sign in sign up
<<
Home , Discalced, Esteban de Perea, Estufa, Flagellation, Franciscans, Frederick Webb Hodge

Florida State University Libraries

Electronic Theses, Treatises and Dissertations The Graduate School

2010 Among the : The Religious Lives of Franciscan , Revolutionaries, and the Colony of Nuevo , 1539-1722 Michael P. Gueno

Follow this and additional works at the FSU Digital Library. For more information, please contact [email protected] THE

COLLEGE OF ARTS & SCIENCES

AMONG THE PUEBLOS:

THE RELIGIOUS LIVES OF FRANCISCAN MISSIONARIES, PUEBLO

REVOLUTIONARIES, AND THE COLONY OF NUEVO MEXICO, 1539-1722

By

MICHAEL P. GUENO

A Dissertation submitted to the Department of Religion in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Awarded: Fall Semester, 2010

The members of the committee approve the dissertation of Michael P. Guéno defended on August 20, 2010.

______John Corrigan Professor Directing Dissertation

______Edward Gray University Representative

______Amanda Porterfield Committee Member

______Amy Koehlinger Committee Member

Approved: ______John Corrigan, Chair, Department of Religion

______Joseph Travis, , College of Arts and Sciences

The Graduate School has verified and approved the above-named committee members.

ii

For Shaynna

iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

It is my pleasure and honor to remember the many hands and lives to which this manuscript and I are indebted. The innumerable persons who have provided support, encouragement, and criticism along the writing process humble me. I am truly grateful for the ways that they have shaped this text and my scholarship. Archivists and librarians at several institutions provided understanding assistance and access to primary documents, especially those at the State Record Center and Archive, the Archive of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe, Archivo General de la Nacion de Mexico, and Biblioteca Nacional de la Anthropologia e Historia in Mexico . This dissertation could never have been completed without the guidance of many professors who offered their time and insights. Rodger Payne of the University of North Carolina at Asheville first kindled my dedication to the study of religion as an undergraduate at Louisiana State University and has continued to provide encouragement. At Louisiana State University, I received the invaluable feedback and encouragement of the faculty of the Philosophy and Religious Studies Department during the early stages of this project. I am grateful for the scholarly example and mentorship of the faculty of the Department of Religion at Florida State University. I owe a special debt to John Corrigan, Amy Koehlinger, and Amanda Porterfield for inspiring and shepherding this dissertation to completion. It is my sincerest hope that they may recognize the influence of their own scholarship in anything redeemable in this work or in me as an academic. Immeasurable gratitude is also due to Edward Gray of the History Department for his unfailing assistance and perspective. In the process of crafting this dissertation, I have benefitted from the selfless attention, conversations and critiques of several lifelong friends and colleagues who have enriched my thinking and my life. To Kelly Baker, Michael Pasquier, Arthur Remillard, and Howell Williams, I offer my heartfelt thanks. Nothing that I have said or done could have been possible without the aid of my family. I thank my parents, Dorothy and Stanley Guéno, for their inexhaustible encouragement and . Finally, I have the opportunity to thank my wife, Shaynna, to whom this dissertation is dedicated. She has continually given more than I could ask, supported my efforts with steadfast devotion and still somehow managed to fill each day with hope and joy. Thank you.

iv TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT …………………………………………………………………………... vi INTRODUCTION .……………………………………………………………………... 1 CHAPTER ONE: BEHIND THE ROBE ……..……………………………….. 14 CHAPTER TWO: BEYOND THE ……..…………………………………….... 68 CHAPTER THREE: BECOMING NEIGHBORS ..…………………………………. 125 CHAPTER FOUR: BETWEEN CONVERSION AND REVOLT …………………. 177 CHAPTER FIVE: BENEATH THE BLOODSHED ………………………………... 238 CONCLUSION ……………………………………………………………………… 306 NOTES ………………………………………………………………………………. 320 BIBLIOGRAPHY …………………………………………………………………… 411 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH …………………………………………..….….…...… 445

v ABSTRACT

Among the pueblos of Nuevo Mexico, Franciscan missionaries and Pueblo Indians structured their perceptions of and relationships with one another within religious frameworks. The history of cultural contact and interaction between and Pueblo peoples of the Southwest borderland reveals the prominence of religion within the history of the region and the lives of its inhabitants. The actions and reactions of and Native American colonists expressed the influence of the religious motivations and behavioral norms that permeated their lives. Amidst patterns of social interaction that were infused with religious significance, missionaries and Pueblo congregants developed nuanced and fluid relationships. Residents of Nuevo Mexico engaged elements from diverse religious traditions and evidenced conversion, rejection, hybridization, and parallelism within their religious lives. The series of Native American revolts that marked the seventeenth century history of the colony was an articulation of Pueblo religious resistance that sought to redress the transgressions of New Mexican colonists. During initial Spanish colonization, the Pueblo Revolutionary period, and the later renewal of the colony, religion prominently influenced the cultural landscapes and historical experiences of Franciscan missionaries, Pueblo peoples, and the colony of Nuevo Mexico.

vi INTRODUCTION

This dissertation explores the presence of religion within daily life through the history of the Pueblo and Spanish colonists of New Mexico from before European settlement throughout the wake of the Pueblo Revolutionary Period. Its approach and interpretation grow from the insights and analysis of a broad range of primary documents, theoretical methodologies, and scholarly research within the social sciences and humanities. It attempts to present, insofar as it is possible, the religious worlds constructed by the inhabitants of the region and articulated through the words and actions conveyed by the archaeological record and archival documents. The text aims to broadly illuminate the polyvalent expressions of religion within the experiences of historical subjects by narrating the emotionally rich, religious lives of colonial residents. To that end, it seeks to explicate the relationships created and navigated by the peoples of Nuevo Mexico and shed light upon their complex and often contradictory motivations and influences. Some portions of the document focus upon the insinuation of religion within the cultural structures and experiences of Pueblo and Spanish communities. Elsewhere, the narrative traces the prominence and prioritization of religion within the historical events that shaped life in the colony of Nuevo Mexico. Religion prominently influenced the perceptions and subsequent history of the interactions between friars and Pueblos throughout the colonial era. The endeavor and desire to express their Franciscan identities compelled the friars into to the northern territory and into Pueblo communities. The persistence and social dynamics of the colony depended upon the evangelistic activities of the Spanish clerics. Pueblo congregations understood and dynamically situated the foreign settlers within religious cosmologies that they similarly reconfigured amidst increasing contact. Native American communities demonstrated a spectrum of acceptance and resistance in reaction to religious authorities and elements introduced by Spanish colonizers. Most notably, the series of violent repudiations of Spanish rule that has long been the focus of traditional scholarly narratives of the colony of New Mexico articulated the religious context and aspirations of its participants. From the early instances of contact through the violence of the Pueblo Revolution and the later renewal of the colony, Pueblo and Spanish residents

1 in Nuevo Mexico continually constructed and reconfigured religious relationships and worlds. The argument expressed in these pages does not contend that the activities of the Pueblo Revolutionary period or life in the borderland territory more broadly were dictated by the doctrinal or ideological discourses of the colony. They were not. The historical actions of Pueblo and Spanish colonists incorporated multitudinous economic and political motivations and a varied history of personal and collective interactions and abuses. However, when the populations of Nuevo Mexico met and initiated relationships, they encountered and responded to one another through behavioral and cognitive models steeped in religious content. The constituent peoples of the colony infused their daily lives and grand historical actions with religious activities and significance that intertwined religion with the experience of life. Seemingly quotidian practices, colony-wide collective actions, cultural interpretations and even perception of the physical landscape of New Mexico were set within and inextricably bound to the religious lives of the colonists. By foregrounding religious interactions and experiences, this narrative elucidates the layers of influence exerted by Mexican cultures and peoples upon the colony of Nuevo Mexico. The resulting history demonstrates and affirms the Spanish heritage of the American Southwest. Far too much of the dominant scholarship upon the era has diminished the relevance of the Mexican origins of the Franciscan friars and migrants from Nueva España and minimized the significance of Spanish cultures within the American history of the region.1 The borderland territory participated within larger Spanish cultural worlds and engaged broader social realms. Early twentieth century scholarship upon the Spanish borderlands noted the importance of understanding Spanish colonization in the Southwest. Such histories often concluded that never significantly colonized the Southwest but eventually failed, leaving a borderland absent of European influence until the arrival of American expansion.2 However, in granting attention to the religious contours of the missionary experiences of Spanish Franciscans, historical scholarship may more fully present the depth of historical actors by showing the influences and nuanced motivations that permeated their lives as a result of their Spanish and Mexican contexts.

2 Any sustained look at colonial pueblo life cannot easily ignore the lives and perspectives of the Franciscan friars that permeated the geographic and discursive space. Unfortunately, many of those histories that have not flatly condemned and villainized the Catholic religious professionals but rather desired a more nuanced presentation of the friars have limited their discussion to ecclesiastical regulations on missionizing and the ever-present negotiation of power between the friars and the governors.3 Although the tensions between the secular and ecclesiastical authorities in the province of New Mexico during the seventeenth century have dominated historical narratives of the last century, this focus has served as a means to diminish the broader significance and role of religion in the colony. These accounts have often produced unilateral histories that are favorable to Franciscans but overly critical of Spanish governors, or condemn draconian friars barely held in check by secular administrators.4 While such political histories unveil the complexity of the relationship between the Franciscans and secular authorities, they have not typically concerned themselves with the daily experiences of the colonizers or the lives of Native Americans. Increasingly, scholarly investigations within the last ten years have explored the process of missionizing in order to understand the method in which Native Americans came to understand Catholicism, but often leave the religious lives of the Franciscans somewhat wooden and inadequately parse the complexity of their religious worlds and practice.5 More recent texts examine the institutional rulings and guidelines for missionary activity and the lives of the priests, but do not consider the lived and felt experiences of the priests or expound upon the layers of identities, cultures, or influences impingent upon them.6 Other historians have provided excellent details on the efforts of friars to appeal to a “magician” niche within Pueblo religion but little analysis on the ways in which the religious understandings of Spanish Franciscans shaped their behavior or view of the cosmos and other peoples including the Pueblo.7 Focusing upon the religious experiences of Franciscan friars and Pueblo congregants illuminates the significance of religious traditions in molding the identities and influencing the relationships and activities that filled the days of life in Nuevo Mexico. Moreover, this approach subsumes narratives of political contestation by recognizing that

3 conceptions of power and authority were not subsidiary or superficial concerns for friars, but were integral elements of their religious worlds. By prominently discussing the influences upon and significance of Franciscan religious interactions, scholars acknowledge their indebtedness to Franciscan perspectives and archival accounts and simultaneously affirm the importance of Pueblo religious traditions within the history of Nuevo Mexico. Early historians often failed to acknowledge the relevance of Pueblo religion or were unwilling to attempt to pierce the contextualizing missionary bias to recover and interpret the experiences of Pueblo subjects. In 1939, Elsie C. Parsons wrote the seminal text, Pueblo Indian Religion in an attempt to recognize and the religious traditions and practices of the Pueblo Indians.8 A derivative line of scholarship attempted to provide future generations with a Geertzian thick-description of the religious life of the various pueblo villages and include native understandings of myth and ceremonies if not their voices.9 Although such inquiry produced several groundbreaking descriptive ethnographies of Native American traditions, the resulting texts treat Pueblo religion as a fairly monolithic and static institution with little historicity but notable historical authenticity. Central to the modern academic dialogue is the growing concern for the perspectives and motivations of Native American communities. The resulting rise of ethno-history has shaped historiographical perceptions of Native Americans. Scholars have sought to negotiate the tensions between western academic traditions’ and ethnography’s possible function as an arm for western imperialism with the desire for the indigenous perspective and academic publications that are sensitive to Native American communities. Many scholars seeking to address this tension have attempted to write historical accounts of the southwest that are more sensitive to the Native American point of view but produced texts that champion a valiant suffering people and ignore the complexity of religious life for either side of the colonial divide.10 However, by prioritizing religious performances and exchanges, we may include the spectrum of Pueblo historical experiences and seriously apply the contemporary, ethnographically influenced scholarly term, lifeways, to reflect the cohesion between religion and social life.11 This methodological focus allows histories to explore the network of cultural relationships, components, meanings, and experiences and present the subsequent

4 reconstruction as a relatively coherent picture. While this approach is intended to draw readers into closer contact with the religious worlds of historical subjects, the methodology admittedly imposes an alienated, academic interpretation upon the data and presents one, limited vision of historical reality. Nonetheless, it seeks to be attentive to the concerns, voices, and lives of practitioners and to convey the meanings attributed to various religious elements within ancestral and modern Pueblo practice. By the mid-1980s, a growing contingent of dissatisfaction with ethnographic methods and results began to foment among the anthropological, especially the archaeological community. In such works as The Sociopolitical Structure of Prehistoric Southwestern Societies, anthropologists expressed their disillusionment over the course ethnography had taken the field.12 Scholarly criticism unveiled and decried the willingness of ethnography to accept the “ethnographic present” and conflate past and present Pueblo traditions and by extensions religion.13 Although some of the prompted publications recognize the role of hierarchy in religious communities and the unequal distribution of public significance and ritual knowledge as an expression of society’s inequalities, such anthropological investigations have not sufficiently recognized the presence of religion or its possible insinuation in social and authoritative structures. Much of the scholarship from the end of the twentieth century does not discuss Pueblo religion or if it does parrots a simple narrative of hybridization without elaboration. Recent narratives of New Mexican history include cursory examinations of Pueblo cosmology and ethical systems that coincide with popular conceptions of Pueblo religious traditions and then dismissively concluding that in comparison to Catholicism, Pueblo religion must have been more emotionally or intellectually satisfying.14 However, cosmology, ethics, and by extension religious meaning and motivation are divorced and segregated from these depictions of historical actions. The approach suggested by this dissertation potentially bridges one of the deeper schisms between the narratives of Native American religious history. It aims to portray a more realistic and recognizably human depiction of Native Americans by moderating the historiographical, dichotomous depiction of Indians as either simple, animalistic savages or hyper-rational actors. Prior portrayals of Native Americans have cast them as simplistic or supine primitives, or abstractly rational actors for whom religion had no

5 affective appeal or motivational power.15 When the Pueblo were not depicted as ignorant savages or slaves to their biological passions, they were distanced from their historical contexts and denied access to an emotionally vibrant religious life and the capacity for religious experiences. In recognizing the role of religion within cognition and affective experiences, scholars may portray Native Americans as neither exotically disconnected rational actors nor primitive brutes that acted only from animalistic passions or simplistic understandings. Moreover, by incorporating violence and violently performed emotions within the cosmological and cognitive structure concretized by and revealed through religious practice, academic analyses may negotiate between the parallel categorization of Pueblo as pacifist innocents or brutal savages. By foregrounding religious interaction in historical accounts that identify the influence of religion upon both analytical and emotional processes, future works may present Pueblo as influenced by a more complete and identifiably human range of cognitive influences. This focus upon religion provides a larger framework for historical investigations that does not reduce or attribute causation for Pueblo actions to the proprietary influence of either economic, political, or gendered motivations or dismiss the violent repudiation of Spanish sovereignty throughout the colonial era as merely righteous indignation. Incorporation of the religious dialogue of Nuevo Mexico makes sense of the motivations behind and characteristic violence of the and the activities of resistance leading to and from this climactic event. Much of the scholarship since the of the 1970s has been focused upon the issue of causality and sought to negotiate the relative importance of religious, political, economic, and personal motivations. This period produced several manuscripts that tell beautiful stories of despicable Spanish governors, malevolent Franciscans, and the just revolt of 1680 as led by the extraordinarily gifted medicine man and military genius, .16 Although these narratives are admirably historical in form, there is little complexity to their portrayal of Pueblo culture and too little role for religion. Indeed, historians of the last century have often distanced religion from the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 to affirm their conviction that Native American religion could not cause armed conflict or motivate violence. Such accounts place religious commitments and outrageous Franciscan behavior among a long list of Spanish offenses towards Pueblo communities but affirm that religion could not possibly have motivated

6 the violence of the Revolt. Instead, scholars often attribute motivation to Pueblo desires for sovereignty over local communities and the associated attempt to seize local power back from Spanish hands. Earlier scholarship, dating to the late nineteenth century, attempted to attribute the cause of the violence and the emotional component thereof to the revenge of justly outraged natives.17 While this is not incorrect, religion is not as neatly segregated from these other categories as such histories imply. The few academic publications that link religion and the explosive emotion behind the revolution’s violence shy away from any claim that religion could have motivated such actions, preferring to attribute the root to sexuality, negotiations of power, and the importance of traditional authority hierarchies, all detached from any religious contexts.18 Despite the religious fervor and emotional intensity that would seem to be behind the violence and profanations of the Pueblo revolt, few scholars have analyzed Pueblo religion and emotional expressions and fewer still have claimed religious emotionality as an integral or sufficient cause of the violence. By prominently positioning religious interactions within the social life of the colony, the series of violent events throughout the seventeenth century generate a new periodization that incorporates the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 as more than an isolated explosion of social pressures but situates it as a cohesive expression of a prolonged dynamic of religious resistance that wove through the Pueblo Revolutionary period. Although prevailing histories have largely ignored any nuanced investigation of the religious interactions of New Mexico, the complexity of cultural influences and social backgrounds, the diversity of receptions, and the dynamic process of engagement and negotiation blurred the political and cultural boundaries between peoples. Together, Pueblos and Spanish settlers, Catholics and non-Catholics crafted a space and society that was dense with contested and multidirectional power and rich with cultural antagonism and hybridism. The population of Nuevo Mexico created a colony that, while far from harmonious, included Pueblo and Spanish, Catholic and non-Catholic elements. Early scholarly investigation into characterized the history of European-Native American contact as a history of displacement of all things indigenous before the superiority of European culture. In 1933, French historian Robert Ricard drew from institutional ecclesiastical sources and crafted a history that depicted indigenous cultural

7 characteristics falling before the intellectually corollaries of European culture.19 Descended scholarship argues that the Spanish military successes undermined the popular adherence to indigenous cosmologies and thus eliminated Native American religions.20 These Native American communities were thus primed for the embrace of Spanish Catholicism. Ricard and the proponents of the Spiritual Conquest school of thought assert that resistance to missionary teaching was minimal and where elements of indigenous religious practice could be seen post-contact, they resulted from Native Americans’ lack of understanding of Catholic doctrine. Modern publications in the field detail the long-term antagonism between Native Americans and Spanish that characterized the era of Spanish . Notably, in 1995, Andrew L. Knaut sought to articulate the complexity of the conflict and the internal factionalism over the acceptance of Catholicism and Spanish rule that plagued each community.21 Though he did not fully realize his aim, Knaut attempted to breakdown the rigid category of Pueblo peoplehood and nuance the classic division between Spanish colonizer and colonized Indians. These scholarly objectives and analytical lapses were repeated though refined by John L. Kessell in his recent text, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico.22 This dissertation hopes to advance this scholarly trajectory and further expound upon the particularly religious nature of the cultural hybrid created in the borderlands of New Spain that became not wholly Pueblo or entirely Spanish but a colony and thus a unique, complex society all its own. To amend the kinks and oversights of historigraphical investigations, this text seeks to explore and narrate the complexity of the diverse cultural influences and social dynamics of colonial New Mexico. In recognizing the significance of religious elements and interactions in the borderland colony, it posits that religion was a motivating factor behind many of the actions of both Franciscans and Pueblos. Religious motivations and contexts shaped the perceptions and understandings, receptions and relationships, actions and interactions that constituted life in the colony of Nuevo Mexico. Whether the scholarship was influenced more heavily by ethnography or archaeology, sought to unearth structures behind Pueblo society or tell stories, recent publications on the Pueblo and the Southwest have failed to present a recognizably human depiction of the borderlands of New Spain. Historical narratives of the Pueblo provide an essentialized

8 view of religion in the colonial world when religion is even addressed. This overly simplified notion of religion or its conspicuous absence point to the need for a more nuanced and sustained look at the role of religion in everyday pueblo life. The solution to the problems of New Mexican colonial historiography would call for an integrated ethno-historical attempt to understand the colonial world present in the seventeenth century New Spanish colony among the Pueblo Indians by focusing on the influence of religious traditions. Such an investigation must understand and present Native Americans as neither primitive savages nor hyper-rational decision-makers, immune to affective considerations. By focusing on the role of religion in Pueblo life, one may present Native Americans as capable of an emotionally rich and compelling religious life. By detailing the connection between the religious traditions, behavioral norms, and emotionology of Pueblo cultures, scholars may demonstrate the fusion between religion and the everyday lives of Pueblo Indians as well as present a picture of religion that can, in part, motivate actions, including the Pueblo Revolt of 1680. An honest account of the religious traditions of the colonial Pueblo world should include analysis of the Catholic element living within the communities and in so doing examine and represent the experiences and understandings of the Spanish Franciscans as well as Indian converts. Through the exploration of the religious lives of both Native Americans and Franciscans, this dissertation intends to present a more nuanced view of the era and more fully parse the motivations for the violent encounters of the Pueblo Revolutionary era. In demonstrating the influence of religion in their lives and participating in sustained relationships of cultural contact, the inhabitants of Nuevo Mexico constructed and reconstructed a colony in the desert of the Southwest. Through dynamically reconfigured perceptions and encounters and collective acts that fused emotional expression, political disobedience, and religious revolution, the colonial residents positioned religion at the heart of the life and events of the colony. This examination of the religious lives of Franciscans and Pueblos narrates the events that prompted and promoted the creation, contestation, destruction, and reconstruction of the colony of Nuevo Mexico. The historical process wove throughout the initial settlement, the Pueblo Revolutionary Period and the later renewal of the shared colony. This narrative expounds upon that history of religious encounter over the course of five chapters and a conclusion.

9 Chapter One demonstrates that Franciscan friars living in New Mexico practiced a complex and nuanced religious life. Variations in the performance of Franciscan Catholicism including various degrees of ecclesiastical rigor, personal devotions, and popular practices met in the lives of the men who assumed the mantle of missionaries of the Friars Minor. The Franciscan collective identity subsumed initiates from a broad range of social experiences, suffused their scholastic and emotional lives, and transformed them into the vanguard of Spanish colonial aspirations and exemplars of Catholic . Their experiences in Nueva España and the resulting layers of cultural identities and influences molded the missionary friars and guided them into the New Mexican territory. The friars who migrated to the northern border territory of New Mexico were motivated by diversified personal desires and social contexts in Nueva España and a shared yearning for a Catholic that would coincide with the inauguration of an imminent millennial theocracy. This chapter explores the religious worlds of these Franciscan missionaries in recognition that when the friars endeavored to recreate their homeland and religious cosmos among the pueblos, they infused the culture and encounters of Nuevo Mexico with the religious priorities and practices that molded their lives. Although the records and perceptions of Franciscan friars provide the primary lens to view the religious interactions of Nuevo Mexico, Pueblo peoples contributed their voices and presence to the subsequent encounters and infused the colony with the legacy of their own pre-Catholic religious traditions. In order to more accurately narrate the initial history of contact between Franciscans and Pueblos, Chapter Two presents a vision of pre-Hispanic Pueblo religion that recognizes its engagement and influence with diverse facets of culture and daily life. Comprehensive ideas of cosmic and social order constructed the Pueblo world and were expressed through the political authorities, collective activities, and ethical behaviors that structured their historical experiences. Puebloan religious understandings and ethical norms founded upon an ethos of reciprocity shaped later Pueblo colonial actions and the religious setting of Nuevo Mexico. Pueblo lifeways or religiously infused ways of moving and existing in the world shaped the indigenous Native Americans’ perceptions of themselves, one another, their setting and, later, the foreign migrants who settled among them.

