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FYI: Unearthing Black Papantla

 

"Pardos Enterados: Unearthing Black Papantla in the Eighteenth Century."
Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History 5:2 | © 2004 Jason Frederick
"Pardos Enterados: Unearthing Black Papantla in the Eighteenth Century." 
     Jason Frederick
     Penn State University, University Park

  1.
2. In 1787 Antonio Alcedo published his Diccionario Geographico-Histórico de las Indias Occidentales o America. This work details a variety of information on population centers throughout North and South America. For the town of Papantla, Veracruz, Alcedo recorded 15 families of Spaniards, 535 families of "indios Mexicanos," and 200 pardos, divided into two companies of militia.1 Two centuries later Peter Gerhard offered population figures for the same period in what has become the standard historical geography for colonial New Spain. Gerhard's numbers for Papantla were considerably higher than Alcedo's: 2,269 native tributaries and 215 Spanish families in 1795. Gerhard gave no specific figures, however, for Afro-Mexicans in the area, stating only that, "other non-indians (mostly mulattoes) settled there and elsewhere on cattle ranches."2 Yet, as we shall soon see, the numbers of Afro-Mexicans were in fact high. Also, as suggested by Alcedo's initial findings, the military connection proved important for structuring the lives of the resident black population in the area.
This article seeks to understand the social and demographic contours of a Mexican rural town by examining the burial records of the local parish and by taking into account the value of militia inflected records. With these as yet undeveloped materials it is possible to create a more accurate representation of ethnicity in this Mexican town. Over the past several years, important strides have been made in Afro-Mexican historiography, and in Mexican social history in general.3 Mexicanists are now paying greater attention to a broader view of race and ethnicity that encompasses peoples of African origin and their multi-hued offspring. But increased and careful attention to the nexus between the institution of the colonial military and pardo, mulato, and moreno service, may even offer additional clues to those scholars tackling broader social questions that do not necessarily concentrate on African diasporic issues. This article presents some preliminary field results from an on-going project on Papantla, inviting historians to adopt a more sensitive perspective as to the meanings of race and military service in the structuring of colonial hierarchy, and in understanding how the daily affairs of rural life were operationalized and mediated. By examining data from local parish records and using qualitative materials from regional and national archives, this article begins the slow process of recovering the history of Papantla's black population, by paying close attention to a demographic context that included close relations with natives and Spaniards. 

