3
ANDEAN SCHOLARSHIP IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
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Writers, Networks, and Texts

THE EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY COUNTERPARTS OF Juan de Cuevas Herrera, Jerónimo Lorenzo Limaylla, and Juan Núñez Vela de Rivera lived and wrote in a different social milieu. Preexisting conflicts deepened in the 1700s and new ones appeared, prompting the creation of more comprehensive agendas and forms of legal activism that shed light on the politics of the “Indian nation” and its historical construction through a more sophisticated discourse, cabildo politics, and Andean lobbying in the core of the Spanish empire. The networks of scholarly and activist collaboration expanded and their issues diversified as Andean intellectuals and leaders in Spain struggled to obtain socially empowering royal decrees. This chapter explains the new elements of this social milieu and introduces the most visible writers of the eighteenth century, identifying their roles as Andean leaders within such a context and in connection with the collective circuits of knowledge, logistics, and activism they developed. Their texts are described and contextualized, and issues of authorship of anonymous texts are discussed.

The 1700s witnessed escalating social unrest and reform of the empire. The introduction of the repartimiento de comercio in the late seventeenth century created further havoc in communities in the following decades, which worsened in the 1720s as Viceroy Castelfuerte attempted economic revival. His infamous numeraciones (censuses) increased the number of tribute payers and mitayos following a severe cholera epidemic and displaced mestizos to tributary status after they became liable for tithes and other ecclesiastical contributions, all of which unleashed revolts in the 1730s.¹ In the last years of the 1600s and at the start of the 1700s, ecclesiastics seem to have enjoyed greater support from the government, as several archbishops rose to the viceregal office, albeit some of them temporarily. Local priests exerted stronger personal authority in their parishes; the increasing number of Andeans’ complaints about excessive demands by curas and conflicts between curas and corregidores over the repartos further charged an already tense social atmosphere.²

The Bourbons intended to address the empire’s inherited and new problems through administrative, secular, and fiscal reforms that ended up triggering an upsurge of discontent, lettered criticism, protest, and rebellions—all of which found expression in the Andean writings of the period. The reformers sought to centralize the government and augment royal revenue by increasing fiscal demands on a wide section of the population. They tightened demands on Indian labor and legalized the hated repartos in 1756, something Castelfuerte had favored since 1724. Progressively, the “enlightened” reformers attempted to curtail the autonomy of the church by secularizing parishes run by the regular orders (1753), confiscating ecclesiastical property, and ultimately expelling the Jesuits from the Spanish empire.³ These anti-clerical policies stirred up criticism of the viceregal authorities among the regular orders, particularly the Franciscans who enthusiastically supported Andean critical writings and trips to Spain in 1749.⁴

Criticism of the deepening official corruption that had begun in the 1600s was prominent in the new century’s Andean texts. Writers particularly criticized the way corruption impacted the effectiveness of the legal system in matters pertaining to the enforcement of the cédula de honores and the redress to continued excesses against Amerindians and mestizos by colonial political, ecclesiastical, and economic agents. In the late 1740s, while the “Representación verdadera” was being prepared, problems with the repartimiento were being debated in Lima. Viceroy Conde de Superunda was expected to regulate the repartimiento quotas and curtail corruption; he introduced a new arancel (quota) that amounted to de facto legalization of this unpopular practice.⁵

In the 1700s the Andean tradition from Cusco of using Inca memory to support Indian claims of nobility spread to other areas of the viceroyalty and expanded into a utopian ideology that aimed to restore Inca traditions and rule.⁶ This tradition expressed itself through writing, heraldry, iconographic art, dress, and ceremonial life. Utopian ideologies, however, coexisted in unpredictable ways with different Andean agendas based on both the age-old tradition of Andean criticism and reform efforts and the Bourbons’ newer criticism of long-standing Habsburg administrative practices (Chapters 5 and 6).

The writers and social activists in the first half of the 1700s, including Don Vicente Morachimo and the Franciscan Fray Calixto de San José Túpac Inca, reflected on these issues and shared common ground with their earlier counterparts in directing their critiques toward the webs of corrupt corregidores, judges, priests, and caciques. They also used their writing as part of a wider social activism through Andean social networks operating on both sides of the Atlantic. The new scholars, however, incorporated a broader set of concerns, proposals, and denunciations and, particularly in the case of Fray Calixto, simultaneously engaged the different powers of colonial society (e.g., the king, the church, the audiencias, miners, hacendados, merchants) in debates about colonial justice, social exclusion, and political participation. The writings of Andeans evolved as the tensions grew unsustainable, mirroring the upheavals of the late eighteenth century as rebels such as Don José Gabriel Condorcanqui Túpac Amaru II sought to address—often violently—some of the issues raised in earlier decades by Andean intellectuals and social leaders.

Although the legal campaigns for abolition of the mita system did not succeed in the 1600s, Andean leaders continued to test the strength of the colonial judicial system in the Bourbon era, expanding their presence in the public spaces of audiencias and the king’s court. Through discussions in meetings, traveling between provinces and to the viceregal capital, and crossing the Atlantic Ocean from Lima to the royal court, the networks of writers and litigants grew larger in the eighteenth century and connected Indian authorities from areas as remote as Chachapoyas, in the Peruvian Amazon; Cusco, the central Andean zone of the Mantaro Valley (including the mining area of Huancavelica); Lima; and beyond to the northern coastal provinces. With agents in Lima and Spain also connected to Indian nobles from Mexico, these networks incorporated noble Indians and mestizos, legal advisers, Indian priests, Spanish and creole ecclesiastics, Indian and mestizo escribanos, sympathetic procuradores de naturales, and a few audiencia judges. These agents helped structure, draft, print, disseminate, and properly file memoriales in the regional audiencias and the royal court in Spain. Designated caciques or their representatives conducted the “diplomatic” strategy, traveling to the royal court with their writings and negotiating new decrees that responded to the demands presented.

In Madrid, Indian noble residents at the court met and worked with sojourning Andean envoys from Peru, sharing information and helping deliver the petitions to the appropriate destinations.⁷ One of the best-known Indian residents at the royal court in Madrid was Don Juan de Bustamante Carlos Inga, an Indian noble from Cusco. Bustamante used his access to the king to help Fray Calixto de San José Túpac Inca and the caciques from El Cercado advance petitions for Indians’ free passage to Spain.⁸ In 1754 another prominent member of this network who was traveling in Madrid, the Tlaxcalan Indian noble and presbítero (presbyter) Don Julián Cirilo y Castilla, gave a speech before the Council of the Indies in defense of autonomous education for Indians.⁹ By the 1720s the Lima network of Indian activists had widened the scope of its work, adopting causes of Andeans from various areas of the viceroyalty who were not in a position to travel to Lima to seek justice in the real audiencia.¹⁰ It was in the royal courts of the Audiencia of Lima and Madrid during this era where legal advocates for Indian justice such as Don Vicente Morachimo focused their work and found the cases that substantiated their legal discourses.

DON VICENTE MORACHIMO

The more prominent Indian networks of colonial Peru were centered in Lima and on the indigenous town council in El Cercado; they worked in conjunction with Indian officials who served in the colonial state. A prominent member of this network in the 1720s and 1730s, Don Vicente Morachimo, claimed to be a descendant of the ancient Chimu lords of coastal Peru and introduced himself as diputado general and procurador de naturales from the town of Lambayeque (Saña Province) in 1722. As a diputado general and procurador de naturales, Morachimo was literate and knowledgeable about Spanish law and judicial procedures; he became the steward of the legal rights of the caciques and communities under the jurisdiction of the Audiencia of Lima.¹¹ As a procurador de naturales, Morachimo operated mostly in Lima and Madrid, but his writings reflect the colonial experience of communities throughout the viceroyalty of Peru—particularly those located in the coastal zones to the north of Lima in the Provinces of Saña and Trujillo, where he had been a cacique in several towns of the Chicama and Chimo valleys.

Morachimo was one of the earliest Andean nobles to visit the royal court in the eighteenth century, when Viceroy (and Archbishop of Lima) Diego Morcillo Rubio de Auñón granted him permission to travel to Spain and present his complaints against the land surveyor Don Pedro de Alsamora directly to the king in 1721.¹² Morachimo received power of attorney from various caciques to advance their causes in the Audiencia of Lima and in Spain. His visits to the Spanish court as an Indian legal representative gave him the legal knowledge and experience necessary to fulfill his duties and establish himself as an intermediary between the upper officials and the Indian elites and communities under the jurisdiction of the Audiencia of Lima.

The position of diputado general de Indios not only entailed knowledge of the Spanish legal codes but also required a substantial amount of writing, typically judicial memoriales, lawsuits, and reports to the king. Morachimo composed memoriales to the king in 1722, 1724, 1727, 1729, and 1732 and remained in Spain for several years lobbying for their implementation and awaiting responses from the Council of the Indies and the king. The bulk of his denunciations against colonial justice delved into the colluding networks of corregidores, audiencia judges, and viceroys. During those years, Morachimo approached the Council of the Indies and King Philip V to expose the social unrest in the northern coastal zone of Lambayeque: the hardships of the mita system, loss of communal lands, and abuses of corregidores. He advocated the abolition of the mita institution, opposed abusive land surveys and illegal composiciones de tierras, and supported the restitution of lands to the dispossessed and allotments to landless indigenous groups. He also fought against the excesses of the corregidores’ repartimiento de mercancías and the numeraciones and ultimately denounced the imprisonment of caciques who complained against the corregidores and called for their removal from office. In response, King Louis I issued another real cédula on January 21, 1724, prohibiting further land inspections and surveys and commanding the restitution of lands to those affected.