10 The third chapter brings the Spanish and Pueblo characters detailed in the previous two chapters into contact and conversation with each other within the landscape of the colony. It examines the dynamic process of perception, consideration, and situation of the peoples, ideas, practices and products that characterized life in the borderland for both Franciscan friars and Pueblo practitioners. The religious worlds of each constituent colonial people shaped this process of religious encounter and guided Spanish and Pueblo conceptions of one another. Religion contextualized the identities, cosmologies, behaviors and understandings of colonial encounters for Franciscan missionaries and practitioners of Pueblo religions and thus grounded their experience of one another. This chapter evaluates the shape and effect of each peoples’ understandings of the other as they gazed upon and considered their colonial counterparts. Each group was perceived and ambivalently positioned within the socio-religious conceptions of the other but neither party dismissed the other as irredeemably monstrous or unrecognizably alien. Amidst this conceptual ambiguity, the early history and experiences of the Franciscan missions unfolded and intertwined with a variety of political and personal motivations and exchanges that further complicated religious interactions. Chapter Four observes the variety of religious reactions articulated through the words and deeds of Pueblo and Franciscans as together they forged the borderland colony. The chapter depicts a history of early colonial Nuevo Mexico that was significantly influenced by the history of the religious experiences of its people. The story of religious encounter was not one of uniform acceptance or adamant rejection but incorporated a multiplicity of responses that spanned the range between the two extremes. Although both populations initially resisted religious encounter in a variety of ways, Franciscan friars and Pueblos participated in a dynamic spectrum of religious interactions that included negotiation, acceptance, and violent contestation. The inhabitants of Nuevo Mexico each brought their religious traditions into contact and engaged a shared array of ideas and cosmology concretizing practices that infused life in the colony. Religious traditions introduced by Franciscan missionaries and those rooted in the indigenous geography and peoples of Nuevo Mexico permeated the religious atmosphere of the colony and mingled with their alien counterparts. The religion of each group encountered and adapted to the presence and practices of the other. The

11 performance of religion among the pueblos of Nuevo Mexico incorporated the presence of religious components introduced variously by Pueblos or Franciscans but engaged by both. The constituent peoples of Nuevo Mexico, both Native American and Franciscan, experienced their religious lives within an amalgamated field of religious variation that included Spanish, Catholic, and Pueblo religious elements. The final chapter outlines the religious encounters and events that formulated and fomented violent religious resistance and reformation throughout the Pueblo Revolutionary Era. It traces the incremental realization and later religiously framed reflections upon the revolutionary activities of the seventeenth century. The resulting image of colonial life avers that the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 was religiously motivated and understood within religious terms by both Pueblo and Franciscans. The sequence of violent revolts was a series of actions that sought to redress Pueblo and Spanish religious transgressions, including violations of the religious ethos of reciprocity. The narrative and chapter conclude by observing the return of Spanish settlers to the region, the reconstruction of the colonial community and the recreation of the diverse range of dynamic religious manifestations among the pueblos. The Revolution reconfigured religious perceptions, social relations, and the subsequent religious dialogue during the renewal of the colony. When the colony was reinstituted, it also recreated contestation of Spanish hegemony that manifest through ongoing Pueblo resistance and religious negotiations. Religious traditions played a prominent role in the perception of and relationships among friars and Pueblos in colonial New Mexico. Religion influenced the history of the region and infused the daily lives of its people. However, that does not imply that religion was autonomous or monolithic. The experience of religious life engaged a host of overlapping and interlocking social contexts and cultural collectives. Pueblo Indians, Franciscan friars and early American peoples diversely integrated religious influences within acts of perception and cognition, bound religious elements to emotional and ethical performances and thus entwined religion with the motivations and causation of historical actions. Historical subjects revealed and concretized their religious worlds through grand actions and private devotions, vehement evangelization and violent resistance, subtle observations of the people around them and quiet, heartfelt .

12 The story of the people of the American southwest is inseparable from their religious worlds and experiences. The performance of religion was historically linked to the realization of life. Far from distancing the significance of or commonality with peoples of the past, this correlation between religion and daily existence affirms that the people of Nuevo Mexico participated in a similar range of human existence and experience as modern readers. Thus, their story reveals something of the complexity of the relationship between religion and life within American cultures.

13 CHAPTER ONE

BEHIND THE GREY ROBE: SPANISH CATHOLICISM, FRANCISCAN IDENTITY AND THE EXPERIENCE OF NUEVA ESPAÑA

In July of 1540, Fray approached the darkened faces of the assembled host arrayed before him. The warm, arid afternoon air smelled of sweat and dust, oiled steel and the distant scent of baking corn bread. More than two hundred armed Native Americans were gathered together, with expressions tinged with suspicion and hostility or blank with polite curiosity. Though the Spanish soldiers that had served as his companions and escort for the past several months still simmered with barely contained resentment and violent disappointment over the inaccuracy of his description of the pueblo that stood atop the in the distance, their armed presence eased his trepidation. They glowered and sneered in disgust as he passed but several of their number held the large cross, ready to erect it after he completed his task. He stopped beside the company’s Native American interpreter and unfurled the document. Though filled with grief over the sudden loss of his servant, Estevanico, fear of the native population and his fellow Spanish, and disappointment over the state of the city he had know as Cibola, he began to read the Requerimiento. “On the part of the King, Don Fernando, and of Doña Juana, his daughter, Queen of Castille and León, subduers of the barbarous nations, we their servants notify and make known to you, as best we can, that the Lord our God, Living and Eternal, created the Heaven and the Earth, and one man and one woman, of whom you and we, all the men of the world, were and are descendants, and all those who came after us. But, on account of the multitude which has sprung from this man and woman in the five thousand years since the world was created, it was necessary that some men should go one way and some another, and that they should be divided into many kingdoms and provinces, for in one alone they could not be sustained. Of all these nations God our Lord gave charge to one man, called St. Peter, that he should be Lord and Superior of all the men in the world, that all should obey him, and that he should be the head of the whole human race, wherever men should live, and under whatever law, sect, or belief they should be; and he gave him the world for his kingdom and jurisdiction. And he commanded him to place his seat in , as the spot most fitting to rule the world from; but also he permitted him to have his seat in any other part of the world, and to judge and govern all Christians, Moors, Jews, Gentiles, and all other sects. This man was called Pope, as if to say, Admirable Great Father and

14 Governor of men. The men who lived in that time obeyed that St. Peter, and took him for Lord, King, and Superior of the universe; so also they have regarded the others who after him have been elected to the pontificate, and so has it been continued even till now, and will continue till the end of the world. One of these Pontiffs, who succeeded that St. Peter as , in the dignity and seat which I have before mentioned, made donation of these isles and Tierra-firme to the aforesaid King and Queen and to their successors, our lords, with all that there are in these territories, as is contained in certain writings which passed upon the subject as aforesaid, which you can see if you wish.

Fray Marcos paused for a moment as the interpreter finished echoing his words in one of the alien languages of the New World. A few of the native warriors shifted in their seats but made no indication of their reaction to his recitation. He summoned his courage by reflecting upon his moral exemplar, Francisco, and remembering his religious commission to serve as God’s chosen messenger and teacher among the ignorant peoples claimed by Spain. Projecting his divinely endowed and royally affirmed mantle of authority behind the requisite words he continued: So their Highnesses are kings and lords of these islands and land of Tierra- firme by virtue of this donation: and some islands, and indeed almost all those to whom this has been notified, have received and served their Highnesses, as lords and kings, in the way that subjects ought to do, with good will, without any resistance, immediately, without delay, when they were informed of the aforesaid facts. And also they received and obeyed the priests whom their Highnesses sent to preach to them and to teach them our Holy Faith; and all these, of their own free will, without any reward or condition, have become Christians, and are so, and their Highnesses have joyfully and benignantly received them, and also have commanded them to be treated as their subjects and vassals; and you too are held and obliged to do the same. Wherefore, as best we can, we ask and require you that you consider what we have said to you, and that you take the time that shall be necessary to understand and deliberate upon it, and that you acknowledge the Church as the Ruler and Superior of the whole world, and the high priest called Pope, and in his name the King and Queen Doña Juana our lords, in his place, as superiors and lords and kings of these islands and this Tierra-firme by virtue of the said donation, and that you consent and give place that these religious fathers should declare and preach to you the aforesaid. If you do so, you will do well, and that which you are obliged to do to their Highnesses, and we in their name shall receive you in all love and charity, and shall leave you, your wives, and your children, and your lands, free without servitude, that you may do with them and with yourselves freely that which you like and think best, and they shall not compel you to turn Christians, unless you yourselves, when informed of the truth, should wish to be converted to our Holy Catholic Faith, as almost all the inhabitants of the rest of the islands have done. And, besides this, their Highnesses award you many privileges and exemptions

15 and will grant you many benefits. But, if you do not do this, and maliciously make delay in it, I certify to you that, with the help of God, we shall powerfully enter into your country, and shall make war against you in all ways and manners that we can, and shall subject you to the yoke and obedience of the Church and of their Highnesses; we shall take you and your wives and your children, and shall make slaves of them, and as such shall sell and dispose of them as their Highnesses may command; and we shall take away your goods, and shall do you all the mischief and damage that we can, as to vassals who do not obey, and refuse to receive their lord, and resist and contradict him; and we protest that the deaths and losses which shall accrue from this are your fault, and not that of their Highnesses, or ours, nor of these cavaliers who come with us. And that we have said this to you and made this Requisition, we request the notary here present to give us his testimony in writing, and we ask the rest who are present that they should be witnesses of this Requisition.”1

As he read, he altered the tone of his voice and his bodily stance and gestured broadly to indicate, as to children, the dominion over the land just claimed by the colonial powers, express his entreaty that they might accept readily the proffered Catholicism and Spanish governance, and convey the bodily threat embedded in his final words. The soldiers erected the cross atop a pile of stones behind him while others edged closer in anticipation. Within moments the two forces clashed in armed conflict amidst cries in languages the Spanish could not identify but could not fail to understand. Spanish soldiers echoed the cry “Santiago! Cierra España!”2 In the pitched battle over the next hour, the native resistance retreated to the fortified mesa while Spanish soldiers battered the narrow entrance to the pueblo. Although, Coronado and at least one were seriously wounded, the Native American opposition was forced to formally surrender. This episode of early colonial encounter between the Zuni of Hawikuh and the Spanish forces from Nueva España directed by Coronado and guided by Fray Marcos was emblematic of religious interaction and the colonial environment of Nuevo Mexico. The interaction of these peoples was framed within religious worldviews that enlivened the landscape, crafted behaviors and motivated emotional and ethical norms. Interaction in New Mexican pueblos between Native Americans and missionary friars from New Spain were interpreted within religious cosmologies and experienced through performances guided by religiously motivated ideals, aspirations and expectations. Economic and political influences and the blurred boundaries between military and religious authorities colored these interactions and their interpretation by the Franciscan

16 missionaries. Divergent lexicons and understandings of authority framed the retreat of the Zuni, their warriors, lifeways and traditions. Like the Zuni warriors marshaled on the plain during the summer of 1540, the pre-Catholic religion of the Pueblo peoples official surrendered only to melt away and continue, only occasionally perceived by the Spanish settlers, but a significant contour of the local geography. The confluence of the Catholicism of Franciscan friars from New Spain and Native American lifeways shaped the historical realities of contact in Nuevo Mexico. The concept of encounter has been embraced as an academic construct and used to posit a mythic fragment of time in which two distinct traditions or cultures meet and interact, overlooking the complexities of colonial New Mexico. The peoples and religions of Nuevo Mexico engaged in prolonged contact that wore away neat dichotomizations and defied arbitrary classifications that scholars have imposed upon the culture of the borderland colony. When historians recognize religion as part of colonial encounter, it is often characterized by indigenous religions’ tension with and later rejection of Catholicism. However, this narrative tradition reifies the construct of encounter and affirms the stark delineation of these religious traditions. To take seriously the task of excavating the experiences of the peoples of Nuevo Mexico, both Native American and Franciscan, scholarship must present their religious lives within one continuous spectrum of religious variation that includes Spanish, Catholic and Pueblo religious elements. The multifaceted complexity of Franciscan religion influenced the friars’ later perceptions and encounters of the Pueblo and shaped the cooperative construction of the cultural interactions and negotiations that permeated life in the borderland colony. The Franciscan missionaries of Nuevo Mexico used elements of their religion to frame their identities, craft their cosmologies and provide context to their perceptions and encounters of the Pueblo. Similarly, the religious traditions of the Spanish impelled the friars’ reactions to and understandings of the actions their future congregants, including the violent revolts of the Pueblo Revolutionary Period. This chapter seeks to advance the goal of recognizing the complexity of colonial interactions and exchanges between missionaries and Pueblo by amending previous renderings of Franciscan friars living in New Mexico that diminished their religious complexity or belied its significance. Such an elaborated perspective illuminates the personal motivations and perspectives of the

17 friars, suggests the depth of their historical experiences and reveals nuanced religious contact within Nuevo Mexico. From the recitation of the Requerimiento to prolonged ministries among the pueblos, the activities of these Spanish missionaries, and thus the shared religious world of the priests, provided part of the religious realities of colonial Nuevo Mexico. To understand the religions and worlds of friars, analysis must illuminate the layers of identities and influences that defined a missionary friar of the Spanish of Nuevo España, commissioned his ministry and motivated him into the territory of New Mexico.

Dos Magestades & Authority in Spanish Catholicism The Franciscans missionaries that journeyed with Coronado into the region of New Mexico entered a new land but never completely removed themselves from the Spanish culture in which their religious worldviews were embedded. The friars that explored the Pueblo territories and staffed the later missions grew from a Spanish Catholic context that prioritized and incorporated the implementation of social authority within its religious performances and cosmologies. When Fray Marcos de Niza read the Requerimiento before the assembled host of Native Americans, he reaffirmed his connection to Spanish Catholic traditions and attempted to recreate that religious world in a new space.3 Although the Requerimiento was addressed to the inhabitants of the lands claimed by Spanish explorers and colonists, it served as a religious ritual of remembrance and renewal for those who read it aloud, participated in its declaration or comprehended its meaning.4 The ceremony transformed the indigenous geography into Spanish space, affirmed the reality of the Spanish catholic cosmology, and concretized that worldview in a foreign land.5 The Franciscan migrants to New Mexico inhabited a cosmos that was shaped by their understanding of religious authority and that would contextualize the history of their interaction with Pueblo peoples. David Robert recognizes in his treatment of colonial interaction in the borderland of Nuevo Mexico the prominence of concerns of social authority and the integrality of the use of force within the historical experiences of the Franciscan friars.6 However, his historical narrative of Spanish-Pueblo exchange does not recognize the complexity of Franciscan conceptions of social authority or its

18 integration within their religious world. The first task in recreating the missionaries’ cosmology in the new land was to ensure a well-ordered cosmos, represented by a well- structured society, and the creation of a Spanish .7 Among the constituent elements of that society, the proper role and presence of authority served as a foundation for the Spanish understandings of their culture, church and God within their daily lives. The Requerimiento was itself an expression of Spanish authority upon the Native Americans and presented a justification for the frequently violent manifestations of that authority that would soon follow. However, the Requerimiento served a more important role for its Spanish-speaking audience by articulating the proper relationship between various sources of authority in Spanish culture, including that between the Crown and the Church. Religious authority illuminated the priorities and popular perception of the Spanish colonial engine and reveals the conception of the colonial task among those whose actions would see it realized. When Spanish colonists and missionaries began to recreate the culture, institutions and civilization in the New World, they also recreated a dialogue between the chief sources of religious authority reflecting the ongoing tensions between religious authorities found on the Iberian Peninsula. In helping to recreate such a tension, the Franciscans used religious rituals and doctrine to recreate and concretize the religion of their homeland.8 The missionaries used the recitation of the Requerimiento, as well as rituals both quotidian and extraordinary, to evoke the authorities that framed daily life within the Catholic culture of the Spanish Empire and thus, to some degree, realize their homeland and situate their new location into the cosmos, as they understood it. At the time of the first contact between Franciscans and Pueblo Indians and throughout the subsequent conquest and occupation of the region by Don Juan de Onate, Spanish Catholicism conceptualized the proper relation between the authority of Spanish monarchs and the authority of the Church through the parental metaphor of Dos Magestades, or the Two Majesties. According to the metaphor, the institution and authority of the monarchs were like that of a father. Correspondingly, the Church served “as mother of the Hispanic family, or the two together as the collective head of the social body”.9 The two authorities together structured and reigned over the assembled social

19 order. However, as has often been noted, Spanish colonial gender norms and conceptions of family life left little doubt as to which parental unit went the task of leadership.10 The Requirimiento echoed the primacy of the crown authorities by beginning with an identification of the king and queen as the immediate authorities responsible for the presence of the Spanish and the subsequent evangelism efforts of the missionaries. However, it then readily identified that the head of the Church who granted the Spanish monarchs ownership of these new lands when it stated that “One of these Pontiffs, who succeeded that St. Peter as Lord of the world, in the dignity and seat which I have before mentioned, made donation of these isles and Tierra-firme to the aforesaid King and Queen and to their successors, our lords, with all that there are in these territories.”11 The friars continued and noted that the monarchs ruled these lands in the name of “the high priest called Pope.”12 The series of papal grants and writs that confirmed royal patronage rights laid the legal foundation upon which the assertion, exploration and colonization of New Spain in the Americas rested. From the Bula de Granada of 1486 to the famous bulls of 1493, the imperial claims of King Fernando and Queen Isabel upon the new land to the West were dependent on papal documents and their subsequent instructions to their agents, such as Christopher Columbus, encouraged the satisfaction of the evangelistic condition to their authority. Within the Papal Decree Granting Castile Sovereignty Over the Indies, the Papacy asserted that: “Among other works well pleasing to the Divine Majesty and dear to our heart, this assuredly ranks highest, that in out times especially the Catholic faith and the Christian religion be exalted and everywhere increased and spread, that the health of souls be cared for, and that barbarous nations be overthrown and brought to the true faith. Since we have been called to this holy chair of Peter by the favor of divine clemency, although of unequal merits, recognize that, as true Catholic kings and princes, such as we have known you always to be, and as your illustrious deeds now known to nearly the whole world declare, you not only eagerly desire but with every effort, , and diligence are laboring to that same end, disregarding hardship, expense, danger, and even the shedding of your blood.”13

Through subtle diplomacy and careful language, Pope Alexander VI implicitly made evangelism a sufficient condition for the subsequent rights granted to the monarchs of Castile and Leon over the Catholic Church within their territories. This imperative was

20 mirrored in the royal instructions granted to Christopher Columbus on April 23,1497. “You shall endeavor with all diligence to encourage and lead the natives of the Indies to serve us and remain benignly under our sovereignty and subjection in peace and order, and especially to convert them to our holy Catholic faith.”14 The first priority commended to Columbus in 1497 was the responsibility for converting the native populations of any territory he claimed. This task was understood to be synonymous with the subjugation of Native Americans to the sovereignty and authority of the crown. “According to the notions of the Christian right of conquest, the Spaniards had control of Mexico, and their rule was Christian; hence it was deemed correct that the priests baptize as many infants and youths as possible as the first step toward conversion.”15 In order to claim a territory as Spanish, the monarchs were obligated to convert the indigenous population. To be a proper member of the Spanish Empire or embrace Spanish citizenship was by default to affirm one’s Catholicism. That is to say, according to prevalent colonial cultural norms and understandings, for a colonist to be Spanish, he or she would and must have been Catholic. The relationship between the King and Queen and Papal authorities was not entirely a contentious struggle for dominion. Rather the degree of interconnectedness between crown authority and Church authority in the culture of the Spanish Empire helped to influence the development of Spanish territories and to shape a sense of the Spanish identity. Historian of Mexico, William B. Taylor notes that “[f]rom its beginning, the Spanish Empire in America had been built on a conception of royal absolutism matched to elaborate hierarchies of status and authority, belief in divine sanction and judgment, organic metaphors of wholeness, a dual government of crown and church, and strategies of divide and rule.”16 That is to say that the foundation of the Spanish colonial and missionary endeavor rested upon a holistic worldview that incorporated divine rule of the cosmos and embraced the complicated and interrelated systems of power and authority through which the Spanish Crown and Church substantiated. This worldview recognized the unity of these disparate authorities in religious practice and colonialism while attempting to delineate separate purviews for each institution. Although later Bourbon reforms would aim at realizing monarchical absolutism and the subordination of clerical authority beneath the blanket of crown rule,

21 the Hapsburg era of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries recognized the interconnectedness of church and crown authority. Hapsburg practice frequently left the boundaries and jurisdictions of clerical authority and royal representatives intentionally vague as to diminish direct confrontation but also to represent institutionally the unity of rule between these two bodies of power.17 The early Franciscan missionaries into New Mexico recognized social authority as a unified system that welded ecclesiastical power and communal leadership. The Spanish conception of the state during the Hapsburg rule recognized no sharp division between the secular and religious realms or authority. “Until the mid-eighteenth century, an energetic cura might operate quite freely as keeper of public order and morals, punishing adulterers, gamblers, and drunkards, and reporting more serious offenses to royal judges.”18 Curas and their assistants, the vicarios, were understood to act as the eyes and agents of the royal government. They were expected to observe and report to their superiors within the royal governmental hierarchy all manner of agricultural and natural conditions as well as local concerns and political disturbances. The tasks of recording the population, supervising the annual elections of local village within the , and maintaining social control were primarily the jurisdiction of the priests.19 From within this historical perspective, the Requerimiento defined the distinction of crown and Church in order to emphasize the relationship and unity between these two institutions. Although neither institution was definitively dominant, the two chief sources of religious authority in the Spanish Empire were not without division. While the Spanish monarchy was recognized as the immediate authority behind colonial expansion and the missionaries’ presence in the New World, the language of the Requerimiento left little doubt that their Highnesses governed lands belonging to the pope and did so in the shadow of his authority. This contentious negotiation of power was an embedded facet of Spanish culture. Thus, no recreation of Spanish cosmology could easily ignore the importance of either authority or the tension between them. When the Franciscans evoked and concretized their worldview upon a new land, they recreated a religious institution and practice influenced and obedient to two disparate authorities. The practice of mediating between the claims of supremacy of royal and clerical agents amounted to

22 what one historian has called “Institutionalized Mutual Suspicion.” This relied on the counterbalanced desires of the alcaldes mayores and local priests for jurisdiction and primacy as magistrates and guardians of Native Americans in the hopes that the tension would resolve itself into a balanced and complimentary though still competitive union. Thus, by ensuring the tension between Church and Crown interests, the experience of Catholicism that was recreated in New Spain was consistent with the Catholicism practiced on the Iberian Peninsula. The Spanish in Spain and the New World stood as an excellent example of the dual religious authorities of the Crown and Church manifesting simultaneously through the same religious institution. “The period of greatest activity of the coincided with the discovery of America, [and] the exploration and conquest of most of the western hemisphere…Very early after the arrival of the Franciscans [in New Spain in 1523]…, it is recorded that they exercised inquisitorial powers.”20 The growth of the Franciscan missionary provinces coincided with the growth of the reach and relevancy of the Inquisition in Spanish Catholicism. During the early colonial Franciscan experience, the authorities of the Church and State were so wedded under the banner of the Spanish monarchy that it was nearly impossible to accurately distinguish any given act of one as distinct from the other. “While it is true that the chief business of the tribunal was to investigate and recommend punishment for offenses against ecclesiastical laws, it was often quite difficult – if not impossible – to distinguish between transgressions that were purely ecclesiastical and those that” solely violated civil law.21 Due to the shared institutional authority behind such trials and its tendency to target religious and political dissidents, The Spanish Inquisition became the most infamous of all the medieval and European courts that conducted inquiries, or ‘’ on behalf of the Catholic Church.22 The use of the inquisitional tribunal and the increasing control over it exercised by the successors to the Spanish monarchy corresponded neatly with the special powers and privileges conferred upon Ferdinand and Isabella through the Patronado Real “as a result of the discovery of the New World” and the Papacy’s hope for greater political capital.23 The Franciscan missionaries that would journey to the borderland provinces were molded by the dominant cultural perception in Spanish colonial culture that recognized a tension but

23 ultimate unity between ecclesiastical authority and royal privilege. The Spanish migrants into New Mexico fashioned a religious world that recreated this political situation and thus perpetuated a dynamic relationship between the mendicant friars and royal representatives that influenced their relationships with the Pueblo.

