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THE
COLONIAL
HERITAGE
were its Caribbean and South Atlantic coasts, open to the attacks of
rival European empires. Jamaica, among Spain's earliest settlements,
was taken over permanently by the British, and the Portuguese ad-
vanced their frontiers at the expense of Spain in the South Atlantic.
Overall, however, the territory claimed by the Spanish during the
sixteenth century remained almost intact by 1810. Observers of the
Spanish empire in the eighteenth century were intrigued by, and some-
times indignant about, this spectacle of a vast empire ruled by one of
the most archaic nations in Europe.
This surprisingly durable system, designed to produce the largest
profit with the least investment, underlay the "colonial compact"
binding the New World territories to Spain. How else could one ex-
plain why lands producing enough silver to revolutionize the markets
of Europe should themselves suffer chronic shortages of coin? Of
course, the Crown took quite a considerable portion directly through
taxation. The rest of the money in the colonies tended to flow to Spain
to pay for imported European goods. Because the colonial market was
closed to competition, Spanish merchants could inflate the prices of
European goods and maximize their profit margins. The colonial com-
pact also guaranteed the dominance of the privileged mining sector in
the economic life of the New World territories as a whole. Obviously,
this system had grave consequences for the development of Spanish
America. The first of these was the ascendancy of outsiders, agents of
the imperial system of taxation and trade, in the economic life of the
colonies. The second was the exclusion of almost everyone else-
including the miners themselves-from direct participation in the
Atlantic economy.
The colonizing power derived clear advantages from this state of
affairs, while the descendants of the conquerors had reason to be less
pleased. During the first century of conquest, they resisted with an
occasional show of force but afterward reconciled themselves to the
Crown's organization of Spanish American economic life for the bene-
fit of Spain. The reconciliation was not without its tensions and mo-
ments of instability, however, and it existed at all only because the
booty of the conquest included people and land along with the pre-
cious metals. While tax collectors and merchants carried away most of
the gold and silver, the descendants of the conquerors consoled them-
selves with their control of Indian populations. The highlands of Mex-
ico and Peru became centers of Spanish colonization not only because
of their rich mines but also because of the large populations of high-
land Indians already accustomed to laboring for imperial masters be-
fore the arrival of the Spanish.
THE COLONIAL 3
HERITAGE
scarcities, but a full opening would force them to compete for the
products of the countryside in a wider market. They turned to Crown
officials for assistance in regulating the exchange to their advantage.
Crown officials instituted the system of repartimiento (forced dis-
tribution) of goods, in the absence of any more spontaneous exchange,
to reduce the isolation of the countryside by royal order. District
officials of the Crown began to receive shipments of goods that the
Indians under their control were obliged to buy from them. Com-
plaints about what the Indians had to buy-inferior merchandise that
had failed to find buyers in urban areas-grew increasingly loud in the
eighteenth century. If repartimiento reveals much about the abuse of
Indian peasants, it says something as well about the limitations im-
posed on the power and wealth of the landowning class, who did not
share in the benefits reaped by the merchants and officials from the
forced distribution of inferior goods. Thus, the subordination of agri-
cultural producers to other interests can be detected not only in a
sectoral overview of the colonial economy but also in the remote
comers of Spanish America where the predominance of the local
landowning class is often thought to have been total.
The relationship between the mining and the commercial sectors
varied as much from Peru to Mexico as did the forms of rural produc-
tion. In Peru, the mine owners of Potosi depended absolutely on capi-
tal lent to them by the merchants of Lima, and, though the relentless
exploitation of Indian labor in the mines during the eighteenth cen-
tury responded partly to the gradual exhaustion of the ore, it also
represented the attempt of the mine owners to pass along to their
workers the pressure they themselves felt from their merchant credi-
tors. Mexican mine owners, in contrast, frequently had enough capital
to operate almost autonomously, and when borrowing they normally
sought sums that were easily available in Mexico's busier commercial
market, without compromising their ability to do business. The Mexi-
can mining sector operated on a fully developed wage system, and
European travelers found the mine workers' wages surprisingly high.
In the last century of colonial rule, mining production stagnated in
Peru and boomed in Mexico. As in the case of the agricultural sector,
the differences between Mexico and the rest of Spanish America de-
rived from Mexico's central location in the circuits of the colonial
economy, a fact that mitigated for Mexico the negative consequences
of the colonial compact.