The escalating tensions resulting from such situations and the growing number of memoriales with complaints from caciques prompted Morachimo to compose his best-known writing, the “Manifiesto de agravios y vejaciones” (Figure 3.1). He visited the royal court again in 1732 to expose the systematic failure of the king’s protective policies and to file the “Manifiesto” with the Council of the Indies.¹³ In addition to substantiating the aforementioned issues, in the “Manifiesto” Morachimo voiced his concern that officials’ irregularities had prompted Indians to run away to the mountains, thus fomenting idolatry and hampering evangelization, and he warned the crown about the threat such an irregularity represented to the stability of the kingdom. Morachimo also committed to support the legal campaigns of native elites’ defense of their right to nobility, a continuing political struggle since the late seventeenth century. Morachimo demanded enforcement of the 1697 cédula de honores, which granted Andeans the right to enjoy secular and ecclesiastical positions and extended noble privileges to Indians. A royal decree dated January 21, 1725, restated the purposes of the previous ruling in response to Morachimo’s demands. These were crucial legal weapons in the struggle for social equality by Andean elites for nearly the next forty-five years. A long list of legal transgressions of previous royal policies designed to protect Indian commoners also substantiated Morachimo’s critical assessment of the state of justice in late-colonial Peru.¹⁴

The “Manifiesto” remains an important document for the study of Andean legal culture and discursive formation. Copies circulated widely in Madrid and Spanish Peru, since the Bourbon court supported its printing and distribution; the denunciations of corruption and social unrest also justified the Bourbon agenda of administrative reform. It seems that the manuscript was utilized in 1749 to substantiate the critical reports of Spanish visitors Jorge Juan and Antonio de Ulloa (the Noticias Secretas de América) about the social disorder in late-colonial Peru.¹⁵ Morachimo’s “Manifiesto” also played a role as a blueprint for the uprisings in the late 1730s and indirectly for those in the 1750s.

Figure 3.1 “Manifiesto de los agravios y vejaciones” by Vicente Morachimo. AGI, Lima, 422, 1732, folio 1.

The text spelled out the many abuses and broken laws that eventually culminated in the initial uprisings of the eighteenth century. The motifs of these movements coincided with the evils voiced in the “Manifiesto,” specifically the abusive mita system, which the Bourbons attempted to expand to mestizos; the illicit practices of corregidores and their repartimiento de comercio; and rejection of the personal service demanded of Indians and allegedly of mestizos as well. These factors played a part in the movement of Andahuaylas in 1726 and the rebellions of the 1730s in Cochabamba (Charcas) and Cotabambas (Cusco), where Andeans demanded the removal of Spanish corregidores and the replacement of Spanish alcaldes by creoles and in which Spanish authorities were killed and rebels brutally executed. In 1739 Juan Vélez de Córdoba rose up in arms, reiterating Morachimo’s complaints against the Bourbons’ attempts to assimilate mestizos to the status of tributarios and to demand the end of tributes, mitas, and repartos.¹⁶

The “Manifiesto” thus helped shape other writings of the period as it circulated among rebels, providing a legal foundation others could use to demonstrate the legitimacy of rebellion as a means to achieve justice when the colonial legal system failed to redress Indian subjects. Morachimo died at age fifty in the San Lorenzo Hospital in Madrid.¹⁷ While in Madrid, where he traveled many times to represent the legal causes of Andeans in Peru, Morachimo met another Peruvian and mestizo lay brother who became instrumental in the movement for the social empowerment of Andeans and who is discussed next.

FRAY CALIXTO DE SAN JOSÉ TÚPACINCA

A key figure of the social and intellectual leadership in mid–eighteenth-century Andean Peru was the Franciscan and mestizo lay brother Fray Calixto de San José Túpac Inca. He represented a sophisticated type of Andean scholar that emerged in the mid-eighteenth century when winds of rebellion swept through the viceregal center. Originally from Tarma (in the Peruvian north-central Andes) and born sometime around 1710, he claimed to be the son of Doña Dominga Estefanía Túpac Inca, a member of the Inca elite, and Don Pedro Montes, possibly a Spaniard or a mestizo. Fray Calixto professed to be a “descendant of the eleventh Inca King named Túpac Inga Yupanqui.”¹⁸

This Andean scholar’s intellectual evolution was largely informed by his relationship with the Franciscan order starting in young adulthood. Fray Calixto joined the Franciscan convent of his town as a donado (servant allowed to wear the habit) in 1727, later becoming an ecclesiastical official in the Province of Lima where he served for about nine years as the procurator of the Holy House of Jerusalem, managing donations for the Franciscan missions. For two years he served as the procurator for the Santa Rosa de Viterbo beaterio.¹⁹ During these years he met Franciscan Fray Antonio Garro, a creole priest and teacher of Quechua at the Convento Grande de Jesús in Lima, who supported the cause of Indian justice and perhaps contributed to the writing of Andean representaciones.

Under the orders of Fray José Gil Muñoz, later the commissary of Franciscan missions in Peru, Fray Calixto was bound to the Holy Land in 1744. The weather in the Atlantic kept him from completing the trip, however, and he had to return from Guatemala to the Province of Charcas, where Gil Muñoz assigned him to the Quillabamba Valley missions. These were the years of the rebellion by Juan Santos Atahualpa in the central selva, a region neighboring the missions of Quillabamba.²⁰ As a missionary in the Charcas and Cusco provinces after 1744, Fray Calixto came in close contact with Fray Isidoro de Cala, with whom he eventually traveled to Spain to deliver the “Representación verdadera.” Cala, a peninsular and Franciscan missionary in the Cerro de la Sal area, was another sympathizer with the Andeans’ cause and worked toward rebuilding the Franciscan conversion of the Viceroyalty of Peru’s Amazon frontier. Cala was a preacher and taught theology at the Franciscan convent in Lima; he later became the commissary of the Apostolic Province of San Antonio de Charcas. He was assigned to the Cusco missions of Quillabamba, where Fray Calixto joined him in 1744. Cala directly supported Calixto’s activities and was one of various Franciscans who wrote recommendation letters to the king on behalf of Fray Calixto, certifying his credentials as a Franciscan functionary and missionary. Calixto was also recommended by Fray Juan de San Antonio, a Franciscan attorney of the Cerro de la Sal conversions and vice commissary of the Franciscan mission, who was in Spain in 1751 recruiting missionaries to rebuild the Cerro de la Sal missions. While Fray Calixto was residing in the Franciscan convents in Madrid and Valencia (1750–1753), he was in contact with Fray San Antonio and obtained reference letters he attached to support the “Representación verdadera.”²¹

The mestizo friar also built connections with kurakas from regions beyond his native Tarma, including Jauja, Huarochirí, Lima, and Cusco.²² This probably occurred because he was aiding Franciscan missionaries in various provinces and because he lived in Lima in the 1730s, where he related with the cabildo in Santiago del Cercado, a convergence point for network members living in and visiting Lima.²³ The authorities within El Cercado’s cabildo empowered Fray Calixto to represent them in Rome and Madrid and to deliver manifestos to both the pope and the king. Calixto’s fluency in Quechua, Spanish, and Latin, as well as his cultural proximity to native Andeans and mestizos, enabled him not only as an author but also as an Indian representative and helped him advance Andeans’ interests—particularly the concerns of the nobility of Inca descendants.²⁴

In 1748 Fray Calixto returned to Lima, meeting with El Cercado cabildo, preparing the “Representación verdadera,” and getting ready for his trip to Europe. After drafting the manuscript, Calixto consulted the caciques of El Cercado and the Franciscans from Lima about the final version before he traveled to Jauja in August 1748. In November he proceeded to Cusco to share the manuscript with the caciques of the Indian cabildo, who were hesitant to sign for fear of reprisal even though they supported the content. Accompanied by Isidoro de Cala and with little financial support, Fray Calixto finally departed clandestinely from Cusco to Buenos Aires on September 25, 1749, on the way to Spain to deliver the “Representación verdadera.”²⁵

Through old and new acquaintances, Fray Calixto helped to connect and expand the network from Lima to Spain, finding allies who shared a common agenda for the social repositioning of elite Indians and mestizos. In Madrid, Calixto contacted noble Incas from Cusco, such as Don Juan de Bustamante Carlos Inga, who resided at the court and joined the efforts of the network of El Cercado to seek justice directly from the king.²⁶ The network of Indian allies in Spain eventually extended to noble Indians from Mexico, including the Tlaxcalan Cirilo y Castilla, who had been in contact with Don Felipe Tacuri Mena—another trans-Atlantic traveler from El Cercado cabildo.²⁷ The Tlaxcalan noble campaigned in Madrid for autonomous schools for Indians in Mexico, inspiring Don Felipe, who, in turn, encouraged El Cercado caciques to petition for native schools with Indian teachers.²⁸

As described, the work of the eighteenth-century Indian network centered in Lima was also supported by Franciscan missionary authorities and priests, including Fray José Gil Muñoz, Fray Antonio Garro, and Fray Isidoro de Cala. They provided assistance to the writers and disseminators of the “Representación verdadera,” logistical support for their trans-Atlantic travel, and educational opportunities in Spain. Members of the Jesuit order also contributed at different stages, offering advice and assistance; for example, Fray Calixto consulted with the Jesuits from the San Borja school of caciques in Cusco in 1749 and sought their support for his journey to Spain. Although the Jesuits apparently offered no financial support, it seems they did persuade the friar to proceed with the undertaking. As the priest of El Cercado in 1750, the Jesuit Father Felipe de Mantilla sent memoriales to the king in Spain, supporting the Indians.²⁹

While in Spain, Fray Calixto joined the seminary school in the Franciscan convent of Saint Spirit in Valencia (Spain) in 1752, where he was trained and ordained as a lay brother.³⁰ He returned from Spain to the missions of Charcas in 1754 and was back in Lima in 1756, apparently organizing clandestine protest activities with the Indians of El Cercado native cabildo. Viceroy Conde de Superunda accused the friar of instigating new Indian conspiracies in 1756 and, in January 1757, ordered his imprisonment and expulsion to Spain, where Fray Calixto remained secluded in the Recolection of the Adamuz Desert, a Franciscan outpost in the Province of Granada.³¹

THE “REPRESENTACIÓN VERDADERA”