Nueva España & The Influence of Mexican Catholicism The Franciscans that settled amidst the pueblos of New Mexico migrated from Nueva España and imported into the borderland territory religious practices and cosmologies that were inextricable from their initial, particular experiences and cultural contexts within Mexico. The religious authority embedded in Spanish Catholicism and its recreation through the underlying institutions of power that framed the missionaries’ Catholicism shaped the task of colonization and the practice of Catholicism throughout New Spain. James F. Brooks recognizes the importance of the religion of the Franciscans in motivating the friars into the provincial territory of New Mexico and its prominence in subsequent cultural exchanges with the Pueblo.24 However, his treatment does not reveal the complexity of the religious conceptions of the missionaries or recognize influences upon their religious worlds beyond orthodox, institutional Catholicism. In order to examine the layers of influences upon the Franciscan religious worldview and understand the manner in which it situated the lives of Franciscans within their new landscape, one must examine the Spanish Catholicism that Franciscans and colonists brought with them through their Diaspora in Mexico and into the missionary provinces. The Catholicism of Nuevo Mexico arrived by way of a journey every bit as demanding and transformative as that undertaken by the friars that carried it into the pueblos of the new missionary province. It adapted to particular context of the new world, its colonists and colonized parishioners. The Franciscan missionaries and their Catholicism were influenced by the Catholicism of the Spanish motherland and by the Catholicism that surrounded them during their time in Mexico.25 Although there was never a static tradition of Spanish Catholicism and there was similarly no monolithic entity of the Catholicism of Nueva España, the ideas and practice of these religious realities influenced the development of the Catholicism of the Franciscans who made their way to the New Mexico pueblos and attempted to recreate, to the best of their ability, their religion. Certain historical events,

24 practices and concepts influenced the catholic culture of New Spain and provided a filter or augmented the filter through which Franciscans perceived and thus shaped the moment of encounter.26 The religion of the people of New Spain, form the most learned and elite to the least, felt the influence of institutional doctrine and negotiated European ideas.27 Within the colonial Spanish territories, there was no more significant presence in institutional Catholicism, apart from elements of the institution itself, than the specter of the .28 The Council of Trent sought to address issues of church reform as well as many of the “modern” concerns of the early 16th century and was thus important in Spanish Catholicism and relevant to the Catholicism that migrated into and was practiced in the colonial territories.29 “It is a standard criticism of ‘Baroque Catholicism,’ which grew out of the Council of Trent decrees and continued well into the eighteenth century, that it was preoccupied with outward display and ‘stressed the pathos rather than the ethos of religion.”30 Although there was a sustained tension between the theological constructs of merit and grace as well as competing emphases for either actions or more abstract concerns within the assembled council, there was a clear proclivity for works and practice evident in the religion that emerged from Trent. While one Spanish Carmelite, Marinarius, “went so far as to describe good works as ‘signs and fruits’ of grace…this sounded highly suspicious in the ears of the Spaniards and it required all Pacheco’s shrewdness to calm his countrymen.”31 The objection of the Spanish contingent at Trent to the subordination of “good works” exemplified the commitment of mid-sixteenth century Spanish Catholicism to a religious form that bordered on orthopraxis. Despite stereotypes of the Council that paint the proceedings with a brush of homogeneous orthodoxy, Trent and thus the Catholicism that grounded itself in Trentian decrees were infused with humanistic influence. “It is a fact that at this time Trent held within its walls not only able theologians and canonists, but likewise a number of the best among the humanists.”32 At least once these ideas were successfully combined with church reform and occasionally influenced Council documents through innumerably more subtle avenues.33 Even the heterodox ideas of contemporaneous were represented among the voices of Trent. A few members of the assembly expressed reformist opinions championed by their Protestant contemporaries. However, there were

25 “many more secret sympathizers among the members of the Council than appeared openly.” Protestant writings were disproportionately represented among the scant libraries of individuals and that served as reference and foundation for the intellectual life and scholarly work of the assembly.34 By the early seventeenth century, protestant vocabulary and concerns occasionally appeared within the correspondence of Franciscan missionaries within the provinces of Nueva España.35 The influence of external philosophies and religious thought upon colonial Mexican Catholicism extended beyond the Council of Trent. In time, the lingering presence of humanism among the Catholic elite developed into the persistent if downplayed influx of Enlightenment thought. By the early eighteenth century, Catholic priests participated in the “vogue of rationality, … a more historical outlook that contained the idea of progress… and the seeds of political action for change, even in the name of traditional principles.”36 Although Catholic seminaries in Mexico included works on Enlightenment principles and more than a few children of the Enlightenment held teaching positions, the Enlightenment in Nueva España manifested primarily through the curiosity of parish priests in applied science and “gradual intellectual reorientation” that recognized a role for reason and education in the performance of Catholicism.37 The lived experience of Catholicism in Nueva España was influenced as much by the cosmology and priorities of its adherents as by the dictates of its institutions.38 The religion initially experienced by the missionaries to New Mexico and, thus, the religious worlds that they labored to erect in the new land were similarly colored by the practice of Catholicism observed by the people of Nueva España. Within the Catholicism of the Mexican people as within formal Trentian theology, the external forms and performance of religion, though local and particular, were centrally important.39 However, any stark delineation between popular “lay practice and church doctrine,” religious performance and essential dogma, nature and the supernatural, or secular and sacred, often existed solely within the minds of the priests and subsequent historians.40 Within the first century of colonization, priests themselves began to introduce objects and the corresponding practices of devotion.41 “The veneration of , colorful images, elaborate displays of wealth and beauty in places of worship, the recitation in unison of prayers and doctrine,

26 and the feast day celebrations all were promoted by priests in Spanish America after the Council of Trent prescribed the reform of Catholic practices in the 1560s.”42 Due to the similarities between popular religious practices of Mexico and the popular religion of Spain, earlier historians, most notably Robert Ricard, have argued that the practices of the colonial Mexican laity were fundamentally Spanish in origin.43 Healing ceremonies and rituals concerned with divination, love and fertility were essential elements of local religion in Spain and Nueva España. 44 However, these practices have well-established indigenous antecedents in Mexico prior to European contact and Spanish colonization.45 Neither the origin nor the composition of popular religion in Nueva España can be dismissively described as merely Spanish. Similarly, the religion of Nueva España, like its Iberian and pre-contact Mexican antecedents perceived a cosmology clearly characterized by a cosmic drama between dualistic powers. Catholic doctrine and Native American religion recognized distinctions between life and death, spiritual beings that embody good and evil, sacred and profane.46 Early contact practices of the peoples of the Yucatan and formal recognize, address, and mediate the divide between sacred powers and the inhabited cosmos.47 Thus, the practices and priorities of Mexican Catholicism were products of colonial Mexico and all of the influences such a culture entailed. Regardless of initial origin, these practices and doctrines were entrenched within the Mexican Catholic landscape prior to the settlement of New Mexico and thus infused the local communities in which many Franciscans lived and studied prior to embarking for the missionary provinces to the north. Within the performance of Catholicism in Nueva España, saints and their images held a central and pivotal role. For many Mexican Catholics, “Matter and spirit were inseparable.”48 Material images and landscapes were sacred and infused with religious meaning.49 The prominence of saints enabled multiple meanings for practitioners ranging from to cosmology to identity to social order.50 “Saints and their images … expressed the proper, hierarchical organization of religion and society, God’s great power and the need for official intercessors.”51 Small images of a readily produced quality were given and received as tradition gifts from newly arrived friars and . In practice these images could be held and gazed upon in private or public while seated or standing.

27 Frequently, they were incorporated within small home altars and rural shrine altars, away from the purview of Catholic officials, as well as placed upon the central altar throughout the week as an individual practice, prompted by curas and friars. Through interactions with the saints and the manipulation of their artifacts, Catholic parishioners of Mexico crafted and discovered their relationship with and role in colonial society. However, the potent authority embedded in both object and intercessor complicated the relationship between the laity and parish priests. Indian parishioners were influence by their local cultures and experiences to craft alternative understandings of saints, some of which were employed to suborn the colonial order by proposing uses for and relationships with the divine intercessors that differed from those offered by more official, colonial institutions.52 As mediators between congregations and colonial powers as well as between official doctrine and applied religiosity, priests and missionaries in Mexico and beyond were frequently placed at odds with local interpretations of Catholicism.53 Images of saints were imminently approachable and malleable, creating a direct interface with divinity that threatened the “conditional authority” of local ministry.54 Local shrines dedicated to found images of saints or were a common feature of the Spanish landscape and an important religious element in the colonial territories.55 Such shrines and objects of dedications were also a common feature of colonial Catholicism in New Spain.56 However, unlike their Iberian antecedents, the objects discovered in America were seldom known objects that had been lost and rediscovered. In both territories, those shrines associated with a devotional focus that was either a sacred found-object or the shrines relation to the location of an apparition, were usually situated atop a hill or near caves.57 “These similarities are not necessarily American imitations of Spanish antecedents, but the similarities at least made the American manifestations familiar to Spanish authorities, and perhaps more acceptable to them.”58 However, whether or not Spanish authorities embraced these practices, they were a part of the religious dimensions of New Spain and the culture in which many Franciscans spent their formative years. However, the religion relation to devotion to found-objects in Spain and New Spain differed significantly from one another. Although the object of devotion in Spain was typically an image of Mary, the became the devotional

28 artifact most frequently discovered in Central America.59 “Since Christ was presented to colonial Indians at the altars of their churches as an almost inaccessible figure, perhaps rural parishioners in some parts of Mesoamerica were especially open to signs of the Son of God’s direct communication and patronage in the open air.”60 This embrace of the symbols and of Jesus is evidence of indigenous attempts at appropriating Christianity and the mythic figure of Jesus in order to refashion a colonial, regional identity that would include Spanish and native religious practices. Whether indigenous societies identified with the persecution and suffering associated with the story of Jesus, were reminded of indigenous practices of bloodletting or simply embraced the iconic symbol of Spanish dominion presented to them to moderate colonial pressures, the communities of Nueva España embraced the figure of Jesus and devotional artifacts associated with him. In addition to the prominence of found objects and the symbol of Jesus in the Mexican Catholicism that shaped the early years of Franciscan friars from the region, the presence and efficaciousness of saints were prevalent elements of the religious performance of Catholics in New Spain. Santiago, or James, served an ambivalent role in colonial society. Although first modeled as the crusading patron saint of the Spanish colonial endeavor, priests proclaimed his purview as the defense of all Christians. As a result, parishioners increasingly appropriated Santiago as a local patron and protector.61 According to Spanish tradition, Santiago journeyed to the Iberian Peninsula during his evangelistic sojourn and the remains of his martyred body had been buried there. After the discovery of associated relics in the 9th century, the shrine at Compostela became a locus of for Spanish Catholics. Subsequent accounts of the saint’s appearance in a decisive victory over their Muslim occupiers near Logrono revealed the importance of Santiago and began a tradition of correlating this apostle with Spanish military conquests. “Santiago was invoked in battles against Indians in Mexico during the 16th century.”62 Secretary and historian to Cortes, Francisco López de Gómara, preserved one early record of such a manifestation of Santiago at Tabasco during a critical moment in the conquest of Mexico. According to the history of Lopez de Gómara, “a man on horseback appeared and vanished three times during a fierce Indian attack on Spaniards at Tabasco, to turn the native armies back until Cortes

29 and reinforcements could come to the rescue.”63 Several of the soldiers involved attested that the unknown figure was none other than “the apostle Santiago, patron saint of Spain.”64 It should be noted that not all in attendance credited Saint James for the intervention. Cortez maintained that the cavalryman was , his personal patron saint, and Bernal Diaz, who fought in the same battle, asserted, “if Santiago had appeared there he had not been privileged to witness the saint’s presence.”65 Historian Rafael Heliodoro Valle notes at least 14 separate reports of Santiago apparitions in Spanish influenced America from 1518 to 1892.66 Valle, Richard Trexler and Emilio Choy Ma interpret the New Spain apparitions beginning in the 16th century as evidence of indigenous Central Americans identifying Santiago as the face of the of the region, “invincible [and] irresistible…with its message of terror” and note the attempt by Spanish authorities to posit Santiago as a symbol of imminent defeat and submission in the minds of Indians.67 That churches continued to be named after and dedicated to him and that “Santiago was a common Christian name and surname for indigenous Mexicans in the 16th century also suggests his patronage and power.”68 Despite Santiago’s prominent role during the Conquest period and his notable popularity among New Spanish parishioners, he was portrayed as one saint among many and not heavily promoted by post-sixteenth century . Though he remained the patron saint of many individuals and communities, his feast day remained a popular celebration, and he continued to be invoked by the lay practitioners of New Spanish Catholicism to bring thunder and rain, “few priests in the middle and late colonial period adopted him for their special devotion, and most of the village performances in which he appeared were staged by the laity, not priests.”69 However, Elizabeth Wilder Weismann has revealed that the majority of depictions of Santiago found within the churches of rural Mexico were crafted or acquired during the seventeenth century. This indicates that their relevance and Santiago’s popularity did not decline as starkly as official promotions did.70 Thus, Santiago remained an important and active saint within the Mexican Catholic worldview and, by extension, the culture of Franciscans in New Spain. Despite the importance and influence of Santiago, he never claimed as critical a position as that of the Mary in the local Catholicism of Nueva España. Early Franciscan missionaries in Mexico encouraged Indians to understand Mary as their

30 personal intercessor and promoted images of the in the dioceses of Mexico and Guadalajara.71 As a result, the mother of Jesus assumed an unrivaled position in the historical practice of Christianity in Central America.72 She served as the greatest of all intercessors between mankind and God, simultaneously “humanizing the colonial hierarchy and the route to .”73 Institutional authorities from the beginning of Mexican conquest encouraged the practice of devotion to Mary. Four of the twelve high holy days declared by the First Provincial Council of 1555 obligated practitioners in New Spain to observe religious festivals associated with the birth, annunciation, purification or assumption of the Virgin Mary.74 More than any other saint, Mary was understood and represented in a great diversity of forms.75 Of these representations, the Immaculate Conception was the most frequently encountered and venerated variant among Catholics in New Spain. Although particular images of Mary were frequently associated with specific spaces and individuals, each was understood to possess “the power to protect and favor [her petitioners].” Several stylized images of the Holy Mother, painted on wood or sculpted of stone, gained in popularity and adherent devotion and their corresponding sanctuaries developed into important loci of pilgrimage and piety.76 However, within the Conquest period, “the Virgin Mary was represented especially as La Conquistadora, a heavenly protectoress of the Spaniards and – like Santiago – a symbol of Spanish power.” The campaign banner that proceeded Cortés’s force depicted an image of Mary and the motto used by Constantine’s army, “Brothers and Comrades, let us follow the cross, and under this sign we shall conquer.” 77 Cortés distributed his ample supply of pictures and sculptures of the Virgin Mary among local peoples as symbols of Spanish sovereignty and placed them upon native altars whenever possible. Within the later missionary province of Tabasco, priest and parishioner alike recognized her as Holy Mary of Victory. 78 Historian Robert Padden avers that both Indigenous and European members of colonial Mexican society understood the Virgin Mary as the embodiment of Spanish authority within a cosmic confrontation of spiritual forces, as Spanish conquerors attempted to usurp old gods and enthrone Mary in the sacred spaces of native Mesoamerica.79 Religion and sovereignty were united in the worldview of early Spanish conquerors and the culture that formed in their wake. As the emblem of the forces of

31 conquest, Mary would continue to embody divine authority, sovereignty and the structures that maintained divinely established order. Indigenous communities’ post-conquest perceptions of and reverence towards the Virgin Mary were particular manifestations but closely mirrored beliefs and attitudes found among their Spanish contemporaries. Within Spanish Catholicism, God was often transcendent and remote; a being to be feared and revered more than loved and approached. Jesus was typically represented as either a newborn child or crucified sacrifice, images associated with plague and judgment but not intimate relationships. In contrast, Mary was a beloved and loving intercessor who was moved by compassion to mediate the stern justice of an austere God.80 Within Catholic rhetoric and doctrine, Mary was presented “as queen, virgin, bride, the new Eve, innocence, mother, and intercessor.” However among the peoples of Nueva España, “she was revered mainly in the last two roles.”81 During colonial expansion throughout Mesoamerica, peninsular Spaniards elevated the position of Mary within Catholicism through popular devotion until she transcended the prominence of most other saints and champions of the Church. Indeed, the majority of spiritual apparitions from 1400 to 1525 and more than two-thirds of the sacred spaces dedicated to healing in the sixteenth century were identified with Mary.82 Just as the Virgin Mary was linked in Spanish thought with “the land and fertility,” Cortes embedded similar correlation among the natives of Tenochtitlan by promoting the invocation of Mary to bring rain and end drought.83 Although she was venerated as an exalted mother and intercessor throughout colonial Mexico, within agricultural communities much of her importance stemmed from her association with miraculous reproduction and feminine fertility. From her role as patron of fertility and childbirth, farmers quickly extended her devotion to include connotations for the fertility of the earth and the success of crops.84 In sixteenth and early seventeenth century Mexico, Marian devotionalism became especially entrenched among those territories under the jurisdiction of the Franciscan and Augustinian Orders. Franciscan Friars within Nueva España encouraged the association of Mary with mercy, charity and healing much as they had in Spain and understood her as an inextricable component of the hospitals that they founded throughout Mexico. Each of

32 these hospitals were typically cared for by a dedicated cofradia and included an attached chapel, constantly watched over, from the fore of the structure, by an image of the Virgin Mary of the Immaculate Conception.85 Throughout the eighteenth century, these chapels to Mary Immaculate served as a locus of the religious practices of many villages throughout Nueva España. As a symbol of hospitals and the source of healing and recovery, the Virgin Mary of the Immaculate Conception was called upon to ward off or remove epidemics and illness. Given her roles as intercessor, emblem of Spanish conquest and symbol of healing, native peoples of Mexico could approach Mary as a source of succor and a potential intermediary during Spanish colonial conquest and occupation. Thus, she became the patron of indigenous communities and intercessor in divine judgment and colonial sovereignty.86 Mary was associated with Conquest, rain, life giving substances and succor. The Franciscans missionaries imbibed these correlations during their Mexican experiences or early formative life and such associations persisted to influence their interaction with the Pueblos of New Mexico. Through Marian devotions, friars were able to reconcile the religious meteorological practices of the Pueblo and Catholic cosmology. In the person of Mary, the missionaries observed the fusion of authority and humility, the welding of conquest and love, and the essential unity of loyalty to the culture of Spain and service to the indigenous peoples of New Spain. The Franciscans of Nuevo Mexico recognized in Mary the symbolic amalgamation of their ideal virtues and union of their divergent social responsibilities. The colonial mendicants increasingly prioritized the figure and role of Mary within their religious lives and in 1621 elected the Immaculate Mother as the official patroness of the Franciscan Order. To represent her prominence and the influence of her diverse aspects upon their daily lives, the friars of Mexico and those who migrated from that province changed their grey robes to blue.87

Friars Minor & The Formation of Franciscan Catholicism In addition to formal Tridentine theology and the Catholicism of Mexico, Franciscans professed membership within and thus influence from a , which marked them as distinct and added another layer to the religiosity of Franciscan missionaries. Franciscan friars were members of a Spanish colonial religion

33 characterized by “the adaptation of a Spanish system of holy times and places to the Mexican landscape…and…the melding of indigenous holy places, deities, and times with those of Spanish Catholicism.” However, they were also participants in a Catholic subculture founded upon the life and symbol of Francesco Bernadone, called San Francisco.88 Although the foundational work of Andrew L. Knaut nicely illuminates the prominence of Franciscans within the history of cultural negotiations and religious resistance in Nuevo Mexico, it does not explore the religious elements of Franciscan Catholicism through which they understood and experienced their lives and the events within the borderland. As a result of this silence, it provides little examination of the influence of the religious contexts within which the friars erected their missions and constructed the relationships of colonial cultural contact. The missionaries of New Mexico articulated through practice and formal catechism to Pueblo congregations religious ideals and conceptions that were shaped and molded by Franciscan religious narratives, devotional materials and ideals. Francisco, or Francis, was born in , to a wealthy, mercantile family in approximately 1182 CE.89 Twenty-three years later, Francisco experienced a personal crisis, marked by psychological turmoil, disturbing dreams and frequent illness. Seeking solace and order, he retreated into a life of “, meditation and works of charity, eventually shedding the material symbols of his social status and repudiating his father for the Father in heaven.”90 After rejecting his social norms, Francis oriented his life towards “a literal and uncompromising imitation of Christ, preaching of perfect poverty and humility.”91 Gathering together a fellowship of likeminded men, dedicated to a similar commitment to a simple life of poverty in service to God and the Church, Francis founded a community of disciples that would, in time, develop into the . The Franciscan order was officially born in 1209, when Francisco petitioned for and received approval for his rule of community from Pope Innocent III.92 Preparation for living the lifeway exemplified by Francis was not primarily dependent upon scholastic education. According to the description of the Way of Francis provided by the saint’s colleague, Leo, “‘The most holy father was unwilling that his friars should be desirous of knowledge and books, but he willed and preached to them that they should desire to be founded on holy Humility, and to imitate pure Simplicity, holy Prayer, and