  3. THE BODIES: PAPANTLA'S DEMOGRAPHIC LANDSCAPE
In determining the dimensions of regional populations, parish records prove particularly useful and illustrative. The principal data set used for this article includes five years of burial records from Papantla parish, from 1770 through 1775.4 These records often included the names of parents or other survivors. Document damage prevents a complete reconstruction of demographic information; however, 1,579 individuals have been successfully identified in this sample, of which 1,215 have clearly noted racial designations (see Table 1). 
     Table 1: Racial Breakdown of Burials in Papantla, 1700-1775
Mestizos Indios Pardos/Mulattos Españoles N=Total Number of Burials* 
     2    1,055    145    13    1,215
     0.02%    86.8%    12%    1.0%    100%
Papantla Archdiocesan Archive (PAA), Defunciones, 1770-1925, Papantla, Veracruz, Mexico.
* This is taken from my sample of 1,579 individuals. There are other individuals in the parish registers who are not accounted for here. 
  4.
5. As evidenced in the burials above, the black population of Papantla substantially outnumbered that of the Spanish. Officially, pardos constituted a population whose racial/ethnic mix was derived from African and native ancestries, whereas mulatos comprised a mixture of African and Spanish heritages. For the purposes of this article, the pardo and mulato populations have not been finely subdivided into discrete categories, since the aim here is to establish the rough boundaries of the African based population in the area. Overall, the ratio of natives to Afro-Papantecos to Spaniards was approximately 81:11:1. This figure is consistent with Matthew Restall's finding of 12.4% of Yucatan's population being Afro-Mexican in 1791, and is not far off the 10% estimate for the Afro-Mexican population in the colony of New Spain as a whole (1793).5
6. Of course, grouping Papantla residents into only three racial categories simplifies the complex racial spectrum envisioned by the sistema de castas (caste system), which provided for at least fifty different racial groupings in theory, and routinely yielded 6-7 categories in census documents.6 The fact that of 1,215 individuals, only two were identified as mestizo (the offspring of natives and Spaniards) leads one to speculate that the curates who recorded these burials probably did not scrupulously investigate the racial/ethnic heritage of the population, or that they simply folded the more complex varieties of racial mixture into one of the more standard categories. For instance, the offspring of marriages between Spaniards and pardos (of which at least one was documented in Papantla) were most likely assigned mulatto or pardo labels rather than a more nuanced caste grouping. Equally, male and female blacks (pardos and mulatos) that had native spouses were also crunched into one of the more familiar statuses, rather than being labeled lobos, jarochos, or other terms that captured the somatic complexity of miscegenation.7 This served to simplify record keeping and, in some ways, streamline society itself containing excessive caste ascension and horizontal mobility through limiting the effects of intermixture. But of course, our speculation is in part an academic exercise. It is difficult for historians to determine what forces actually operated in society itself. In regions near Papantla, for instance, Afro-Mexicans who had white fathers were sometimes known colloquially as mulatos blancos (white mulattos), emphasizing that they were superior to ordinary mulatos whose fathers may have been black or of a closely related, racially mixed stock.
7. In essence, while the three main racial/ethnic groupings of Papantla provide an instructive and fairly reliable guide to the population's overall composition, it is impossible to know just how many individuals were variants of one of the three main groupings. An undetermined number of individuals were also probably passing as either Spanish or Indian to qualify for rights specifically allotted to those populations further complicating the overall "accuracy" of the demographic count. The "Spanish" wife of the pardo male found in the sample could very well have been a wealthy, light-skinned parda or mestiza who successfully aspired to whiteness in order to curtail certain limitations on her social and legal status. At the same time, it is difficult to know precisely what a pardo, mestizo, or white person entailed in Papantla, since the broader colonial racial/ethnic norms that were in effect elsewhere in the colony may not have applied here, with its small Spanish population. This may have facilitated the passing of a few more "honorary whites," or conversely, it may have hardened the color line on whiteness. Whatever the effect, Pat Carroll has noted that colonial clerics, "did not assign [racial/ethnic] designations on the basis of genetic background. They simply matched persons against popularly accepted somatic norms."8 So too could race and ethnicity be determined by a combination of appearance and social status within the community what Latin American historians have commonly referred to as calidad (quality).9 To an extent, race and ethnicity in Papantla was less important than political or social rights and position. The idea that the sistema de castas was a concrete ethnic ranking has been coming under fire in recent years. In depth investigations of the significance of ethnicity as a barrier to social movements repeatedly find that ethnic rules were open to a great deal of manipulation.10
8. Notwithstanding, we can safely conclude that those who were identified as having African ancestry in Papantla probably belonged to these categories and constituted a large part of the community. Importantly, they were also integrated into the other racial and ethnic groups in the region. Exogamy amongst Afro-Papantecos appears to have been fairly common. Of the 26 Afro-Mexican marriages where racial information can be gleaned for both parties, eight (30%) were exogamous. In the sample, pardos appear far more exogamous than mulattos, with six pardos taking native spouses, as opposed to just two mulattos. This may well be a function of the status offered to members of the pardo militia. Marriage to a militia soldier could be used to petition for exemption from tribute requirements, to which natives were subject.11 At least two of Papantla's militiamen were married to mulata slaves. The numerous accounts of miscegenation found in the burial records of Papantla forces us to recognize the ethnic diversity of Papantla. The offspring of these unions could quite rapidly become a significant portion of the racial/ethnic landscape of the town.
9. Curiously, while mulatos and pardos were encountered with frequency in late eighteenth century Papantla, there were no recorded mentions of anyone labeled as a negro (pure black). Whether this reflects the habits and biases of the curates who recorded deaths, or is evidence of the true lack of a purely African ethnicity in the town, we cannot say here with certainty. What we can state is that racial purity was definitely something that called the attention of some colonial officials who recorded demographic information, such as the late colonial censuses.12
10. For Papantla, however, the lack of negros may be credited to the overall decline of slavery in late colonial Mexico, the lack of sugar plantations in the region (which were concentrated further south), and the paucity of other large unskilled labor industries. This restricted the economic niches available to ethnic Africans, especially slaves; on the other hand, this would not have necessarily limited the activities of free-blacks, who indeed may have resided in Papantla under the guise of mulatos or pardos. As with some natives, who could change their caste status by merely speaking Spanish and adopting European-style clothing, some negros may have effectively been able to accomplish the transition to pardoness or mulatoness through living a free lifestyle, either as a rural peasant or artisan. Another possible reason for the lack of negros is that given the relative lack of large-scale economic enterprises that utilized slave labor, Papantla's slaves were heavily concentrated in the role of domestics. In this arena, Spaniards preferred slaves who spoke Spanish and were already acculturated. More often than not, this meant creole slaves, born in Mexico. Their number disproportionately included Afro-Mexicans of racially mixed heritage.
Outlining the demographic contours of Papantla's black population is considerably easier than describing how they lived. The parish records rarely listed occupational information, hence we can only speculate at what the bulk of the Afro-Mexican population was doing.13 Some were certainly slaves in Spanish households. The militia captain of Papantla, don Placido Perez personally owned at least three mulatto slaves.14 Others were farming small plots, just like much of the native Totonac population. Lack of information on the lives of Afro-Papantecos forces us to turn to the one group who did appear in the colonial record, black militiamen. As part-time soldiers, these men had other occupations, but their military lives offer us a glimpse into at least some of the decisions and issues that blacks occasionally faced. In the uprising of 1787, an important local event in the town, the militia was called upon to defend royal authority from native insurgents. What follows below is a brief look at the uprising and the varying postures from which the distinct racial/ethnic groups of Papantla came into the fight. 

