,  Carpenters: African slaves as, ; status,  Casoverde, Isabel, –,  Castellanos, Francisco de, –,  Censos, , , , , ; and labradores,  Central America, , , , ,  Céspedes, Juan de, ,  Charles V,  Chaves, Juan de, , n. Chiapas, , –, –, , , ,  Chichiguas. See Wet nurses Chichimec,  Churches, , , , ; cathedral, ; and corporate pride, . See also Milpas; Native barrios; Native towns Ciudad Real de Chiapas, ,  Ciudad Vieja, , , ,  Clerics, , , , , , , , ,  Cobblers, ,  Comayagua, , ,  Commerce, , , , , , , , , ; home-based, –, , ; women and, , . See also Artisans; Professionals; Santiago





Compadrazgo, –, ; and reciprocity,  Compañías, , , , , , , , ; and artisans, , ; and commerce, ; and labradores, . See also Artisans; Labradores; Mexico; Muleteers; Professionals Congregación. See Natives Conquest, –, , , , –; and Africans, , ; and African slaves, ; and artisans, –, , ; brutality of, , ; Guatemala, ; memory, ; and merchants, –; and mulattos, ; myths of, , , n.; native auxiliaries, , , , –, , ; and professionals, , , . See also Cakchiquels Cordero, Perote, ,  Cortés, Hernando, ; conquest, –, n., n. Council of the Indies,  Countryside, ; dangers,  Credit, , , –, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , n.; and artisans, , , , ; and commerce, ; and economic growth, –; and labradores, ; mechanisms of, , ; and merchants, , , , ; and professionals, ; and reciprocity, –, ; and Santiago, , ; and women,  Criollo: African slaves, , –, , ; Spaniards,  Cuauhtemalans,  Cuauhtémoc,  Cuernavaca, 

Dardón, Luis,  Debt, , –, , , , , , , , , ; and African slaves, ; and artisans, , , , ; collection of, , , , , , ; collectors, , , ; and labradores, ; and land, ; legal suits, –; loans, ; mechanisms of, ; and merchants, ; peonage, , n.; and petty dealers, ; punishment for, ; and reciprocity, ; sales of, ; transfer of, , . See also Natives Díaz, Catalina, – Díaz del Castillo, Bernal, , ; and conquest, , , , n. Doñas, , , , , , –, , , , , n. Dons, ,  Dowries, , , , , ; control of, n. Earthquakes, –, , n. Education, children, , – El Salvador, , , , , ,  Encomenderos, , , , , –, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , n.; and artisans, ; daughters of, ; mayordomos, , . See also Labradores; Merchants Encomiendas, , , , , , , , , , , , , ; and artisans, ; distribution, , . See also Professionals Escobar, Magdalena de, – Escuintla, –,  Europeans, , , , , , ; Antigüedad, ; first arrivals, ;

 labor, ; and non-Europeans, ; non-Spaniards, ; population, ; textiles, ; use of term, n. Extremadura,  Falla, Juan José, n. Farriers,  Fernández, Antonio, – Fernández del Castillo, Francisco, , n. Free Africans, , , –, ; and agriculture, , ; as artisans, ; and commerce, ; and conquest, ; as domestics, ; labradores, , ; and land, ; as muleteers, ; occupations, , ; as petty dealers, ; population, ; wages, – Fuente, Francisco de la, – Gallego, Juan, , , ,  Gallego, María,  García, Beatriz, – Garro, Pedro de, – Genovés, Pablo, ,  Gobernador. See Native nobles Godínez, Don Juan,  Godínez, Isabel,  Gossip, ,  Gracias a Dios, , , , ,  Guatemala, , , , , , –, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , n.; categories, ; City, ; mining, . See also Conquest; Native slavery Guatemaltecos, ,  Guayape, Río de, ,  Guazacapán, ,  Guernica, Luisa de, – Guerrero, Gerónimo, –