34 our Lady Poverty, on which the saints and first friars did build.’” Francisco asserted that this was the sole path to a soul’s salvation and the edification of others. He sought to pattern his own life after the model he perceived in the life of Jesus, who he maintained taught this message and these ideals explicitly and by example.93 Embracing these tenants and “Stressing poverty, obedience, and penance, the order grew, splintered into various species or suborders and made its initial reputation on its success in preaching conversions, and in the moral reform of Europe.”94 Though scholarly endeavor was seldom at the heart of Franciscan practice or identity, the process of education revealed the threshold of acculturation into the culture of colonial Spanish Franciscan missionaries. According to Étienne Gilson, by accumulating the paucity of statements Francis made regarding the issue of education, “it is clear that he never condemned learning for itself, but that he had no desire to see it developed in his Order. In his eyes it was not in itself and evil, but its pursuit appeared to him unnecessary and dangerous.”95 That is to say that San Francesco knew that it was possible to save one’s soul from condemnation and convince others to do the same without the use of formal learning, which seemed as likely to tempt an individual to pride as help him or her. However, regardless of the ambivalence of this founding position, within three decades of Francisco’s death, or by the mid-thirteenth century, “the Order of Friars Minor had become one of the most learned institutions in the world.”96 “The colonial chroniclers of Yucatan and Guatemala record the names of scores of Franciscans who enjoyed local fame for their learning.” Although most of these were renowned theologians and Latinists, a few were noted as scholars and promoters of the natural sciences, including mathematics, practical astronomy, and biology, especially through the of medicine. “Many of these colonial scholars served as teachers in the Franciscan colleges, or houses of study in Merida and Antigua, where they gave instruction to members of the Order preparing for the priesthood.” A handful of Franciscans were privileged to hold the chair of Scotist theology at the University of San Carlos, after it was established in Guatemala during the final decades of the seventeenth century.97 Before a prospective Franciscan could make a profession of faith and partake of the holy order, the potential friar was required to observe a period. The

35 novitiate was traditionally a year marked by prayer, meditation, and manual labor for their convento during which the would be introduced to Franciscan culture by formal education and immersion. According to the of Barcelona of 1451, which set the requirements for entry into the Franciscan Order within Spain and Nueva España throughout the mid-eighteenth century, could not proclaim a profession of faith before their sixteenth year. Occasionally, boys were admitted into the Order at fourteen. However, their novitiate was extended to two years. “Discounting the twenty gachupin friars, sixty-two missionaries served their and professed their faith in or .” The majority of these missionaries joined the Franciscan Order at one of two conventos, the oldest and largest in Mexico: San Francisco de México and San Francisco de Puebla. Four entered the order elsewhere. Three of these “received the habit at San Cosmé de México, a relatively new convento founded in 1667 to prepare novices for lives of strict conventual routine” and the other was admitted at the small convento of de México. Those novices that could be classified as criollos and hijos de provincia were educated and prepared for ministry at Francisco de México or San Francisco de Puebla. The length of time spent in preparation to become a Friar apparently did not follow any universal, standard. Friars professed their faith at an average of 19.9, but could not be ordained before twenty-four years of age. Thus, “most criollos and hijos de provincia were trained four to five years at one of the two primary facilities in Mexico City or Puebla.” Shortly thereafter, the freshly ordained friar would receive the designation of missionary priest and attend the missionary preparatory academy at Santiago de Tlatelolco, near modern day Mexico City.98 Although it is likely that many of the friars, especially gachupin missionaries, did not have the opportunity to attend the training school, those who did received advanced study in “theology and administration of the sacraments, the development of preaching skills, and instruction in native languages.” Unfortunately for those Franciscan friars who would serve in the northern missionary provinces, the great diversity of Native American languages and scarcity of qualified educators limited the linguistic offerings to the primary indigenous languages of central Mexico, i.e. , Otomi, and Tarascan.99

36 San Francisco provided the model for and structure of the Franciscan conception of spiritual growth. For the novices, Jesus was acknowledged as “the way, the truth, and the light” and friars asserted that only through him did they experience sanctifying grace. However, the Order maintained, that no one imitated the example of Jesus as well as Francis. Thus, it was “only by knowing Francis and modeling one’s life after his would a novice die to his old self and pass over to the loving embrace of the Father.” That is to say that, the missionaries asserted that to understand the ideal of Jesus and experience a spiritual transformation that would lead to an exalted , novices only needed to turn to and understand San Francisco as a personal example. The Franciscan model of spiritual life and method of spiritual transformation were similarly based on the life and example of Francis. This method, employed by the Franciscan Order to “simultaneously transform the ‘outer man’ (behavior) and ‘inner man’ (the soul), thereby leading him to holiness,” was expounded upon in novitiate guides, most notably the Instrucción y doctrina de novicios Sacada de la de San Buenaventura and the Cartilla y doctrina espiritual para la crianza y educación de los novicios que toman el hábito en la orden de N. P. S. Francisco.100 As is evidenced by the language used in the of these tracts, such novitiate guides were often grounded in the mystical texts of San Buenaventura, or Saint . Although many of the great works of Spanish were referenced and quoted, The Soul’s Journey into God and The Triple Way, or Love Enkindled were especially embraced by the Franciscan community and taught to prospective Friars through these guides. Personal spiritual growth or formation, outlined in such guides, was understood as “ternary, consisting of first, purgation of the old self, second, an illumination modeled on the exemplary lives of Christ and St. Francis, and third, a mystical or union between Christ (the Bridegroom) and the individual soul (the bride).”101 According to the mystic path laid out in these tract, a novice initiated his spiritual transformation by first purging oneself of all worldliness. That is to say that a component of the practice of Franciscan Catholicism inculcated by friars within their notices and congregants promoted the ardent attempt to forsake all possible attainments within the world and purge the self of everything that one possessed including the flesh. The flesh embodied the source of pride and “had to be tamed, punished…and repressed with devout and

37 continuous prayer, with , vigils, fasts” and the application of personal conscience.102 The most embodied or fleshly sin, “Lust, was the ugliest of these sins because it ‘was a metaphor for all impurity, for all worldliness.’”103 Lust, as a sin that symbolically corresponded to impurity and worldly infidelity in general, frequently dominated the later observation of the Pueblo. This diffuse and pervasive sin was often recorded or referenced when expressed through Native American sexual deviation or more subtly through violations of Spanish gender norms. Spiritual illumination came only through modeling the life of Francisco, through which a friar would encounter the person of Jesus, transform their inner nature and be assured of loving embrace of God the Father. Historian Ramon Gutierrez avers that friars and novices throughout the Spanish colonies maintained the possibility of inner illumination through the encounter of the presence of God within the natural world.104 The final step of the novice’s spiritual re-formation occurred when the individual soul joined itself to God through a mystical marriage, signified by the desire for martyrdom as modeled in the of Jesus. Through the act or ideal of martyrdom, in which a friar indicated his perfected love for the God and willingness to offer himself for the salvation of his neighbor, the soul achieved the pinnacle of perfectibility and wedded itself to God through a spiritual union.105 Sacrifice and devotion to a life of hardship and rejection was the threshold of the ultimate spiritual experience. Franciscan friars who endured Pueblo repudiation of their authority and resistance to their Catholic catechism committed themselves even more to their ministries. Every ordeal and act of Native American dissent encouraged friars to not withdraw but to dedicate themselves more fervently to the task at hand with the promise of spiritual bliss as the reward. Although San Francisco was the primary focus of devotion, model for spiritual experience, and moral exemplar, San Buenaventura provided the outline of Franciscan ideals for missionaries in Nueva España. Hagiographies of the saint noted that after his birth in 1221 in Bagnoregio, Buenaventura was healed of a grave illness by the prayerful intervention of St. Francis. With a sense that his life was already owed to the intercession of Francis, he dedicated himself to the emulation of the saint, naturally gravitated towards the Franciscan Order, and, in time, assumed the position of a friar.106 “He was attracted to the Order by its vitality, its sincerity, its willing renunciation, its readiness to go

38 anywhere and do anything, its love for the poor, its youthful, eager adventurous spirit.”107 Buenaventura sought to unite these moral ideals with his own interest in theology and appreciation of the role of such studies in leading practitioners to greater comprehension of religious truths. Buenaventura believed the Order of Friars Minor and the universities each embodied one of two superior ideals, “the one the dedication of man’s whole life to God in poverty, humility, and simplicity, the other the sanctification of the human mind through its contact with divine wisdom.” 108 According to the esteemed friar, if these two institutions and ideals could be harmonized, the result would be a force that might “reform the Church, extirpate , and mark a great step forwards towards the establishment of God’s kingdom on earth.”109 Thus, the Franciscan Order that Buenaventura left in his wake energetically dedicated itself to these goals and thus promoted the unification of Franciscan devotion with learned understanding.110 San Buenaventura, and the newly adapted Franciscan order, perceived San Francisco as a messenger who was sent upon a divine mission to present to mankind the ideal necessary to organize a force capable of and dedicated to the implementation of this sacred task of reformation. The duty of the Order was thus to remedy and redeem the defects of the clergy. By fulfilling this role, the friars would initiate a tide that would purge the corruption and reform the Christian Church. The Franciscan missions to the indigenous populations of the New World carried the latent responsibility of fashioning uncorrupted Catholics whose incorporation into the ecclesiastical world would generate the tide of reformation. “They were the gleaners of the Lord’s vineyards, the ‘disciples in the other boat’ without whose help the draught of fishes must surely be lost.”111 The friars expected their dedication to their missions to highlight the deficiencies of other Catholic Orders and simultaneously demonstrate the proper Christian practice necessary to harvest the souls needed for a new era of Christendom. However, Buenaventura elaborated upon the duties of Franciscans as he interpreted the role and work of the friars in defense of the Order against its critics. “The Rule, though it says that the friars must work, says nothing about manual work…All friars work…some in study, some in saying the divine office, some in collecting alms, some in the domestic work of the .” Although they did not work to supply their living, friars labored in the pursuit of their primary task, to “supply the deficiencies of the ,” a task usually understood

39 to be realized through teaching and spiritual counseling.112 By this model, if a friar labored in agriculture or spent his days tending the sick, he would be forsaking the “work for which the Order was created by God.”113 It was chiefly through preaching and educating congregants at their missions that the friars fulfilled their obligation. In the vision of Buenaventura and echoed less deeply in the colonial Franciscan Order, in order for friars to preach the truth, they needed to be taught how and have regular access to books. Internalizing these ideas, missionaries likewise constructed schools and listed within their mission inventories a significant diversity of texts.114 Within the missionary training school, Friars were convinced that they “must therefore exercise their ministry in this field even if the secular clergy try to prevent them.”115 In the course of their novitiate and introduction to ideals of the Franciscan Order post-Buenaventura, potential missionaries learned that to succumb to exterior pressures and fail in the education of their wards was to forsake the task and abuse the trust laid upon them by God through his Church.116 The influence of Buenaventura upon the formation of later Franciscans was also expressed through the importance of many devotion works dating to the latter thirteenth century that were attributed to him. Though generally acknowledged by later scholarship as the product of other members of the Franciscan Order, their popularity and success were largely creditable to such earlier misconceptions. These pietistic texts included Conrad of Saxony’s Speculum Beatae Mariae, a devotional commentary on the Divine Salutation, and the Meditatio Pauperis in Solitudine from northern . Although the authorship of the latter is unconfirmed, it revealed its Franciscan sympathies and origins through its objectives to demonstrate “how closely St. Francis resembled Christ in his poverty, charity, and humility, and…to extol the Franciscan Order.” The author left little doubt of his Franciscan roots as he associated Benjamin, the youngest son of the parable, and the Order of Friar Minors in order to call upon his fellow friars to fulfill the exacting standards of the priesthood. The exhortation of fellow Friars and challenging of missionary colleagues exemplified in the personal letters between colonial missionary friars and evidenced within formal Inquisition proceedings were impelled by such Franciscan religious practices as demonstrated in such manuals. Through formal correspondence and administrative proceedings, missionary friars in the colonial

40 territories extolled the virtues of an idealized priest and demonstrated their commitment to purge perceived corruption from the priesthood. Similarly credited to Buenaventura was the meditation upon the Holy Name, De Nomine Iesu, popularly recognized by contemporary historians as the work of Gilbert of Tournai. “De Nomine Iesu is a meditation upon the Holy Name, and the same writer’s Tractus de Pace is a scholarly theologico-mystical dissertation on inward peace.”117 The presence of both texts in library inventories and within colonial Spanish Franciscan dialogue evidence the religious concerns of missionaries and the cosmological dynamics. Both tracts of Gilbert of Turnai concern themselves with the connection of the individual soul to divine power. Through the eminent power of the Name of God and the affection of peace with an individual, God was recognized as an immediate if transcendent power accessible through the discipline and experience of practitioners. Bishop John Moorman asserts that the Stimulus Amoris of James of Milan may serve as an example of “typically ‘Franciscan’” rhetoric and practice of the period. The text was popular with later mystics and championed concepts of perfectibility and the union of a wounded soul to a wounded Christ. Stimulus Amoris emphasized “man’s pursuit of perfection” and, as other popular Franciscan texts of the Spanish Colonial era, dwelled upon the theme of the Passion, “in which the is invited to share.”118 The text encourages the Friars to “Draw near to Christ…and humbly pray him that, since he cannot again be wounded, he will deign in thy blood to renew his wound and to crimson thee all over with his blood. Thus robed in royal purple wilt thou be fit to enter into the palace of the King.” This theme echoed in the meditation for that reflected upon the sufferings of the Virgin Mary as she was transfixed at the base of the Cross and similarly invited the audience to participate in the suffering of a crucified Jesus.119 If the indebtedness of the scholarly field is any indication of the validity of Moorman assertion, Franciscan missionaries dwelled in cosmology in which the soul participated in an ongoing drama of courtship with God and worldly suffering might be transfigured to associate the Friars’ contemporary suffering with the timeless suffering of Jesus during his crucifixion. “Martyrdom was, in this context, a possibility, and a welcome one for some…The imitation of Christ might lead Franciscans to die for their faith, but such an outcome meant heaven for them.”120 Friars were called to live a life in the imitatio

41 Christi, or patterned after the life of Jesus, and embrace the suffering, hardship, tribulation and rejection that missionary life among non-Catholics offered. Native American resistance to Franciscan Catholicism enabled the friars to fulfill their desired ideal of suffering, affirmed the missionaries’ adherence to their ethical ideal and realized their aspirations to model the life of Jesus. Franciscans in Nueva España frequently understood their position in the world as friars commissioned to active ministry for the edification and salvation of congregations. The religious culture of Franciscan missionaries – “the coalesced superstructure of ideas and practices that shaped the mission activities of the friars – emerged out of a world view that was profoundly flavored by apocalypticism.”121 The chief influence on and principal source of the millennialism and apocalypticism that infused the cosmology of the Friars Minor were the writings of the twelfth-century Sicilian mystic and , . More than five centuries later, friars in New Spain continued to reference his works and embraced “Joachim’s claim that mendicant clergy would led the church to an age of renewal.”122 Spanish Franciscans recognized the Age of Discovery and the subsequent era of colonization as “the apocalyptic final struggle between Christ and .”123 The friars assumed the role of God’s chosen medium “to preach a renewal of primitive Christianity as a line of defense against the imminent appearance of the .” 124 Through their active ministry, friars affirmed that non-Christian peoples could be converted to Catholicism more rapidly and the imminent return of Jesus and inauguration of the Kingdom of God could more readily be realized. Moreover, the vast regions of non-Catholics uncontaminated by the sins and corruptions of European depravity presented the possibility that Christian utopian communities could be established and “humankind would have that rare opportunity to begin anew and, this time, to get it right.”125 The initial Franciscan missionaries that journeyed to New Mexico tempered their initial perspectives of the Pueblo with the expectation that the indigenous cultures were more innocent and free from the imperfections that plagued European societies and the ecclesiastical order. Amidst the pueblos of the northern missionary province, the friars hoped to create communities that observed their ideal of Catholic practice and would light the way to Christian reformation throughout the ecclesiastical sees. When the Messiah inevitably returned, the evangelistic work of the

42 Franciscans in this new missionary field would be greeted with divine sanction and commendation rather that fury and vengeance. The missions to the Pueblo held the potential for Christian reformation, ecclesiastical salvation and divine approval. The Franciscan friars dedicated themselves to their evangelistic agenda, mindful of the cosmological implications of their success and failure. The Spanish mendicants encountered Native American resistance and rejection through such elevated contexts and often as a result redoubled their fervor in the purgation of religious obstacles to the inculcation of Catholicism, certain that such opposition affirmed the properness of their Christian lives.

Misioneros de Nuevo Mexico & The Performance of the Priesthood Colonial Spanish Catholicism and its uniquely Mexican manifestations shaped and formed the religion of the missionaries who arrived in the arid landscapes of Nuevo Mexico through formal indoctrination and subtle enculturation, just as it molded the missionaries themselves. However, the Franciscan Catholicism of the missionaries was not merely the compilation of doctrinal and cultural religious understandings devoid of personal contexts. The missionaries were first Spanish men born to a variety of familial circumstances at various levels of society. As such, their understanding and performance of their own place in cosmos, as humans and as priests, as well as their perception of the cosmos itself was shaped as much by their personal social, economic and political contexts as orthodoxy and institutional proclamations. Christopher Vecsey in On the Padres’ Trail provides an excellent exploration of the influences of Mexican experiences upon the friars of the borderland provinces.126 Although he makes significant contributions to the religious history of Nuevo Mexico and aptly presents variations within the religious practices of the Franciscan missionaries, his analysis does not adequately recognize the diversity or significance of the socio-economic experiences of the friars. In order to understand the layers of influence upon the religion of the Friars that undertook the journey and mission to Nuevo Mexico, one must examine the layers of influence that molded the self-conception, or identity, of the missionaries and their expectations of the role of the priest within a missionary province.

43 Although population estimates of pre-contact indigenous peoples are notoriously uncertain and imprecise, there were approximately 80,000 Native Americans estimated in Nuevo Mexico in 1598. However, throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Franciscans interacted with no more that 10,000 Pueblos at any time. The records of missionaries serving in the province before 1692 are incomplete and incapable of providing a statistically reliable set. However, the contingent of missionaries in the Kingdom included approximately fifty friars prior to the Pueblo Revolt of 1680, a number not achieved again during the following generation. “At least ninety-six friars served in New Mexico at some point during the 1692-1754 period.”127 Such numbers reveal the overwhelming task set before the missionaries and the sense of cultural isolation even those privileged to work in pairs experienced. However, as partial backgrounds may be pieced together for only a select few of those missionaries whose identities have been ascertained, conclusions regarding the social context of New Mexican Friars must remain tentative at best. The records of the province of Santo Evangelico, of which Nuevo Mexico was a component custody, were the only in that classified the ethnicity or nationality of its friars according to a tripartite typology. Missionaries were recognized as Gachupins, Hijos de provincia,128 or Criollos.129 The ethnicities of thirty-five Franciscans stationed in Nuevo Mexico before the Revolt of 1680, approximately “one- third of the total,” have been deduced. Seven friars, a mere twenty percent, were gachupines or priests born upon the Iberian Peninsula and who took their vows in Spain prior to coming to Nueva España. Records identify twelve missionaries to Nuevo Mexico as hijos de provincia, Spanish men born upon the peninsula but who entered the order in New World. The remaining sixteen friars, forty-six percent, were classified as criollos, “Spaniards born in the New World who made their profession of faith there.”130 Although the majority of this data is derived from records of 1650-1680 and has been assumed to indicate a disproportionately high percentage of criollos relative to gachupines, it is safe to maintain that the majority of early New Mexican missionaries were indoctrinated into the Franciscan order in Nueva España and a significant number of Friars spent their formative years there as well.131 Thus the Catholicism in Nueva España significantly permeated their religious lives influenced their religious contact with the

44 Pueblo of New Mexico. Of the ninety-six Franciscans whose service in Nuevo Mexico was recorded during the Re-conquest period, the origins of eighty-six are known. “Of this number, forty-seven (fifty-five percent) were criollos, twenty (twenty-three percent) were gachupines, and nineteen (twenty-two percent) were hijos de provincia.” Thus, in the later centuries of New Mexican missionary endeavor, over fifty percent of missionaries present in the missions of New Mexico were born and spent their lives in New World.132 That is to say that they were embedded and engaged in cultures that were actively negotiating colonial powers and engaging in the same processes of translation, interaction and hybridization that missionaries would encounter during their missionary careers.133 The plurality of criollos within Santo Evangelico was not unique to the province but rather reflects the trend posited by Francisco Morales’ survey of Franciscans in seventeenth-century New Spain.134 Indeed, a document from 1703 asserts, “seventy-nine percent of all Franciscans in New Spain were criollos.”135 However, the friars’ ethnic origins should not be assumed to have prepared them any more or less for their moments of encounter on the northern frontier or life in New Mexican missions. Although the criollos missionaries hailed from communities experiencing similar cultural dynamics, the vast majority, more than eighty percent, came from Mexico City, Puebla or the surrounding regions. Thus, although their experiences with the Pueblo were particular and specific, the majority of missionaries in Nuevo Mexico were not strangers to the dynamics of religious negotiations and colonial cultural interactions with Native American populations. Indeed, of all the Franciscans to serve in Nuevo Mexico, only Fray Antonio de Miranda of Sombrerete, who was born northwest of Zacatecas, had any experience with the environmental and cultural contexts of New Mexico prior to beginning his mission.136 While the friars of the New Mexican missions were not Pueblo, they were not dichotomously segregated from the indigenous population of the New World. The categorical division between Spanish and Native American were not clearly defined prior to the encounter of the Pueblo and only blurred over the subsequent century of colonization. However, ethnic origin was not a definitive indicator of familial economic and social status. Indeed, the Franciscan Order drew its membership from a range of social

45 classes. The paucity of documents indicating the socio-economic class origins of New Mexican missionaries mandates cautionary conclusions. Morales’ study of Franciscan friars of seventeenth century Nueva España concluded that the majority of those that served after 1650 were born into artisan families. As the majority of criollo friars were raised in Mexico City, Puebla or the surrounding regions, the primary industrial urban centers of colonial Mexico with the highest concentration of craftspeople, this assertion is reasonable and probable. Norris’ preliminary portrait of New Mexican friars affirms the particular applicability of this trend while noting that “[w]hile this occupational group varied greatly in access to wealth and social status, artisans could usually provide their sons with two important requirements for entrance into the Franciscan Order: basic education skills and freedom from financial debt.” 137 Artisans and thus the families that most early Franciscan missionaries experienced garnered a middle sector in colonial New Spain and held variations in wealth a status that encompassed a range from wealthy laborers to misfortunate bureaucrats. The class origins of the Re-conquest era missionaries are similarly veiled but tentatively indicate the same trend. Of the twenty-seven Franciscans whose family occupation or status was revealed in extant documents, the largest grouping, composed of ten friars, amounting to thirty-seven percent of the total, originated from artisan families including carpenters, blacksmiths, tailors and jewelers. The next largest groupings, five and four friars, were descended from merchant and agricultural families respectively. Only three missionaries came from the upper professional classes and the “remainder were scattered among military and minor governmental bureaucrat families…[However, a] broader determinant of social class origins can be discerned from the application of titles of respect, such as Don, Doña, or Señor, to the friars' parents.” 138 Such titles, typical applied to members who were at least of the middle classes of colonial Spanish societies, were employed when referencing the parents of fifty-one New Mexican missionaries who served after the Pueblo Revolt of 1680. While some artisan families qualified for such titles and “[a]n equal number, twenty-two [friars,] came from families in which both parents either held no of respect or both parents were referred to with title,” the use of such nomenclatures affirms that the majority of New Mexican Friars originated from a comfortable, middle position in colonial society. 139 Given that no