Following the festivities celebrating the coronation of King Ferdinand VI in Lima in February 1748, caciques from El Cercado Province and other Indian and mestizo leaders discussed the need to address the problems related to their social exclusion, the injustice of the repartimiento de comercio, and other unresolved social issues from past decades. The caciques set up a council of twelve caciques principales who were to organize the movement. They entrusted Fray Calixto with writing a manifesto that would be resubmitted to the caciques for final scrutiny before delivery to the king in Spain.³² The “Representación verdadera” was finished in early 1749 and was printed soon thereafter (Figure 3.2).³³ The council entrusted Fray Antonio Garro to compose in Latin a memorial to the pope, which came to be known as the “Planctus indorum” (Indian Lamentation). The two texts were written anonymously and printed clandestinely in Lima.³⁴ The “Representación verdadera” was written around 1749, and the “Planctus indorum” was perhaps composed in late 1750 and early 1751.³⁵ Fray Calixto de San José and Fray Isidoro de Cala brought the two texts and many other supporting documents to Europe. They handed the “Representación verdadera” to the king on August 23, 1750.³⁶

As with many other indigenous texts of the colonial era, Andean writers sought to present their manuscripts in a language and a format that appealed to the king or to their addressees.³⁷ Enveloped in the language of the biblical lamentation of the Prophet Jeremiah, the “Representación verdadera” is a treatise that combines theological and political debates on Indian priesthood and denounces a variety of abuses against native Andeans by corregidores, parish priests, and judges in colonial Peru. The central argument is that Amerindian and mestizos are entitled to join religious orders, to hold ecclesiastical and secular positions, and to receive a more secular education in “science and letters.”

More important, the manuscript introduces a discussion of the Andeans’ notion of social justice under colonialism (see Chapter 5), a theological and historical defense of Amerindians’ and mestizos’ right to become Catholic priests, and a proposal for social and administrative reform (see Chapter 6). The manuscript ultimately argues that colonial subjection of indigenous peoples in obrajes, mines, and mitas prompted them to run away from Christianity and ultimately to rebel, thus rendering impossible the completion of the Spanish empire’s religious and economic project. The text argues that for centuries, colonial authorities and ultimately the king had neglected Andeans’ plight by failing to enforce the royal protective laws that granted them participation in opportunities for social ascent and civil service. The only way out of such chaos would be to provide for an Indian priesthood and inclusion of Indian administrators in the colonial state to replace corrupt Spanish officials.

Figure 3.2 “Representación verdadera.” Facsimile reproduced in José Toribio Medina, La Imprenta en Lima (1584–1824) (Santiago, Chile: Impreso y grabado en casa del autor, 1905), 541.

The manuscript is structured in long narrative blocks glossed with Latin headings taken from chapter 5 of Jeremiah’s “Lamentations.” The subtitles seek to associate the grievances the prophet Jeremiah raised to Jehovah with the complaints Andeans addressed to Ferdinand VI. The Book of Jeremiah was a compendium of sermons, oracles, autobiographical sketches, and history. The Hebrew prophet served as a minister in Judah in the last forty years of its existence as an independent state, before falling captive to the Babylonians.³⁸ The “Lamentations” in particular was a poem of yearning and grief over the decadence of the nation of Judah following the siege of Jerusalem (the Holy Land) in 586 BC. Although Jeremiah expressed his sadness as a personal sorrow, present in the background is a “national suffering” over the demise of the independent state of Israel.³⁹ Hebrew prophets incorporated satire in their preaching, and their narrative strategy consisted of subtly questioning someone or something without openly confronting the reader. They looked for agreement between audience and speaker about the “undesirability of the object of criticism.”⁴⁰ Likewise, the “Representación verdadera” incisively interrogates the reader and uses exclamations to vividly convey the “Indian lament” in order to move the reader to act upon the anomalous situation that begs for an immediate solution.

The critique of Spanish officials in Fray Calixto’s “Representación verdadera” appears enveloped in the sophisticated rhetoric style of the Hebrew prophet Jeremiah, a rhetoric with widespread ecclesiastical use in the Andes. In chapter 5 of Jeremiah’s “Lamentations,” the prophet reminded God of the oppression the Hebrews experienced under the foreign rule of the Chaldeans: “Remember, O Jehovah, what is come upon us: behold and see our reproach. Our inheritance is turned unto strangers, our houses into aliens. We are orphans and fatherless.”⁴¹ Likewise the “Representación verdadera” rephrased Jeremiah’s “Lamentations,” lamenting the state of Andeans under Spanish rule while advancing point-by-point denunciations of social injustice.

According to the biblical book Exodus, to “remember” something alludes to “doing” something immediately to resolve an anomalous situation.⁴² Just as Jeremiah prompted Jehovah to save his people, the Andeans speaking in the “Representación verdadera” urged the king to restore justice in the Andes. Jeremiah acknowledged the sin of his forefathers as the cause of the Hebrews’ enslavement by Egyptians and Assyrians and hoped Jehovah’s eternal kingdom would rescue the Hebrews from slavery. The poem finishes with a somber tone: “But thou hast utterly rejected us; Thou are very wroth against us.”⁴³ In a similar fashion, the “Representación verdadera” paraphrases this statement: “Despreciándonos nos arrojásteis y os airásteis grandemente contra nosotros.”⁴⁴ Ultimately, Fray Calixto’s narrative empowered Andeans as the “chosen people,” transposing the Hebrews to Andeans and thus bringing Jeremiah’s metaphor to the Andean present as a way of equating the legitimacy of the Andean people’s struggles against Spanish oppression with the Hebrews’ struggles against their own slavery in the book of Exodus.

THE QUESTION OF COLLECTIVE AUTHORSHIP
OF THE “REPRESENTACIÓN VERDADERA”

In the wake of an Indian conspiracy to assassinate the viceroy in Lima in June 1750 and the Huarochirí rebellion that followed on July 29, the king ordered Viceroy Conde de Superunda to investigate and to explain the irregularities and complaints detailed in the “Representación verdadera.” Reporting on the events in Lima, the viceroy described the links between the text and the recent conspiracy and the Huarochirí rebellion. Superunda initially accused the Franciscan Fray Antonio Garro, one of Fray Calixto’s Franciscan collaborators, but he exonerated him when he realized that Fray Calixto was one of the main figures behind the production of the text.⁴⁵ Nevertheless, one must not dismiss the possibility that Garro and others, such as the peninsular Franciscan Fray Isidoro de Cala, may have collaborated with Fray Calixto in composing the text because there was a previous relationship among the men, as explained earlier.

Superunda’s initial accusation of Garro as having written the text has misled some historians about the key role Fray Calixto played in the composition and diffusion of the manifesto and in the activism inextricably linked to it.⁴⁶ It later became evident that even Superunda considered Fray Calixto one of the key architects of the manifesto, and he was also convinced that in 1756 Fray Calixto was planning and directing another conspiracy:

[W]hen he [Fray Calixto] arrived in the city, [he] started to spread his old ideas, creating unrest and raising hopes in the Indians, protesting the capital punishment applied to the conspirators of 1750. . . . [H]is prelates then put him in tight seclusion, depriving him from communicating with other indians [sic]. . . . Because it was imperative to find out how far the thoughts of the indians [sic] had gone and what plans resulted from the meetings so cautiously organized and directed by the lay Fray Calixto, I decided to delegate the investigation to Audiencia Judge Don Pedro Bravo del Rivero. . . . In the middle of the investigation, it has transpired, and rumors have spread, that they were planning another conspiracy.⁴⁷

As discussed earlier, Fray Calixto maintained correspondence with other Indian nobles and advocates of Indian education and ethnic autonomy in Spain. Following the coronation festivities of Ferdinand VI in Lima, the twelve caciques from El Cercado entrusted Fray Calixto with composing a manifesto to the king and Garro with writing the “Planctus indorum” to the pope (Figure 3.3). Since the two texts bear a thematic and rhetorical resemblance, Calixto and Garro likely at least discussed the issues to be addressed and collaborated in the composition.

Figure 3.3 “Planctus indorum.” Facsimile reproduced in José Toribio Medina, La Imprenta en Lima (1584–1824) (Santiago, Chile: Impreso y grabado en casa del autor, 1905), insert before page 541.

The “Representación verdadera” in particular was a key piece within an entire political and intellectual agenda designed to reposition Andeans in late-colonial society. The project involved collective writing, social and political activism, exchange of legal information and ideas, circulation of manifestos, and ultimately participation in rebellions, whether directly or indirectly. The notion of authorship in this case would deviate from the current idea of individual authorship. The manuscript’s final version is a product of Andean collective authorship and social activism: the voices of various kurakas and cabildo members remain in the background of the text, as some of them defined during cabildo meetings the issues to be addressed in the manifesto. Later, other regional kurakas were consulted about a draft, and they provided insights and revisions. In a letter from Madrid dated November 14, 1750, and addressed to the Indian cabildo in Lima asking for economic support, Fray Calixto stated:

The time has come to manifest in favor of my beloved brothers, as I expressed . . . in all the meetings and consultations we held after the royal celebrations of the coronation of our King and Lord Don Ferdinand VI. . . . With such purpose, I went to the Jauja Valley in mid August 1748, and the same year, in early November, I went to the great city of Cuzco with the manifesto or “Exclamation” to share it with our relatives the caciques and nobles of that city and its provinces.⁴⁸

Andean collective authorship includes the contributions of known and unknown caciques to the discussion, composition, and diffusion of the manuscripts, as well as their participation in the informal networks discussed earlier—such contributions both preceded and followed the final drafting of the text. Also, Calixto, Garro, Cala, and other contributors and sympathizers with the movement who composed similar documents acted in different capacities as mediators between Andeans and the Spanish authorities. Fray Calixto’s role as cultural and social mediator originated in his activities as a missionary in Cerro de la Sal and the Province of Cusco in the early 1740s, where he was able to placate native protestors on the verge of rebellion.⁴⁹

