Abstract
In the Andes from the beginning of the Spanish conquest, colonial administrators sought to develop efficient methods of labor extraction. The study of chronological age, Indigenous tribute, and censuses reveals an uncharted chapter of this process. This article explores how chronological age mediated the relationship between the colonial state and Andeans by creating the administrative status of tributary. Andeans adjusted their precolonial notions of aging to the concept of chronological age, which they associated with the tribute regime. During the government of Francisco de Toledo, ordinances and law relied on chronological age to standardize the time frame for tribute obligations among male Andeans as between 18 and 50 years old, and this standardization shaped Andeans' life experiences. By the late sixteenth century, previous censuses and baptism records helped to make the administrative registration of age increasingly precise. Chronological age thus emerges as a key category to study the rise of Spanish colonial rule. In doing so, this study also challenges the association between the bureaucratic use of chronological age for population control and contemporary forms of state making.
Spanish colonial tribute reports and censuses form a formidable archive, running hundreds of pages that overflow with information about Indigenous communities. In these documents, colonial administrators' registration of Indigenous subjects' chronological ages can seem like minor details, merely incidental to the larger narratives of colonial labor. Yet these seemingly simple numbers encapsulate cross-cultural encounters, political anxieties, and significant epistemological struggles over the construction of the tribute regime and the conversion of millions of Indigenous peoples into tributaries.
Take, as just one example, a scene from a regional inspection carried out in the Viceroyalty of Peru in 1562. The inspector Iñigo Ortiz de Zúñiga had received a commission to investigate Andean labor customs during the preceding era of Inca rule and, among other things, the age at which Andeans were required to pay tribute assessments (tasas).1 A curaca (local Andean authority) named Cristóbal Xulca answered that “they did not have a [precise] order but everybody worked as they could and in conformity with their ages.”2 Though it might have struck Ortiz de Zúñiga as unsatisfactory, Andeans did not rely on chronological age grading at that point. Nonetheless, when counts were conducted in later periods, Andeans' ages were registered with precision. This article traces this transition.
In doing so, it approaches chronological age, much like race or gender, as a vector of power rather than an objective biological reality.3 In the European tradition, chronological age demarcated a person's position in the course of life based on the years passed according to the Catholic calendar. Our inheritance of this system of age leads us to think of the number of years that a person has lived as natural or neutral. But age is far from obvious. A recent historiography on childhood and age makes this clear, even if it tends to tie the registration of chronological age to modern forms of government.
There are three important lessons emerging from this historiography. First, the legal and administrative measuring of chronological age has become a state tool for social and economic engineering, aimed in particular at those below the age of adulthood. Second, in colonial contexts, chronological age took center stage as an epistemological point of struggle between imperial authorities seeking to impose rigid social control and the local or subject population, who, as often happens in cases of administrative imposition, engaged in resistance and negotiation.4 And third, the administrative use of chronological age was a response to the rise of an expanding bureaucracy hungry for sophisticated strategies of population registration, particularly in the form of quantitative data, to be employed by state officials.5 Thus, the historiography on age tells us that it is a key category for approaching modern state formation.
Spanish America finds its way into this global conversation through scholarly analysis of how Indigenous life was administered and controlled in the generations after conquest. But, until now, these studies have only hinted at the importance of age to understanding the colonial process.6 In fact, age was a technology of power already deployed in Europe for setting responsibilities and prerogatives such as marriage, labor, and inheritance, though, as this article shows, not at the scale or with the transformative effects that it would have after explorers and conquerors landed in the Americas.7 Age had been deeply entwined with legal practices in Spain for a long time. For example, the influential medieval legal corpus the Siete partidas, compiled during the reign of Alfonso X, established 25 as the age of legal majority and 18 as the age at which one could be charged for criminal offenses. Because of the legal implications of certain age thresholds, litigants and jurists engaged in what Bianca Premo labels “age talk,” or legal discourses in which multiple age paradigms overlap so that age becomes debatable or variable in meaning.8 Similarly, the church, a powerful pillar of colonialism, relied on chronological age to establish its influence. For instance, in the sixteenth century the Council of Trent (1545–63) set the age of wedlock at 12 for women.9 Chronological age was also a key component of marriage arrangements involving young Andeans.10 And scholarship on Catholic evangelization suggests that age was critical to debates and practices around the administration of sacraments.11
Yet it was within the tribute regime that chronological age had its most profound and persistent effects. The concept of an Andean tributary, or an Indigenous subject liable for seasonal tribute, was derived from entangled administrative categories spawned by colonial rule. Indigenous bodies were classified as indios by the administration and were forced to meet tributary demands.12 The tribute regime, along with other colonial institutions, generated and reinforced racial or ethnic hierarchies.13 Tribute also constructed gendered relations of labor: only men were counted as tributaries, which modified precolonial labor standards.14 Eventually the condition of tributary came to combine these racialized and gendered characteristics alongside age thresholds, with most Indigenous males between 18 and 50 years old required to pay tribute. As in recent forms of state control, chronological age mediated the relationship between the rising colonial state and the subject population.
By the beginning of the Spanish conquest, chronological age became in the hands of the Spanish monarchs a tool for the systematization of population. While forced tribute payments could be traced back to the reconquest in Iberia, the crown created an elaborate and exclusive tributary system for its new Indigenous vassals in the Americas that drew on Inca and Aztec precedent.15 In the Andes, calculating colonial tribute relied on visitadores (inspectors and census takers) visiting Indigenous villages and counting the population of tributaries and those living in their households—men and women, married couples, widows, singles, seniors, children, and even disabled or sick dependents. As early as 1537, the crown showed its ambition for quantitative information through an order to count and register Indigenous inhabitants.16
This article focuses on these census reports, generally known as visitas, in which the age of tributaries was always registered, as particularly colonial technologies of data collection used to regulate Indigenous labor. These censuses were intensively carried out throughout the colonial period in the Andes—arguably becoming more relevant there than in Europe itself.17 In fact, consistent age categories are missing in tribute lists and censuses from sixteenth-century Spain.18 The history of visitas is also the result of the Spanish encounter with Andean technologies of registration used during Inca rule for similar purposes. To determine the number of tributaries in an Indigenous village, inspections often relied on precolonial khipus, a tool that registered quantitative information through knotted cords. Khipus continued to be used by Andean communities throughout the colonial period.19
The evolution of age registration, as Susan Ramírez argued for the overall history of tribute, mirrors “the organization, elaboration, and centralization of the colonial state.”20 In the first decades of colonial rule several inspections took place across the Andes, but the instructions for age registration were inconsistent.21 The Spanish conqueror Francisco Pizarro ordered Diego Verdejo in 1540 to register as tributaries heads of households from Chicama to Túcume as well as any of their sons who were at least 20 years old.22 Manuel de Anaya was required in 1557 to report all Andeans older than ten living in Lima.23 In Huaraz, Diego Álvarez sometimes reported those between 18 and 20, and sometimes those who were above 20 years old in 1558.24 In the next decade, age categories in instructions to inspectors followed more consistent patterns. A 1561 census required dividing the Indigenous population into three age categories: 7–12, 15–45, and 50 and above. This document includes blank spaces for filling out the name of the inspector, his payment, and the days of the inspection, which suggests that it was used as a model for other censuses.25 Perhaps based on this instruction, the viceroy of Peru, the conde de Nieva, instructed Ortiz de Zúñiga to report four age categories in his 1562 investigation: 7–12, 15–40, 45–50, and 50 and above.26 Finally, the viceroy Francisco de Toledo (r. 1569–81) standardized the age of tribute as he initiated the consolidation of colonial power in the Andes, as we will see below.