46 nomenclature referring to the higher ranks of colonial nobility may be found in reference to these missionary friars, the young Franciscans likely experienced privilege and prestige beyond the grasp of the popular majority but insufficient to completely alienate them from the plight and perspective of indigenous labor class families. Franciscans were generally accustomed to demands for their diligent labor but inexperienced or disdainful of agricultural and traditionally labor-class activities. In 1604, a number of the Franciscan friars of central Nueva España complained about the compulsion to leave the city and cultivate vegetable gardens.140 However, according to the allegation’s of Santa Fe’s cabildo, or town council, the local Franciscans participated in ranching activities, maintaining flocks of “one or two thousand sheep.”141 Indeed for many friars, the pastorate was clearly “a living and a badge of dignity as well as a calling.”142 The same accusations in 1639 asserted that despite their vows of poverty, missionaries possessed an excessive number of horses, porters, cooks and other employees.143 Before the future Franciscans entered the order and understood themselves as missionaries, Friars and Brothers, they recognized themselves to be men and inherited the norms appropriate for males from their culture. Although they were born into a variety of ethnicities and social classes, each grew to understand himself as a man. Colonial Nueva España and Nuevo Mexico delineated the boundaries of acceptable behaviors and provided the scripts and expectations associated with masculinity. “There, the values of honor and shame defined the acceptable acts men and women could undertake.”144 In Nueva España appropriate masculine behaviors were shaped and bounded by analogous understandings of various social comportments as either honorable or shameful. According to the work of Marcel Mauss, “The function of the concept of honor is precisely, despite the frailty of the logic involved, to equate [honor and shame] and establish thereby the dialectic between ‘the world as it ought to be and the world as it is.’”145 The virtue of honor described and prescribed masculinity in its idealized form and thus structured men’s expectations and experiences in and of the world. Men in colonial New Spain were deemed honorable if they conducted themselves with honesty, loyalty and hombria, or manliness. Honorable men were expected to concern themselves primarily with their reputation, as individuals and as part of a family, and exert proper

47 authority over their family members. “The miembro, the virile member or penis, produced masculinity and hombría.”146 Spanish colonial society in North America unconsciously recognized the penis as the source of masculinity and, by extension, masculine authority, honor and virtue. However, to be esteemed as a man of virtue and honor, men were required to negotiate the “contradictory imperatives of domination…and conquest.”147 Honor was produced by dominating and protecting the lives and social relations of their wives, daughters, mothers and sisters while attempting to demonstrate their prowess and honor through the conquest of other men’s women. “It was precisely in this contradiction that positioning in the virtue hierarchy occurred.”148 However, the men of Nueva España also “judged honor by how well… they minimized affronts to their own virtue, so as to maintain their own honor-status intact.”149 That is to say that the masculine virtue of honor was dependent upon social position based on interactions with female community members as well as the efficacious assertion of personal social status. Moreover, by asserting their presence and virtue within social relations governed by the dictates of honorable action, they positioned their identity as men within an emotionology based upon honor and thus the feelings of shame and pride.150 To be virtuous was to be assertive and dominant and feel the associated affection of pride, whether in oneself or in a moral action properly executed, demonstrated publicly through the expectation of deference and authority and the denigration of less successful men. Failure to be properly masculine was a moral failure within colonial New Spain and carried with it the experience of shame associated with and performed through behaviors considered stereotypically feminine: meekness, humility, modesty and deference to authority. After a social exchange in which Fray Pedro, a Franciscan missionary, fed a destitute and hungry Gaspar Reyes in 1606, the friar “placed his hand into my pants, seized my ‘virile member’ and wriggled it…and said, yours is small, mine is bigger.”151 The Franciscan’s subsequent attempt to sodomize the parishioner realized his experience of pride through a brash demonstration of authority and expectation of Reyes’ shame, or meek deference, to express itself as a non-masculine acceptance of his masculine advances.152 Men of Nueva España were typically concerned with personal and familial honor and their positioning within the honorable pride-shame matrix irrespective of their status

48 as nobility or landed peasantry. 153 Participation in this positioning and the valuation of honor served as a validation of the ideals and ethics of colonial Spanish society and thus an identity marker for men within those territories. Although the peasantry often embraced their identity as Spaniards and thus esteemed the process of honor relations, they “undoubtedly had to reconcile gender prescriptions with the exigencies of production and reproduction.”154 Men experienced the world as a series of “exchange relations within an honor-and-shame nexus that would allow interdependency without lessening their normative control over women and children, the mutually understood focus of contestation, negotiation, and exchange.”155 Masculinity was interdependent upon social relations and cultural practices of domination and conquest and thus could not exist in seclusion or isolation from the larger colonial community.156 Interactions and exchanges that were positioned in or framed by sacred symbols and contexts allowed traditionally shameful, non-masculine behaviors to be valued and exalted as a medium for negotiations of honor. James F. Brooks’ analysis of Spanish colonial exchange asserts that “sacred symbols allowed mundane, and latently shameful, economic transfers to occur as a subtext to the dominant narrative of men’s contest of honor.”157 These economies of exchange were not synonymous with the negotiation for and exchange of material goods but were more fully expressed as exercises of power and cooperative competition that included various modes of cultural exchange, interaction and missionary interplay.158 Thus, through the framing of the missionary endeavor as a sacred task, Franciscan missionaries were empowered to live lives of sexual renunciation and subservience to God, Church and King without the apparent stigma and shame such actions might provoke. Moreover, contests and negotiations over the meaning and use of sacred symbols veiled a dialogue of domination and conquest that sought to assert masculinity and personal virtue. Franciscan missionaries were further motivated to perform missionary behaviors in order to affirm their masculinity, express their moral duty and live out their identity as Spanish men. Friars were men and Spanish colonists before they assumed the mantle of Franciscans and missionaries to Native Americans. They incorporated the performance of masculinity and its associated virtues and system of honor within their ethical lives and religious worlds among the Pueblo. The friars of the New Mexico mission were influenced by the catholicisms of

49 colonial Spain, Nueva España, and the Franciscan Order as well as their socio-economic origins.159 However, they were not uniformly steeped in these influences nor did they enter Nuevo Mexico devoid of previous life experiences. Although the personal histories of each friar cannot be reconstructed here, it is worth noting and reflecting upon the age and careers of these men as they entered and labored within the missionary territory. The friars of New Mexico entered the Order at an average age of 19.9.160 Of those missionaries whose age is known at the moment of their profession of faith, the youngest was sixteen, the oldest forty-one and sixty-three percent were younger than twenty.161 Only six friars were twenty-five or older. The age of incoming Franciscans evidences the possibility of prior occupational training before missionary service for those born to poorer families and the possible motivation of loss of lifestyle following the death of a parent for those born to more affluent families. Their early formative, adolescent, and early adult years were spent among peers and family learning and living according to class and occupational expectations, not cloistered in centers of higher learning or religious isolation. Franciscan missionaries to the missionary territory of Nuevo Mexico lived lives that included diverse cultural experiences than were not always dominated by ecclesiastical responsibilities and the privileges of their positions of religious authority. Correspondingly, the friars were not merely the alienated religious ascetics portrayed in early hagiographies or the disconnected religious professionals that later scholarship has segregated from the Spanish colonists in the region.162 The missionaries were an average of 33.5 when they first arrived in New Mexico but spanned the range between eighteen and sixty years of age. The largest concentration, forty-six percent, were between thirty and forty years old, followed by forty-three percent who were not yet thirty.163 “Considering the ordination age of twenty- four years and a two-to-three year period at Santiago de Tlatelolco, most of New Mexico's friars should have had other religious service prior to coming to this colony.” However, only eight Franciscans served as missionaries anywhere of the most Spanish- controlled region, central Mexico, and even those could usually be found within the Custody of Tampico.164 Thus, although some had missionary experience and others spent years cloistered in conventos before choosing the missionary life in New Mexico, the significant majority of arriving Franciscans had no prior experience evangelizing,

50 ministering to, or living among indigenous populations along the colonial frontier. The friars of New Mexico frequently were assigned to an average of five different Pueblo missions during his evangelistic tenure and would remain at each for approximately two and a half years. The length of the post was nearly identically among Franciscans throughout the colonial and revolutionary period, both before and after the 1680 revolt.165 It is significant that the duration of New Mexican missionary assignments was one year less than their peers in similar evangelical conditions elsewhere in the Spanish colonies.166 Missionaries were moved too quickly for them to parse out the cultural or linguistic nuances and religious variations among the Pueblos. The sequence of rotating missionaries, each with varying religious interpretations, expectations and personal temperaments, likewise made building trust and developing a dialogical relationship with friars difficult for the Pueblos. Once assigned to Nuevo Mexico, Franciscans tended to stay, on average, 17.1 years and forty-five percent remained in the province for more than twenty years. If the typical friar was 33.5 years old when he arrived in the territory, then most of the priests would celebrate their fiftieth birthday within the New Mexican missions. “Indeed, with a life expectancy probably not much more than fifty years of age, New Mexico's friars were likely to labor there until the end of their active careers.” 167 Given the hardships associated with frontier live, the low life expectancy and the inherent dangers of missionary evangelism, Franciscans volunteering to serve as missionaries in Nuevo Mexico did not reasonably expect to return. Whether driven by a desire for martyrdom, violent or natural, religious zeal or personal reasons to distance themselves from Nueva España, the friars did not intend to return. According to the scant documentary sources, few friars actively served as priest after their experiences and missionary careers within the territory of Nuevo Mexico. In addition to the twenty-one Franciscans who died during the violence of the Pueblo Revolt of 1680, at least thirteen of the later Revolutionary Period friars lived the rest of their lives within the missions, less than half of which were killed by their constituents.168 Seventeen percent of the remaining continued to serve within Santo Evangelio within non-missionary capacities, six percent continued to serve as missionaries within the Propaganda Fide missions, and two friars continued to positions of higher authority within the Franciscan Order in Nueva

51 España.169 Unfortunately the fate of the majority of friars who served in Nuevo Mexico is unresolved. Many of these friars likely experienced natural deaths in the missions they served as no subsequent hagiographical remembrances are documented. However, unremarked death and the heavily obfuscated historical record cannot account for the number of unknown destinies. 170 A small portion of the New Mexican friars labored for their productive years in the missionary arena only to retire from ministry and the Church. However, such missionaries comprised such a significant minority that Franciscans did not realistically reflect upon or reference the possibility when anticipating their ecclesiastical careers and divinely ordained vocations. As human beings, the layers of personal identities that shaped the friars were prompted, informed and augmented by each social collectivity in which they participated. As missionaries who dedicated their remaining days to perfecting the deficiencies of the priesthood and tending the needs of mission congregations, their self-conception was tethered to their understanding of their vocation and evaluation of the role of the priest. As members of a society “where membership in the society required membership in the church,” they expected the priesthood to assume an authoritative, pivotal role within their communities. The specific content of this role varied by era, region and individual and was especially tumultuous during later Spanish colonialism. Within any historical sample of Nueva España, the role of the priesthood in society could either “be narrowly construed in terms of sacramental obligations or broadly construed as involving responsibility for enforcing a wide rand of personal and collective conduct that bore on the well-being of the soul.”171 Parish priests, local friars, devotional and instructional manuals, and Spanish colonial culture socialized the Franciscans throughout their lives to understand the priesthood as the grandest and most inclusive of all social roles. According to seventeenth-century bishop of Puebla, Juan de Palafox y Mendoza, priests were called to serve as “shepherd, priest, mediator, judge, celestial physician, teacher, treasurer, father, soldier, and light of the community.”172 Nearly a century later, Perez de Velasco encouraged assistant to understand their position within a community as a Christian “ambassador, vice-God, and copy-likeness-image-representation of the Supreme King of Heaven and Earth.”173 According to the most frequent term within colonial records of priests discussing their duties and colonial era manuals, priests

52 understood themselves as diligent spiritual guides charged with the spiritual health of the soul. As spiritual guides, they were expected to behave as teachers, inspirational examples of ideal conduct, and spiritual fathers. This position of paternal authority carried with it the expectation of a priest to be “committed to the spiritual direction of his children” and use nurturing “fatherly consolation” when possible and “act the stern father and judge, playing out his role of soldier of Christ, fighting off Satan—the ‘common enemy’” - when necessary.174 A local cura of Nueva España, Miguel Antonio de Cuevas, maintained that priests where obliged to wield the “authority that a father exercises over his children in order to correct disobediences.”175 However, according to more orthodox articulations, including the Itinerario in the eighteenth century, leaders of local churches ideally exercised only moderate discipline and understood their paternal responsibility as merciful protectors motivated by selfless love. Indeed, the Itinerario repeatedly placed the onus of responsibility for the souls of Native American communities squarely upon their priest and charged them with the task of “defending these poor ones.”176 Even the later Second Provincial Council “placed the role of second to that of father, highlighting the parish priest’s duties as keeper and protector” who nourished his flock with doctrinal instruction and sacramental administration.177 The emphasis on the loving if occasionally disciplinary paternalism of the priestly identity was a core element of priestly rhetoric and identity and became cemented in the practice of colonial Catholicism after the Council of Trent.178 The friars understood love to be demonstrated and exemplified within the life and teachings of Jesus. Thus, for New Mexican Franciscans, to model love or experience love was to live a life that coincided with the strictures of the Christ. The life that best conformed to the model set by Jesus was showed “the greatest love…[and was thus] the most perfect life. Love demands sacrifice, and the life which shows the greatest sacrifice must therefore be the most perfect.” 179 Love for Spanish friars was revealed and modeled for their edification in the life of Jesus. “What this meant, in practice, was in fact the imitatio crucis, the imitation of the suffering of Jesus, through poverty, physical ordeal, and steadfastness.”180 The friars outwardly displayed the experience of love as exemplified by Jesus through voluntary renunciation, hardship and suffering. By

53 renouncing wealth and luxury in favor of a life of poverty and struggle, the missionaries practiced a life characterized by the experience of love and felt confident that they more perfectly reflected the teachings of Jesus than their fellow colonists. Post-tridentine Catholicism formally sought to balance the importance of “fear and love, punishment and charity, and [the roles of] judge and teacher” within the life and identity of priests and friars.181 However, no uniformed, orthodox synthesis of these elements emerged within formal doctrine or the practice of missionaries in Nuevo Mexico. Within the colonial Spanish era, the role of judge and importance of fear and punishment in the performance of priestly duties received greater official emphasis during the early Hapsburg period but continued to vary in importance throughout later catholicisms. Indeed, the Itinerario encouraged seminarians to conceive of the socio- religious role of the priest as “juez, medico y maestro.”182 That is to say that its list of responsibilities of the parish priest begins and ends with affirmations of priests’ judicious authority. However, despite such institutional sources, Franciscans and colonial Catholicism remained ambivalent about the place and power of the priesthood. Even the Itinerario is conflicted and “speaks in the same breath of the priest as ‘serving as judge among his subjects’…and of his role as a ‘spiritual physician who prescribes the…[appropriate] medicines.’”183 Indeed, a common depiction of local priests encouraged missionaries to understand themselves as physicians dedicated to the cure of all “‘mortal ills of the soul’ by ‘prescribing the proper medications according to the nature of the ailment.’”184 Once the spiritual ailment was identified or diagnosed, missionaries treated their subjects by employing prayers, exhortations, , the power of sacred images, and, primarily, the efficacy of the sacraments of “, communion, penance, matrimony, and extreme unction.”185 The friar became a font for the rituals that enabled the salvation of the soul and, as member of a holy order, did so from a position invested with divine power and salvific potential. “The priest’s first public duty was sacramental.”186 Only through him could the sacraments, the lifeblood of the liturgy, flow to the local community and the possibility of redemption be maintained. As Mendicants, the friars received papal dispensations to administer sacraments that were “understood to be a special circumstance appropriate to the first stages of conversion and indoctrination,

54 always considered temporary by the crown and the secular church. It was subject to review by the crown, especially when unemployed diocesan priests…available for assignment in New Spain” and priests ordained in the New World continued to increase throughout the later sixteenth to eighteenth centuries.187 Although the debate over the role and necessity of in colonial Mexico and the missionary provinces would rage for centuries, friars continuously wielded the bestowed sacramental powers and derived much of their status and efficacy from it.188 Indeed, the act of administering the sacred ritual elevated missionaries to a divinely infused status as the mediator of the “‘holiest of holy things,’ the , [that became for practitioners in Nueva España]…a transcendental pageant of Christ’s life death and resurrection.” While adhering to the ritual script, priests, as intermediaries of divine power, were recognized as members and ambassadors of the community even while they were simultaneously transfigured and exalted above lay practitioners. After entering the elevated sacred space before a railed alter, priests muttered in a language that even those Native Americans that spoke Spanish could not comprehend and performed a mystery that culminated in a rung bell and the raising of the miraculously transformed bread and wine. With his back to the congregation, friars at once signified their solidarity with their host community before God and his distance from it while transforming the material elements into the body and blood of the crucified Jesus, renewing the path to eternal life and ensuring the flow of sacred power into the community.189 “Priests celebrated mass for the congregation weekly on Sunday mornings in the parish seat, and usually monthly or by rotation in the visita chapels on consecutive Sundays.”190 The frequency and scheduling of additional observances of high mass varied by village but were usually observed on the day of the patron saints of local sponsors and special annual holy days. Masses were held with increased regularity “during Lent, culminating in the solemn and exuberant celebrations on the days before Sunday, and at and .”191 During the weeks preceding Easter American communities were treated to an especially intense period of religious instruction as precursor to the ritual of Confession that would remove their acquired sin and reconcile them to ecclesiastical authorities. Within the Catholicism of Nueva España, the triune sacramental performance of confession, penance and communion was

55 a principal drama of each year in which participation was required for divine reconciliation and to remind practitioners of the paternal authority of the priests. During Confession, the “penitent knelt, head uncovered ‘like and accused criminal’ and the priest was ‘seated and covered…because he represents the person of Christ as Judge.’” 192 While confessing the congregants, missionaries veiled themselves with cloth or the confessional structure and, in so doing, wrapped themselves within the symbolic persona of Jesus and enshrouded themselves with his discernment. The Itinerario formally taught priests to understand themselves in the confessional “like a supreme judge, …pardoning sins and giving out of life or death.”193 The judiciary authority of the priesthood extended beyond matters of personal penance into matters of including: marital investigations, asylum request hearings, the execution of wills and the prosecution and purgation of Native American heresy. Franciscans discounted distinctions between sacred and profane authority or sacramental and administrative duties by recognizing all authority as subsidiary to divine authority and the role of the priesthood as inclusive of both streams.194 In the eighteenth century, the subdelegado of Zoquitlan accused the local cura of arresting a Native American charged with stabbing a Spanish citizen and levying a twelve-peso fine before releasing him.195 Frequently colonial priests assumed “judicial authority over public morality, including drunkenness, gambling, and threats to the integrity of the nuclear family, especially sexual misconduct such as adultery, incest, and rape” by the justification of protecting souls from danger.”196 As leaders of the communities, investigators and criminal judges, priests occasionally overstepped their sacramental authority and removed local officials by their own decree but did so with the understanding that they were fulfilling their mandate to protect and treat the souls for which they were responsible.197 The practice of the priesthood and the responsibility for the cure of sin did not end with the sacraments or subsequently derivative judicial authority. Colonists in Nueva España understood sacramental efficacy and mediation of divine power to be dependent upon “the recipient’s understanding and believing in them, and therefore on the priest’s teaching.”198 Royal decrees from the late sixteenth through early seventeenth centuries placed primary emphasis upon the image of priests as teachers, ensenars, and

56 doctrinars.199 From the Council at Trent emerged a clear mandate for priests to accept responsibility for teaching and explicating the doctrine of the Church to their assigned congregations. Council decrees encouraged priests to use vernacular language to facilitate clarity but required them to preach “‘at least on all Sundays and solemn festival days’” and at least three days each week during the Lenten and Advent seasons.200 The Itinerario put similar emphasis upon annual instruction prior to the confessions of Lent and echoed the popular understanding of priests as teachers obliged to articulate the necessary beliefs required for the salvation of each of his Native American parishioners.201 Priests in Nueva España were expected to give great import to regular teachings of doctrinal courses to students under ten years of age and the demonstrate in their and lectures to the general congregation appropriate Catholic understandings and responses to particular parish events and circumstances.202 It is clear that Franciscan friars understood themselves as fulfilling the roles of parish priests, felt the burden of clarity in teaching, and employed the same liberties with explicating Catholic doctrine. The frequent patentes and expedientes by and vicar provincals evidence the frequency and centrality of the parish priest aspect of the missionary identity and the engrained expectations of priestly authority and personal responsibility for the interpretation of Catholicism that framed the Franciscan practice of pedagogy.203 To fulfill the duties of a teacher, the friars who ventured into New Mexico accepted a two-fold obligation to educate their potential communicants through formal catechism classes and regular preaching. The First Provincial Council of the mid- sixteenth century placed the emphasis on preaching and named sermons as “the clergy’s weapons.”204 Although some local priests must have been noted for frequent or inspiring sermons, their orations still originated within one of several standardized texts of sermons and homilies circulated among the clergy. Most curas received no such fame. When eighteenth century parish priests recognized their insufficiency and sought assistance for congregational instruction, they invited external clergy with a talent for public elocution. When concerned for the spiritual well being of their parishioners, curas engaged the services of a missionary troop of up to twenty professionals who would visit the parish to revitalize religious education and commitments and effect moral reform. The missionaries, often Franciscans from the Colegio de San Fernando or the Colegio