The ideas in the text express the viewpoints and expectations of various caciques and other Indian and mestizo leaders, many of whose names, backgrounds, and specific contributions went unrecorded, as mentioned earlier. Apparently, Indian leaders of the 1750 Lima conspiracy, including Antonio Cobo and Julián de Ayala, were present during the 1748 meeting and may have participated in the discussions that led to the composition of the manuscript and later revisions of the final draft. Cobo was an alumnus of El Principe school of caciques and used a prophecy by Santa Rosa to raise consciousness and gain supporters for the rebellion.⁵⁰ Indian cabildo members in 1748—including Don Santiago de la Vega, Don Pedro Condor Anchay, Don Martin Guaman, Don Isidro Colqui y Pruna, and Don Francisco Jordán—may also have participated in the discussion meetings, since they were convened at the suggestion of the cabildo. Fray Calixto referred to them, and to the practice of discussing and collectively approving the contents of the manuscript, in the aforementioned letter.⁵¹

The entire manuscript was written in the first-person plural “we,” perhaps suggesting the writing project’s collective character. In a collective undertaking such as this, the “author” is actually a network of social and intellectual leaders who, beyond their literacy and theological and philosophical backgrounds, are actively engaged in defending the interests of Indian authorities and their communities—a defense that takes a particular expression in the written text. In these circumstances, writing and discursive battles are one among a variety of political tools in the Indians’ struggle for ethnic self-assertion and racial equality. These networks supported the rebels and social movements in Lima and Huarochirí in 1750, although the topic is not openly raised in the manuscript.⁵²

The literate Indians who wrote and filed memoriales, either in connection with networks or by themselves, used credited sources to improve both their writing skills according to colonial administrative standards and their legal knowledge.⁵³ Andean scholars such as Juan de Cuevas Herrera, Jerónimo Lorenzo Limaylla, Juan Núñez Vela de Rivera, Vicente Morachimo, Fray Calixto de San José, and dozens of other kurakas who filed lawsuits against Spaniards based their legal claims on knowledge acquired from the Política Indiana, written by the Spanish jurist Juan de Solórzano.

Although it is probably the richest expression of the hybrid Andean cultures in the late colonial period, the “Representación verdadera” has remained largely unstudied as a social and cultural text in its own right. In spite of the manuscript’s recognized centrality in both the so-called Inca nationalist movement and the Inca renaissance of the eighteenth century, very little attention has been paid to the literary, political, and religious complexity of the text itself. Ironically, all the scholars⁵⁴ who have devoted any attention to it, with one exception,⁵⁵ have used an abbreviated version of the manuscript, which Francisco Loayza (1948) and Jorge Bernales Ballesteros (1969) edited and published. The most important political and theological elaboration of late-colonial Andean religion—a sixty-folio section titled “Breve y compendiosa satisfacción”—is missing in the edited version most commonly used. Loayza and Bernales Ballesteros advanced the notion of an indigenous nationalism in the colonial Andes as a precursor of the modern Peruvian nation and presented the “Representación verdadera” as an emblem of past Peruvian nationalist movements and a “reformista” (reformist) and “fidelista” (royalist) document.

In 1954, historian John Rowe placed the “Representación verdadera” and the role of Fray Calixto within the context of a movimiento nacional Inca (Inca nationalist movement), which he broadly defined as a series of both peaceful campaigns to redress Indians from the abuses of the colonial system, without modifying the system, and rebellions during the 1700s in which elite Andeans attempted to restore the Inca dynasty by creating a completely independent Inca state—a monarchy in the Spanish style, but with indigenous leaders. The Inca nationalists allegedly upheld the Catholic religion by proposing the formation of an Inca Catholic Church in correspondence with the Spanish Catholic Church. In turn, the independent Inca state envisioned would follow the “ideal state [Inca] Garcilaso [de la Vega] depicted when trying to reform the Spanish administration.”⁵⁶ Such attributions of nationalism to late-colonial Andeans led some scholars to see this text and the Túpac Amaru Rebellion as antecedents of the independence movement.⁵⁷ The textual analysis in subsequent chapters demonstrates that as opposed to an imagined Inca nationalism and beyond Fray Calixto having an Inca surname, the critique of Spanish colonialism and the proposals for social change in the “Representación verdadera” envisioned Andeans participating as equals with Spaniards and mestizos in the judicial and political administration of the colonial state and denied late-colonial Indian elites’ ethnic affiliations to their Inca forefathers.⁵⁸

The chapters that follow show that the “Representación verdadera” not only formed a part of but also distanced itself from the Scholastic tradition, as it subverted the content of such ideas to both de-legitimize the imperial rule of Spain in the Americas and grant political power to natives and mestizos. The textual analysis is necessary to elucidate the mental world of Andean subjects in the late colonial period, particularly the themes of Andean political autonomy as expressed in writing and the intellectual struggles for social inclusion and racial equality. The various voices and discourses the text articulates, the subtle meanings and turns Andeans gave to the dominant colonial notions of religion and identity, their understanding of social justice, and their philosophical and political views anticipated the Túpac Amaru Rebellion and help us reassess the roles of Andean intellectuals and protest writings in the rebellions in mid–and late–eighteenth-century Peru. Fray Calixto also understood the institutional climate of reform in the Bourbon era and seized the opportunity to propose a program of changes. But the manuscript was also produced in the midst of a pre-insurrectionary conjuncture in the viceregal capital and circulated among rebels in 1750, as Fray Calixto arrived in Madrid to advance the comprehensive set of reforms contained in the manifesto.

The widespread and abusive practice of repartimiento de comercio long remained, in part because of the relaxation of the justice system, fueled by the auctioning of audiencia and corregidor posts since the seventeenth century. Unrest increased with the new arancel introduced by the viceroy during the following years. The situation worsened with the royal attempts to degrade mestizos, and the systematic exclusion of Andeans from colonial social institutions deepened. In this arena of conflict, the Bourbons’ mounting fiscal demands triggered a wave of Indian rebellions and conspiracies in eighteenth-century Andean Peru, beginning approximately in the 1730s. Located at the center of colonial power, Indians and mestizos had been planning a massive insurrection since 1748, which eventually came to fruition in 1750. The movement began in the viceregal capital and continued in adjacent regions, such as Huarochirí. Led by Andeans Antonio Cobo, Francisco Jiménez Inga, the mestizo scribe and military chief Miguel Surichac, his lieutenant Pedro Santos, and the scribe Julián de Ayala, the rebellion broke out in Huarochirí on July 25, 1750—less than a month after the plans for the rebellion in Lima, to have taken place on June 29, 1750, were discovered.⁵⁹

Aware of the circulation of the “Representación verdadera” among the insurrectionists, Viceroy Conde de Superunda declared that the rebels were protesting “the mistreatment they receive from corregidores, judges and curas. . . . [B]ut [the Indians have] mainly become exasperated for not being largely admitted in the priesthood and the secular positions of government and the ecclesiastical dignities that Spaniards customarily occupy,” in spite of the fact that their lifestyles and social interactions gave them a sense of belonging to the Spanish world.⁶⁰ These were the core concerns and revindications of the “Representación verdadera.” Later in 1757, the viceroy confirmed the circulation of Andean writings during the upheavals: “[The rebels] destroyed bridges, and wrote letters . . . promoting rebellion in the towns and rural areas.”⁶¹ Superunda was referring more directly to the impact of the “Representación verdadera,” which, along with the 1739 Oruro “Manifiesto” by Juan Vélez de Córdoba, circulated widely in mid–eighteenth-century Peru and inspired native self-assertiveness and rebellion.⁶²

In his statement, Superunda was also alluding to an anonymous manifesto—possibly written by the Amerindian leader Francisco Jiménez Inga, the mestizo Miguel Surichac, or both, and in part copied and rephrased from the “Representación verdadera”—which was confiscated from one of the cabezas del motín (main leaders) executed in August 1750.⁶³ This manifesto is a paraphrase of the “Representación verdadera,” written in the biblical style of Jeremiah. The work equates Andeans with the Hebrews struggling for liberation under the guidance of Moses and evokes the Holy Trinity as “the radiant torch, the sweet medicine of the divine religion, the secure foundation of our salvation.”⁶⁴ The proclamation denounces the oppression commoners and Indian nobles, indigenous women and children, and mestizos (“our relatives, sons of caciques”) suffered in the colonial obrajes and mines, as well as the lack of education and impediments to entering monasteries. The manifesto calls for prompt action:

God has its time limited, and for us, it’s been two hundred years since we are being purged for [the faults of] our progenitors. Remember, fellows, and be aware of the narrow account we will give before God’s tribunal. He who does not love his fellow-creatures cannot possibly love God. It is stated in the Holy Commandments. . . . [And] since [God] sees [his] law so infringed . . . we must stand for our honor . . . for how much longer must we live in this lethargy and ignorance? . . . God is with us in this, and he propitiates that we elect a Captain General as the Hebrews elected Moses to deliver them from their captivity.⁶⁵

The rhetorical format and specifically the denunciations of the Andeans’ exclusion from education and the priesthood detailed in this rebel blueprint had been articulated similarly in the “Representación verdadera.” The redefinition of an Andean identity separate from that of their ancestors paraphrased the rhetorical strategies of Andean scholars in the text, when they rejected stereotypes of idolatry by disassociating current generations of Andeans from their Inca ancestors (see Chapter 7).

Although Fray Calixto did not participate directly in the 1750 rebellion because he was in Lisbon on his way to deliver the “Representación verdadera” in Madrid, he participated in the inception of the rebellion: the 1748 meetings with the Lima caciques and other kurakas and possibly even clerics such as Fray Antonio Garro, where the rebellion was initially discussed. The group planned the composition of the texts for the king and the pope and approved Fray Calixto’s trip to Europe to deliver them and negotiate a solution to the issues raised. A committee of twelve kurakas would lead the rebellion if Fray Calixto’s efforts in Spain failed.⁶⁶

The “Representación verdadera” voiced the concerns of Andean elites from Lima and other Andean provinces who were conscious of more sophisticated forms of social exclusion; it also denounced the exploitation of mitayos, the abuses of the repartimiento de comercio, and the more general mistreatment of Indian women and men in most Andean regions—all of which were triggering factors in the contemporary rebellions. Fray Calixto was particularly adamant about the ubiquitous discrimination against mestizos by Spaniards and the Bourbon attempts to assimilate them into the status of “Indians.”