An examination of how Andean tribute inspections approached chronological age sheds light on myriad topics, including the history of colonialism and empire, labor, childhood and youth, Indigenous numeracy, and the role of the church and the early modern state in the region. But, above all, such an examination reflects on the entangled history of knowledge and power. Who has the power to register age? Who knows a person's age? And how is aging measured? Colonial administrators managed to construct a way to understand, register, and regulate the cycle of life in the Andes. In this regard, the first section of this article, largely based on a census of Huánuco conducted in 1562, shows how Andeans reinterpreted and reorganized their lives by adopting chronological age during the generation after conquest, which undermined precolonial age paradigms. Then, shifting the focus of analysis to the colonial state, the second section looks at the administration of Francisco de Toledo, Peru's fifth viceroy, during which tributary status was finally stabilized and homogenous labor regimes began to be enforced systematically. In this context, officials paid special attention to those below the age of tribute, which in the process was converted into a formative period for Andeans. The last substantive section explores how chronological age became an objective administrative fact resulting from verification, which contributed to the process of bureaucratic decision-making and thus shaped how the emergent colonial state interacted with its subjects. Among Andeans, as among colonial officials, chronological age became a point of tension, a common flash point for negotiating the burdens of colonial rule.
The Age of Colonialism
The tribute regime installed under colonial rule was more than a way of extracting Andean labor to sustain the growing colonial realms. It was at the core of the political project of subjecthood, by linking seasonal payments with political duties and obligations vis-à-vis colonial rule and its authorities.27 The provision of Andean labor, which benefited a large range of colonial authorities, including corregidores (regional administrators), curacas, and priests, was rooted in the encomienda system starting in 1532, in the aftermath of the conquest. Andean tributaries provided goods and personal labor to the local Spanish lords, known as encomenderos, in return for protection, labor support, and evangelization. The encomienda system shaped Andean life in multiple ways, and as Karen Graubart has observed, it “affected not only standards of living, but also mentalities.”28 One such effect involved the emphasis on chronological age, which from the perspective of Andeans implied the alteration of epistemological and ontological notions so that time and the cycle of life were linked to tribute. The answers that Andeans provided about their ages and labor demands in the 1562 Huánuco census offer a window on how Andeans experienced and contributed to forming a colonial age paradigm with tribute at the center.
In Huánuco, a region in the central Andes where the church had little presence in 1562, the inspector Ortiz de Zúñiga asked each head of household to inform him of the ages of those living in the household.29 Two examples are illustrative of how age registration played out:
On this said day [I] visited another house, and in it, an indio of this said village named Cristóbal Purilla, a subject to the said [local] chief, is married[;] his wife is named Tantasuyo. [He] has two daughters whose names are Inés Nanguato, seven years old, . . . [and] Tarpo[,] who is not baptized, five months old, and a son named Juan Utcacho, five years old, and this indio said he does not know his age. . . . [He] looked about 30 years old, his wife [also] 30. . . .
Another house [contained] in it an indio named Diego Vilcapaucar of 45 years old. [He is] married to a wife by the name of Violante Accha of 30 years[. He] has three sons[, one] named Juan Tellomarco, between three and eight years old, another [named] Diego Acra of six years, [and] another [named] Lorenzo Arco, three years old. The mother of this indio's wife is named Analihuyachumbe, 70 years old.30
These passages show the registration of chronological age as reliant on self-reporting, a subjective process resulting from what Andeans said and what authorities, such as the inspector, ultimately considered trustworthy and accurate. Heads of households such as Cristóbal Purilla and Diego Vilcapaucar reported chronological ages for their family members, particularly for children and young household dependents. Ortiz de Zúñiga calculated for those who did not know their chronological ages by observing their physiological traits, how individuals looked. In a few instances, comparative references to other household members could help to calculate age.