 11. THE FIGHT: A TALE IN BLACK, WHITE, AND RED
12. On August 30, 1787, Rafael Padrés, commander of fifty-five soldiers of the Teziutlan militia entered the town of Papantla, in the modern state of Veracruz. At the church in the center of town he found a bloody scene. Barricaded inside the church were Spaniards, members of the pardo militia, and numerous Totonac natives. Several were wounded and at least two were dying. The alcalde mayor (district governor), José Maria Morcillo, had six suppurating wounds on his face.15 These people had occupied the church for seven days, and the conditions inside must have been unpleasant at best. However, though the scene was particularly grim, the incident was by no means unique in Papantla's recent past. Padrés had brought his relief force to aid Papantla's Spanish officialdom during what was the sixth native uprising in the town since 1764.
13. Seven days earlier, on August 23, a group of Totonac natives led by maquines (local leaders) had gathered in front of the local tobacco monopoly store. They were bearing stones, sticks, machetes, and according to many accounts, firearms. The mob threatened the three guards stationed to protect the building, until the guards fled in fear for their lives. The crowd then moved to destroy the building itself. But several witnesses, both Spanish and native, testified, that before the mob attacked, another native among the rioters, Miguel Perez, stepped forth and yelled that they could not destroy the building because it was "the house of the King."16 This worked. The mob spared the building and turned their ire on the rest of the town.
14. Morcillo, the alcalde mayor (a recent military appointee to the post), fought bravely in defense of the town. Some Totonac natives fought alongside Morcillo. A Totonac, Miguel Morales, was later noted for his bravery in the face of life threatening danger as he "defended the royal authority."17 Members of the Papantla free-colored militia also fought alongside Morcillo to defend that authority. The battle that ensued would not be completely contained for eighteen days, by which time a total of 278 troops, from as far away Veracruz, 185 kilometers to the southeast, occupied the town. This figure, however, can only hint at how many militiamen might have turned out for the 1787 event. In any case the force appear to have been ill-equipped for the battle. In December 1787, Lieutenant Colonel Ildefonso Arias was put in charge of the militia armory, which had been found to be largely unserviceable.18
15. According to many Spanish witnesses, this was a two-sided fight, Indians on one side and Spaniards on the other. In truth, as with any colonial conflict, the division of combatants was far more complex than this. Totonacs, as we see above, were on both the side of the insurgents and on the side of the Spanish defenders. Political factionalism divided this fight no less than did race and ethnicity. But even from a racial/ethnic standpoint, we find that this event went well beyond the Spanish notions of native-versus-white fighting. The free-colored militia comprised a third group, somewhere between the natives and the Spanish.
Blacks made up a significant component of this fight. Afro-Papantecos who were not members of the militia are not mentioned in the records of this battle. But the pardo militia was obliged to participate being under the control of the alcalde mayor. The following three sections of this article attempt to examine how these pardos, as well as the Spaniards and natives, conceived of this conflict. In examining these groups, this article hopes to illustrate how all participants in the 1787 uprising came from political positions that were not merely guided by race and ethnicity, but by personal and political systems of obligation. The documentary evidence divided these people into three groups, and in so doing simplified the nature of the conflict and overlooked the degree to which racial and ethnic interaction was complicated by local level politics. This battle was over agricultural rights, political authority, economic need, and social position within colonial society. This was not a two-sided struggle between two, or even three, undivided ethnicities. 