57 Apostolico, were most often requested for “two or three months, especially during Lent, preaching nearly every day and manning the confessionals from dawn to dusk.”205 Throughout the Spanish colonies, the Franciscan Order was recognized as and expected to be proficient and persuasive sermonizers. Indeed, friars frequently recorded topics within the scarce Franciscan colonial record. However, the preaching performed by Franciscan friars was not chiefly “doctrinal preaching, and inasmuch as there was a distinctively theological content of Franciscan preaching, it tended towards a generalized ethics, eschewing he lexicon of medieval Christian systematics...[for w]hat some later religious writers called ‘plain language.’”206 The Franciscan missionaries of Nueva España framed their sermons and approach to the missionary endeavor around the character and living example of Christendom that friars provided to their congregations. Although friars emerged from various groups within colonial Spanish society and struggled to fulfill the obligations and role of the priesthood in the larger society, their self-conceptions were influenced by their own expectations of ideal forms. As mendicants they sought to reflect the life of Jesus, as Franciscans the life of Francisco, but as missionaries they modeled themselves after the ideal priest articulated by ecclesiastical sources. The ideal demeanor and virtues of priests were clearly outlined within colonial sources, especially later colonial reports by district governors’ on parish priests in their territories. “The complimentary adjectives that appear repeatedly in these reports cluster around six qualities: gentleness (blandura), disinterestedness, exemplary personal conduct, love, charity, and zeal.” 207 Of these six, blandura was the most frequently occurring and clarified and, by the eighteenth century, encompassed the virtues and characteristics of “‘peaceful,’ ‘gentle,’ ‘humble,’ ‘modest,’ ‘upright,’ ‘benign,’ ‘mild,’ ‘God-fearing,’…‘moderate,’ ‘peaceful and quiet,’…‘prudent’ and ‘given to the affability of a true father.’” 208 As district governors penned such idealization of local priests, they reformed the image to reflect their own hopes for a priesthood that recognized its appropriate role in society as subservient to gubernatorial authority. Similar virtues articulated by Trent and repeated in episcopal letters of encouragement buttressed the clerical ideal form mirrored, however imperfectly, in the behavior of the friars of Nueva España. As Franciscan missionaries actively embodied

58 these virtues, they crafted and reinforced the spiritual ideals of their religious identity and further defined the expected behaviors and responsibilities of friars. “Disinterestedness (disinterés) here meant his separation from material preoccupations, especially his willingness to forgive sacramental fees and leave local financial matters to community officials (and thus to abandon any rivalry with the subdelegado over control of local wealth).” 209 Disinterés and the ideal friar exemplified a selflessness characterized by humility and charity, expressed through financial and personal sacrifice. Franciscan colonial authorities expected this selfless disinterestedness to apply to the particulars of the missionary assignments of a friar as well. Ecclesiastical administrators gave preference in the selection process to missionary applicants that wrote of a desire to serve and minister to the spiritually impoverished but did not indicate a location of preference.210 In documents written by Nueva España parishioners and subdelegados, the most esteemed priests were those “who led an exemplary personal life (arreglada) and was ‘exact in fulfilling his duties.’”211 The most exalted ideal to which a friar could aspire was to be “Apostólico.” It encapsulated all virtues embodied in and necessary for a life of loving sacrifice, charitable selflessness and service to the Church and Crown.212

Santo Evangelico & the Migration into Nuevo Mexico Franciscan missionaries provided a consistent religious element within the catholic forms throughout Spanish America and, as much as any other form of clergy, sculpted the religions throughout the colonial provinces. Representatives of the Friars Minor were persistent presences amidst the religious landscapes of colonial Spanish life and history. The mendicant friars shaped the settlement of the colonial territories, the history of cultural negotiations and the eventual exploration of New Mexico. “The spiritual sons of Saint were among the first, and they were always the most numerous. On every ship of or trader were found the followers of the Poverello, eager to carry the light of the True Faith to the children of darkness dwelling in the wilderness."213 Alight with promises of fame and fortune and filled with courage and determination prompted by desperation or religious commitments, Spanish sailors and soldiers departed from the Iberian Peninsula and ventured into the New World.214 Although his first voyage to the New World included only one clergyman, a secular

59 priest named Pedro de Arenas, to serve as , Columbus was accompanied by six or seven missionaries on his second voyage in 1493. The second voyage of Columbus witnessed the arrival of the first Spanish Franciscan missionary, Fray Rodrigo Perez, in the Americas.215 As early as 1505, a Franciscan missionary Province was established in the West Indies and began importing Iberian friars. The Spanish Franciscans that yoked themselves to the missionary endeavor and undertook the pilgrimage to this new Province were aligned with the Observant wing of the Friars Minor. Observant friars were associated with a faction within the Order that had struggled since the later fourteenth century to reform the practice and performance of Franciscan Catholicism in the face of an oppositional faction called the Conventuals. “The most salient point between these factions was adherence to the strict rule of poverty that the Observants supported.”216 According the original rhetoric of this reform tradition, “Observants refuse to accept money, to buy or sell, to store up goods in barns and cellars, to ride and to wear shoes. On the contrary, they are content to beg their food from door to door as the Rule directs. They are regular in saying their offices; they allow no women to enter their ; they all take their meals together in the .”217 That is to say, that Observants maintained that they were careful in observing their ordination vows and living a life of ascetic discipline. Observants counterpoised themselves to the Conventuals who they asserted failed to fulfill the founding Rule in a variety of ways. They villainized their opposition for collecting offering money in coin boxes, accepting payment for preaching or administering confession, storing up vast quantities of wealth, and glutting themselves on food. Observant critics asserted that those friars who resisted the proposed reforms possessed “expensive clothes, horses, and mules; they are lax about the observance of silence, and they constantly allow women in their .”218 Despite earlier opposition by Pope John XXII, the Observant wing emerged victorious from this internal struggle through “two papal bulls issued by Leo X in 1517. Spain had long been a center of Observant reform agitation, and in the same year of Leo X's bulls, Cardinal Francisco Jimenes de Cisneros closed all Conventual houses in Spain.”219 The Iberian Franciscans that voyaged to Nueva España during the later sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and their successors who migrated to Nuevo Mexico were de

60 facto members of the Observants and thus heirs to a reform-minded Catholic that stressed strict discipline, total poverty, and mystical devotion. The missionary friars of Mexico were driven to frequent observation and critique of local congregations and Franciscans as they maintained that revitalization of colonial Christianity could only be achieved “through strictest interpretation of Franciscanism.”220 However, although formal opposition to the Franciscan reforms of the Observants ended after the bulls of Leo X, the Conventual Franciscans remained within the order. While the missionaries that ventured into New Mexico were technically representatives of Observant Franciscanism, they were as likely to be former Conventuals enjoying the increment of liberty afforded by frontier evangelism as ascetic virtuosi. Whether or not they sought to realize a more arduous Franciscan Order, the missionaries perceived their place in colonial society as representatives of the life of Francisco and Jesus and thus “polemicists for spiritual life.”221 Through the lifeway of the Franciscan Order, friars offered a critique to colonial society of the “male cult of aggressiveness associated with warfare, [the exaltation of] wealth in a Spain that had grown fat on the spoils of the New World, and… the vainglories of the world” in order to reveal a path to social repentance and redemption.222 The mendicants of the Friars Minor who migrated to Nuevo Mexico imbued their daily lives and experiences with religious significance. They were the living exemplars of Francisco and Jesus for the surrounding colonists and the immediate ideal of Franciscan Christianity modeled for their Pueblo congregants. The friars invested their personal and collective adherence to their own religious expectations and ethical norms with the expectation of reformative potential against the failures of their Church and society. The colonial enterprise was inextricably bound to the missionary endeavor pursued by Franciscan friars throughout Nueva España. As Franciscan missionaries flocked to the New World, the engine of Spanish conquest, driven by visions of gold, glory and God, claimed wealth, vassals and souls throughout the Caribbean before turning its gaze to Mexico.223 Hernán Cortés struck out from Cuba in 1519, with a troop of 400 motivated soldiers and within three years claimed the conquest of the Aztec state of the central Valley of Mexico. In 1525, Cortes welcomed a new batch of missionaries, “the now legendary Twelve Franciscans, in the capital, kneeling publicly before them in a

61 display of submissive devotion for the edification of the Indians looking on.”224 After Cortes reduced the Aztec Empire and Spain asserted conquest over Mexico, members of the Franciscan Order immigrated to the New World in large contingents. “In 1554, for instance, two hundred came to the Americas on a single occasion.”225 Franciscans quickly went about the task of destroying local temples and idols despite the reservations of military authorities, including Cortes, resurrecting Catholic sacred spaces where once their native counterparts stood.226 From there they taught children and adults alike, administered sacraments and negotiated Catholic authorities and local religion to varying effectiveness. Although thirty-four Franciscan Mission Colleges were later founded throughout Nueva España in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the initial “Provinces founded in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries continued to do missionary work even after the establishment of the Colleges.”227 The Franciscans continued to serve in Mexico throughout the nineteenth century and represented over half of the clergy in Nueva España.228 Friars of the Franciscan Order remained significant influences within the religious history of the Spanish colonial territories in North America. The mendicant representatives of San Francisco impelled colonial expansion and goaded the settlement of frontier territories as constitutive components of the performance of their missionary vocations. The Franciscan presence in the Yucatan and throughout Nueva España was well cemented. However, the mendicants were not content to settle in the new land and grow sedentary. Friars positioned themselves along the vanguard of the forces of conquest and pushed forward into frontiers and borderlands. When the mirage of a new, wealthier Mexico appeared within the minds of colonists of Nueva España, Franciscan missionaries joined “aspiring conquistadores, and profit- hungry entrepreneurs…[in temptation and] found themselves lured into the region from their homes…by fantastic tales of a large population of town-dwelling Indians to the north.”229 In March of 1536 Nuñez de Guzmán discovered four wandering Europeans in the valley of Rio Sinaloa. The four pilgrims proved to be Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca, Alonso de Castillo Maldonado, André Dorantes, and Estevanico230, the remaining survivors of the ill-fated Narváez expedition of 1528 that sought to establish permanent settlements within Florida. For six years the survivors “traveled west across Texas and into the Valley just north of El Paso, skirting the headwaters of the Gila

62 River in southern and finally turning south into Sinaloa where Guzmán encountered them.”231 Cabeza de Vaca espoused the riches of the Ures Indians to the north and spoke evocatively of emerald wealth, “towns of great populations and great houses.”232 Convinced that these were the fabled Seven Golden Cities of Antilla, with its capitol of Cibola, Viceroy Antonio Mendoza “enlisted Fray Marcos de Niza, a Franciscan friar who had witnessed the conquest of ” who he sent north to reconnoiter the city of Cibola.233 On March 7, 1539, the Fray Marcos de Niza led the first official Spanish expedition into the region that would later be known as New Mexico. From this exploratory mission, throughout the colonization of the Pueblo landscape, Franciscan friars and the religion of those friars influenced the events and lives of the residents within that territory. With Estevanico as their guide, that initial expedition struck north from Culiacán. However, Estavanico and the few accompanying Native American scouts quickly outdistanced the majority of the company while gathering intelligence on the countryside and often sent back overly favorable reports of the region. When the main force was one day’s ride from Cibola, Fray Marcos encountered the Native American scouts that had escorted Estavanico fleeing from the distant city. The companions confessed that “Estevanico had been killed as a witch at Cibola”234 and consequently tendered their own withdrawal from the expedition. Undeterred by the promise of a hostile reception and armed with indefatigable confidence, Fray Marcos continued until he beheld the splendor of the city of Cibola on June 5. The initial reports of Fray Marcos described the city as “very beautiful [and]…bigger than the city of Mexico” but it only grew in wealth and magnificence over time until rumors maintained that the inhabitants “wear gold and emeralds and other precious stones.”235 Inspired by the potential conquest of the Seven Cities of Gold and the souls of their respective inhabitants, Viceroy Antonio de Mendoza appointed the governor of Nueva Galicia, Francisco Vásquez de Coronado, to lead the second official expedition in order to conquer New Mexico. The expedition began in February of 1540 amidst celebrations and laden with the hope of the nation. Coronado mustered “292 soldiers of, at least partial, European origin, 800 Mexican Indian allies, and” thousands of horses and

63 livestock and conveyed with the campaign force an unknown number of friars that likely included Fray Marcos de Niza, Fray Antonio de Victoria, Fray , Fray Luis de Escalona and possibly Fray Juan de la Cruz.236 After an arduous month over difficult terrain, this company of veteran soldiers and young men who had burdened New Spain’s population with their idleness arrived at city that the Spanish called Cibola237, short on provisions but fed on the promise of wealth. On July 7, 1540, the expedition sacked the city only to be disillusioned and disappointed in the lack of wealth confronting him. Coronado raged that Fray Marcos had “not told the truth in a single thing.”238 Despite the economic cravings and material desires of the campaign, the expedition was draped in the Catholicism of Nueva España and shaped by the religious negotiations between friars and Pueblo. The soldiers and friars carried “crosses large and small, and images of Jesus and Mary as signs of Christian spiritual power, which they displayed to the Indians for their edification” and distributed among them.239 Fray Juan de Padilla wrote that he and his fellow friars erected great crosses and encouraged the Native American populations to venerate and make offerings to them, a practice that they energetically practiced.240 They spent the following two winters among the Tiwas of the central Rio Grande Valley engaging in frequent skirmishes, devouring their food and taking their blankets and clothes.241 After receiving a report informing him that the Native Americans of Sonora had arisen in rebellion in spring of 1542, Coronado assembled his army, quit the disappointing region and returned to the south “ending the first period of Spanish interest in the area” and the first prolonged inculcation of the religion of the Spanish Friars among the Pueblo peoples.242 From the renewed colonization attempts in 1581 throughout the Pueblo Revolutionary Era, Franciscan missionary dreams provided the impetus and rationale for Spanish expeditions and settlement of Nuevo Mexico. The history of the borderland province and the episodes of Pueblo religious resistance cannot be authentically divorced or adequately expressed apart from the religious presence and actions of the friars of the Franciscan Order. Under the banner of the 1573 Ordinances of Discovery, a new period of colonial history was declared that claimed to be at least nominally differentiated from the preceding era of territorial conquest. The crown declared through the ordinances that “Discoveries are not to be called conquests…Since we wish them to be carried out

64 peacefully and charitably.”243 Ostensibly the great military campaigns of the previous century that seeded resentment among Native American populations and prompted frequent revolts were no longer in favor in the royal court. Even “the use of the term conquest” was to be avoided lest the language used to describe colonial expeditions “offer any excuse for the employment of force or the causing of injury to the Indian.”244 Officially the Ordinances placed settlement of the frontier and borderlands of Nueva España under the jurisdiction and leadership of the missionary clergy. As Franciscans ventured into the region of New Mexico, they did so with an assumed mantle of leadership and responsibility for the shape and direction of Spanish colonization of the territory. “The Franciscan’s desire to carry the to New Mexico in 1581 was the logical outgrowth of the missionary enterprise they had begun in the Valley of Mexico in 1524.”245 The history of Nuevo Mexico was intertwined with the history of the province of Mexico and the greater territory of Nueva España. Although the migrant missionaries from Mexico shepherded the colonization of the border province of Nuevo Mexico, the friars were not simply motivated to seize life along the frontier by internal factors. Within Nueva España, they dwelt within an ecclesiastical environment that was often resentful of or antagonistic towards the presence and missionary activities of Franciscans. As early as the sixteenth century, the secular clergy charged friars with usurping their rights and authority, invading their territories and leeching their anticipated financial security from congregational fees. “To [the secular clergy] the arrival of the friars, armed with papal privileges, their preaching first in the open and then in their own churches, and their attempts to lure people away from their parish churches not only to hear sermons but also to make their confessions and to bury their dead, was a real source of grievance.”246 Increasingly, secular priests called for the secularization of Nueva España, convinced that the friars created divisions among congregations and diffused clerical efforts among the Native Americans. Other clergy, incensed at the loss of their revenue, felt moved to support the movement as well.247 Despite the rising tide of secularizations throughout Mexico in the late sixteenth century, mendicant orders maintained jurisdiction over one third “of the parish units in the diocese of Guadalajara and Mexico City.” By the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, Franciscan provinces were attacked by intra-ecclesiastical critics

65 throughout Nueva España.248 The colonial doctrinas, or parishes, that the friars had labored to establish among Native Americans were secularized with increasing regularity and subsumed by Episcopal oversight after 1572. This ecclesiastical reconfiguration prompted Franciscan missionaries to choose one of two options. “They could terminate their active ministry and retreat to conventual life or push into new missionary fields. The friars who entered New Mexico starting in 1581 chose the latter option.”249 The mendicant Franciscans who sojourned to Nuevo Mexico and manned the missions among the Pueblo renounced the quiet isolation, predictable routine and marginal social position of life within cloistered convents. To realize their evangelical mission and gather the souls of the native peoples of the frontier within the Church, Mexican Franciscans recognized the necessity for a more informed, prepared clergy. To that end, they organized two expeditions to explore and report on the region that would become Nuevo Mexico.250 Fray Agustín Rodríguez led the first exploratory mission under the military command of Captain Francisco Sánchez Chamuscado. This joint Franciscan and martial expedition headed north on June 5, 1581 with three Franciscan friars, nine soldiers, 19 Mexican Indian auxiliaries, 90 horses and 600 heads of livestock.251 The exploratory arrived at Piro Pueblo in August of the same year but found it abandoned, as the Pueblo had previously learned to be wary of Europeans. Eventually the eager explorers made contact with the Native American inhabitants of the region while they explored from Zuni and Acoma in the west to Tompiro in the east and the Keresan pueblos in the north. The expedition returned on April 15, 1582 but without Fray Rodríguez and Fray Francisco López who “had elected to remain without military escort in the pueblo of Puaray to begin missionary work among its inhabitants.”252 The second expedition in 1582, led by Antonio de Espejo, a wealthy rancher from Queretaro, was ostensibly to rescue the two friars who had chosen to stay behind in New Mexico. Espejo traced the trail forged by Chamuscado and Rodríguez, even after discovering the martyrdom that befell Fray Rodríguez and Fray López, until he documented evidence of mineral wealth within the mountains to the west of the Hopi settlements.253 Throughout these explorations, the friars, mindful of the 1573 Ordinances of Discovery, “collected [a wealth of ethnographic] data on the various [Pueblo] tribes, on their languages and customs, and in particular on their social

66 organization and ceremonial life.”254 The observations and records of these Franciscans incited royal interest in the people and territory of the region and propelled the colonization of the Pueblo. Exuberant reports flowed from Franciscan friars who had seen the pueblos of New Mexico to the ears of King Philip II describing the ample fields of souls ripe for the harvest. Consequently, Don Juan de Oñate, the son of Cristobal de Oñate – former governor of Nueva Galicia, was granted license to bring the Kingdom of New Mexico into the fold of conquered and colonized territories. The crown gifted Oñate with detailed instructions to guide his behavior among and treatment of the peoples of the region, informing him “Your main purpose shall be the service of God Our Lord, the spreading of His holy Catholic faith, and the reduction and pacification of the natives of the said provinces.”255 In 1598, after three years of administrative delays, the Oñate expedition was finally able to proceed to the upper Rio Grande valley. The region promised to become a frontier island of Spanish civilization, and provide a rich opportunity for colonial mining and missionary enterprises. “Under the leadership of Juan de Oñate an initial force of 400 persons, including 10 Franciscan friars, made their way upriver to the territory where approximately 30 to 40 thousand Pueblos inhabited an estimated 75 to 80 permanent towns.” 256 The Franciscan missionaries led the vanguard of Spanish influence and directed the establishment of colonies within the territory that Pueblo peoples had inhabited for more than three hundred years. “The first decade was a time of mismanagement and unsteady beginnings for both churchmen and , but in 1609 the crown stabilized the colony with strong financial and administrative support, largely for the sake of its missionary enterprise.”257 The exploration, colonization and evangelization of the Native Americans of Nuevo Mexico were framed as religious obligations and the proper concerns of the endogenous missionaries. “For most of this [early to middle colonial] period the friars were virtual lords of the land…and organized the Indians into a theocracy that lasted until the Pueblo Revolt in 1680.”258 With dual capitals established in Santo Domingo and Santa Fe for the respective authorities of Church and Crown, the future of the province was accepted as promising. Early friars who entered the territory did so with the expectation of success and the hope of apostolic renewal.259

67 CHAPTER TWO

BEYOND THE KIVA: PUEBLO CULTURE, RELIGION AND LIFE

Although it was not yet noon, the summer sun had immolated all remnants of the evening’s chill and heat swaddled the landscape. The sacred mountains that ringed the sun-drenched valley pinned the geography with oppressive patience. In the grips of the craggy monoliths, the rain besotted vegetation crawled across the valley floor in obeisance to the clouds that observed the day’s events with passive grandeur.1 At the base of a parched mesa, the drawn moments of the day dripped by as an assembled host of nearly two hundred warriors watched the horizon with desolate calm. Onala anxiously awaited the appearance of the strange foreigners that the pueblo’s scouts had warned them of the previous day.2 Although he was no Outside Chief, even he had heard the whispered rumors of these beings’ approach for several months and wondered at the tales of their wanton destruction and unappeased appetites gathered from alien tribes. For days, the beings sent foreign peoples to his pueblo with strange prayersticks and undecipherable words of warning.3 For days, the scouts had observed the foreign warriors’ single-minded advance upon Onala’s home and witnessed the murderous rebuff of every attempt at greeting, negotiation and warning that the Warrior Society had sent.4 After hours of smoldering in the sun, he caught sight of the dust storm that preceded the emergence of these beings. When the alien threat rounded the mountains and saw the pueblo that pierced the sky behind the warriors, the air screamed with shrieking beasts and the earth trembled with unleashed peals of thunder.5 After agonizing hours of tight waiting as the shimmering, feathered beings approached followed by tense, awkward greetings, Onala congregated beside his friends and family before the fearsome visitors to hear what words of explanation and see what gifts they would offer.6 Most of the strange beings stood beside their massive, obedient beasts, wrapped in glittering adornments and carrying strange tools.7 One who did not approached the fore. His expedition members offered him begrudging deference but glared at him with anger and hatred.8 He unfurled a wrapped bundle and began to speak aloud. “On the part of the King, Don Fernando, and of Doña Juana, his daughter, Queen of Castille and León, subduers of the barbarous nations…” He orated quickly and without

68 talent, pausing to catch his breath and look at the assembled pueblo men only once, before launching into more words.9 Although the meanings of his words were unclear, his stance and tone were belligerent and disrespectful. A foreigner from a different land echoed this chief’s words in a different language but with no more charisma or effectiveness. As the resented chief finished, several of his warriors stabbed a larger version of their unusual crossed prayerstick into a heaped stone shrine and glared with menace at the Zuni.10 There was no trade proposed, no gift offered, and no respect shown. The Zuni warily edged closer and steeled themselves for the inevitable violence. Within moments the two forces erupted into armed chaos while each side shouted hurried orders and cried out to the supernatural beings that might grant them victory. In the ensuing bloodshed over the next hour, Onala received a cut across his left arm and was forced to retreat with his fellows before the tide of thundering warriors armed with flame belching sticks and sharpened metal war clubs. They fought their way up the mesa path to the fortified sanctuary of Hawikuh. In their hasty retreat they trampled the cornmeal line that delineated the boundary between pueblo and wilderness and contaminated the sanctity of the community with the uninvited forces from beyond.11 The feral beings from beyond the horizon were too potent. Despite the skill and number of the Pueblo warriors and the advantage of their terraced structures, the foreign invaders crashed in unrelenting waves upon the narrow pueblo entrance and up the ladders of the pueblo. Hawikuh suffered heavy casualties. It was overrun and overwhelmed irrespective of the significant losses its’ defenders inflicted. Soon Onala stood beside his fellow disarmed warriors, blood now streaming from numerous wounds as he watched the Inside Chief deferentially approach the enemy invaders and the chief that had initially spoken.12 While the sun and clouds impassively observed from above with terrible stillness and the unappeased spirits of the pueblo’s unburied fallen gazed accusingly though lifeless eyes, the Chief of Hawikuh attempted to convey through posture and small gestures the surrender of the defeated pueblo. The rapacious invaders pillaged each household and storage room, claiming blankets and clothing, food stores and ceremonial objects and spent the evening feasting on the pueblo’s food, taking the giftstuff of Pueblo elders and liberties with Pueblo women.13 As the gluttonous beings took without giving and indebted themselves without showing

69 respect, the katsinas hid their faces but the Pueblo watched. The pueblo would remember.14 The early episode of colonial contact between the advancing tendrils of Nueva España and the indigenous, Zuni occupants of Hawikuh suggests the complexity of colonial interactions and the pervasive influence of religion upon the people and places that became the colonial setting of Nuevo Mexico. Pueblo religious traditions ground the cultural encounters of the borderland province and shaped Native American perceptions of themselves, the Spanish migrants and the territories that both settled. Several constituent elements of pre-Hispanic, indigenous religions shaped Pueblo understandings of the later changes that Franciscan missionaries wrought to pueblo structures of authority and behavioral norms. These religiously interwoven perceptions and understandings contextualized and cultivated the continuous thread of Native American religious resistance that permeated the history of the Spanish colony throughout the sixteenth to early eighteenth centuries. To explore the history of colonial interaction between Spanish Franciscans and the indigenous inhabitants of the region from the moment of contact through the shared crafting of the colony of Nuevo Mexico, scholars must excavate and present the world that the pre-Hispanic Pueblo inhabited before the Franciscan friars began to rearrange it into a mission. The historical experiences of the Pueblo of the Southwest incorporated their comprehensive ideas of cosmic and social order that constructed their world and structured those experiences. The religiously laden world in which the prehistoric Pueblo dwelled and situated themselves within was inseparable from Pueblo religion, culture and identity.15 Just as historians have not parsed the influence or acknowledged the significance of Franciscan religious complexity upon the missionaries and their missions in Nueva España, so too Pueblo religions have been underestimated. It is crucial to recognize the interconnectedness of Pueblo religion in order to see the diverse ways in which cultural negotiations within the Spanish colony of Nuevo Mexico were a part of the whole of Pueblo life. Informed appreciation of the interwoven complexity of Pueblo religious reveals the cultural ethos of reciprocity that undergirded many interactions with the Franciscans and rooted the impetus for the Pueblo Revolutionary Era.