Such self-reporting of chronological age must be contextualized within the transition between precolonial and colonial age paradigms. In precolonial times, Andeans conceived of aging in terms of physical and physiological growth and closely linked it to their capacity to perform labor demands, but they did not quantify age in numbers.31 Primarily drawing from early Spanish colonial chronicles, John Rowe noted that precolonial age categories expressed in Quechua words for the most part reflected physical traits or abilities. The friar Martín de Murúa, for instance, related that, among other age categories, a puriy-ruku was an “old man who can walk,” and a sayapayaq was a young man who “went along on military expeditions to carry arms and supplies to the warriors.”32 Early chroniclers of the Andes noticed these flexible notions of aging and tried to classify them according to chronological age ranges. The chronicler Hernando de Santillán y Figueroa asserted that those from 16 to 20 years old belonged to the “fifth age”—in Quechua, “Cocapalla”—and worked carrying goods and bringing coca leaves to their authorities.33 In these early decades of colonialism, local custom could also play a role in defining the cycle of life. In 1561 the Spanish jurist Juan Polo de Ondegardo reported that some southern Andeans gifted traditional hats and assigned wives to those who had reached the age of tribute.34 This approach to age grading was not exclusive to Andeans; it was shared by other agricultural societies, even into the nineteenth century.35
In the 1562 census of Huánuco, Andeans used expressions related to physical development when asked about their age, such as “old,” “very old,” “chiquito,” and “edad de teta” (breastfeeding age), among others. At other times, Andeans referred to physiological development, mostly in relation to sexual maturity and the capacity to procreate, in expressions such as “indios para casar” (Indians ready to marry). Other expressions, such as “que ya es hombre” (already a man), “mancebos” (young men), and “mozas” (young women), refer to both physical and physiological development.36
Matching physiological or physical traits to the numbers that the Spanish demanded was a difficult exercise for some ordinary Andeans. The curaca Sebastián Marcas, for example, told Ortiz de Zúñiga that there were two “muchachos grandes” (grown-up boys) aged between 15 and 16 years in his village.37 His answers refer to mature physical growth, but he is unable to match this to an exact age number. This inexact approach to chronological age was far from unusual in early colonial censuses. The historian Kerstin Nowack has noticed in other early colonial sources that, when asked about their ages, Andeans were mostly elusive. Some only gave approximate ages; the exact ages that others reported could change between inspections or remain the same despite the passage of time.38
Those members of Andean communities registered as above 20 years old tended to report their ages—or have it reported by the head of household—in round numbers. Demographic and economic scholars have extensively argued that people with low numerical skills tend to self-report their age in censuses or similar tax documents in numbers rounded to the nearest five.39 This tendency sheds light on Andeans' answers to the Huánuco census. By 1562, Andeans across the viceroyalty were still adapting their own arithmetic calculations to the Spanish custom.40 Their answers to Ortiz de Zúñiga suggest that chronological age may have played a role in familiarizing Andeans with practical uses of Western numeracy. Round numbers could offer an easy way to match physical and chronological notions of aging—a matching exercise also familiar among Spanish individuals, as colonial litigation from this period suggests. Ortiz de Zúñiga also relied on round numbers to record those who did not know their age. For instance, he calculated that Diego Angas was 25 or 30 years old.41 By doing so, he also translated physiological and physical traits into chronological age.
Children, more than adolescents and adults, regularly appear in the 1562 census with exact chronological ages assigned to them. This level of specificity resulted from the need to calculate the time until male Andeans could become young adults. In other words, it served for both Andeans and Spaniards the purpose of predictability. This would explain why many Andeans reported in the census as below 12 years old were registered with exact chronological ages, while those entering into puberty and developing reproductive capacity, above 12, were grouped together in categories as “ready to marry.” In the village of Quinoas, for instance, the curaca Francisco Yupari reported that there were four single Andeans ready to marry between 15 and 20 years old.42 What mattered for both Quinoas's curaca and the inspector was not the exact age of these four men but that there were four young adults who could start a family.
Carefully tracking incoming young Andeans facilitated the assignation of tributary status. A nonnumerical way to gain this status was marriage. In the first decades of colonial rule, Catholic and Indigenous customs of marriage coexisted. Once marriage occurred, the male partner was registered as a tributary and had to participate in the labor needed to pay a seasonal quota of tribute determined by an inspector. However, wedlock was an easily manipulable threshold, and colonial reports repeatedly complained that Andeans were delaying marriage and thus their eligibility for tribute obligations.43 This situation, in addition to the constant demographic decline of the Indigenous population resulting from European diseases, created unstable numbers of tributaries and tribute revenue.44
In this context, chronological age and censuses became a more consistent way to count current and potential tributaries, and predict new sources of income. Table 1, which reproduces one of the census tables classifying a local population into age ranges, shows that the majority of the age categories listed were for younger Andeans, below the age of 15. This suggests that the threshold for beginning tributary status was closely tracked. The elderly, on the other hand, were no longer liable for tribute, and the inspector only reported their physical capability to work and contribute labor to the village, regardless of numerical age.
This association of chronological age and Indigenous tribute happened in a moment when Andeans were adapting their notions of local labor and production to the demands of the colonial market.45 A tributary contributed to rearing animals and producing clothes, goods, and food, a portion of which was given to the local Spanish authorities as seasonal tribute. These authorities could then sell these products in the market, thus transforming Indigenous tribute into monetary wealth.46
Because of its economic repercussions, age was deemed important by Andean curacas as they negotiated their communities' tribute responsibilities. Gaspar Cayua from the villages Quillcay and Querocalla explained that the Inca had imposed personal quotas of tribute on all married men below 20 years old and young men 20 and older. At age 20, young men married and started paying their own quota of tribute. Cayua reported with concern, however, that young men from 15 to 16 years old worked under Spanish rule.47 Cayua was most likely attempting to take advantage of the inspector's ignorance; he linked chronological ages to preconquest tributary custom in order to underscore the violation of community norms and customs.48 We can imagine that Cayua's answers certainly resonated with the inspector, who was instructed by the viceroy to align communal assessment of tribute with precolonial customs. The curacas knew that the numbers registered on paper would increase or decrease their labor demands, so manipulating age thresholds for the beginning of the status of tributary by relying on personal or manipulated memories from the precolonial past seems a smart strategy to alter the final tribute payments to their own benefit.49 Age thus opened a new way to engage and potentially manipulate the tribute regime.50
Gaspar Cayua seems to have been able to decipher the unstable nature of chronological age, a mutability that Ortiz de Zúñiga ignored. The age threshold functioned as a fulcrum of power that oscillated in favor of the dominant political rule. But Cayua's case illustrates that Andeans intentionally sought to negotiate over age as a means of protecting themselves from colonial economic predations. These Indigenous negotiations over age for personal or communal benefits started as soon as Andeans were integrated into colonial rule and increased in frequency over time. The negotiations represented another avenue of struggle by which Andeans and Spaniards constructed their relationship.51 Ultimately, the Huánuco census permits one to observe the gradual alienation of Andeans from the understanding of functional age grading that had once constituted the life cycle for them, and their adoption of a colonial understanding of age that was related primarily to tribute demands.