 16. ONE TALE TOLD: THE SPANISH
17. The recorded testimony of the many Spanish witnesses to the uprising appears to closely resemble what one might expect. The Spaniards of Papantla were justifiably afraid. Outnumbered by more than eighty to one by people who had been intentionally and legally relegated to a much lower rung on the sociopolitical ladder, Spaniards were quick to perceive native unrest as an attack on Spaniards in general and the structure of Spanish rule in particular. Thus, by this conflict, the sixth uprising in twenty-three years, Papantla's Spaniards likely felt that the natives had lost their respect for Spanish rule altogether. When Raphael Pàdres led his troops into the beleaguered town he wrote that the natives were "rising up against justice, the tobacco monopoly, and the Spanish residents of the town."19 Padrés' accusation that the crowd was threatening justice was tantamount to claiming that the insurgents were assaulting the very idea of colonial authority. Padrés did not fully comprehend the structure of local politics, as he was an outsider to Papantla. Thus, it was easy for him to see the attack on the monopoly store as exactly what Miguel Perez had wished to avoid by invoking the royal authority: an attack on Spanish rule.20
18. The criminal investigation after the uprising, and the record of the military correspondence yield much Spanish testimony that described the natives of Papantla as a homogenous mass: naturales sublevantados (native insurgents), indios tumultarios (tumultuous Indians), salvajes (savages) Fighters such as Miguel Morales were perceived as exceptions rather than representatives of a different political group. But in the mind of alcalde mayor José Maria Morcillo, this could not have been true. Six months prior to the uprising of 1787 on March 14, Totonac residents indicted the previous alcalde mayor, Manuel Cornejo, for a litany of crimes, including theft from the caja de comunidad (community treasury), electoral fraud in the república de indios (republic of Indians community of Indians), and even responsibility in the homicide of a native. Their complaint was successful, and the alcalde was replaced.21 As the sitting alcalde mayor, José Morcillo was involved in building a power base among the native population. However, many native elites still held allegiance to the former alcalde mayor, Manuel Cornejo. In fact, during the subsequent inquest, Morcillo accused Cornejo of using agents to incite the uprising. Despite Cornejo's removal from office earlier in the year, he was still trying to retain authority among the Papantla Totonac. For the next two and a half years the Real Audiencia would attempt to sort out whether Cornejo had played a role in the uprising of 1787. Cornejo died prior to the conclusion of this matter.
Not only, then, is this an example of natives mobilizing against local authority, the 1787 uprising was a case of Spanish manipulation of native discontent for political ends. The Spanish political head of Papantla and his predecessor were involved in a fight for the hearts and mindsñor at least the controlñof the native population. One must also consider how it was that the natives could be so readily mobilized, whether for Morcillo or Cornejo. 