The colonial compact of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries
underwent significant changes in the eighteenth century when Spain
abandoned many of the old restrictions on trade and allowed almost
6 THE CONTEMPORARY
HISTORY OF LATIN AMERICA
Spanish America, the bullion from the mines did not accumulate in
the Peruvian economy but trickled quickly away to Europe. One plum
remaining in the hands of Lima's merchants was the trade in Chilean
wheat, since they controlled the fleet of coastal vessels that brought
the grain from Chilean producers to consumers in Peru. Formerly their
control of Chile's commercial circuits had been complete, but during
the second half of the eighteenth century Chilean merchants had
begun to receive European imports directly or through Buenos Aires.
Chile, the most remote and isolated of Spanish American lands,
had entered a period of modest growth at this time as well. By cen-
tury's end, its mines produced almost two million pesos annually. In
most respects, however, the imperial transformations of the second
half of the eighteenth century had hardly touched Chile, and the
Chilean economy lacked other export activities with potential for
easy expansion. The wheat crop found an adequate market in Lima,
but the same could not be said for the possible export products associ-
ated with livestock. Chilean ranches could have supplied far more
tallow than Peruvians wanted to buy, and Chile could not compete
with Argentine exports of hides to Europe because of the greater
distance involved. Nevertheless, the population grew more rapidly
than the rate of economic expansion would lead one to expect, ap-
parently approaching almost a million inhabitants by 1810. Most
Chileans were mestizo or white, and they lived overwhelmingly in
rural areas, Santiago, the capital and largest city, having a population
of less than ten thousand. This demographic increase spilled onto new
agricultural lands as the Chilean frontier advanced south into territory
long defended by unsubdued Araucano Indians, and the land and labor
arrangements on the frontier closely approximated those of the older
rural areas: large properties with tenants who cultivated plots of their
own in addition to the crops belonging to the landowner. The Chilean
landowning class received an infusion of new blood with the arrival, in
the eighteenth century, of Spanish bureaucrats and merchants who
married into the upper echelons of Chilean society.
The opposition between native-born elites and newly arrived
Spaniards was particularly noticeable because of the homogeneous
qualities of the native-born population. As a whole, the Chilean popu-
lation was profoundly mestizo, combining a predominantly indige-
nous genetic makeup with a predominantly Iberian cultural makeup.
As a result, the distinction between mestizo and white became blurred
in Chilean society, and reports concerning the racial makeup of the
population vary widely. For example, early nineteenth-century cal-
culations put the mestizo population at 60 percent of the total, while
16 THE CONTEMPORARY
HISTORY OF LATIN AMERICA
HERITAGE
travel almost anywhere. The sea of mud on the outskirts of the city of
Buenos Aires, for example, constituted one of the greatest barriers
pampean cart drivers would face on their long trek to the Andes, and
not far inland from Lima pack mules became the only viable means of
transport. Maintaining this rude system of internal communications
was a costly victory, however, in both economic and human terms.
Take the transport of wine by mule train from San Juan, in the Andean
foothills of western Argentina, up to Potosi. The mule trains followed
one of the more frequented routes in the viceroyalty of the Rio de la
Plata, and along one forty-day desert stretch of it men and mules found
no drinking water at all. Perhaps the virtues of heroic resignation,
displayed by common and high-born Spanish Americans alike in the
face of such perils, should count as an advantage of the system, and
despite the terrors of the Magdalena River, viceroys and prelates did
arrive in Bogota safely more often than not.
Nevertheless, whatever the redeeming features of this rough-and-
ready transportation system, its economic consequences were grim. In
the first place, the system consumed a lot of manpower for muleteers
and carters. Around 1800, carters made up a tenth of the population in
the prosperous little city of Mendoza, on the route between Buenos
Aires and Santiago de Chile. The system consumed animal power and
vehicles as well. The working life of mountain pack mules was rela-
tively short, and even on the plains of the Rio de la Plata, among the
best for carting anywhere in Spanish America, the heavy two-wheeled
carts drawn by oxen were jolted to pieces after a small number of trips
across the pampa. The carpenters of Tucuman steadily used up local
hardwoods to replace the supply of carts, while mule breeders in
neighboring regions of the Rio de la Plata (and in Venezuela and north-
ern Peru) supplied mules by the tens of thousands. As a consequence of
the large amount of resources dedicated to it, transportation remained
costly to the economy as a whole.
In sum, the transportation system of late colonial Spanish Amer-
ica managed to keep the whole territory united but left it as econom-
ically fragmented as the continent of Europe in 1500. The network of
long-distance trade was able to function only with high profits and low
volume. Existing patterns of trade were totally insufficient to inte-
grate a thousand local markets, and therefore the energies of most
people still flowed into production for themselves, for their neighbors,
or for their landlords. Such a transportation system was more appro-
priate for the era of conquest long past than for a Spanish America
divided into areas of large-scale commercial production for overseas
THE COLONIAL 25
HERITAGE
their districts. Despite its drawbacks, this tax farming seemed supe-
rior to the system of repartimiento, which tended to disappear as a
consequence.