The Age of Tribute
After 1562, while inspectors continued conducting censuses and Andeans continued providing numbers for their ages, colonial authorities and policymakers progressively supported regulating and standardizing Andean labor through laws and ordinances based on chronological age. Age was increasingly used to form a homogenous and predictable labor system as the decades wore on.52 This shift took place after Francisco de Toledo became viceroy in 1569; his tenure is recognized by historians as a watershed for the consolidation of Spanish colonial rule in the Andes.53 Rigidly dividing Andeans by age would serve to mold colonial society, systematically classify Indigenous people as tributaries with fixed obligations, and create new expected roles for those below the age of tribute.54
As part of his broader efforts of surveillance and governance, Toledo conducted from 1570 to 1575 the most important general inspection of the Viceroyalty of Peru and set forth a complex series of ordenanzas, a legal corpus dedicated to organizing all of colonial society that served as the main blueprint for Spanish rule in the region into the eighteenth century. Toledo received reports from inspectors and ordered new land inspections and censuses across the Andes.55 With the information generated from this in hand, he regulated Andean civil and economic life and planned an ambitious general resettlement of most Andeans into towns, which Jeremy Mumford parallels with modern state projects of social engineering.56 In the long term, these reforms made tribute a “town-based obligation” intended to benefit the colonial state and its agents.57 Not coincidentally, part of this massive project of social engineering and administrative reform included the standardization of the age of Indigenous tributary status as between 18 and 50 years old.58
In sharp contrast with the 1562 census, the reports that Toledo received on tributaries and tribute assessments consistently divided the Indigenous population of each region according to four categories: indios tributarios (Indians of tribute), for those between 18 and 50 years old or married; mozos and muchachos, referring to male Andeans 17 years or younger; viejos e impedidos, for old men unable to pay tribute; and, finally, women, who as nontributaries were grouped together regardless of age or marital status.59 Future lists of tributaries across the viceroyalty were organized similarly. With this, the age of 18 became bound to its new legal and administrative meaning of tributary, to the extent that several censuses only refer to it as edad de tributar (age of tribute). Thus this age threshold became a near-universal turning point in Andean personal experiences. Following Toledo's ordinances and instructions, male Andeans should have been reported when they reached 18 and 50 years old.60
Determining the number of years that had passed since a person was born intrinsically implied the colonization of time, a colonization imposed by institutions from above in order to homogenize ordinary people's lives. Time measurement was adjusted in the Atlantic world following the Catholic and Spanish expansion, an adjustment that we could think of as a first wave in the globalization of time standards. In 1582, the papacy proclaimed the replacement of the Julian calendar by the Gregorian one, and the Spanish crown ordered that this change be announced throughout its New World possessions.61 Khipus were used to register people and tribute in Andean communities through complex, nonliterary quantitative methods, and over time these precolonial devices adapted to meet the demands of registration with chronological age.62 Andean church caretakers and Andeans assisting tax collectors were also employed to register time with khipus.63 Tools to measure time such as calendars and khipus helped to calculate the length of tributary status and to make it seem a biological or natural stage.
Carefully measuring age was very important for standardizing labor among male Andeans, particularly those below the age of tribute who received special legal attention from the colonial administration. Toledo's ordinances prescribed that those younger than 18 serve as pajes (pages) and receive less clothes and food than those of tribute age.64 Between the ages of 16 and 18, some Andeans could learn medicine and blacksmithing in Indigenous villages.65 Labor in coca fields was prohibited for those younger than 12.66 Priests were required to teach doctrina cristiana (Christian lessons) to the children of yanaconas (servants of encomenderos) younger than 10.67 Only tribute-age Andeans could serve in tambos (inns for travelers), because anyone younger was supposedly too weak for such work.68 When male Andeans reached the age of tribute, they received benefits as well as labor requirements. For example, they could receive an inheritance if their dead parents left a testament, which suggests that the age of tribute was also bound to a basic level of legal independence.69 Future viceroys continued to rely on chronological age for similar purposes.70
Further colonial laws strengthened the administrative value of chronological age for forming homogeneous labor conditions in all colonial territories. In New Spain, similar age criteria defined who was an Indigenous tributary.71 In the Philippines, where the encomienda system also was in place, tributary status ended at 60 years old.72 In Chile and Tucumán, the age 18 even became the only criterion for the beginning of labor obligations, probably in an attempt to restrict Spanish lords of Indigenous peoples from forcing marriages to increase tribute quotas.73 These laws, however, could slightly vary in certain regions, as recognized by Philip II.74 In the Andean province of Popayán, for instance, Indigenous tributaries paid their quotas between 17 and 54 years old.75 These distinctions remind us that the use of chronological age, as with other administrative categories, was always in flux and dispute between regional and upper political levels, and even the crown could not always bypass local custom. Through tribute lists and ordinances, the use of chronological age encapsulated a desire for social order across the globe.
In this global transformation of the cycle of life, the special attention given in administrative records to the pretributary male Indigenous population—sometimes referred to as muchachos—suggests an additional way that Spanish colonialism affected concepts of childhood and youth in the region. It might be said that colonialism contributed to what Philippe Ariès long ago framed as the invention of childhood.76 Historians of modern childhood have emphasized the promulgation of special laws to separate the life experiences of children from those of adults, often stressing the emergence of childhood as an independent category within state administration. After Ariès, historians have drawn attention to how, in the nineteenth century, certain laws would prohibit or limit children from engaging in physical jobs.77
Centuries before the creation of so-called modern childhood, Spanish colonial law also protected children from hard labor and even encouraged those below the age of tribute to engage in learning-oriented activities, mostly Christian education. Andean parents would be now able to invoke these laws in defense of their children.78 Similar concerns about educating and protecting children came from other fronts. The influential Third Council of Lima (1582–83) ordered párrocos (parish priests) to teach writing and reading in Spanish to Andean children and encouraged the priests to spare them from exhausting physical work.79 Emerging Indigenous villages also contemplated building schools.80 Growing colonial cities adjusted to such concerns too. In 1604 the viceroy Luis de Velasco ordered a “lista y padrón” (census) of poor orphan children in Potosí so that they could receive literate and Christian education and thus not become “viciosos y malacostumbrados” (vicious and misbehaved).81 In sum, colonial civil and ecclesiastic administrators were involved in the spiritual and material reformation of Andean culture by shaping new experiences for Andean children.82 This concern was born not from new sensibilities toward childhood and youth imposed by the enlightened state, as in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, but from the practical need to enforce Hispanization among new generations of Andeans.
Spanish colonization found legal justification in the notion that the Andean population was composed of adult minors in need of European tutelage; Spanish rule would help them to abandon sin and barbarism under the aegis of Christianity.83 This infantilizing conception implied both inculcating among Andean children practices and values associated with Christian notions of a rational life and distancing these children from the pagan tradition of their parents. In a sense, childhood and youth, or at least the category of male youth below the age of tribute, became more central in the colonial Andes than in Enlightenment-era Europe for molding society. Spanish policymakers, with Toledo at the forefront, made chronological age a powerful tool for shaping the cycle of life in the Andes and for framing an emerging social order.