 19. ONE TALE TOLD: THE TOTONAC
20. How was it that the native Totonacs could have been brought to join the battle? It would be quite a stretch to believe that all the natives were aligned with Cornejo. It had been an indictment by natives that had gotten Cornejo removed from office. Those Totonacs who came to the monopoly building in anger were being used by their own elites who saw profit in undermining the authority of the sitting alcalde mayor. Mexican natives were never a homogenous body. Rather, they were stratified by power and economics. Native elites, such as members of the electorate, could employ the larger native populace as a tool to influence local politics to their advantage. But even native elites couldn't simply invent an uprising. The population had to have grievances that would justify a riot. The fact that this fight began at the tobacco monopoly store is indicative of why the mass of Totonac farmers were so angry and were ready to be used in this struggle.
21. The Tobacco Monopoly building was first constructed in 1764. It was in this year that, as part of the Bourbon Reforms, the crown established the Mexican Tobacco Monopoly. This institution insinuated its governance into all aspects of tobacco production from the seedling to the cigar. To oversee cultivation, the monopoly restricted it to the areas near Orizaba, Cordoba and Xalapa.22 Papantla was not within these zones, and thus cultivation of the crop in Papantla was outlawed. But tobacco had been a traditional crop of the Totonac since the Conquest, and likely, much earlier. Hence, with the stroke of a pen, many of Papantla's Totonacs instantly became criminals, as they never stopped producing the crop, even after its production was banned. It was far too important in their lives, both economically and ritually. As subsistence agriculturalists, Totonacs used tobacco to augment their income, to purchase domestic goods and different foods. Today, it is sometimes used in the region to ward off spirits of the dead and snakes. The Totonac agriculturalists then, would doubly suffer if they complied, as their incomes would decline and they would be forced to expend part of that diminishing income on the purchase of tobacco. So they continued to grow the crop. The alcaldes often turned a blind eye, knowing that their own responsibilities were twofold. They were de facto officers of the Tobacco Monopoly, but they were also bound to see that tribute payments were met, to say nothing of their personal interest in profiteering from excessive tribute collection. To completely cut off tobacco production would seriously interfere with this second order.
22. But the crowd that gathered that day at the monopoly building was rising against just one of several conditions that threatened their well-being. The Totonacs of Papantla were living under a compounding series of abuses. Spanish alcaldes employed electoral manipulation, and repartimientos, which included the forced sale or purchase of goods by natives, or forced use of native labor for the alcalde's interests. The increased burden of the monopoly then placed them much closer to the flashpoint when the goading of a few local leaders could touch off violent unrest.
23. Hence the monopoly store was a target, but not necessarily the entire objective. The crowd was trying to redress the exploitative manipulation by Spanish alcaldes that had gone on for decades, if not centuries. In Papantla, the Totonac population had endured a variety of the normal colonial sufferings, institutionalized racism, economic exploitation, etc. When the offence was great enough, they would attempt to correct it. For example, the Totonacs of Papantla made legal complaints throughout the eighteenth century regarding various forms of the repartimiento.
24. Such complaints were at times quite successful, as we have seen with the removal of Morcillo. But this did not prevent the uprising of August that year. Clearly a large portion of the population felt that this success did not satisfy them. Witness testimony after the August uprising indicates that the replacement alcalde mayor did not yet have the respect of the Totonac population.23 But this appears to be slight grounds for an uprising. This is a community that had endured exploitative alcaldes throughout the century. Yet between 1700 and 1764 there had been only two native uprisings. By 1787 Papantla had suffered six more. When we consider that the majority of natives in this town were subsistence agriculturalists, we begin to understand why tolerance for local leaders decreased markedly after the imposition of the monopoly.
25. With the monopoly in place the Totonacs had lost income. Even when they continued to produce tobacco, agents of the tobacco monopoly frequently raided plots and turned the natives over to alcaldes for punishment.24 This represented a loss of autonomy to an agricultural population. Totonac farmers now found their milpas under the jurisdiction of the tobacco guard. But the tobacco monopoly was a crown-sponsored institution. The Papantla Totonac knew that, and knew that an assault on the institutions of the crown could spur a much more serious response than an attack on a local official. They felt that they could, however, address local grievances. When the crowd gathered at the monopoly store, they were clearly expressing anger at the institution of the monopoly. But Miguel Perez expressed the local position well when he said, "it is the house of the king," and hence cannot be destroyed. They could not openly attack a building so well understood to be royal property. Yet their anger had to be salved. The extent of infractions by alcaldes in the early part of the century would no longer be tolerated while the burden of the monopoly weighed so heavily on the shoulders of the Papantla Totonac.
If factional politics complicated the allegiances of the Spaniards in town, the Totonacs were no less divided. True, the insurgents that gathered that August day outside the Tobacco Monopoly store were exclusively native Totonacs, but on further investigation the natives of the town were politically divided. Native elites were engaged in attempts to bolster their own authority by siding with Cornejo or Morcillo. Cornejo had held authority in Papantla for several years. The position of alcalde mayor was compensated not by salary but rather commercial opportunity. When Cornejo lost his title of alcalde, he tried to maintain the authority that connections to the local native elite gave him. 