70 To expatiate upon the role of Pueblo religion during Spanish encounter and colonial contact, historical accounts must first present a cogent conception of what the category of Puebloan cultures references and how the embedded understandings of the self, community and cosmos shaped the perceptions, reflections and actions of the Pueblo.16 The most promising approach to illuminate who the Pueblo were at the moment of contact and during the early history of interaction with Spanish colonists lies in the excavation of the interrelated web of cultural meanings, identities and cosmological constructs that underpinned Puebloan daily life and self-conceptions.17 This chapter intends to promote that investigation by amending prevailing histories of colonial Pueblo cultures that diminish their intellectual and social sophistication or ignore their religious motivations. Puebloan understandings of the landscape, the pueblo, foreign peoples and proper ethical behavior shaped Pueblo colonial actions and the shared religious world of colonial Nuevo Mexico. The religious traditions of the pre-Hispanic Pueblo were intertwined with diverse facets of culture and daily life. Comprehensive ideas of cosmic and social order constructed the Pueblo world and were expressed through the political authorities, collective activities and ethical behaviors that structured their historical experiences. Puebloan religious understandings, practices and ethical norms founded upon an ethos of reciprocity contextualized and influenced later Pueblo colonial actions and the religious setting of Nuevo Mexico. To analyze the category of Pueblo identity during the early history of contact or posit emic perceptions of Pueblo experience, the behaviors and descriptions archived in the letters and memorials of Spanish Catholic friars may be engaged through the interpretive filter of Pueblo early contact religious practices and tenants suggested by modern interpretations of archaeological data.18 To understand the religions and worlds of the Pueblo, this analysis seeks to explicate the layers of social and cosmological structures, actions and understandings that contextualized prehistoric and early contact religious life among the Pueblo of the Southwest.

Mud and Cultural Structures In order to delineate who and what was Puebloan during the early era of Spanish interaction, it is necessary to pierce the strata of cultural precursors as well as the shared

71 component elements that functioned as the nexus around which later Puebloan identities were constructed. Spanish explorers and colonists bestowed the label of Pueblo upon those people in the Southwest that shared similar architecture and structure in their settlements. However, this was not an arbitrary appellation assigned by colonial forces. The common architecture was interwoven with a shared sense of geography, cosmology and understanding of community that was the heart of what made a Puebloan person. The physical structures that sheltered Puebloan peoples may be understood only within the context of their architecture that was itself dependent upon the religious understanding of the cosmos and the place of the Pueblo within it.19 This shared cosmology, with its admitted diversity, was the framework upon which Pueblo identities hung. Pueblo spatial and architectural schemes framed the cosmos in which the inhabitants of the region situated themselves and provided a cross communal commonality that developed into the cohesive element of later Puebloan identities. The term Pueblo did not and does not delineate a specific people or refer to a group identity that would have resonated with pre-contact Indians. The very term is of Spanish origin and was first employed by Spanish colonists to embrace the many Native American communities of the region who shared some similarities within the Spanish imagination. Indeed, the Pueblo identity of colonial Nuevo Mexico was fashioned from discourses that employed rhetorical and material practices that were absent before the arrival of the Spanish. That is to say that prior to Spanish colonialism there was a lack of saliency to Pueblo as a cultural identity for it had not yet been appropriated by the indigenous populations of southwestern North America.20 Pueblo, from the Spanish word pueblos meaning “village” or “town,” refers to a number of peoples and communities that the Spanish encountered in the fourteenth century and that were characterized by the construction of permanent stone and mud dwellings.21 By the early sixteenth century, the Pueblo may have numbered as many as 248,000 residing in at least 134 towns and villages spanning the geographical region of modern New Mexico and eastern Arizona. However, characterizing peoples based on architecture may lead to artificial assumptions of homogeneity. This group was comprised of seven languages belonging to four distinct language families: Tanoan, Keresan, Zuni, Uto-Aztecan.22

72 Each language family was spread over several communities which each exhibited subtle cultural and religious variation.23 The Pueblo people were and are the historical descendants and inheritors of the cultural legacies of several antecedent societies that thrived throughout the region well before the arrival of Spanish colonists. The related cultures that currently share and bear the label, Pueblo, are but a few of the terminal cultural developments that formed at the confluence of a several successive prehistoric cultures in the Southwest region.24 However, it was the Anasazi who, by 1000 CE, erected a sequence of complexes “first at Chaco and in the San Juan River Basin in northwestern New Mexico, and later at Mesa Verde in southwestern Colorado and at Canyon de Chelly in northeastern Arizona” that are considered to be the primary cultural ancestors of the Pueblo.25 Around 1250 CE, Anasazi sites were neatly abandoned and the culture dissolved, as a result of drought, soil erosion and other climactic shifts.26 According to the religious histories of modern Pueblos, “the Anasazi abandoned their cliff dwellings because the serpent, their rain and fertility deity, mysteriously departed one night.”27 The people, bereft without the presence of their god, packed their belongings and followed the serpent’s trail to the banks of a river where they erected their new settlements. Many of these later Anasazi settlements were the same inhabited by early Pueblos. The Pueblo settlements of Acoma, Hopi, and Zuni trace their occupancy and, by extension, the emergence of their societies back at least 700 years in their present locations. 28 Even the Pueblo villages found within the northern and central Rio Grande region, established by two, later cultural variations: the Keresans and the Tanoans, were entrenched by 1000 CE.29 These precursor sedentary peoples provided a multiplicity of major linguistic and cultural nodes within the Pueblo region and society. Consequently, Puebloan sociolinguistic divisions include Hopi, Zuni, Keresan and the distinct subfamilies of the Tanoan language. However, in the subsequent centuries, considerable borrowing and exchange occurred among the major cultural and linguist groups that eroded their stark delineation.30 Though well established in the region, the various settlements of the sedentary peoples of the pre-contact Southwest did not embrace a universal identity or practice a homogenous culture. Puebloan societies that are contemporaneously recognized as

73 discrete ethnic categories with fixed tribal affiliations were unformed and fluctuating even in the “sixteenth century because of the intrusions into the Pueblo world by Athapaskans after 1525 and by Spaniards after 1539.”31 The appearance of recognized Pueblo cultures within historical narratives is often attributable to the academic tendency to project upon history the modern reality of pueblos as defined, fixed, and autonomous cultures that have endured the centuries uncompromisingly intact. Such representations are inaccurate even when referring to post-contact Puebloan communities. “Of the 134 Indian pueblos Onate listed between 1598 and 1601, 43 remained by1640, a scant 20 by 1707.”32 That is to say, Pueblo societies were still engaged in the process of negotiating and restructuring their community life and identity during the eighteenth century as a result of pueblo re-organization and the influx of migrant from neighboring cultures. To further complicate the search for definitive content of a Puebloan identity and, by extension, clarification of the culture engaged by later Spanish colonists, each pueblo was subject to divergent histories and subjected to variant demographic and political crises, ecological environments and degrees of external cultural influences. “These and other factors have led to the loss of some belief or practice in each village, an occasional practice unique to one village, and to the differential weighting of one pattern or another from village to village.”33 That is to say that these particularities in environment and internal composition motivated religious and cultural variation among the pueblos.34 The boundaries and borders that delineated one pueblo from another were frequently fluid. Intermarriage and migration were not uncommon between settlements and heightened cross-communal bonds while eroding social rigidity. The prehistoric sedentary communities of the Southwest similarly did not live in isolation from their nomadic neighbors. Rather, they regularly interacted and shared “friendly, symbiotic-type relationships before European contact; and after the establishment of Spanish rule, more frequently…hostile relations.”35 That is to say that the residents of the earliest pueblos did not enforce strict cultural segregation or ethnic boundaries between themselves and nearby nomadic Native American peoples. Even in the 1400s, some Puebloans practiced residential mobility among several multiethnic communities.36 However, the Pueblo history of interaction and by extension the fluidity

74 of their boundaries extended well beyond the mountains that encircled the region. Prehistoric pueblos maintained a network of interaction and exchange with cultures as far south as Durango, Mexico. “Therefore, no linear mode of the spread of any particular religious is likely to work. To borrow a metaphor from T. J. Ferguson’s discussion of cultural affiliation, the history of Pueblo religious practices is best viewed as a braided stream rather than an arrow, a ladder, or a tree.”37 Pueblo cultural and religious structures and content flowed along networks of communication and interaction that characterized social relations in native North America. Such exchanges reveal that pueblo identity was neither rigidly structured nor dependent upon a shared history or defined ethnicity. What remains to bound the category of Pueblo is the same criteria that Spanish soldiers and Franciscan missionaries used upon arrival to distinguish the peoples they encountered. The Pueblo were those people who lived in relatively close proximity in the southwest borderlands, and inhabited permanent dwellings characterized by a distinct architecture. The first component of that categorization was the landscape.38 In other words, the Pueblo were among the Native Americans that shared the arid landscape of northern Arizona and northwestern and central New Mexico, characterized by numerous, high plateaus.39 The identities and cultural content that defined the early Pueblo were inseparable from the geography and spatial schema of the contextualizing landscape. Pueblo settlements resided within a relatively uniform climate, topography and altitude. Sites varied in elevation from 5000 to 7000 feet but occupied an arid territory that did not produce an annual rainfall in excess of 15 inches. “The topography away from the Rio Grande is one of mesas and canyons, while the vegetation is typical of the Upper Sonoran life zone: cacti, yucca, grasses, and occasionally junipers and piñons. All of the Pueblos have access to the flora and fauna of higher elevations, however.”40 Within twenty miles of each pueblo were deciduous evergreens populated with deer, fox, and bear. The most distinguishing facet of life among the Pueblos was that it was lived among the pueblos, the permanent structures in which Puebloan peoples dwelled. The prevalence of these architectural styles and the commitment to the underlying view of the cosmos that girded such constructions was a defining characteristic of Puebloan life and what it meant to be a Pueblo. Central to the architectural styles of these communities and the cosmos that they inhabited were the . A kiva was generally a circular structure,

75 entirely or mostly underground, utilized as a gathering space for kin-groups and was found only among Puebloan cultures. Secondly, included at least one residential structure that traditionally consisted of “a room block of two to twelve rooms fronted by an outdoor plaza or work space containing a kiva.”41 This modular unit was erected according to the dictates of a standardized design that enabled the structure to either “stand alone as a ‘unit pueblo’ or be multiplied to form larger settlements whether in the cliffs or in the open.”42 Within each residential unit likely dwelled an extended family and structures could be amended according to the needs of the population. As the physical structures they erected progressed towards greater homogeneity and resemblance to modern ideals of Puebloness, the inhabitants increasingly embraced a cosmology that marked them as Pueblo. The architectural style of the Pueblo and the structure of their communities developed several sequential iterations and variant forms, like the Pueblo people and culture of the corresponding eras. Between 1050 C.E. – 1300 C.E., during the archaeological phase dubbed Pueblo III, the historically dispersed unit pueblos began to coagulate into massive, multi-storied conglomerations that archaeologists have analogously compared to apartment buildings.43 They were modular residential units that could house between two thousand and twenty-five hundred tenants, often within forty or more distinct structures.44 Some of the impressive constructions of in Chaco Canyon towered more than five stories tall. During this era, Puebloan peoples settled around the springs and reservoirs of the Northern San Juan Region and constructed more modest homes upon Mesa Verde and within Kayenta’s Tsegi Canyon. Regardless of geographical location or settlement size, these societies began to erect community spaces that regularly included the “plazas, shrines, a great kiva and/or a tri-wall structure, and some sort of artificial enhanced domestic water supply” that modern scholarship typically associates with quintessential Puebloan space planning.45 Over the next two hundred and forty years, within the Pueblo IV era, several architectural, industrial and religious shifts denoted the emergence of “traditional” Pueblo culture, forms and variations. Puebloans along the Rio Grand began to diminish their reliance upon rainfall and focus their efforts upon expanding ditch irrigation farming. This augmentation of social life cemented an agriculturally dominated industrial sphere

76 and problemetized the role of supernatural beings associated with rain that were found prevalently in other pueblos. Among the canyons of the Pajarito Plateau, Pueblos began to erect settlements along the vertical cliffs of soft, volcanic ash, carving expanded living and storage spaces from the tuff and reinforcing the role of the underground as the Pueblo’s primal homeland. During this archaeological period, pueblos constructed upon the region’s valley floors exhibited the classic, sun-dried brick walls for which Pueblo architecture is best known.46 The structure and design of the habitations of the Pueblo reflected and reinforced the cultural similarity and ways of life that circumscribed the cultural boundaries of the residents. The mundane, quotidian activities of life within the pueblos were intertwined with the emergent lifeways that grew to define the Pueblo of the early colonial era. Within the interior living spaces of such adobe construction, small clay or stone-lined hearths adorned a corner or spread along a wall and were ventilated by small holes constructed at floor level and larger opening that appeared either in or near the roof. Rooms that lacked such perforations were typically sparsely plastered and served as storerooms for food stores or larger family possessions. Wooden hoops were inset in some interior walls to fasten valued possessions to so that they might hang in wall niches. Pegs erupted from the plastered facing of walls to display and openly store frequently used goods.47 Possessions were stored within shared familial spaces, frequently in unsecured locations. Thus, goods were owned and shared by family units. Correspondingly, success or wealth was similarly shared among familial collectives. Puebloans performed many of the daily activities of life upon the flattened rooftop, wooden balconies or in exterior courtyards using outdoor hearths and grinding stones. Such space planning reflected the highly communal nature of daily living and the cooperation that characterized Puebloan social life. The finishes and decorations of the walls that girded pueblo structures declared the presence of individual preferences and social influences within the community and reflected the cosmological affirmations that shaped the cultural boundaries of the pre- contact Pueblo. Over the course of Puebloan architectural development and across the Puebloan landscapes, masonry wall construction varied in form and technique and expressed high degrees of individual artistry. However, most pueblo walls were plastered

77 with several coats of mud, especially along the interiors. Frequently, paint treatments and murals adorned the plaster of these interior walls. The prolific use of these decorative techniques affirms their significance in Pueblo life. The typical decorative patterns divided the wall in half horizontally and covered the lower half in a reddish basal color and finished the upper half in a white or cream tone. Although tan or dark grey occasionally appears in the archaeological record, mural layouts in living spaces never exceeded two colors. Upon some interior surfaces, artists employed geometric or organic figures. “The painters commonly placed a horizontal row of red dots just above the red- white junction, or they extended the red zone upward to create a series of triangles, presenting the impression of mountains on the horizon.”48 This common pattern highlighted the importance of the encircling horizon upon Puebloan conceptions of geography as well as the interconnectivity between constructed dwellings and pueblo spaces and the surrounding geography. The Pueblo landscape and geography that served as the setting for daily living, the referent for Puebloan architecture, and which Pueblo religion helped to situate individuals and communities relative to was incomprehensible apart from the understanding of sacred space and cosmology provided by Pueblo religious traditions. According to Rina Swentzell, Pueblo myths prescribed the construction of pueblo villages. “The larger creation is reflected in the microcosm.”49 The structure of the pueblo community was a reflection of Puebloan conceptions of the universe, religious practices and cultural organization.50 The affirmation of this spatial context as much as the structures erected within it shaped and structured Puebloan identities. Each Pueblo community understood its pueblo to be the geographic and qualitative center of the universe, demarked and embodied by its main kiva. The kiva was positioned at the epicenter of a spatial structure that radiated exoterically towards the four cardinal points, the four skies and the expansive underworld. These cosmic crossroads were usually round, subterranean structures that manifested trans-locative and trans-temporal qualities. They were able to conjoin the present time of ritual performances held in the kiva with the sacred time of emergence that occurred in the mythic past. The kivas’ transcendent qualities were enabled by the incorporation of the shipapu, the earth’s navel and site for Puebloan primal emergence from the underworld,

78 at the center of kiva floors.51 “The earth navels…serve not only as entrances to the below, but as the points at which the above, the middle, and the below come closest to intersecting in each direction.”52 These loci were flush with the sacred energy and cosmic order of the other side and formed a center for the Pueblo cosmos around which the universe was oriented and spatial-temporal understanding were composed. The kiva was the threshold and conduit through which sacred order and prosperity for the virtuous flowed by the will of the supernatural beings in the other sections of the cosmos. As a result of the kivas’ ability to transcend time and space, it was capable of connecting each point in the Pueblo’s tripartite universe and functioning as the geographical core around which Puebloan cosmology was structured. Kivas and the human beings who performed rituals within them inhabited the middle realm. This realm delineated and distinguished two additional layers or levels of the universe: the above and the below or the skies and the underworld. “The above, like the below, is regarded as being like the middle but there is relatively little concern with it; most of spiritual existence is attributed to the below, and all human existence occurs on the middle.”53 The beings that manifested as celestial bodies abided in the above and many spirits of the other levels made their homes there as well. However, apart from a quadripartite division by cardinal direction, the above realm was not extensively detailed in Pueblo cosmology and thus the peoples were likely more concerned with the other realms, the middle and below.54 Within the earliest recorded origin myths of the Hopi, Zuni and Keresan Pueblos, the underworld was presented as similar in structure to the middle realm, a unified state of existence divided by topography and landmarks.55 The underworld was the origin of the Pueblo peoples, the spirits of the animals, most efficacious supernatural beings, and all plant and animal life on earth.56 Kivas bound sacred spaces and centered the cosmic landscape. However, Pueblos reconciled the existence of multiple kivas within the same village and multiple shipapus within the universe. “Multiple kivas are characteristic of the Acoma, Zuni, and Hopi pueblos where such structures are definitely associated with clan and sodality (associations) organizations. [Although] Acoma and Zuni kivas form a part of the residential house structures…elsewhere they are isolated structures, separated from residential units.”57 Tewa Pueblo generally constructed one central kiva and two smaller,

79 subsidiary sacred spaces. The large kiva was used by unified pueblo communities or during rituals shared by the population and intended to foster shared community identities. Keresans typically maintained two approximately equal-sized kivas, that functioned as ritual spaces, “gathering places and as rehearsal and costuming centers for dual drama-dance groups,” or the religious associations, bound by their commitment to a shared cosmology, that characterized Keresan society.58 If shared architecture and cosmological structure provided the foundation for pueblo identities, then the multiplicity of kivas within a pueblo revealed the social-ceremonial circumstances of pre-historic pueblos and the esoteric correlation between the communal and cosmic unity. As long as the distinct moieties and sodalities associated with each sacred space recognized the cooperative unity between the organizations and embraced a vision of an inherently unified, if factional or dualistic, society, then the multiple kivas were one. If sodalities were to construct antagonistic identities and imagine themselves as separate communities within one pueblo, then there could have been competition for claims for kiva primacy, absent in the historical and ethnographic record of extant pueblos. Although kiva construction exhibited profound variation, the essential structure and central elements persisted across geographical, developmental and cultural units. These similar components reveal the integration of religious cosmology in the construction of kivas. Kivas were circular structures in order to evoke the horizon and the division between this realm and the above. Inset in the center of the ceiling was the entrance hole and sole source of light that simultaneously symbolized the “the opening through which the Corn Mothers climbed onto the earth’s surface” and the Sun who enabled life upon the earth.59 Encircling the kiva were altars upon which rested representations of the animals and spirits that teemed throughout the spaces beyond the pueblo and over the horizon. At the base of the circular walls was a wide bench or ledge covered by ceremonially prepared animal skins that provided a settling place for beings invoked during ritual performances. Upon the kiva floor, the Pueblo erected a fire altar to commemorate the “gift of fire, and a hollow, dug-out place that represented the door to the house of the Sun, the Moon, and the mountains of the four cardinal points.”60 A pine ladder, termed rainbow, which evoked the pine tree used by the Mothers to ascend from the underworld, bridged the rift between the sacred space and the world above the kiva.61

80 Although the kiva formed the qualitative center of the cosmos and primary sacred space, many ritual performances were observed above ground, in the heart of the pueblo and center of the community, in the plaza. Anthropologist Rina Swentzell maintains, “The plaza, or empty space, of the Pueblo form contains the middle or center of the cosmos as the kiva also contains the center.”62 Myth and religious tradition detail the construction of the community structures, the village and its central plaza. By intentionally correlating public spaces with kivas and their transcendent thresholds, Puebloans asserted an analogous relationship between the pueblo and all of creation and thus the primacy of community life. Events that affected an individual’s pueblo carried cosmological significance and communal burdens were privileged in importance over individual afflictions. The pueblo itself echoed the larger creation and reflected the spatial understanding mapped upon the local landscape. “Within the village the buildings surrounding the plaza represent the four sacred mountains and the kiva in the plaza represents the center. The sides of the kiva each represent one of the four quarters of the four quarters of the cosmos, and the shipapu is the center of the kiva itself.”63 The architecture concretized the Puebloan conception of the landscape and recreated the local topography and cosmology within the boundaries of ordered village life. If the center of the community served as the center of the landscape and the structure of the village recreated the structures of the cosmos, the pueblo community itself was the universe with which Puebloan religion was concerned. The idea of the center, evidently prominent in the Pueblo Southwest, was conceptualized conjointly with directional associations and symbolisms to ground geographic and cosmological negotiations.64 To each of the four cardinal directions, away from the center of the pueblo and qualitative center of the universe, were a series of sacred topographical tetrads. These geological features embodied directional associations and solidified a landscape framed according to religious conceptions. A tetrad of mountains in which the seasonal spirits dwelled stood as outer features that constituted the horizon, framed the visible landscape, and enclosed this world.65 “Among the Tewa, the four mountains also contains both a sacred body of water, as well as an earth navel (axis mundi) that gathers blessings and directs them inward towards the village and the

81 main village earth navel in the plaza.”66 Filling out the geography and structuring the vast space between the horizon and the pueblos were stone shrines atop neighboring mesas and hills. In 1582, Hernan Gallegos described the shrines he observed as simple “heaps of small stones which nature formed.”67 According to Diego Perez de Luxan and Alonso de Benavides, these sacred mounds were used as intermittent altars and convenient sites for worship or sacrifice that traveling Pueblos visited when “weary from their journey or troubled with any other burdens.”68 Within the perimeter of the pueblo settlement, the cardinal tetrad represented by the distant mountains was recreated as directional reference points that were then incorporated into ceremonial dance performances. The kiva was situated at the center of the six cosmos-defining directions and the center of the pueblo, defining and transcending each direction while uniting the pueblo and the cosmos. The sacred mountains and the surrounding landscape were incorporated into Puebloan village planning and architectural style. The communal plaza, the designated open space at the center of town, was the primary focus for the structure of the pueblos. Domestic units fringed this space, defining its configuration. “Unlike European plazas, which read as complete forms with consistently defined edges, the Pueblo plazas read in plan as incomplete figures. What completes them are the views to the landscape their irregularities allow to become a part of the central space.” 69 That is to say that the landscape was intentionally incorporated into the structure of the pueblos through the inclusion of the sacred mountains that demarked the directional poles and their cosmic associations in the design of the central, community plaza. The territorial claims of individual pueblos were asserted through this integration and lands claimed could extend to the incorporated topography or project beyond the horizon as a result of the association of the mountains with the directions themselves according to political needs.70 Similarly, the potent abodes of various supernaturals that inhabited the world beyond the pueblo were negotiated into a position of proximity by association and thus the prosperity producing will of those beings could be more readily attained. Pueblos, the physical constructions that comprised a habitable settlement and the community itself, were an echo of structured creation and, subsequently, reflections of those forces that shaped the world and maintained the flow of prosperity into the universe.