Guevara, Francisco de, n. Guevara, Juan de, , , n. Gupil, Pierre,  Haciendas, , , , ; and expansion, ; hacendado, ; land, , – Hec, Francisco,  Hernández, María, , n., n. Hernández, Pedro, , ,  Hernández Conquero, Pedro,  Herradores. See Farriers Herrera, Don Diego de, , n. Herrera, Gasco de,  Hidalgos, ; myths, , ; status of,  Hill, Robert M.,  Honduras, , , , , , n.; conquest, ,  Honor, –, ; insults, , , –; libel, ; and punishment, , ; and violence, ; and women,  Horses, , , , , , , , , –n.; and transportation, . See also Agriculture Hospital, ,  Huasteca,  Huehuetenango,  Hurtado de la Hoz, Catalina,  Illegitimacy, ; and legitimacy, , . See also Mestizos Indians. See Native barrios; Natives; Native slaves Indies, ,  Indigo, , , , , , , , , , ; and labor, –. See also Agriculture; Merchants





Irlanda, Tomás de, ,  Isabel,  Italians, , , , , ; as artisans, , ; marriage to natives, ; as merchants, , , ; as muleteers, ; as petty dealers, , , , ,  Iximché,  Ixtlilxochitl,  Izhuatán, , ,  Jiménez, Juan, – Jolofe, Pedro, , –, n. Jones, Oakah L.,  Jufre de Loaysa, Garci,  Komisaruk, Catherine,  Kramer, Wendy, , , n. Labradores, , , , , , , , , , , –; and African slaves, , , , ; cacao, ; children, , –, , , , , –, ; dowries, ; and encomenderos, , –, –; and free Africans, , ; land, , ; and literacy, –, ; localization, ; marriage patterns of, , , , , , , , , , , ; and muleteers, , , ; and natives, , , , , ; origins of, ; and petty dealers, ; status of, –, , , , , ; unions with natives, , , ; wealth of, ; women as, –, . See also Censos; Compañías; Credit; Debt; Mestizos; Mulattos; Native nobles; Santiago Ladino: African slaves, , , ; use of, n.

Landed estates. See Haciendas Lavado de Duñas, Alonso, ,  Lengua mexicana. See Nahuatl León, Juan de, –,  Licenciates, – Lípar, Francisco de,  Literacy, , , , , , ; and status, . See also African slaves; Labradores; Muleteers; Natives Loaysa, Pedro de, , n. Lobo, Inés, ,  Lockhart, James, , n. Locksmiths, , ; African slaves as,  Lokken, Paul,  López de Cerrato, Alonso,  Los Angeles, Bernaldo de,  Lovell, W. George,  Luján Muñoz, Jorge, ,  Lutz, Christopher H., , , , n. MacLeod, Murdo, , , , n. Mármol, María del, ,  Marroquín, Bishop Francisco,  Marroquín, Catalina de,  Martel, Ana,  Martín, Hernán, – Martín Calagraño, Alonso,  Martín Cermeñal, Alonso, , ,  Martínez Peláez, Severo, , , n. Martínez Redondo, Alonso, ,  Matapán,  Mejía, Antonio, ,  Mejía, Gabriel, – Méndez, Juan, – Méndez de Sotomayor, Juan,  Mercader. See Merchants Merchants, , , , , , , ,

 , , , , , , –, , , , , , , , ; and African slaves, , –, ; and agriculture, , –, – ; and artisans, –, , , ; and commerce, , ; corporate identity of, –, ; and diverse holdings of, ; and encomenderos, ; and ethnicity, –; factors, , , ; land, , – , ; loans, ; localization, , , –, , ; marriage patterns of, , , , n.; and mule trains, ; and native slaves, –, ; and petty dealers, ; products, , , –, , ; as renters, ; status of, –, , , –, ; wealth of, ; women as, , –. See also Censos; Conquest; Credit; Italians; Mexico; Municipal council; Natives; Portuguese; Puerto de Caballos Mestizos, , , , , , , , –, , , , n.; as artisans, ; children, ; and illegitimacy, ; and labradores, ; and marriage, , ; as muleteers, ; unions with natives,  Mexico, , , , , –, , , , , , , , , , n.; central, , , , , , , , n.; central valley of, , , ; City, , , –, , , , , –, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; compañías, , , , ; factors, ; merchants, , , ; silk,  Milpas, , , –, ; agriculture, ; and barrio, ,