How successful was this complex set of imperial reforms? If in-
tended above all to prevent the collapse of the Spanish empire, the
reforms must be judged failures since that collapse occurred relatively
soon afterward. Nor did the reforms accomplish many of their lesser
goals. Conflict among various colonial institutions only took new
forms. Efforts to curb corruption in the colonial administration made
at best modest progress. Nevertheless, if we compare the reformed
system not only to what preceded it but also to what followed indepen-
dence, the record appears more impressive. Throughout late colonial
Spanish America, the reformed apparatus of government functioned
more efficiently. In more than one region, many decades would pass
before the governments of new Spanish American nations were able to
match the administrative efficacy achieved by the Spanish colonial
system on the eve of the wars of independence.
The success of the administrative reforms in imposing true cen-
tralized control had been limited from the beginning by the small
number of peninsular Spaniards sent to deal with strongly entrenched
local interests. Isolated Spanish officials found themselves surrounded
by powerful Creole families and unsure of how much support they
would receive in their struggle to enforce imperial directives. Even the
most dedicated royal representatives often sought the support of one
local faction against another, losing part of their administrative inde-
pendence in the process. Less-dedicated imperial agents simply as-
sumed the protection of the powerful local interests in the area to
which they were assigned and profited handsomely from their com-
plicity. The sway of local interests was difficult to resist. Locally pow-
erful families could call on allies in the imperial administrative struc-
ture itself to punish the uncooperative Spanish official. They could
oppose the official's indictments in the courts with equally scandalous
accusations of their own. As a result, neither superior authorities in
Spain nor later historians were able to determine whether the official
at the center of any particular controversy had increased royal reve-
nues through zealous honesty or ruthless greed. Likewise, one cannot
tell whether the chorus of praise surrounding another official resulted
from his probity and skill or from his ingratiating submission to
dominant local interests. In spite of all the changes, avoiding conflict
remained the key to success in the career of a colonial administrator,
and provoking the wrath of the locally powerful always meant trouble.
The imperial reforms had also aimed, at least in part, to collabo-
30 THE CONTEMPORARY
HISTORY OF LATIN AMERICA
Spanish officers and sailors crowded into new bases for naval opera-
tions at San Juan and Montevideo on the Atlantic and of Talcahuano
on the South Pacific.
Finally, late colonial reformers also turned their attention to that
most pervasive of Hispanic institutions, the Catholic church. Eccle-
siastical organization had been firmly in the hands of the monarch
since the earliest days of colonization, though the religious orders
were less directly subordinated to royal control than the secular clergy.
The wealth of the church varied from place to place in Spanish Amer-
ica, but nowhere was it inconsiderable. Mexico presented the greatest
concentration of ecclesiastical wealth. Although it may not be true, as
liberal polemicists later alleged, that the church owned almost all the
land in Mexico, it certainly did own close to half. The situation was
less extreme in New Granada and Peru, and still less in more recently
settled areas like Venezuela and the Rio de la Plata. However, even
here the economic power of the church stood out clearly, as in the
university city of Cordoba (Argentina) where the monastic orders
owned most of the slaves. Overall, the management of ecclesiastical
property was fairly efficient despite its critics. Enterprises admin-
istered by monastic orders, in particular, did well compared to the
properties of private owners. The economic enterprises of the church
prospered especially because of stronger links with both metropolitan
culture and the money economy. The impact of that advantage could
be detected in ecclesiastical ownership of large numbers of slaves and
in the church's importance as a supplier of rural credit.
The Catholic church also dominated vast frontier regions from
Califomia to the upper Parana, where its missions constituted prac-
tically the only Spanish settlement. Organized principally by the regu-
lar clergy and most notably by the Jesuits, the missions were complex
undertakings that fulfilled a crucial geopolitical, as well as evangeli-
cal, function and created relatively closed and autonomous societies
on the fringes of the Spanish American empire. The expulsion of the
Jesuits in the mid-eighteenth century resulted in the collapse of thriv-
ing mission frontiers, the most famous of which were the Guarani
missions of the upper Parana and Uruguay rivers. The secular clergy
and lay administrators who took the place of the Jesuits lacked their
ability and their honesty, respectively, and the missions quickly crum-
bled. This is not the only respect in which the Society of Jesus showed
itself uniquely capable of meeting the challenges of the day. The
Jesuits organized their productive and commercial activities far more
efficiently than did any other religious order, and they contributed
some of the essential elements of the Spanish American Enlighten-
32 THE CONTEMPORARY
HISTORY OF LATIN AMERICA
ment. After the expulsion of the Jesuits, the secular clergy (composed
of parish priests and their superiors) became dominant in the Spanish
American church, a development no doubt satisfactory to the Crown,
which had more control over the secular clergy, but one which repre-
sented a clear decline in the quality of the ecclesiastical presence in
Spanish America.