The text also voiced the realities underlying the rebellions in the frontier areas that were only indirectly connected to the Potosí-Lima axis and possibly more connected to the rebellion in Huarochirí and the social unrest in the frontiers of Cusco Province, where other educated Andeans, including Juan Santos Atahualpa, voiced protest discourses while leading a massive insurrection (1742–1753). Little is known about a possible connection between Fray Calixto and Santos Atahualpa. Among Franciscan missionaries, Fray Calixto was known for mediating in dispute resolutions during his missionary work in Tarma and the Quillabamba missions, both neighboring areas of the rebel territories.⁶⁷ But more clearly, in the “Representación verdadera” Fray Calixto avoided any possible implication regarding the rebellion—diminishing its importance and referring to it as a simple “noise,” limited in geographic scope, that occurred because Indians were harassed by corregidores and missionaries.⁶⁸ Fray Calixto presented the rebellion as a deliberate exaggeration by Spanish authorities who sought to justify disproportionate official expenditures. Even against the accounts of his superiors concerning the widespread support Indians, mestizos, and blacks lent to Santos Atahualpa, he strove to deny indigenous participation in the insurrection.⁶⁹ Instead of plainly rejecting the anti-clerical (more specifically, anti-Franciscan) rebellion by Juan Santos Atahualpa as emphatically as his superiors did, Fray Calixto held Spanish officials responsible for the violence because of the ill treatment they inflicted upon the indigenous peoples of the area.

Like Fray Calixto, Santos Atahualpa allegedly supported the idea of an Indian priesthood, admitting that Indians could get along without Spanish missionaries. He was said to have stated that if the missionaries were unwilling to preach to the jungle Indians without having to bring black soldiers with them, he would bring the Bishop of Cusco to ordain priests in the jungle.⁷⁰ Santos Atahualpa would only accept Jesuit clerics in his would-be “kingdom.”⁷¹ The sources that recorded Santos Atahualpa’s background and actions, however, are mostly second- and thirdhand accounts whose veracity is difficult to establish. Nearly thirty years later, in 1781, another massive insurrection—this one in a central area of the viceroyalty—erupted, bringing to the surface the ideas, writings, and political activism of an Andean rebel much better known in the historical record that reveal the connections between the earlier ideas and discourses of Andean intellectuals and those of Túpac Amaru.

JOSÉ GABRIEL CONDORCANQUI TÚPAC AMARU II

The tense atmosphere in the Andes in the late eighteenth century led to the eruption of rebellions, which, like the Great Rebellion of 1780–1783, resulted from an exacerbation of the social unrest generated by the Bourbon legalization of the abusive repartos and the increase of fiscal exactions. These rebellions, however, were simultaneously the reiteration and culmination of a long-standing criticism and legal reform efforts by Andean intellectuals and social activists, such as those introduced in this and the previous chapter.⁷² In contrast, the later leaders Túpac Amaru II and Julián Apasa Túpac Katari more clearly became political activists and insurrectionists in the 1780s. Their writing was contingent upon the needs of the rebellion; it was a writing of insurgency and emergency. Nevertheless, their texts conveyed their complex political and religious imaginaries, and their rebellion gave voice and political strength to reform issues proposed by the Andean scholars introduced previously and by earlier rebels. Their depositions, although filtered by judicial scribes and other officials, still allow a glimpse of their religious views, identities, and perceptions of colonialism.

A disciple of the Jesuits in the San Borja school of caciques in Cusco, Túpac Amaru II produced a large number of letters, edicts, and pasquines (pasquinades) suitable for interpreting the political, religious, and cultural mind-sets of Andean leaders in the late eighteenth century. Although he wrote at a different historical conjuncture, Túpac Amaru’s discourse was embedded in a long-lasting religious and political framework familiar to earlier scholars, including Juan de Cuevas Herrera, Jerónimo Lorenzo Limaylla, Fray Calixto de San José Túpac Inca, and others preceding the Great Rebellion. The resort to biblical discourses and images to represent colonial oppression, the use of Scholastic notions of “common good,” and the understanding that fighting tyrannical regimes was a legitimate cause were common thematic threads among these writers, and some key items of Túpac Amaru’s political programs had been proposed earlier.

In the second half of the 1600s, over a century after the imposition of Spanish corregidores in the provincial government, the Andean scholar Juan de Cuevas Herrera had proposed replacing corregidores with an Indian equivalent to the Spanish alcaldes ordinarios.⁷³ Less than a century later, as the hated repartimiento de comercio produced further havoc within Andean societies, Fray Calixto de San José Túpac Inca introduced the idea of replacing Spanish with Indian corregidores in 1748.⁷⁴ Túpac Amaru reinstated this demand as exchanging the corregidor for an alcalde mayor from the “Indian nation” or from among other people of “good conscience,” with a moderate salary and whose function was to administer justice and provide for the “policía cristiana” of Indians and others.⁷⁵ Further, he demanded that a new audiencia be created in Cusco to facilitate Andeans’ access to justice. Earlier, rioters in different regions of Spanish America had called for the suspension of the alcabala (sales tax) prior to the Great Rebellion.⁷⁶ As in previous proposals for administrative reform made by earlier Andean intellectuals, the leaders of the Great Rebellion chose not to challenge the authority of the king.

The potency of Túpac Amaru’s discourses of power rested in his ability to combine a rhetorical strategy of justice with programs previously voiced and with political imaginaries shared in the lettered world of Peru and to place them at the center of a massive rebellion, where they would gain political strength. Túpac Amaru’s discourses were buttressed with the power of his actions and his weapons. The rebel leader took on roles of power unprecedented among previous Andean leaders. His approach to carrying out justice included giving orders through edicts, which emulated the power of royal decrees and viceregal ordinances; supplanting the king’s judicial functionaries; claiming that he was executing the king’s reales cédulas; mobilizing troops to kill Spanish authorities; and ultimately proclaiming himself as an Inca king and an envoy of God, the ultimate expressions of power and social order in this late-colonial Andean vision.

Túpac Amaru’s discourses also represented a culmination of previously available utopian discourses that called for the establishment of an Inca king to restore social harmony in the realm in chaotic times, when Spanish rule proved ineffectual in imparting its own form of justice through laws designed to bring about social harmony.⁷⁷ With antecedents in the rebellion of the Calchaquíes in the 1650s, during which a “Spanish Inca” king was “crowned,” Inca utopian discourses had become stronger in the eighteenth century. The Andeans behind the frustrated 1739 insurrection in Oruro planned to depose the viceroy and empower an Inca king, just as Juan Santos Atahualpa had apparently attempted to do in the montaña central in the years 1742–1753.⁷⁸

The rebel leader from Upper Peru, Túpac Katari, embodied perhaps a deeper sense of Andean political autonomy even before the start of the rebellion, as a tradition of Andean self-rule was prevalent in earlier movements in La Paz.⁷⁹ During the upheaval he also carried out radical acts of power appropriation, supplanting colonial authorities during the rebellion in his area. Túpac Katari acknowledged having appointed caciques, captains, mandones (authorities), and oidores (judges). The judicial authorities, however, charged him with also having appointed a president, corregidores, justicias mayores (magistrates), colonels, accountants, alcaldes, and regidores (cabildo officials) in the new provinces.⁸⁰ In the rebel provinces under Túpac Katari’s leadership, commanders of the rebellion were called oidores by the Indians. Katari’s wife, Bartolina Sisa, was called “Vicereign” by the commoners. In his absence, she substituted for Katari as a commander, and it seems that the rebels obeyed her commands.⁸¹

Although Túpac Amaru’s “decrees” have a rather fixed format, they reveal his professed identities, political ideas, and expectations. Their introductions always present his self-proclamation as a descendant of the Incas of “the royal blood,” following a long tradition in colonial Andean writing that had been used earlier by the first kurakas who wrote to the king after the conquest; by Andean scholars such as Garcilaso de la Vega, Guamán Poma, Limaylla, Cuevas Herrera, and Fray Calixto; and by creoles such as Juan Vélez de Córdoba and Spaniards such as Don Pedro Bohorques. As Fray Calixto professed in the “Representación verdadera” in 1749–1750, José Gabriel Condorcanqui Túpac Amaru II claimed he had acted on behalf of his fellow Andeans in response to their “clamor” for help in finding a “remedio” (remedy) for the “abusos y vejaciones” they suffered at the hands of the European corregidores.

In his edicts, the leader strove to make it clear that rebellion was a last resort after Andeans had sought legal redress of their grievances for lengthy periods by filing complaints in the tribunals but “no hallaban remedio” (to no avail). In practice, his unique acts of power and defiance of the colonial establishment—such as commanding the imprisonment and killing of corregidores, calling for the confiscation of their assets, and abolishing mitas, alcabalas, and repartimientos—constituted the rebel leader’s approach to the enforcement of the royal laws that had long been disregarded by colonial authorities. Túpac Amaru’s pursuit was one of social justice for Andeans, informed by a long legacy of Andean writing and political culture under Spanish rule. The writers studied in this work, as well as their manuscripts, represent the utmost expression of the Andean tradition of resorting to justice through the judicial opportunities granted by the system—a political practice whose frustrating results exacerbated the capacity for subtle resistance by Andeans, which erupted in the late eighteenth century in rebellious discourses and insurrection.