–, ; Beata, ; Cabrera, ; churches, ; creation, – , n.; Dardón, ; fields, , , , ; Juan de Chaves, n.; Juan Pérez, ; Juez Reformador, –; land leases, ; Luis de Alvarado, ; map of, ; municipal councils, , , , , ; names, –, n.; native slaves, ; Pedro González Nájera, ; population of, , ; San Andrés, ; San Antonio, ; San Juan, ; San Juan de los Mixtecas, n.; San Pedro, ; Santa Ana, ; Santa Cruz, ; Santa María Magdalena, , ; size of, , ; Tesorero, ; use of term, , , , , n., n.; usufruct fees, . See also Cacao Mixco, , ; municipal council,  Mixtecs, , , n.; textiles, , , ,  Molina, Francisco de, – Monteforte Toledo, Mario,  Morales, Francisco, ,  NS Morejón, Gaspar, , , –,  Mortgages. See Censos Mulattos, , , , , –, ; and agriculture, –, ; as apprentices, –; as artisans, –, –; children, , , , –; as domestics, , , , ; as labradores, , , ; and land, , , , ; legal suits, ; marriage of, , n.; as muleteers, – , ; occupations of, ; as petty dealers, ; population, , ; as slave muleteers, ; slave





parents, ; slave prices, ; as slaves, , , ; and Spaniards, ; status of, ; unions with artisans, . See also Conquest; Muleteers Muleteers, , , , , , , , , –, ; and Africans, , ; and African slaves, – , –, –, n.; and artisans, , ; children, ; and compañías, ; dangers, , ; diverse holdings of, ; and free Africans, ; lading fees, ; literacy, ; marriage patterns of, –; mulatto slaves, ; mule trains, , ; origins, , ; salaries, ; status, , , , n.; transportation, ; types, ; wage labor, ; wealth, . See also Italians; Labradores; Mestizos; Mulattos; Natives; Native slaves; Portuguese Municipal council, , , , , , , , , , , ; and artisans, , ; and commerce, , ; and merchants, , , , ; positions on, ; and professionals,  Nahuas, , , , ; Mexicanos, , , ; Mexicas, , , ; municipal council, . See also Conquest Nahuatl, , , , , , n.; interpreters, , ; as lingua franca, , , –, ,  Native barrios, , , , –; churches, –; multiethnic, , ; municipal council, ,

, , ; parcialidad, , , n.. See also Barrios Native nobles, , , , ; and Africans, ; and African slaves, ; as cacique, , n.; as community representatives, , , ; conquest, ; importance of, ; and labradores, ; as mediators, ; and municipal councils, ; principales, , ; and Spaniards, n.; as teopantlaca, ; as tribute collectors, ; wealth of,  Natives, , , , , , , , , ; and Africans, , , ; and agriculture, –, , ; apprentices, , , , , , ; as artisans, , , –, , , ; as barbersurgeons, ; as blacksmiths, ; children, , , , , , ; as cobblers, ; and colonial rule, ; and commerce, , ; compañías, , , ; congregación, ; as conquest auxiliaries, , , , –, , ; and debt, ; as domestics, , , , ; identity, , , , , , ; land, , , , , , n.; literacy, ; market economy, ; marriage, ; marriage to Italians, ; as masons, , ; as merchants, , , –; as migrants, , , –, , , ; as muleteers, , , , , , , ; and non-native artisans, , , ; as notaries, , ; as petty dealers, , ; population of, , , , , , , ,

 , ; religious rites, –, ; repartimiento, , , , , ; resistance, –; as silversmiths, ; as tailors, ; as tamemes, , ; as tanners, ; textiles, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , n.; tribute, ; unions with Africans, , ; unions with artisans, , ; as wage laborers, , , –, , , , , –, , ; as wet nurses, –, . See also Cakchiquels; Labradores; Mestizos; Mixtecs; Nahuas Native slaves, , , , –, , , nn.,; abolition of, , ; and African slaves, ; and agriculture, ; and artisans, , , , , ; and branding, ; children, ; confectioner, ; as domestics, ; families of, ; Guatemala, ; legal status, –, ; manumission, ; marriage of, –; mining, , ; as muleteers, ; occupations, ; as pharmacists, ; prices of, , ; resistance, ; sales of, , . See also Merchants; Milpas Native towns, , ; and African slaves, , ; churches, , ; and colonial rule, ; foundation of, ; gobernador, , , ; and land, –, –; and legal system, –, ; municipal council, , , , , , ; and tribute;  Natural environment, destruction of, 