 26. ONE TALE TOLD: THE PARDO MILITIA
27. Lastly, there was another group involved in this fight, the pardo militia. The militia rolls of 1767 list 276 men, with 143 reported as absent or too sick to muster, leaving an actual strength of 133.25 What was the position of these men? Since the seventeenth century, their primary function was to serve as a coastal defense force to ward off foreign incursion. They were not created as a domestic guard for putting down uprisings. In fact, in Papantla, this was one task for which they were particularly ill suited. In the late eighteenth century nearly 61% of the militiamen who recorded marital information had contracted nuptials with indias (native women).26 This clearly gave some of the soldiers a conflict of interest when it came to fighting against local indigenous unrest. In fact, one official cited this condition as a threat to their ability to act.
28. Militia soldiers had a distinct advantage as marriage partners. As of 1688 all Papantla militiamen were exempted from tribute. By 1787 this benefit had been conferred upon all wives of militia soldiers as well.27 This may well have contributed to the degree of intermarriage between militia soldiers and local Totonac women. It is a historical truism that groups of soldiers will invariably find some outlet for their sexual and emotional desires. In Papantla, native women represented the majority of available brides. For pardo soldiers and Totonac women, it is clear that ethnic designations were no barrier to intermarriage. Militia status and tribute exemption likely enhanced the desire for native women to cross this ethnic boundary. These marriage relationships inevitably meant that for militia soldiers much of their social world would have encompassed the native community.
29. This integration with the Totonac population meant that at times of native unrest, the militia faced a unique problem. They were in part, weapons of colonial rule. Hence, if their ethnic distinction from the native community was blurred by their intermarriage with native women, their African background was called up again when they were tasked with fighting natives. When putting down native unrest pardo soldiers were inserted into a "third space" between natives and Spaniards. The militia had a patriotic responsibility to defend the kingdom's borders from foreign enemies. Their status as militiamen provided them with a certain degree of community identity and position within colonial society.28 If it was as soldiers that the pardo militiamen had an identity as part of the system of Spanish rule, many of them, nevertheless drew their family identity from their relations with local Totonacs. Whereas defending the coasts from foreign raiders was a clear battle against outsiders, in fighting the natives, the militiamen were forced to tip the balance of their commitment to either the Spanish officials or their social community. They were ordered to fight against people they may have known or been related to. For a group that in many ways had a particularly difficult time integrating into either native or Spanish society, they were bound by conflicting responsibilities to both.
30. Not only were the militia bound by social and occupational responsibilities, they were also caught in the fight between the sitting alcalde mayor and his predecessor. While they were under the titular authority of Morcillo, at least one sergeant appears to have been aligned with the previous alcalde, Cornejo. Militia sergeant José Chaves, was arrested on the grounds of having incited the uprising under Morcillo's orders and spent four months in jail.29 The sergeant's position as a leader within the militia implies that he may also have been able to garner support for Cornejo amongst his subordinates.
On that August day, as each of these groups came together at the church, in defense, or in assault, they brought with them distinct perspectives. Each group assumed different motivations for their opponents. Native agriculturalists and Spaniards made up the bookends of this conflict. But a close look at all of the participants breaks down this artificial ethnic division. Natives reveal the complexity of their own political structure in their presence on opposite sides of the fight. The militia's allegiances were spread between their occupational responsibility and their social reality. Perhaps only the Spanish vecinos, who were clustered exclusively on one side of the fight, thus had the luxury to conclude that the battle's causes were seated in an ethnic division that has been all too easily accepted by history. The Spanish inability to recognize the occupational rather than ethnic position of Totonac natives led them to place the Totonac in an economically untenable position vis a vis the monopoly. Meanwhile, Spanish views of the militia caused them to put too much faith in the militia's occupational responsibilities, rather than its deep social integration into Papantla's ethnic and racial heritage. 