Fortunately, the secular clergy of Spanish America improved as
the end of the eighteenth century approached. It had always possessed
considerable resources, but, as in Spain, the opulence of the church
was spread very unevenly among the many dioceses, and, within each,
it clustered around bishops and cathedrals, little affecting the majority
of ordinary parishes. Most parish priests supplemented their incomes,
especially in Indian lands, by charging their parishioners heavy fees for
the performance of sacraments. In early nineteenth-century Tucuman,
one comes across the example of a humble country family's funeral
expenses to be paid from the inheritance: three plots of land were to be
distributed among the heirs, and the house was to remain in the hands
of the priest in lieu of payment. The conflictive relationship suggested
by this case, fairly typical in the early eighteenth century, became less
common as the century progressed, however. By the time of indepen-
dence, many parish priests enjoyed enough personal prestige, in ad-
dition to their supposed heavenly influence and undeniable earthly
power, to become political leaders on both sides of the struggle.
The secular clergy did much to collaborate with the reform proj-
ects of the Spanish Crown. Most often they simply obeyed as behooved
loyal subjects, but sometimes they worked with enthusiasm. There
exists a powerful image of the village priest of the time, who, in
addition to being the villagers' spiritual pastor, was often their only
link to a world of new sciences and techniques. One thinks of the en-
gravings distributed throughout the Spanish American empire, from
Buenos Aires to Guatemala, that show a priest carrying in his hands
that new instrument of earthly salvation, a lancet for administering
vaccinations. The reality was surely more complex and nuanced than
this representation, since the secular clergy of Spanish America had
the same defects and virtues as the rest of the imperial administration,
of which, in many ways, they formed an integral part. There are signs
that the church hierarchy tended to devote much attention to the
cultivation of mundane bureaucratic careers. The clergy's general doc-
ility in the face of royal authority presents one example, and the
occurrence of a number of indecorous forms of self-aggrandizement,
another. Still, the secular clergy provided one of the principal vehicles
of the Enlightenment in Spanish America, better able to transmit
THE COLONIAL 33
HERITAGE
the senhor do engenho, the planter who owned his own grinding mill.
The sugar fazendas were worked by large numbers of African slaves
(and much smaller numbers of Indian slaves), who contributed to the
rapid process of racial mixing and put a lasting African stamp on Bra-
zilian culture. Influenced by their own nostalgia, apologists of Brazil-
ian plantation society have called its social relations patriarchal, and
the relations between Brazilian slaves and masters arguably did dis-
playa less relentlessly profit-oriented, "rational" exploitation of slave
labor than the relations characterized by the plantations of the Antil-
les. Despite the brutality of the process of transplantation, many
elements of African life were able to take root in Brazil. By adding a
Christian tint to social and religious traditions brought from Africa,
Brazilian slaves were able to conserve much of their culture. In addi-
tion, the continued importation of African slaves until the middle of
the nineteenth century made Africa a living presence for Brazilians far
more than for the people of Jamaica or the United States, for example.
In the Brazilian fringe regions to the north, south, and west of the
sugar lands, a different sort of society developed, ethnically more a
mix of Indian and Portuguese. The cattle-herding people of the arid
sertao fit this description precisely. Ironically, the slave hunters who
roamed the tropical forests of the north and the savannas of the south
were also mestizos and speakers of an Indian language. As in parts of
Spanish America, the imperative to populate and the absence of Por-
tuguese and Spanish women resulted in a variety of demographically
fertile polygamous arrangements that horrified more than one Euro-
pean traveler. Life in the fringe areas was simpler and harder for the
Portuguese settlers than in the sugar lands. In spite of the slow eclipse
of sugar, the planters of the central coast lived in a comparative opu-
lence viewed by the tough cattle barons of the interior with a mixture
of envy and scorn.