Túpac Amaru’s discourses of rebellion specifically provide a window into the changes and continuities in Andean critiques of colonialism in the late eighteenth century. Echoing the Andean writings of preceding decades, his edicts and letters revealed that Túpac Amaru’s rendition of colonialism shared Scholastic ideas of “common good” and Spanish Neo-Scholastic political theories that justified rebellion against tyrannical rulers. Unlike the other Andean intellectuals’ discourses analyzed in later chapters, however, Túpac Amaru’s discourses of rebellion openly defied the colonial order by advocating the use of violence against colonial authorities. In some particular conjunctures, however, the frontier between subtle and radical resistance to colonialism by Andean thinkers was difficult to distinguish. Andean scholars and social activists such as Jerónimo Lorenzo Limaylla, Gabriel Fernández Guarache, Bartolomé Topa Hallicalla, and Fray Calixto de San José managed to advocate social change by coupling the writing of complex texts with support for more radical struggles, including the frustrated rebellions in Lima in 1666 and 1750 and the Huarochirí rebellion in 1750.

While the rebellion produced its own kind of insurrectionary writing, in the aftermath of the insurrection the Andeans who had opposed it also used the written word to express their views by attacking the rebels in a counter-discourse that endorsed the colonial status quo. José Rafael Sahuaraura Tito Atauche, a member of one of the most prominent lineages in the Cusco area, wrote an eighty-seven-page eulogy of the Bishop of Cusco, Don Juan Manuel Moscoso y Peralta, in 1784, known as the “Estado del Perú,” in which he also offered his enraged condemnation of the Great Rebellion.⁸² This text reveals Andean writing and discursive production as highly contested at the onset of Spanish colonialism in Peru.

CONCLUSION

This introductory journey in Chapters 2 and 3 has examined the lives, times, and texts of Andean scholars in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries who continued the intellectual tradition of writing colonial critiques and renditions of their understanding of the world before and after the Spanish conquest begun by their earlier counterparts Tito Cusi Yupanqui, Santacruz Pachacuti Yamki, Felipe Guamán Poma de Ayala, and Inca Garcilaso de la Vega. Like their earlier counterparts, the later Andean scholars engaged in intellectual work that reflected the transformation of Andean societies under Spanish rule and contributed in their own ways to shape the views of their contemporaries.

Unlike the early Andean scholars, however, the new Andean intellectuals contributed to the formation of social networks across the Atlantic built informally by Indian authorities, scholars, clerics, and other supporters in an attempt to shape the impact of colonialism on Andean societies and to advance a political project of ethnic autonomy in a collective manner. The roles of these Andean networks and scholarship intersected at different conjunctures with the rebellions—successful or not—Andeans organized in 1666, 1750, and 1780–1782 to confront the upheaval Spanish colonialism had brought to their societies. This convergence expressed—both in scholarship and during rebellions—what intellectual and political leaders perceived as a protracted weakness of the colonial system of justice, which failed to address the sources of social discontent and the general decline of their societies.

As Indian nobles and their mestizo descendants, curas doctrineros, prebendaries, lay brothers, and protectores de naturales, the Andean ladinos studied in this work accomplished both social and intellectual tasks, leaving a record of social leadership and complex writings that reveal their exposure to the colonial lettered world and their willingness to partake in it. These intellectuals were in a liminal and problematic position, at the threshold between the disparate worlds that came into conflicting contact following the European invasion of the Americas. The Toledan reforms prompted seventeenth-century Indian and mestizo leaders to engage in a complex intellectual activism so they could retain/recover their political status and search for social balance in times of drastic change. The writers paint a picture of the variety of political, religious, and social issues that constituted the substance of Andean scholarship in the seventeenth century. The struggles of Jauja nobles to retain their cacicazgos, expressed in the writings of Jerónimo Lorenzo Limaylla; the social damage caused by the oppressive mita in the Provinces of Charcas and Jauja, voiced in both Limaylla’s and Juan de Cuevas Herrera’s memoriales; Cuevas Herrera’s debates over the obstacles to successful evangelization of Andeans when the extirpation campaigns were in full sway; and the early stages of organized movements for social inclusion of Andean nobles, voiced by Juan Núñez Vela de Rivera, closed the seventeenth century with an unfinished project that would slowly develop in the following decades.

Eighteenth-century Andean scholars mobilized their intellectual weapons and social activism because they not only inherited the long-standing injustices unleashed during the previous century but also faced new challenges to their social standing, as well as further exactions and fiscal pressure, as the Bourbon reforms attempted to modernize the empire and strengthen it politically. Procurador General Vicente Morachimo exposed the critical role of legal discourses in fighting injustice as pressing hardships—old and new—swept the Provinces of Saña and Trujillo, where the mita, the repartimiento de comercio, and land disputes presented renewed opportunities for the illegal practices of the corregidores, audiencia judges, and viceroys. Mid–and late–eighteenth-century scholars and social activists, such as Fray Calixto de San José and José Gabriel Condorcanqui Túpac Amaru II, stood at the threshold between reform and rebellion at times of heightened social conflict in Lima and Cusco, respectively—crucial areas for colonial economic and political interests and regions deeply affected by the Bourbons’ reform efforts. They offered the most complex forms of resistance to colonial domination, combining, to different degrees, rhetorical and real weapons to defy the power of the state and church authorities. As the colonial order was shaken off by the Great Rebellion in 1780–1783, Andean scholarship also reflected the positions of the Cusco Inca elites who supported the colonial regime during and in the aftermath of the upheaval.

In the midst of social and cultural interaction and conflict, the intellectual practices of Indios ladinos took on unique forms, defying conventional ideas of authorship and scholarship. Present-day notions of individual authorship are insufficient and even oversimplistic when applied to Andean writing, as Limaylla’s seventeenth-century “Memorial” and “Representación” and the eighteenth-century “Representación verdadera” demonstrate. Unlike European writers, who usually practiced individually, colonial Andeans tended to work collectively in the production of their manuscripts. In addition, they relied on informal systems of interconnected agents—both Andeans and non-Andeans—for the collection of information, identification and discussion of content, composition of the final text, diffusion, and ultimately the advancement of their petitions. Authorship in this context surpasses the work of the individual who might sign or edit a draft of the text and becomes a more complex collective endeavor that reflects more than the challenges of colonial Andean intellectuals and those they sought to represent. This collective endeavor also brings to the surface the intense cultural, political, and intellectual interaction among Indian and mestizo Andeans, Spaniards, and creoles on both sides of the Atlantic.

Andeans’ participation in the pursuit of justice through the Spanish legal system also put them in close contact with the lettered world of jurists, lawyers, judges, and clergy. They were engaged in the book culture of their time through religious literature, Spanish and Andean chronicles, manuals for escribanos, Spanish laws, and juridical texts. As authors and litigants, they found themselves struggling to access the exclusionary colonial world of letters and its circuits and striving to come to terms with the culture of the Spanish and creole letrados.

The next stage of this journey explores the European background of Andean writings to begin to discern the nature of the scholarship and discourses crafted by lettered Andean ladinos. The philosophical and theological notions that traveled to the Andes with Spanish clergy, scholars, and writers, and the change such notions underwent in the new settings, become more apparent as a textual analysis of the writings under study is developed.

NOTES

1. O’Phelan, Rebellions and Revolts, 58–74.

2. Ibid., 53. The rebellions of the era in Cotabambas (Cusco, 1730), Cochabamba (Charcas, 1730), and Oruro (1739) expressed the social unrest these policies created. For more information on these rebellions, see ibid.

3. For studies of the Bourbon policies, see Stern, Resistance, Rebellion, and Consciousness; O’Phelan, Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales and La gran rebelión en los Andes; Stavig, The World of Túpac Amaru; Fisher, Kuethe, and McFarlane, Reform and Insurrection; Garrett, Shadows of Empire.

4. These policies had begun early in the century with royal decrees limiting the expansion of convents and organizations run by the regular orders. The ecclesiastical patronage by the king, in the 1753 Concordat, ultimately gave power to the crown to control the size of the regular clergy. Andrien, “Coming of Enlightened Reform in Bourbon Peru,” 6–7, 9.

5. For detailed studies of the repartimiento de mercancías, see Nölte, Repartos y rebeliones; Moreno Cebrián, El corregidor de indios.

6. See pertinent references in Chapter 1, note 14.

7. Lienhard, Testimonios, cartas y manifiestos indígenas, xxvi. Lienhard first qualified Indian writings as “diplomatic texts,” a variety of manuscripts intended for negotiation with the colonial authorities.

8. Don Juan de Bustamante Carlos Inga was a descendant of Don Melchor Carlos Inga, who had received an encomienda in 1582 and held the titles of count and marquiz in 1599. These titles were denied to Bustamante in the eighteenth century; he only attained the lesser distinction of “Gentilhombre de Boca” and a substantial pension. BNM, Manuscrito 20193, “Ascendencia de Carlos Inga.” See also Cahill, “Liminal Nobility,” 182–184. Bustamante also received petitions for help in Madrid from Francisco Zevallos, Antonio Chaigua Cassamusa, and other participants in the Huarochirí rebellion. Members of the Uchu Inga lineage from Cusco also appeared as permanent residents at the royal court in Madrid in the second half of the 1700s, enjoying substantial patronage. O’Phelan, “Linaje e Ilustración,” 841, 849–850.

9. Tacuri Mena, 1755, in Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 81–82. According to Tacuri Mena, “Don Julián Cirilo y Castilla seeks the foundation of a school for kids of our nation to be governed by presbyters of our nation. . . . On Santa Rosa’s day in 1754, Don Julián preached a sermon to the Council of the Indies which has been amply applauded by nobles of both sexes.” Ibid., 82.

10. One of the most visible leaders of the Lima network in 1726 was Don Francisco Saba Capac Inga, cacique principal from Pachacama, Lurin, and its ports. These Indian authorities supported collective petitions he led: Don Bartolomé Cristobal Chumbingo, gobernador of Santiago del Surco; Don Juan Bautista Arteaga, captain of Huamanga; Don Juan Ignacio Quipulivia, segunda persona (cacique of the lower moiety) of the Partido de Chaucarima; Don Santiago Calixto, procurador of the town of La Magdalena; Don Lorenzo Beltrán, alcalde of the Changuay Port; and Don Juan de Dios Aldave, cacique principal of Charapopto. AGI, Audiencia de Lima, 495, Lima, Junio 6, 1726.