The Age of Administration
Given the increasing importance of age to the structure of Indigenous labor, the age registration process became widespread and more sophisticated across the Viceroyalty of Peru. With emphasis after Toledo's government, inspectors and regional administrators produced numerous census-like lists of Andeans, the various visitas, censos, listas, numeraciones, tasas, memorias, and padrones de indios that can be found in colonial archives.84 As Arndt Brendecke has noted, this making of paperwork with quantitative data belonged to a broader political project of knowledge acquisition carried out by the Spanish crown.85 For example, the relaciones geográficas, another massive enterprise to collect demographic data for the Americas that started in 1579, relied on the inspection undertaken by the judge Juan de Hinojosa as a trustworthy source for the number of Indigenous people in Chinbo, part of the Quito jurisdiction.86 The chronological ages reproduced in the relación permitted the Spanish king to see his Andean vassals.
Age appeared consistently in censuses, often next to each name, and the total number of tributaries was listed at the end, making the Andean population legible for colonial administrators.87 In this context, I contend, chronological age was increasingly understood as an objective fact, a numerical value that could be mathematically, and therefore accurately, calculated with registers produced by colonial authorities. As I have shown, early registers on age were recorded based on what Andeans said or on what the inspector suspected by looking at them. In most interviews, Andean heads of households had the chance to express their own perception of their personal age and potentially to alter it for the records, taking advantage of the inspector's inability to know their chronological age. Beginning with late sixteenth-century censuses, in contrast, colonial administrators aspired to verify age via previous censuses and baptism records. Western numeracy, mathematics, and the archive, not regional or precolonial customs, became the objective and official methods to measure age.88
Two local documentary repositories were at the core of this massive process of registration: the caja de comunidad (community treasury) and the local parish. Each Andean village had secure storage facilities where they gathered important documentation, which included previous censuses, instructions, and ordinances. Inspectors consulted those previous censuses when working on new ones.89 As the colonial administration matured, corregidores and alcaldes (local judges) gained more control over the collection of tribute revenues and the procedures for doing so.90
They were not alone in the mission of registering tributaries. After the Council of Trent, a zeal to spread doctrinas spread across the Catholic world. This led to more systematic inspections of local ecclesiastical activities, which encouraged inspections of parishes and church functions across the Andes.91 Among the multiple goals of these inspections was, it is important to note, regulating Indigenous labor, from which evangelization efforts were materially sustained. Inspections and the church were entangled, as the former involved collecting fees to maintain the salaries of local priests and other benefits to church officials.92 But while these periodical inspections were more oriented toward providing ecclesiastical support, they also collected demographic data to sustain the tribute regime.93 Indigenous assistants also participated in the registration of people for tax and fiscal purposes.94 In this context of growing church bureaucracy, baptism books gathered in the local churches played an instrumental role in calculating Andeans' age and thus increasing control of labor.
In fact, the use of supporting records relegated to secondary importance—and was intended to erase—Andeans' subjective or functional interpretations of age. Take, for instance, the census from Tiquipaya (in present-day Bolivia), elaborated in 1573. All Andeans are listed with their names and a brief written description that included their age; their age was then again given, in numerals, to the right of this description, making it easy to see the ages at a glance (table 2). Only in exceptional cases were Andeans' ages omitted, most likely because they had fled to avoid previous registration—another strategy to manipulate tribute records. That seems to have been what Pedro Condori had done, whose age of 20 years old was estimated by the inspector. At the end of the census, the inspector declared that all ages registered in the census “seem” to fit with the “aspects” and “physiognomy” of the villagers.95 In this case, matching physiological and physical traits with chronological age explicitly became a supporting procedure.
A reinspection (revisita) undertaken in Sisicaya (in the central Andes) in 1588 offers the opportunity to observe the administrative process for verifying age with written records. Inspector Cristóbal Xuárez de Angulo began by summoning all Andeans of the village and requesting that they bring the padrón from Toledo's general inspection as well as baptismal registries. While registering every villager, the inspector found that Diego Chaucalla “did not show up in the previous inspection” and that his name did not appear in “baptism books,” so his age was unknown. The inspector finally assigned him the age of 14 according to his physical appearance.96
Indigenous local elites were a second source of age verification in Sisicaya. The inspector reported that Alonso Micher's age was unknown because he was absent from the previous census. He then sought help from indios principales and caciques as trustworthy witnesses. These authorities “dijeron todos” (agreed) that Micher was older than 50. This answer echoed Toledo's ordinances, as 50 years old was the end point of tributary status, and most late sixteenth-century censuses were not specific about the ages of those above this threshold because they were irrelevant for calculating tribute collection. Note that the registration of Micher's age was a negotiated and subjective agreement. Local authorities could have agreed to a lower chronological age for him and added one more tributary for the community, thus spreading out the collective demands of tribute. But they did not. It is possible that Andean authorities were taking advantage of Micher's physical traits and lack of prior registration to reduce their total labor burden. While we may not know their intentions, any time someone's age was unknown represented a prime opportunity to manipulate and negotiate tribute demands.97 These opportunities, however, became more and more exceptional. For almost all other cases in Sisicaya, age verification was possible with previous records.
Thus, the accurate registration of chronological age in censuses grew along with the production and sophistication of official paperwork. I posit that in regions where there was less Spanish penetration and more recent immigration—and therefore where written records were lacking—inspectors continued to base chronological age on physiological traits, as in Huánuco in 1562. The continued use of Andean age categorizations was the least desirable option for colonial administrators seeking to produce accurate lists of tributaries. In regions with a more consolidated colonial presence, such as Sisicaya in 1588 and other pueblos (villages) with Catholic parishes, written records would provide the expected accuracy.