 31. Conclusion
32. Late colonial Papantla was ethnically diverse, hosting an official body of armed Afro-Mexicans in the form of the pardo militia, as well as pardo and mulato wives, children, and very likely adult males not affiliated with the militia. Afro-Mexicans appear to have occupied a third space in colonial Mexican history. Both colonial reality and subsequent historical writing have left a hole between the two major ethnic bodies, Spaniards and natives. However, sources such as interment records reveal that the Afro-Mexican presence in Papantla was significant. A study of the experience of the militia augments the meaning of these numbers by revealing what choices and responsibilities at least some of the town's Afro-Mexicans faced. Further study of militia relationships can only reveal more questions about the nature of the Afro-Mexican experience in New Spain.
Afro-Mexicans acted as defenders of the colonies, as laborers and farmers, and were a social group that interacted and intermarried with both whites and natives. They spanned the gap between the two groups so well recognized by history, natives and Spaniards. In spanning this gap they also complicated the sociedad de castas in colonial New Spain. In Papantla, and throughout New Spain, the sociedad de castas was a rigid concept, but a flexible reality. Members of the militia demonstrated the fluidity of the sociedad by associating with both natives and Spaniards. "Clarity stemmed from the fact that mulatos and pardos were not white, black, or Indian. Ambiguity stemmed from the possibility that free-coloreds could be affiliated with any one of these racial groups."30 Clear ethnic titles were imposed on individuals, but they did not conform to the Spanish concept of a well-ordered series of hierarchical socio-ethnic rankings. People were defined by titles of convenience, either convenient to themselves or to those who were writing these titles down. At the same time, these terms were imposed on individuals who clearly crossed the boundaries of the sociedad de castas. Pardos married Españolas. Indias married mulatos. Papantla was home to a population that crossed the ethnic spectrum. This town could hardly divide between the interests of natives and the interests of Spaniards. Rather it was a place where individuals and groups manipulated the concept of ethnic distinction to achieve their own ends. 
     Endnotes
1 Antonio de Alcedo, Diccionario Geografico-Histórico de las Indias Occidentales o America. (Madrid: En la Emprenta de B. Cano, 1787). 5 volumes. Vol. 5. p. 59.
2 Peter Gerhard, A Guide to the Historical Geography of New Spain. (Norman and London: University of Oklahoma Press, 1993), 219.
3 Some notable recent titles in the literature on Afro-Mexico include: Herman L. Bennett, Africans in Colonial Mexico: Absolutism, Christianity, and Afro-creole Consciousnsess, 1570-1640. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2003); Matthew Restall, The Black Middle: Slavery, Society, and African-Maya Relations in Colonial Yucatan. (Stanford: Stanford University Press, forthcoming), Ben Vinson III, Bearing Arms for His Majesty: The Free Colored Militia in Colonial Mexico. (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001); Frank T. Proctor III, "Afro-Mexican Slave Labor in the Obrajes de Paños of New Spain, Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries." The Americas LX, No. 1 (2003): 33-58; Joan Cameron Bristol, "Negotiating Authority in New Spain: Blacks, Mulattos, and Religious Practice in Seventeenth Century Mexico." (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 2001); Nicole von Germeten, "Corporate Salvation in a Colonial Society: Confraternities and Social Mobility for Africans and their Descendants in New Spain." (Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Berkeley, 2003); Javier Villa-Flores, "'To Lose One's Soul': Blasphemy and Slavery in New Spain, 1596-1669." Hispanic American Historical Review LXXXII, No. 3 (2002): 435-469; Laura A. Lewis, Hall of Mirrors: Power, Witchcraft, and Caste in Colonial Mexico. (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2003); Patrick Carroll, Blacks in Colonial Veracruz: Race, Ethnicity, and Regional Development. 2nd edition, (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2001); and Lourdes Mondragón Barrios, Esclavos africanos en la ciudad de México. El servicio doméstico durante el siglo XVI. (Mexico City: CONACULTA-INAH, 1999).
4 Papantla Archdiocesan Archive (hereafter PAA), Defunciones 1770-1925. Courtesy of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, microfilm roll 698406. The only surviving parish records from Papantla's colonial period are death records from September, 1770 to June, 1778. This is an ongoing project; consequently, I have limited the current discussion to the 1,579 individuals I have identified thus far.
5 Restall, The Black Middle, 12; Gonzalo Aguirre Beltràn, La población negra de México, 1519-1810: estudio etnohistórico. 3rd Edition, (Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1989).
6 Vinson, "Studying Race from the Margins: The "Forgotten Castes," Lobos, Moriscos, Coyotes, Moros, and Chinos in the Colonial Mexican Caste System." Unpublished working paper presented at the 2002 Harvard University International Seminar on the History of the Atlantic World.
7 The social exogamy of black populations, particularly in the region of Veracruz, is a well-known phenomenon. But its specific intra-regional patterns are less studied. Whereas, on the whole, black exogamy in Veracruz tended to follow a pattern whereby pardos established links with Indians and mulatos with whites, the death records of Papantla do not sustain this pattern. Of course, part of the reason why mulatos were unable to sustain tighter relationships with whites was due to the extremely small size of the population of españoles in residence. However, even if the white population was larger, it is difficult to determine if whites and mulatos would have had greater cross-racial contact in intimate familial relations. Perhaps the model of Papantla is useful towards understanding other areas where fairly large populations of indios and blacks abounded, although in western provinces, such as Igualapa, blacks and natives in the late 18th century exhibited little intermarriage despite the miniscule presence of whites. See: Vinson, The Racial Profile of a Rural Mexican Province in the 'Costa Chica': Igualapa in 1791." The Americas LVII, No. 2 (2000): 269-282; and Carroll, "Los mexicanos negros, el mestizaje y los fundamentos olvidados de la "Raza Cósmica": Una perspectiva regional." Historia Mexicana Vol. XLIV, No. 3 (1995): 403-438.
8 Patrick Carroll, Africans in Colonial Veracruz. (Austin: The University of Texas Press, 1991), 113.
9 Good recent discussion on the complexities of understanding the interlocking relationship between social status and racial/ethnic status can be found in Lewis, Hall of Mirrors, 22-26, 33-35.
10 For an excellent examination of this phenomena in Mexico City see R. Douglas Cope, The Limits of Racial Domination: Plebian Society in Colonial Mexico City 1660-1720. (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1994).
11 Cynthia Milton and Ben Vinson III, "Counting Heads: Race and Non-Native Tribute Policy in Colonial Spanish America." The Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History Vol. 3, No.3, (2002), 1-18. For similar trends in Guatemala see: Paul Lokken, "Marriage as Slave Emancipation in Seventeenth Century Rural Guatemala." The Americas Vol. 58, No. 2 (2001): 197. 