11. Although during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the terms “protector” and “procurador de naturales” were often interchangeable (Recopilación, Libro VI, Título VI); by the eighteenth century the terms were clearly differentiated. The procurador de indios, also known as diputado general de indios (Indians’ general deputy), was clearly a legal representative of an indigenous corporate body, hired to move along legal cases at both the royal court in Spain and the audiencias.

12. Rowe, “Movimiento Nacional Inca del siglo XVIII,” 3–33, esp. 17.

13. AGI, Lima, 422, Letter from the Council of the Indies to the Viceroy of Peru, Marqués de Castelfuerte, March 5, 1733. The manifesto’s complete title is “Manifesto of aggravations and vexations suffered by the Indians from the Kingdom of Peru, dedicated to the Lords of the Royal and Supreme Council of the Indies by the General Deputy and Attorney of the said Indians.” Although Vicente Morachimo filed the “Manifiesto” with the Council of the Indies in September 1732, the council only acknowledged receipt on March 5, 1733. In 1735 the king issued a decree reminding Viceroy Marqués de Castelfuerte about the real cédula from February 21, 1725, stating his concern about justice for Indians.

14. AGI, Lima, 422, 1–13v; Morachimo, “Manifiesto,” 1732.

15. Andrien, “Noticias secretas de América.”

16. O’Phelan, Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales, 94–102. Caciques from seventeen provinces in southern Peru were implicated in planning a massive movement to take place in November 1737. Audiencia authorities targeted the cacique Don Andres Cacma Condori from Azángaro as the head of the movement; he was also accused of associating with the cacique Don José Orcoguaranca from the San Blas parish (Cusco). Rowe, “Movimiento Nacional Inca del siglo XVIII,” 18. The 1739 Oruro uprising was one of the first attempts to depose the Spanish king and crown an Inca monarch in the eighteenth century. The leader, Juan Vélez de Córdoba, a creole from Moquegua who claimed to be the grandson of an Inca king, led a cross-ethnic movement to reestablish the Inca empire, which would have resulted in him being crowned the new emperor. Fifteen caciques from Moquegua and Cochabamba were allegedly involved. O’Phelan, Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales, 106; Cornblit, Power and Violence in the Colonial City, 103. The most important aspects of this aborted movement and of the Andean tradition of writing are represented in Juan Vélez de Córdoba’s “Manifiesto” (best known as the “Manifiesto de Oruro”), written in 1739, which advances a series of petitions and complaints similar in nature to those found in most Indian and mestizo writings of the 1700s studied in this book (AGI, Charcas, 363). A textual analysis of the “Manifiesto” is developed in Chapter 5, in the context of the intertextual relationship between Andean and creole writings. For a complete discussion of the social movements of the 1730s, see O’Phelan, Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales; Cornblit, Power and Violence in the Colonial City.

17. O’Phelan, “Linaje e Ilustración,” 842.

18. Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 65, 69. The eleventh Inca king, Inga Yupanqui, was actually Pachacuti (the tenth Inca), to whose name Garcilaso de la Vega added the “Inga Yupanqui” in the succession of Inca kings presented in his Comentarios Reales de los Incas. Rowe, “Movimiento Nacional Inca del siglo XVIII,” 12.

19. Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 69–70.

20. During these years, the Franciscans were confronting the destruction of their mission towns in the Cerro de la Sal, initiated in 1742 by Juan Santos Atahualpa and his rebels. By 1747 the Franciscans were building new missions in the Quillabamba Valley. Ibid., 72–74; Vargas Ugarte, Historia del Perú virreinato, 243. The rebellion broke out in 1742, also affecting the Franciscan missions of Quillabamba. John Rowe maintained that the movement was led by Pablo Chapi, an Indian the Franciscan missionaries identified with Juan Santos. Rowe apparently saw them as two different persons. Rowe, “Movimiento Nacional Inca del siglo XVIII,” 19. For studies of the Juan Santos insurrection, see Varesse, La sal de los cerros; Zarzar, “Apu Cachauaina Jesús sacramentado”; Loaiza, Juan Santos el invencible. The manuscript’s complete title is “A Truthful Representation and Lamentable Exclamation Rendered by the Whole Indian Nation to the Majesty of the Lord King of the Spains [sic] and Emperor of the Indies, Lord Don Ferdinand VI, Begging His Attention and Help in Redeeming Them from the Outrageous Affront and Dishonor They Suffer Since More than Two Hundred Years Ago. Exclamation from the American Indians, Using the Same Lamentation that the Prophet Jeremiah elevated to God in Chapter 5 and Last of His Lamentations.”

21. Fray Pedro Juan de Molina, a general minister of the Franciscan Order of Minors in Madrid, supported the promotion of Fray Calixto from donado to lay brother and authorized the guardian of the Saint Spirit convent in Valencia to conduct his novitiate and profession of vows. Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 69–70, 72–76.

22. Viceroy Conde de Superunda reported that letters from Indians from “different parts of the kingdom” were confiscated from Fray Calixto after his imprisonment, including powers given to him to legally represent Indians and a letter from Spain from the Andean Don Felipe Tacuri Mena, written on July 30, 1755, encouraging Fray Calixto and the Indian cabildo to fight for autonomous Indian schools. Ibid., 89–90.

23. The cabildo officials facilitated Fray Calixto’s role as their representative in Spain, collecting the original documentation that proved his Inca descent. Indian authorities in 1749 included Don Santiago de la Vega, Don Pedro Condor Anchay, Don Martin Guaman, Don Isidro Colqui y Pruna, and Don Francisco Jordan. Cala, May 7, 1751, and Fray Juan de San Antonio, May 17, 1751, both in ibid., 72–74. Don Antonio Chaiguaca appeared to have been an Indian legal adviser of the cabildo in 1749. Ibid., 61.

24. His role as intermediary was made difficult, however, by limited financial resources, which proved detrimental in his journey to Spain. The friar complained to the Indian cabildo of a lack of financial support and asked for money and official power of attorney to advance other petitions the kurakas had presented in court through Spanish representatives, with little effect. Ibid., 54.

25. Ibid., 50–53.

26. Letter from Fray Calixto de San José Túpac Inca to El Cercado cabildo, Noviembre 14, 1750. Reproduced in Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 57–58. At Fray Calixto’s request, Bustamante agreed to write a memorial demanding Indians’ freedom of passage to Spain to King Ferdinand VI in 1750. Bustamante presented the petition to the king “on behalf of the noble caciques and military Indians who reside in this city.” The king denied general permission but accepted that license to pass to Spain should be granted to those who could justify the reason for their trip before the viceroy. He further commanded that help should be provided for them. “Real Cédula, Enero 19, 1751,” in Polo, “Un libro Raro,” 632–633.

27. Cirilo y Castilla had moved to Madrid sometime around 1754 and lived in Spain for thirty-five years, during which time he obtained recognition as a presbyter; Don Felipe Tacuri Mena had been sojourning in Spain in 1754–1755. Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 80.

28. Don Felipe Tacuri Mena, Julio 30, 1755, “A los señores mis Amantes y Speriores del Cabildo,” reproduced in ibid., 80–83.

29. Fray Calixto de San José Túpac Inca, November 14, 1750, in Medina, La Imprenta en Lima, 549; also Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 49–62.

30. AGI, Lima, 988. Letter from Brother Calixto de San José to the president of the Council of the Indies, reproduced in Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 66–68; Vargas Ugarte, Historia general del Perú, 243. In the letter, Fray Calixto expressed his personal interest in obtaining a position as a lay priest.

31. Carta del Conde de Superunda al Rey, Lima, Enero 30, 1759, in Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 92–94. Upon his imprisonment, members of El Cercado cabildo expressed solidarity with and recognition of Fray Calixto as their representative and fully supported him in Lima in November 1756. According to members of El Cercado indigenous cabildo, “Fray Calixto has conducted [our] matters with ‘divine hands,’ with competence and religious resignation.” Bandin Hermo, “Un descendiente de los Incas,” 90.

32. Rowe, “Movimiento Nacional Inca del siglo XVIII,” 20.

33. Ibid., 33. Rowe proposed 1748 as the printing date. That date is disputed by the manuscript itself, however, which refers to 1749 as the “current year” at the moment the manuscript was being completed: “Since those years when the Admiral Christopher Columbus discovered the Hispaniola Island until the current one of 1749, there have been 257 years of affronts.” “Representación verdadera,” 165. After their ordeals traveling under cover to Spain, Fray Calixto and his companion, the Franciscan Fray Isidoro de Cala, sneaked into the crowd during a royal hunting excursion and handed the “Representación verdadera” to the Bourbon king Ferdinand VI. Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 93.

34. Rowe, “Movimiento Nacional Inca del siglo XVIII,” 33.

35. There is also the possibility that these texts were written in stages or rewritten for different occasions. The first reference to a Latin text composed for the pope comes from 1744, when Fray Calixto was first given legal power to represent Indian authorities from El Cercado and to deliver the document to the pope, something he could not accomplish. Don Francisco Zevallos was also sent later with a letter to the pope, in the frustrated journey discussed earlier. The tentative dates were given previously for the “Planctus indorum” in its latest form, since it incorporates references to the Huarochirí rebellion in July 1750. “Planctus indorum,” 19[109], 20[118], 20[122], in Navarro, Una denuncia profética desde el Perú, 427–428, 458–459, 469.

36. Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 53, 93. Uncertainty still exists about the second document addressed to the pope, which the friars brought to Europe in 1750. It might be an early version of the “Planctus indorum,” which they sent to the pope through a banker they met in Lisbon, along with a letter or petition in Latin written by Fray Isidoro de Cala. The other possibility, which is more likely, is that only the letter was sent to the pope at that time because the version of the “Planctus indorum” that survives today refers to the events of the Huarochirí rebellion in July 1750, when the two friars were arriving in Lisbon. Ibid., 52.

37. Lienhard, Testimonios, cartas y manifiestos indígenas, xxix. According to Lienhard, native writers “adjusted to the cultural horizon of the interlocutor . . . a sort of superficial ‘concession’ to the addressee.”