Multiple colonial censuses from the next century support this interpretation. In 1600, an Andean named Alonso had his age changed from 30 to 45 after the inspector consulted a previous inspection and baptism records.98 During a 1604 inspection in Yanquecollaguas in the southern Andes, Miguel Cacya's listed age of 18 was based on baptism records.99 In 1606, the job of Agustín Arce de Quirós was complicated when priests reported that libros de doctrina (books of doctrine), which included marriage, death, and baptism records, would not be ready for the inspection.100 In 1610, Huambos's inspector was instructed to ask for books of burials, marriages, and baptisms as well as padrones for confessions done by the priest “every year,” which were kept in the churches.101 In a 1616 reinspection of Parinacochas (in the southern Andes), the inspector collated the ages of Andean villagers “contained and declared by memorias [censuses] given by Hernando de Mirian.”102
The census from Parinacochas also illustrates how the presentation of age evolved in a manner that could facilitate visualization and demographic calculation. For each household, the ages of men too young to be tributaries appear on the left side of the census and the ages of the male tributary and women on the right, making it very simple not only to see their ages but to distinguish the number of future tributaries in the family (two in the case reproduced in table 3). Age verification is so precise in this census that ages are listed to the month. Written descriptions of family members occupy the middle third of the page, while the left- and right-hand columns containing age registrations occupy two-thirds of the page. While at this time the place where age was listed might vary from census to census, it often appeared to the right or left of the page, keeping it easy to see at a glance. Colonial administrators increasingly privileged quantitative patterns of legibility.
From the moment that an Andean's age was registered in a census, all future age verification by the colonial administration proceeded automatically. In 1600, for example, the inspector found in the village of Chupaca an Andean household that had been abandoned more than 15 years ago. But whether or not the head of household was still alive, he was still aging in the records. The inspector still included him in the census and thus as part of the village's tribute, basing his listed age of 32 on previous records.103 Andeans were aware of this administrative logic. And they tried to exploit it in their favor. In 1622, Andean witnesses from Chacaralla declared to an inspector that 20 years ago Cristóbal Quispe had died at age three or four. But his death went unreported, they claimed, because the local priest who had buried him had died before doing so. Thus in subsequent inspections he was wrongly recorded as alive and was thus wrongly counted as a tributary when he came of age in the records. The inspector's assistant, Diego de la Torre, warned that this story was a lie planned by the curacas, and he recommended continuing to count Cristóbal as alive until a trustworthy Spanish witness could confirm his death.104 While the registration process seemed accurate enough to operate on the basis of its own records, age continued to be a point of tension between state officials and local communities, and so Andeans continued to manipulate it whenever possible.
Even if their capacity to manipulate those records was deeply reduced, Andeans continued to navigate their relationship with colonialism through chronological age. We may wonder, then, to what extent the mass of unlettered Andeans during the colonial period, most of them dedicated to farming and other physical labor activities, developed a sense of their own personal age—which historians have referred to as “age consciousness” and also associated with the emergence of modern state institutions.105 A 1613 census from Lima sheds light on this issue. Most Andeans in the inspection were born in other Andean regions and had been brought to the city as children.106 Because they were immigrants, there were no local records for the inspector to consult, and when asked, most of them claimed to not know their age. A few of them, however, could report on their time paying tribute. For instance, Domingo Cunqui, from San Juan de Quivi in Canta province, told the inspector that he had paid tribute for eight years before heading to Lima. As Cunqui should have started paying tribute at 18 years old, the inspector used this answer to calculate that he was 26.107 Cunqui's answer and other similar ones suggest that Andeans developed a sense of chronological age related to tribute demands. The inspector, on the other hand, responded to the increasing reliance on the logic of mathematical objectivity in registering tributaries.
For colonial administrators, the accurate registration of Andeans' chronological age played a critical role in quantifying the viceroyalty's wealth and calibrating political decisions. Colonial state making relied on such censuses to see their available tributaries, analyze the current administrative issues, and plan ahead. In 1604, the retiring viceroy, Luis de Velasco, announced to his successor that 5,000 tributaries had been lost from Chucuito since the previous census there, a region highly relevant for its connection to the silver mining center of Potosí.108 Velasco attempted to recover some runaway Andeans by creating a new town with 1,200 tributaries, and subsequent viceroys continued to analyze the implications of such demographic fluctuations for the royal treasury, which composed an important part of government paperwork.109 This all reveals the importance of having accurate reports on tributaries, reports that, as this section has shown, relied on the meticulous procedure for verifying and registering chronological age. The Spanish colonial administration's faith that they could gather accurate data on all Indigenous inhabitants would always remain utopian.
Conclusion: Aging under Spanish Colonial Rule
The registration of Andeans within the tribute regime was systematic, compulsory, homogenizing, and with deep epistemological implications for Andeans and colonial administration. By approaching censuses with an eye for how chronological age functioned to consolidate state power prior to the dawn of modern institutions, I found rich documentary material to suggest that chronological age was key to constructing the colonial administration and mediating the relationship between the crown and its subjects. Spanish colonial administrators pioneered the application of modern Western notions of chronological age to impose homogenous life patterns on vast populations after the discovery of the so-called New World, when cross-cultural encounters between Spaniards and Indigenous civilizations and imperial ambitions of economic extraction triggered the implementation of strategies for molding Indigenous life.
Chronological age provided a way for Spanish colonial authorities to turn Andeans into tributaries, and it also shaped the way that Andeans conceived of their relationship with colonial rule. The 1562 Huánuco census offers the chance to see how Andeans were alienated from their local notions of aging in favor of European conceptions of chronological age and tribute. Beginning with Viceroy Toledo's government, colonial ordinances and laws sought to standardize tributary status and Indigenous labor, and by doing so they created a turning point in Andeans' lives at age 18, the age of tribute. By the end of the sixteenth century, censuses show that age registration relied on verification through written records such as previous censuses and baptism books, which thus reduced to a minimum the interference of subjective judgment that had marked earlier censuses, including communal or personal attempts to manipulate and negotiate records. This reliance also muted Andean age paradigms, at least in the official records.
Historians have recently insisted that practices and ideas associated with European modernity were often produced and discussed first in colonial domains, with colonies serving as laboratories of the state.110 As we have seen, the use of chronological age to create and homogenize tributary status and Indigenous labor was a forerunner to eighteenth- and nineteenth-century European rationalization schemes, even if in those later state regimes age ended up serving national and new imperial political projects. Such an observation should serve to place Latin America more centrally in discussions of the global history of chronological age and to challenge teleological assumptions of bureaucratic development that privilege Europe.
Historians have much more to gain by looking at specific registration of chronological ages. Those seemingly minor details reveal large and shifting epistemological and political structures behind routine scenes. In 1562, don Andrés Auquilluqui could not report either his own age or that of his wife. But he knew the age of his sons and daughter: Luis was nine years old, Cristóbal was five, and Leonor was seven.111 In this mundane detail, we see how as the memories and experiences of the Incas faded over time, the generations born after the arrival of the Spanish conquerors tied their fates to the tribute demands of Spanish colonial rule. Luis, Cristóbal, and Leonor were born in a new age.