     12 Vinson, "Studying Race from the Margins," 39.
13 Between 1770 and 1775 the burial records include only two occupations, that of a deceased alcalde mayor, and a parda slave.
14 Archivo General de la Nación (hereafter AGN) Criminal 303/2/200-251. 

     15 AGN Criminal 315/2/8-49.

     16 AGN Indiferente de Guerra 414/8/1v.

     17 AGN Criminal 315/2/16.
18 This figure includes only off-site troops that came to aid Papantla. There were 51 troops from Teziutlan, 52 from Perote, and 171 of the Zamora regiment from Veracruz. There are no figures on the number of Papantla militiamen that mustered for the 1787 uprising. A complete muster record from 1767 lists 278 individuals. Only 133 of those men were listed as present, the rest being recorded as absent or too sick to muster. AGN Criminal 303/2/219-221v. This figure, however, can only hint at how many militiamen might have turned out for the 1787 event. In any case the force appear to have been ill-equipped for the battle. In December 1787, Lieutenant Colonel Ildefonso Arias was put in charge of the militia armory, which had been found to be largely unserviceable. AGN Indiferente de Guerra 414a/51.
19 AGN Criminal 315/2/34. The role of the tobacco monopoly as a causative factor in this conflict is more fully explored in my dissertation "The Landscape of Conflict: Community and Discontent in Colonial Papantla, 1750-1800," that I am currently completing.
20 Perez was arrested for his role in the uprising, and subsequently died in jail awaiting sentencing. AGN Criminal 539/5/208v. 

     21 AGN General de Parte 67/206/81v-82.
22 AGN Bandos 6/23/54. Susan Deans-Smith, Bureaucrats, Planters, and Workers: The Making of the Tobacco Monopoly in Bourbon Mexico. (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1992), 15.
23 AGN Criminal 315/2/50-75. Due to this lack of the population's confidence José Maria Morcillo was discharged from the office of alcalde mayor. It should be noted that he was not indicted for any wrong doing, and was commended for his efforts in office. 

     24 AGN Criminal 714/4/11-130.

     25 AGN Criminal 303/2/200-251.

     26 AGN Criminal 303/2/201.

     27 AGN Criminal 303/2/223v.

     28 Vinson, Bearing Arms for His Majesty makes this point.
29 AGN Criminal 539/5/158-212. Chaves, had been accused of desertion earlier in the year, and was perhaps an easy target for charges. He was freed on December 28, 1787. 

     30 Vinson, Bearing Arms for His Majesty. 193.
Copyright © 2004 Jason Frederick and The Johns Hopkins University Press, all rights reserved.