38. Holbrook, Jeremiah: Faith amid Apostasy.

39. Ibid., 119.

40. Adorno, Writing and Resistance in Colonial Peru, 123.

41. Saphier, Book of Jeremiah, 207.

42. Holbrook, Jeremiah: Faith amid Apostasy, 126.

43. Saphier, Book of Jeremiah, 5:1–3.

44. “Representación verdadera,” f. 32v.

45. Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 88.

46. Bernales Ballesteros, “Fray Calixto de San José Túpac Inca,” 15, relied on the viceroy’s initial indictment and assumed that the author was Fray Antonio Garro. In turn, historians from recent decades who use only Bernales Ballesteros’s incomplete version of the “Representación verdadera” and his introductory essay are similarly misled.

47. Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 88–89.

48. Ibid., 49; Bandin Hermo, “Un descendiente de los Incas.” Bandin maintained that the printed manuscript, or “Exclamación,” was given to Fray Calixto by the caciques from Lima in 1749.

49. At the meetings in El Cercado in 1748, where the caciques and other Indian leaders were planning an insurrection, the friars and caciques agreed to postpone the rebellion until the “Representación verdadera” was delivered to the king, perhaps believing Fray Calixto’s mediation would produce the needed reforms and make the violent rebellion unnecessary. AGI, Lima, 597, Madrid, Marzo 29, 1751, in Konetzke, Colección de documentos, vol. 3, 25; Bandin Hermo, “Un descendiente de los Incas,” 91. In addition to entrusting Fray Calixto with the task of delivering the printed manuscript to the king and the Council of the Indies, they gave him an older representación from 1744 to deliver to the pope. Andeans appealed to the pope because they probably knew that back in 1586, Pope Gregorio XIII had granted mestizos the right to be ordained as priests, provided they were competent and legitimate children; the last requirement was dispensed for mestizos. To support their claims, the caciques had clearly instructed Fray Calixto to secure sufficient copies of the papal bulls issued on their behalf. Bandin Hermo, “Un descendiente de los Incas,” 91.

50. Osorio, Clamor de los Indios Americanos, 17. Saint Rose of Lima was said to have prophesied the return of the Inca empire to Peru in 1750 and to have proclaimed the end of Spanish rule in the Andes.

51. For practical purposes, when referring to the authors of the “Representación verdadera” I use the singular name Fray Calixto, although the plural is meant. Regarding the final version of the “Representación verdadera,” Fray Calixto crafted it possibly in association with Fray Antonio Garro and Fray Isidoro de Cala.

52. These networks of Andean scholars, social activists, rebels, lawyers, clerics, and others sympathetic to the movement operated in variable, informal, and efficient ways. The Cercado cabildo maintained permanent communication with members of these networks in Spain and meticulously instructed all participants on what needed to be accomplished. For example, regarding the power of attorney the cabildo issued to Fray Calixto in 1744, the cabildo clearly instructed Calixto that the goal of his mission was to obtain “providencias [mandates] from the king to improve the condition of Indian nobles.” The second power of attorney, given to him on October 30, 1756, spelled out that the friar must obtain copies of all testimonies given at court, as well as briefings, papal bulls, letters and apostolic dispatches, and royal decrees (in triplicate). He was instructed to send such documents immediately to the cabildo in Lima. On the other hand, in 1756 the cabildo was adamant that Fray Calixto should conform in every way to the instructions given; regarding future actions, he should wait for new instructions to come in later letters. Bandin Hermo, “Un descendiente de los Incas,” 94.

53. Alvarez, De las costumbres y conversión de los indios del Perú, 268–269. In the town of Andamarca, Province of Carangas, for example, Andeans used Spanish manuals, such as the popular Monterroso, with instructions to escribanos regarding their practice in civil and criminal legal cases. In the town of Corquemarca, other Indians acquired the Siete Partidas, a comprehensive legal code compiled in Spain by King Alfonso X.

54. Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca; Bernales Ballesteros, “Fray Calixto de San José Túpak Inca”; Peralta, “Tiranía o buen gobierno”; Rowe, “Movimiento Nacional Inca del siglo XVIII”; Lienhard, Testimonios, cartas y manifiestos indígenas and “Writing from Within”; Estenssoro Fuchs, Del paganismo a la santidad.

55. Osorio, Clamor de los Indios Americanos.

56. Rowe, “Movimiento Nacional Inca del siglo XVIII,” 14.

57. Loayza, Juan Santos el invencible, 84.

58. The text has also been interpreted as a “hybrid text,” wrapped in European forms but based on Andean sources and narratives. Lienhard, “Writing from Within,” 177. Others see it as a mere product of the Franciscans’ Scholastic tradition and an attempt to gain the king’s favor in an effort to counterbalance the power of the Jesuits at the local level. Peralta, “Tiranía o buen gobierno,” 67–68.

59. Valcárcel, Rebeliones coloniales sudamericanas, 59–60. For a comprehensive understanding of the Huarochirí rebellion and the Lima conspiracy, see BRP, Sign. 59-5-26; Spalding, Huarochirí; O’Phelan, Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales; Valcárcel, Rebeliones coloniales sudamericanas.

60. Conde de Superunda, Lima, 24 de Septiembre de 1750, in Loayza, Juan Santos el invencible, 163, and Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 85.

61. Moreno Cebrián, Relación y documentos de gobierno del virrey del Perú, 248.

62. O’Phelan, Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales, 115.

63. Valcárcel, Rebeliones coloniales sudamericanas, 60. Valcárcel attributed the insurgents’ proclamation to a participant with the last name Ayala, cited previously. He was probably referring to Julián de Ayala, one of the organizers of the rebellions to take place in Lima and Huarochirí.

64. BRP, Sign. 59-5-26, 10.

65. Ibid., 11.

66. Rowe, “Movimiento Nacional Inca del siglo XVIII,” 20.

67. Cala 1751, in Loayza, Fray Calixto Túpac Inca, 69–70.

68. “They resisted and ultimately killed some and then hid themselves in the deepest forests . . . where undoubtedly they will die.” “Representación verdadera,” 124. In reality, both the “Representación verdadera” (123v–124) and the “Planctus indorum” (Navarro, Una denuncia profética desde el Perú [02.8], 169–171) deny that a rebellion in its own right actually occurred, but they admit to a massive runaway from “the tyranny and frequent robbery perpetrated by a corregidor who harassed the Indians.” Ibid., 169.

69. “[T]here was not a single Indian, among the millions of Indians and mestizos living in the kingdom and the highlands, who have raised even a finger to support this rebellion, not one absentee, nor a single one has gone to follow the [r]ebel.” “Representación verdadera,” 124–124v. Viceroy Conde de Superunda suspected that Fray Calixto had been corresponding with the rebel leader Juan Santos Atahualpa in the Cerro de la Sal, but further empirical evidence is needed to prove this. As a missionary in the Quillabamba missions from 1744 to 1748, Fray Calixto traveled close to the rebel areas.

70. Varesse, La sal de los Cerros, 110.

71. Amich, Historia de las misiones, 182–183.

72. Since the Great Rebellion is likely one of the most studied episodes in colonial Andean history, only a general reference to its relationship to Andean writing appears in this section. A more detailed analysis of the rebel leaders’ religious and political imaginary is presented in Chapter 7. For more comprehensive studies of the rebellion itself, see references in Chapter 1, note 2.

73. Cuevas Herrera, “Cinco memoriales,” ca. 1650, 147v, 151v. Spanish alcaldes ordinarios were usually the mayors of Spanish towns or senior council aldermen with civic and policing duties. Prior to Cuevas, in Charcas in 1609 a creole clergyman, Pedro Serrano, had suggested the convenience of removing corregidores.

74. “Representación verdadera,” 167v.

75. Even in the midst of the insurrection, Túpac Amaru asked Bishop Moscoso to send “good clergymen” to indoctrinate native Andeans in the regions he controlled. O’Phelan, Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales, 304. Interestingly, in 1750–1751 the “Planctus indorum” attributed the same demand to Juan Santos Atahualpa in the midst of his 1742 uprising; “Planctus indorum” [02.8], in Navarro, Una denuncia profética desde el Perú, 168–170.

76. O’Phelan, Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales, 304–305.

77. See further elaboration on Túpac Amaru’s utopian ideas, the language of the rebellion, and other aspects of the Great Rebellion in Walker, Smoldering Ashes, chapter 1; Flores Galindo, Buscando un Inca; Campbell, “Ideology and Factionalismo.”

78. Durand, Colección documental de la independencia del Perú, 229–233. In other instances, rumors spread by the Indian Juan de Dios Orcoguaranca (Paucartambo) about the breakout of a general Indian insurrection in 1777 would lead to the crowning of an Indian king, and a similar account was known about another Indian rebellion planned to start in Huarochirí and Camaná in 1777. The Indians had prepared a document calling upon different provinces to participate in the uprising, which would return the kingdom to its “legitimate Indian” owners.

79. For a thorough analysis of Túpac Katari’s political ideas, political and spiritual practices, and roles in the Great Rebellion, see Thomson, We Alone Rule; Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión de Tupac Catari.

80. Valcárcel, Rebeliones coloniales sudamericanas, 175–176.

81. Ibid.

82. AGI, Lima, 76; Sahuaraura Tito Arauchi, “Estado del Perú.” José Rafael’s father, Don Nicolás Jiménez de Cisneros Sahuaraura, allegedly a descendant of Pachacuti Inga Yupanqui and Topa Inga Yupanqui, had been the hereditary cacique of the Santiago parish in Cusco and was very active in its Indian sodality. Don Nicolás had reached the positions of lieutenant captain and general commissary of cavalry in the Indian militia, distinctions earlier enjoyed by his grandfather, Don Asencio Ramos Atauche, and his uncle, Don José Ramos Atauche. AGI, Lima, 76; Sahuaraura Tito Arauchi, “Estado del Perú”; Durand, Colección documental de la independencia del Perú, 243.