Thanks to anonymous reviewers and colleagues who read earlier drafts of this manuscript and contributed with valuable feedback, especially José Carlos de la Puente Luna. I significantly benefited from the comments of Corrie Decker and other historians during the American Historical Association seminar on chronological age, organized by Corinne Field and Nicholas Syrett in 2021. Archival research was possible thanks to the James R. Scobie Award from the Conference on Latin American History. Finally, none of this would have been possible without the constant encouragement and intellectual advice of Bianca Premo.
Notes
Ortiz de Zúñiga, Visita, 1:13.
Ortiz de Zúñiga, 1:37.
For a wonderful discussion on chronological age as a category of analysis, see Field and Syrett, “Introduction.” For a framework for the multiple dimensions of aging, see Settersten and Goldewski, “Concepts and Theories.”
Research that explicitly or tangentially deals with modern applications of chronological age in colonial and postcolonial regions, especially related to childhood and youth, has fruitfully grown in recent years: Decker, “Fathers”; George, Making Modern Girls; Morrison, Childhood, esp. 23–42; Walters, “‘Child!’”; Robinson, “Resistance,” esp. 132–33; Ocobock, Uncertain Age; Pande, “Power”; Chatani, “Man at Twenty,” 428.
See, for instance, Porter, Trust in Numbers, 24; Bartl, Papilloud, and Terracher-Lipinski, “Governing by Numbers,” 19–23.
Spaniards registered chronological age as a means to regulate a subject population's tribute in all their conquests. Perhaps the clearest precedent for Spanish America could be found in Iberia, where tax records show age categories for Moriscos, the Muslim population subjugated to the Castilian crown. See González, Censo, 364–65. In Mexico, tribute lists suggest that colonizers faced challenges when standardizing age similar to those in the Andes. See Cline, Book, 30–35.
Youngs, Life Cycle, 12–17.
Premo, “Meticulous Imprecision.”
Premo, Children, 22–23.
For a discussion on the marriage of a seven-year-old Inca girl and age of consent, see Mumford, “Child Marriage.”
See the chapters on early colonial childhood in Rodríguez and Mannarelli, Historia de la infancia. For more on age and Christian rituals, see Tanck de Estrada, “Indian Children,” 18–21; Romero, “Colonizing Childhood,” 44.
On race and colonial rule, see Fisher and O'Hara, Imperial Subjects; Martínez, Genealogical Fictions.
On the Inquisition and “race-thinking,” see Silverblatt, “Haunting.”
See Graubart, With Our Labor; Premo, “From the Pockets.”
Pollack, “Hacia una historia,” 72–92; Seed, Ceremonies, 81–83.
“Orden de realización de censo de indios,” Valladolid, 1537, Archivo General de Indias, Seville (hereafter cited as AGI), Patronato 277, ramo 8, no. 3, fol. 1r.
Recopilación, tomo 1, libro 2, título 31, ley 1. Ian Hacking noticed that “a census was an affair more of colonies than of homelands.” Hacking, Taming, 17. Patricia Cline Cohen argued that British populations were unfamiliar with censuses in the early modern period. Cohen, Calculating People, 35.
See, for example, multiple pechero (Spanish vassal) lists in González, Censo. Richard Kagan published a 1569 census from the city of Toledo that he describes as “unusually detailed” because it specifies the number of women and children. Yet this census lacks age categories. Kagan, “Contando vecinos,” 117–18.
On colonial-era khipus, see Salomon, Cord Keepers, 109–35.
Ramírez, World, 88.
See Merluzzi, Gobernando, 139–43.
Levillier, Gobernantes, 1:21.
Espinoza Soriano, “La visita,” 60.
Aibar Ozejo, “La visita.”
“Audiencia de Lima: Visita repartimientos de indios; Huamanga,” Lima, 1561, AGI, Patronato 188, ramo 28.
Ortiz de Zúñiga, Visita, 1:9.
See Gharala, Taxing Blackness, 25–30.
Graubart, With Our Labor, 56.
The lack of church presence was reported by Andeans and the inspector. See, for example, Ortiz de Zúñiga, Visita, 2:259.
Ortiz de Zúñiga, 1:117, 1:161. In translating the passages, I emended the idiosyncratic punctuation and grammar of the original for ease of reading.
See Dean, “Sketches of Childhood”; Nowack, “Measuring”; Rostworowski, “Mediciones,” 185–88.
Rowe, “Age Grades,” 511.
Jiménez de la Espada, Tres relaciones, 20.
Lamana, Pensamiento, 190.
See Hopkins, Childhood, 12; Chudacoff, How Old, 10.
Ortiz de Zúñiga, Visita, 1:148.
Ortiz de Zúñiga, 1:139.
Nowack, “Measuring,” 89–95.
Manzel, Baten, and Stolz, “Convergence,” esp. 932–35; Crayen and Baten, “Global Trends.” However, these studies reproduce misleading conclusions as the accurate chronological age they observed for the colonial period resulted from consulting with other registers and not people's numerical skills. See the third section of this article.
Urton, Social Life, 194–201.
Ortiz de Zúñiga, Visita, 1:138.
Ortiz de Zúñiga, 1:115.
For an example from Huamanga, see Stern, Peru's Indian Peoples, 125–26.
Cook, La catástrofe demográfica.
See Cummins, “Competing and Commensurate Values.” This market-driven use of age can also be found in the cattle trade. During an inspection in Chucuito in 1567, a curaca assigned the value of cattle based on age; for example, a two-year-old ram was worth between six and eight pesos. Diez de San Miguel, Visita, 31. For an example of age categories being used in herding, see Castro de Trelles, “Quipus coloniales,” 362.
See Spalding, “Crises”; Stern, “Variety.”
Ortiz de Zúñiga, Visita, 2:47.
On visitas as performances aimed at manipulating tribute quotas, see Guevara-Gil and Salomon, “Tradiciones culturales.”
Curacas' attempts were ultimately ineffective. Most heads of households answered that their work rate was similar to the time before Spanish rule, and at the end of the census the inspector pointed to this to justify not decreasing the tribute quotas. Ortiz de Zúñiga, Visita, 2:257.