Nephews, , , , , , ,  New Spain, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . See also Mexico Nicaragua, , , , ,  Nombre de Dios, ,  Notaries, , , , , , , ; and escribanías, , , ; escrituras, ; and land, n.; origins of, ; records, , , ; training, . See also Natives Núñez, Blas, , ,  Núñez de Soria, Juan,  Oaxaca, , ,  Olid, Cristóbal de, conquest, , ,  Ortiz de la Puente, Doña Isabel, ,  Panama, ,  Pánuco, ,  Patch, Robert, n. Pawning, , ; women and, , , ,  Peru, , , , , , , , , , n. Petapa, , ,  Petty dealers, , , , , , , , , ; and African slaves, ; children, ; and land, ; localization, ; and merchants, ; and natives, , ; origins of, , ; status of, , , –, . See also Debt; Italians; Natives; Portuguese; Tratantes Pharmacists, , ; and status, n.. See also Native slaves Physicians, –; medicines, –; procedures, 





Pineda, Juan de, n. Pinula, ,  Polonia,  Portuguese, , , , , , , ; and African slave trade, ; as artisans, , , , , ; as merchants, ; as muleteers, ; as petty dealers,  Professionals, , ; and African slaves, , , , , ; and agriculture, , , , ; and artisans, ; children, , , , ; and commerce, –, , , , , ; and compañías, , ; conquest, , , ; and credit, ; and dowries, ; education of, , , ; and encomiendas, , , ; and investments, –; and land, , , , , ; localization, , , ; marriage patterns of, , , , , –, , – , , ; status of, –, , , . See also Credit; Municipal council Puebla, , , ,  Puerto de Caballos, , , –, , , , , , ,  Quesada, Isabel de, –,  Quiché, , , ; and Utlatán, ,  Recinos, Adrían,  Religion: books, ; conversion, , ; imagery, ; processions, , ; retablos, , ; saints, , , , , ; sodalities,  Religious orders: convents, ; Dominicans, n.; Franciscans, n.; and land, –; Merce-

darians, ; monasteries, , , , , ,  Remesal, Antonio, – Repartimiento. See Natives Rodríguez, Juan, –, n. Rodríguez Becerra, Salvador,  Royal officials, –, , , ; and Audiencia, , –; and commerce, –; and conflicts, , ; and marriage,  Rua, Doña Catalina de la, – Sailors, , , ,  Sánchiz Ochoa, Pilar, , n. San Miguel, , ,  San Salvador, , , , , ,  Santa Fe,  Santiago, , , , , , , , , , –, , , , , , , , , , , –, , , , , , ; Africans, , , , , ; African slave market, –; African slaves, , , , ; in Almolonga, ; artisans, ; and commerce, , –, , , –, , , , , , , , ; credit, , ; and fringe area, , , , –; labradores, ; land, , , , n.; location, , , ; and natives, , , , , , ; in Panchoy, , , – , ; population, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; as regional center, , , , , , , , , –, , –, , , , , , , , –, , , , ; transfer of, . See also Africans; African slaves; Audiencia; Barrios; Credit;

 Milpas; Municipal council; Native barrios Seville, , , , , ,  Sexuality: amancebado, ; premarital sex,  Sherman, William L., , ,  Sifontes, Francis Polo, n. Silversmiths, , , ,  Smith, Carol A.,  Soconusco,  Solano, Francisco de,  Spain, –, , , , , ,  Tailors, , ,  Talavera de la Reina,  Tamemes. See Natives Tanners, and tanneries, ,  Taylor, William B.,  Tecpán,  Tehuantepec, – Texcoco, ; Texcocans, and conquest,  Tiánguiz, , , , , , n.. See also Barrios Tlaxcala, , ; Tlaxcalans and conquest, 



Tratantes, , , . See also Petty dealers Trinidad, Villa de la, , , , , , , , ,  Vera, Ana de, – Vera, Isabel de, , ,  Veracruz, , , ,  Webre, Stephen,  Wet nurses, , –; status of,  Widows, , , , , , , ; children of, ; and commerce, ; and loans, ; remarried, , , , , n.; serial marriages of,  Ximénez, Francisco,  Yucatán, ,  Zamora Acosta, Elías,  Zavala, Silvio,  Zuleta, Catalina de, 