The whole Brazilian population numbered only about 400,000 at
the beginning of the eighteenth century. Slaves were more numerous
than Portuguese or mestizos, and these, in tum, outnumbered the
Indians. Yet these people had already acquired three million square
kilometers of territory for the Portuguese Crown. The huge plateau
that underlies much of Brazil presents obstacles at the coast, where
there are relatively few harbors or navigable rivers and mountains rise
immediately from a narrow coastal plain. Climbing to the edge of the
plateau, however, the Portuguese came upon a landscape in which the
primary obstacle to be overcome was distance itself. Brazil thus es-
caped the severe compartmentalization imposed on Spanish America
by its geography. The rivers of the Brazilian plateau, passable by canoe
36 THE CONTEMPORARY
HISTORY OF LATIN AMERICA
into the heart of the South American continent, became the primary
routes of expansion into the fringe areas. The Rio Sao Francisco, which
flows a thousand miles through the arid backlands before reaching the
sea north of Bahia, provided a vital artery linking the sugar coast with
the regions to the south where gold was discovered in 1698 by people
from Sao Paulo.
The discovery of gold and later diamonds changed the course of
Portuguese settlement in the eighteenth century. The Paulistas who
found gold in central Brazil worked with some success to keep out-
siders away for almost a decade. In 1708, however, newcomers clashed
violently with the Paulistas and broke the attempted monopoly of the
mining zone. Thereafter, outsiders streamed in from Portugal, from
the sugar coast, and from its cattle-raising hinterland. Powerful rural
families moved south along the Rio Sao Francisco, bringing their
slaves to pan for gold in the area named for the mines, Minas Gerais. In
1720, Minas Gerais was removed from the jurisdiction of Sao Paulo
and became an independent captaincy with its capital at Ouro Preto,
the first of the architecturally impressive gold-rush cities built in the
mountains. Brazil's new golden wealth also brought a revival of slave
importations and attracted many Portuguese immigrants to the entre-
preneurial opportunities surrounding mining. Due to this influx of
people with no parallel in Spanish America, the small Brazilian popu-
lation climbed toward three million at the end of the eighteenth
century. By that time, Brazil's "gold cycle" had extended its effects far
west into Goias and Mato Grosso before plunging from boom to bust.
The population that mining had attracted to central Brazil then drifted
away from the splendid baroque mining towns in large numbers to
raise livestock in the semiarid interior. Of the cities that had prospered
from the gold rush, only Rio de Janeiro continued to thrive. The capital
had been moved there from Bahia in 1763 as a concession to the new
demographic and economic importance of the central region, and its
district remained an oasis of rice, cotton, and sugar production.
The mining boom of the first half of the eighteenth century further
accelerated Brazil's territorial expansion toward the temperate south
and the equatorial north. In the far south, the well-watered grasslands
of Rio Grande do SuI supported a sort of ranching similar to that
practiced in the neighboring Spanish territories of the Rio de la Plata.
The ranchers of Rio Grande do SuI raised mules to supply the transpor-
tation needs of Minas Gerais, exported hides to equip the warring
imperial armies of Europe, and produced dried beef rations for the
slaves of the sugar coast, roughly in that order of importance. As for
the extreme north of Brazil, it had long been isolated from the rest by
THE COLONIAL 37
HERITAGE
the gold rush populated new aIeas of the interior, and the colonial
capital was moved from Bahia to Rio de Janeiro.
The ascendancy of Brazilian landowners made itself felt in eccle-
siastical, as well as administrative, affairs. The Jesuits were the most
influential religious order in Brazil, even more predominant than in
Spanish America, but they faced tremendous opposition from Bra-
zilian landowners hungry for Indian slaves. The situation has obvious
parallels in Spanish America, with the difference that in Brazil the
advocates of Indian welfaIe had stronger enemies and a weaker ally in
the Portuguese Crown. Jesuit initiatives among the Indians prospered
only in the eighteenth century, and then only in the remote mission
frontiers of the Amazon basin. The expulsion of the Jesuits from Brazil
in I? 59 therefore caused much less disruption than their expulsion
from Spanish America a few years later. As for the secular clergy, their
subordination to Brazil's powerful landowners appears even clearer.
Most priests in the sugar lands lived on plantations, at the behest and
under the direct control of the planters in whose chapels they offici-
ated. Employment in such private chapels often went preferentially to
a son of the planter, and sons of the landowning aristocrats pervaded
the church hierarchy faI more than in Spanish America. If a crusading
spirit was notably absent in this church that was rather too well
integrated into colonial society, abusive immoralities must have been
less common than some observers, more zealous than discerning,
would have us believe. At least the curates supported by sugar planters
had less need to extract exorbitant fees from parishioners for the
performance of the sacraments, as was often true in Spanish America.