Some preconquest age thresholds for tribute provided by chronicles suspiciously fit the Spanish legal system. For example, Santillán, a fervent supporter of conducting censuses, wrote that the Inca leader “Topa Inca Yupanqui” only required tribute assessments of men aged 25 to 50. Jiménez de la Espada, Tres relaciones, 44. The first number corresponds with the age at which legal adulthood began in Spanish law. Similarly, Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala stressed in his famous 1615–16 chronicle aimed at defending Andeans from Spanish mistreatment that Incas only requested half the normal tribute payment from males who were 18 years old. Guaman Poma de Ayala, Nueva corónica, 202 [204]. Eighteen was, perhaps not coincidentally, the age at which male tributaries were required to start paying tribute assessments after Viceroy Toledo's general inspection.
Spalding, “Notes,” 214.
Colonial authorities worked to this end. For instance, the Spanish jurist Juan de Matienzo, one of Viceroy Toledo's advisers, proposed in Gobierno del Perú (1567) to register the age, marital status, and jobs of Andeans, mestizos, mulatos, and Black people. In another example of this tendency, a set of ordinances in Jayanca (in northern Peru) in 1567 demarcated Indigenous tributaries as between 17 and 47 years old. Those older than 47 were no longer required to pay tribute but were expected to continue helping the community to protect crop fields from cattle and birds. See Gregorio González Cuesta, “Ordenanzas para el repartimiento de Jayanca,” Lima, 1566, AGI, Patronato 189, ramo 11, fol. 23v.
See Spalding, “Notes,” 231; Merluzzi, Gobernando.
On Indigenous tribute, see Escobedo Mansilla, El tributo.
Noejovich, “La transición,” 73–76; Vargas Ugarte, “Ordenanzas,” 170.
Mumford, Vertical Empire, 9.
Penry, People Are King, 65, 68.
Toledo, Disposiciones, 1:43. While marriage prior to age 18 could launch a male Andean into tributary status, chronological age remained the only way for tributary status to end.
Cook, Tasa de la Visita General.
See, for example, the chapters and ordinances for the town of Nuestra Señora de Belén de Tinquipaya, reproduced in Abercrombie, Pathways, 430.
See “Cédula que manda se guarde en las Indias el kalendario nueuamente hecho para la reformación del año,” reproduced in Comas, “El calendario gregoriano,” 211.
Curatola Petrocchi and Puente Luna, “Contar concertando.”
Puente Luna, “Calendars in Knotted Cords,” 447, 453.
Levillier, Gobernantes, 8:126.
Levillier, 8:375.
Levillier, 8:26.
Levillier, 8:245.
Levillier, 8:351.
Levillier, 8:322.
In 1604 the viceroy Luis de Velasco, for instance, ordered that Andeans between 10 and 17 years old working in a textile workshop must be fairly paid and fed: “Visita del obraje de Xalma de doña Constansa Vega,” Huánuco, 1604, Biblioteca Nacional del Perú, Lima, Manuscritos, 2000001321, fol. 8r.
Miranda, El tributo, 250.
Phelan, Hispanization, 95.
Recopilación, libro 6, título 16, ley 3; libro 6, título 17, ley 5.
Recopilación, libro 6, título 5, ley 7.
Román Tamez, Indios, 131.
Ariès, Centuries.
See Pilcher, Age and Generation, 38–39; Schmidt, “Children,” 176–77.
Viceroy Francisco de Borja y Aragón mentioned in his 1621 government memorias that Andeans from Chucuito complained about tribute payments being forced on those outside the legal age range. Believing their complaints, he conceded to those forced to make the payments the release of tributary burden. Beltrán y Rózpide, Colección, 243–45.
Martínez Ferrer, Tercer Concilio Limense, 239–41. See also Levillier, Gobernantes, 8:359–60.
Ramírez, “Chérrepe,” 120.
Beltrán y Rózpide, Colección, 119. The viceroy Juan de Mendoza y Luna continued building schools for children in Lima. Beltrán y Rózpide, 35–36.
For more on colonial childhood and labor, see Vergara, “Growing Up Indian.”
For the analogy between Indigenous people and children, see Premo, Children, 32–34.
For a partial list of such censuses, see Cook, “Visitas.”
Brendecke, Empirical Empire, 229.
Jiménez de la Espada, Relaciones geográficas, 138–40.
On the concept of legibility, see Scott, Seeing Like a State.
Mathematics has been linked to a sense of European superiority. See Bishop, “Western Mathematics.”
For a description of this process, see Presta, “La tasa,” 259.
Spalding, Huarochirí, 161, 217.
See Ramos, “Pastoral Visitations.”
Spalding, Huarochirí, 181–87.
Cook, “Visitas,” 136.
Charles, Allies at Odds, 109.
Gordillo and del Río, La visita, 270.
Salomon, Feltham, and Grosboll, La revisita, 155.
Salomon, Feltham, and Grosboll, 132.
“Padrón de indios de Chupaca,” Jauja, 1600, Archivo General de la Nación, Lima (hereafter cited as AGN), fondo Campesinado, Derecho Indígena, leg. 31, cuaderno 612, fol. 5v.
Pease G. Y., Collaguas, 104.
“Autos de Agustín Arce de Quirós sobre que se le pague por la revisita,” 1606, AGN, fondo Campesinado, Derecho Indígena, leg. 4, doc. 50, fol. 16v.
“Revisita y empadronamiento del repartimiento de Huambos,” 1610, AGN, fondo Campesinado, Derecho Indígena, leg. 31, doc. 626, fol. 2v.
“Revisita y padrón de los indios del repartimiento de Parinacochas,” 1616, AGN, fondo Campesinado, Derecho Indígena, leg. 5, doc. 61, fol. 35r.
“Padrón de indios de Chupaca,” Jauja, 1600, AGN, fondo Campesinado, Derecho Indígena, leg. 31, cuaderno 612, fol. 22r.
“Exclusión de indio difunto del padrón de tributarios de Chacaralla,” Lucanas, 1622, AGN, fondo Campesinado, Derecho Indígena, leg. 6, doc. 73, fols. 7v, 10v.
For a classic study, see Chudacoff, How Old.
On immigration to Lima, see Charney, “Negotiating Roots.”
Contreras, Padrón, 457.
Velasco was not the first to use tribute reports to organize Indigenous labor. In 1578 Francisco de Toledo used censuses to decide on the number of Andean mitayos sent to Potosí. Toledo, Disposiciones, 2:359–96.
Beltrán y Rózpide, Colección, 119, 213–14.
Stoler, Race, 15–16.
Ortiz de Zúñiga, Visita, 2:66.