82 Within the Puebloan worldview, the pueblo was synonymous with order and understood in opposition to that which lay beyond the boundaries of society, a world dominated by violence, chaos, and the activities in which only men could participate.71 According to Pueblo myths that were admittedly nested within patriarchal structures and masculine politics, “The space outside and beyond the pueblo was authentically the province of men and gained meaning in opposition to the space men controlled at the symbolic center of the town.”72 The world beyond the village was characterized by danger and bloodshed, hunting and warfare. These activities were traditionally within the domain of masculine performances but constantly threatened to penetrate the peaceful order of village life. “Men’s claims to precedence over women lay precisely in this capacity to bring what was outside the village into its core during religious rituals, to communicate with the gods, and thereby to order and control an otherwise chaotic and hostile natural world.”73 Thus, the kivas in the heart of town and efficacious sacred artifacts, from masks and garments to altars and related ritual objects, were proclaimed the property and jurisdiction of the pueblo’s men.74 Pueblo men negotiated between powers and power beyond the borders of the pueblo and the core of sacred order through which life and creation were structured upon the surface of the world. The pueblo embodied that which was most orderly, most sacred and most real. Beyond the community was a vastness of unruly, undomesticated violent chaos. Dedication to one’s pueblo was commitment to the forces of positive order in a world dominated by disruptive potential.

Reciprocity and Cultural Performance Life lived among the pueblos and within a world contextualized by the cosmological underpinnings embedded in Puebloan settlement construction formed the root commitment for the growth of Pueblo identities. However, excavations of the lives and quotidian existence of Puebloans would be void of content without recognition of the experiences that bound Pueblo communities together and the cultural ethos that permeated every facet of society, shaping ethical valuations, scripted performances and communal products. Religion was intrinsically bound to and reinforced the constituent relationships, social transactions, and associate ethical norms that structured early Pueblo

83 communities. Robert H. Jackson’s study of the Spanish territories of the American Southwest contributed to the recognition of the interaction between Pueblo religion and Native American actions during the early colonial era.75 However, it did not explore the complexity of the interconnection between religious traditions and the scripted performances of culture within the religiously consigned relationships that structured Pueblo communities and lives. The religious worlds of pre and post contact Pueblo were interconnected with the interpersonal relations and behavioral expectations within which individuals and communities realized cosmologically oriented rituals, daily exchanges and the quotidian activities of life. By exploring the complexity and interconnectivity of pre-Catholic Native American religious traditions, this investigation recognizes and situates interactions between Pueblos and, later, between Pueblo and Spanish peoples within the comprehensive whole of Pueblo religious life. For pre- and early historic Pueblo cultures, social solidarity was grounded in the daily experiences of the world, or the public and private performances that filled the days of Pueblo peoples, as provided by a common commitment to an ethic of reciprocity.76 Pueblo culture was a community of memory that negotiated identities and situated peoples within its cosmos. Pueblo religion was inextricably bound to that process and the content of that memory. Reciprocity then was the underlying rule or sentiment that informed social norms and interactions and influenced the culturally constructed assumptions and behaviors through which community members intellectually and affectively experienced the world. The social importance bestowed upon the cultural ethos of reciprocity intertwined with the expectations and norms that shaped Pueblo affective experiences and contextualized later colonial interaction. Pueblo Indians constructed an emotionology concurrently with a religious system that simultaneously influenced and was influenced by the emerging Pueblo culture’s feeling rules.77 These rules were tied into the larger structure of culture and related to most cultural performances—from religion, to public morality, to scripted interactions within hierarchical relationships. The relationships between the supernatural powers and Pueblo supplicants were characterized by exchange and emotionality and integrally tied to the public performance of virtue and social status. The Pueblo exchange relationship, expressed in economics, religion, or social interaction was rooted in a commitment to the concept of reciprocity.78 Likewise, as each of these

84 relationships contained an emotional component, the feeling rules of the Pueblo were based on reciprocity.79 Central to this notion of reciprocity in religious and social relationships was a feeling of mutual dependence and respect for/by each actor in the relationship. In other words, exchange, or reciprocity, implied a relationship of codependence that was maintained by feelings of indebtedness and respect. Respect for the Pueblo was often indicative of a complex web of feelings of awe, fear, and love and could often be expressed through obedience, deferential behavior, and the language of indebtedness.80 This notion of reciprocity and its foundational performance of respect could be seen in the religious cosmology of the Pueblo as evidenced by their myth, dress and rituals. Religious narratives of Pueblo cultures presented and reiterated the importance and proper performance of reciprocal interactions within interpersonal relations. “Myths express the values and ideals that organize and make people’s lives meaningful.”81 Pueblo myths varied greatly between language groups and even tribes, often varying within the same tribe over time. Despite this, Pueblo myths tended to share certain aspects of the narratives in common, including similar emphasis on shared symbols. As with most Native American cultures which focused on the origins of a people rather than the universe, “Pueblo cosmology in general emphasizes the earth rather than the heavens, and begins with the emergence of people from the underworld rather than with the creation of the world. The Hopi Indians share this emphasis.”82 In Hopi mythology and, in general, across Puebloan variation, the earth, impregnated by the sun, gave birth to twins. The gender of these twins varied according to recounting but generally gave birth to the people who were recounting the story. The twins ascended from under the earth by ascending a tree and emerging from the earth navel/womb, which was often synonymous with the Pueblo village. A supernatural being, often Thought Woman or a deity associated with the clouds, taught the twins the proper rituals by which they could express their gratitude to and dependence on the sun that made life on the surface of the world possible. “Every morning as the Sun rose, they would thank him for bringing them to the light by offering with outstretched hands sacred cornmeal and pollen.”83 The path of the sun over the earth womb laid the basis for the six directions of three-dimensional space and structured the geographical world. Within this record of Hopi history, the

85 initial spatial organization and construction of the universe occurred within a relationship of reciprocal exchange and respectful gratitude. The Hopi religious narrative continued to note that the twins then helped to bring forth life on the earth, either by asking the Sun Father and Earth Mother or by strewing the seeds of life contained in their baskets. From the twins, tribes and clans of Native Americans were generated and received names of forces or creatures in the universe that the twins found powerful or were thankful for. Examples of clan associations include the Sand, Tobacco, Badger, Sky, Water, Fire and Corn to name a few.84 The twins then created the katchinas (also spelled katsinas), the spirits or “breath-bodies” of Hopi dead who journeyed to a land beneath the surface, there “to existing on the odor or ‘steam’ of food offerings and responding to the prayer offering of the living.”85 As Hopi prayers were generally for rain and good health, the katsinas were equated with a symbolic cluster that included clouds, rain and life.86 However, there were many katsinas and each had a purpose. “Together they make up a sort of visual and experiential catalog of all the beings, forces, objects, and ideas that are important in the Pueblo world.”87 Eventually in most Pueblo origin myths, the young people of the tribes ridiculed or ignored the katsinas who in return punished the humans with drought. They then either repented or were taught the appropriate rituals to repair their relationship with the katsinas and life returned to its proper balance. The origin myth described above demonstrates the centrality of reciprocity and dependence in the Pueblo worldview. The first act of the mythic ancestors was to express their respect and dependence upon the sun for the gifts already received. Such offerings, the myths record, were repeated each day so that the sun would continue to rise and give humans its blessings. The totems expressed in the names of Pueblo clans were selected to commemorate an aspect of creation for which the archetypical twins were thankful and dependent upon the sun. That is to say that the essence behind each clan’s identity was a statement of dependence upon the power of the sun, a dependence that was remembered and repaid by offerings of cornmeal each day. The katsinas, the most prominent supernaturals of the Pueblo worldview existed only within a reciprocal relationship.88 They were functionally defined as those ancestral spirits that respond to the offerings of humans. Although part of this reciprocal transaction included physical

86 offerings, the exchanges between Pueblo and katsinas included and required the offering of the appropriate feeling of respect to express this dependence. This respect was expressed as a mixture of fear, love, and thankfulness/indebtedness towards the sun, katsinas and other supernatural beings. Similarly, pueblo practitioners understood the katsinas to demonstrate concern, care for and be emotionally invested in the lives of their supplicants. In conjunction with the cognitive and ideological structures, the physical artifacts of the Pueblo reflected and concretized the importance and comprehensive permeation of an ethos of reciprocity throughout Pueblo society and cosmology. Pueblo material culture expressed in ceremonial dress, ritual objects and ritual performance embodied notions of reciprocity and the performance of respect that was so central to maintenance of proper cosmological relations. It was through material culture that Pueblo culture declared what emotions and experiences it considered important and outlined the appropriate scripts for the expression of those emotions. Colleen McDannell asserts that each element of material culture “interacts with the others to produce an array of physical expressions… [and] is constantly changing as people invent, produce, market, gift or dismantle it.”89 However, due to the scarcity of sources of historical Pueblo traditions due to the effects of time and neglect on Pueblo ritual objects, it is necessary to analyze a temporal spectrum of artifacts to determine and attempt to reconstruct possible trends and patterns in collective Pueblo values and behaviors.90 Within the genre of Pueblo ceremonial dress and ornamentation, Kachin Vitkunas bear a central position. The Kachin Vitkuna, or Kachina Kilt, was the most prevalent component of ceremonial dress for men. At adolescence, a young man received this kilt from his ceremonial father to wear in katsina dance ceremonies. Also called the embroidered kilt, it was worn as the base for male katsina costumes and impersonations, often in conjunction with the Mochapmun Kwewa, or Dance Sash.91 This white cotton kilt was embroidered with decorations along the side edges. The embroidery generally expressed a “prayer for rain. The pyramid-shaped figures…represent clouds with lightning emerging from their tops and rain falling below. The alternating red and white stripes are representative of the sun shining through the morning rain.”92 The central ceremonial garment of men, which they wrapped their body in, was a testimony to the

87 ongoing relationship of appeal and blessing they enjoyed with the katsinas.93 The Kachina kilt affirmed the cosmic and social importance of maintaining proper relationships through appropriate behavior. As the katsinas were closely associated with life, e.g. growing things, hunting, and life-giving water, the Pueblo ritual participants had to first enwrap their own genitals and life-giving fluids with a sacred object transforming them into a higher, more sacred form in order to interact with the katsinas. This associated katsinas even more closely with sexuality, which was “equated with fertility, regeneration, and the holy by the Pueblo Indians,” and the emotional bonds of obligation that contextualized sexuality for the Pueblo.94 The most evident and obvious article of Pueblo ceremonial ornamentation, the mask, demonstrated the governing influence of reciprocal norms upon the historical relationships and actions of Pueblos. “Every boy who initiated into the Katsina Cult has the right to own a mask. A mask is made of leather but it is believed to be alive. Therefore, it must be kept fed and hidden when stored, just like other animate ritual objects.”95 When a Hopi Man donned a katsina mask with the appropriate costume he became one of the “Chiefs of Direction or…a rain bringer or kachina. He believes that he loses his personal identity and is invested with the spirit of the Kachina he is impersonating. As such a personage he can convey the needs of the people as related to him in prayer by the katchina priest.”96 Masks encapsulated the faces and heads of ritual participants. Faces contain the features most utilized to identify and differentiate individuals within human cultures. Within Pueblo aesthetic tradition of the sixteenth and seventeenth century, many katsinas could be represented in a head variant form, or a representation of a katsina in which key elements of a supernatural’s characterization were represented solely by the head.97 “Through the various combinations of shapes, colors, and decorations used to distinguish one character from another, unlimited characterizations are possible.”98 Masks fall into one of three basic categories: Half- masks, Facemasks, or Helmet masks. In each of these categories, masks vary greatly in, shape, color, texture, ornamentation, ceremonial utilization and the gender and power of the katsinas evoked.99 Each element had meaning and correlated to a complex system of correspondences that systematically related direction, color and sequence.100

88 Indeed, amidst such prolific diversity, there seems to be little consistency in the decoration or depiction of katsinas through katsina masks that could be used to analyze society. Therefore, the meaning may be revealed in what little remains consistent, symmetry. Symmetry is “a basic universal component of all patterned design…and a sensitive indicator of specific cultural activities.”101 That is to say that two-part designs transmitted Pueblo cultural knowledge and memory. Indeed, symmetries were “integral components of social life, as a means of communicating cultural principles, for encoding social thought, and expressing a variety of cultural information.”102 By the late-Neolithic Era, ancestral humans had developed tandem representational schemes of realism and nonrepresentational imagery to express a range on data through divergent formats. These nonrepresentational visual languages articulated through shape, texture, color and pattern a metaphor for idealized interrelationships.103 Moreover, “symmetrical arrangements of motifs are metaphorical statements of important cultural relationships and concepts.”104 In native North America, the Puebloan worldview and the overarching ethos of reciprocity were embedded in the “design organization…overall symmetry…[and] asymmetry in detail” embodied in ceramic vessel production and petroglyph artistry.105 Symmetries infused and regulated social relationships and the artistic representations of those relationships that shaped the daily experiences of the Pueblo. “Symmetry characterizes conceptual relationships among people and between people and the natural world and…describe some of the different ways that the symmetries of these relationships are made manifest in pattern.”106 Patterns, or systematic repetitions of marks, ornamented Pueblo crafts and transmitted culturally relevant information.107 However, the symmetry of human relationships was not an abstract mathematical system but tangible, audible, and experiential manifestations of culturally ordained preferences. While social relations remained fluid and dynamic improvisations, they observed recognizable patterns informed by symmetrical formats. Symmetries, including mirror reflection and pattern repetition, “characterize equivalent exchanges that occur in markets and other nonritual interactions.”108 If such patterns reveal a rule of reciprocity governing human interactions, then symmetrical designs upon Pueblo ritual artifacts also evidence the proliferation of reciprocal relationships with nonhuman beings as well.

89 The masks were not actually symmetrical. Rather, they were aesthetically and esoterically balanced according to “Occult symmetry [that] is skillfully handled by the artistic Indian craftsman.”109 Although bisymmetrical design dominated Pueblo arts as a rule, unsymmetrical patterns were not unheard of.110 While it might be overreaching, this emphasis on symmetry could be the aesthetic equivalent to the religio-emotional rule of reciprocity.111 The occasional unbalanced mask would be appropriate in such contexts. Katsinas could often be violent, an effect that the Pueblo would have perceived as not balanced with the promotion of life that Pueblos associated with good and holy, furthering the need to be wary and fearful of the katsinas. This fear itself was an expression of the respect given to the katsinas in return for blessings and was symbolically elicited and reinforced by the occasional violation of this cultural rule of balanced reciprocity through embodiment in unbalanced katsina masks. The permeation of reciprocity within Pueblo material culture affirmed Pueblo cultural complexity and the interconnectivity of Pueblo religious and ethical norms. The bifurcated, two part designs of Roosevelt red ware ceramics’ glide symmetry decorations and the petroglyphic katsina faces of the Black Hills also reveal the infusion of the ethic of reciprocity into social structures.112 The division of the masks and symmetry of ceramic designs evoke the presence and importance of social dualism or dual organization. Ethnographer Alfonso Ortiz memorably posits that such terms are synonymous and defines Pueblo manifestation of dualism as “a system of antithetical institutions…associated symbols, ideas, and meanings in terms of which social interaction takes place.”113 The social and symbolic expressions of this dualistic division stemmed from the same cosmological ethos but formed a “fundamental part…[and] an essential component of Tewa life.”114 Puebloan Tewa cultures categorized human beings into one of two moieties, the or Summer, and understood all spiritual beings as representative of their symbolic referents within the moieties. Although Tewa cosmology and society exhibited rich detail and complex categorization, “most of Tewa thought and action is organized according to the moiety division, and whenever any beings of the spiritual categories are impersonated in ritual, they represent one moiety or the other.”115 The practice of reciprocity and the cultural aesthetic of symmetry were intrinsic elements of Pueblo dual organizations and dualistic schemes. Tewa communities

90 constantly sought to reconcile a divided social structure with the assertion of the inherent “equality of the moieties” and the need for a unified identity through “the reciprocity which usually characterizes dual organizations [and] the asymmetrical relationships which are also often found associated with them.”116 The Pueblos maintained asymmetrical power relations and a dual organization of society within a nominally equal and unified settlement by observing the pervasive ethic of reciprocity. The Tewa did not ever eliminate asymmetry or realize perfect equality within colonial pueblos. However, through a system of reciprocal material and emotional exchanges, ensured indebtedness, and necessitated gifting practices, such peoples achieved a functional degree of integration and continuity and reconciled “the fundamental of how a society can be united and divided at the same time.”117 Reciprocity in gift giving and emotional exchanges established a system of mediation that surmounted or circumvented the dualistic division and stabilized the dualistic structure within pre and early contact Tewa communities. The valuation of reciprocity by Pueblo cultures influenced the normative ethical expectations and historical behaviors of the constituent members of its communities. Ritual was one way for Pueblo cultures to perform the cosmic order and, in so doing, confirm and realize that order in and for the community.118 As Native American social structures and hierarchy tended to be reflected in cosmology, such performances also reconfirmed and recommitted that society to its system of inequalities.119 For Pueblo society such a connection was especially clear. The Pueblo of the pre and early contact eras perceived the cosmos and their lives as “interrelated, balanced, and interdependent. Man is a partner with nature; the two bear a reciprocal relationship. Man performs rites and ceremonies and nature responds with the essentials of life, withholding the bad.”120 If all requisite ceremonies were performed properly, i.e. with the requisite adherence to traditional forms and emotional expression of joy and respect, then the universe would respond in kind. If mankind fulfilled its ritual obligations, the host of spiritual beings that substantiated the natural world would provide prosperity and avert calamity. Pueblo failure to realize the ritual or ethical actions incumbent upon individuals and communities unbalanced the equilibrium of the universe and generated penal consequences including drought, natural disasters, and illness and misfortune in all their forms. “Rites and

91 ceremonies properly performed keep the seasons moving, allow the sun to rise and set properly, bring rain and snow, quell the winds, and insure a well-ordered physical environment and society.”121 Requisite ritual performances, whether ceremonial or ethical, performed to venerate katsinas or elders, affirmed commitments to shared cosmologies and concretized Puebloan understandings of the reciprocal dynamics that characterized the universe.122 Pueblo rituals maintained the same ethic of reciprocity found in other social structures. Behind many life rituals of transition and initiation, a relationship of dependence, respect and ultimately obedience was reinforced between young men and women and their elders. When a child was four years old, parents gave a local medicine man cornmeal and food in return for a blessing, presentation of the child to the sun and induction into to clan. From this debt as well as many others incurred towards one’s parents as they paid the necessary gifts so that their child could reach adulthood, juniors would reciprocate or exchange their respect and, lacking material wealth suitable for re- compensation, their obedience.123 Such dependence was reflected in the Acoma creation story that recounted the Corn mothers who were given seeds and fetishes to create life by their father before they even knew they needed it. Lacking anything else with which to reciprocate, they offered the sun their respect and, later, physical oblations. Similarly children came to depend on and be bound into relationships of reciprocation to the elders of a town who taught juniors the skills and ritual knowledge that they needed to become an adult. In return for this knowledge, the elders were given respect and obedience. This respect for elders is also evidenced by the reverence that the clans showed the Corn Mothers after creation. Moreover, social veneration of the eldest of a community as the most holy, or similar to the katsinas, due to their age and the ritual knowledge that one was supposed to continue to acquire through one’s life, affirmed the prominence, deference and cosmological significance of Pueblo elders.124 Through a reliance on feelings of respect, bonds of obligations grew that held the Pueblo communities together. “Seniors would only endow respectful juniors, and no elder would ever listen to or speak up for a disrespectful junior.”125 Failure to reciprocate respect in such relationships, as within those with the katsina, invoked condemnation and abandonment from the relative senior or superior.

92 When something was given, something was expected in return. Within the pueblos of the Southwest, reciprocity was the rule governing expected behavior in many social interactions, including later cultural exchanges in Nuevo Mexico and pre and early colonial expressions of Pueblo sexuality. Sex was a root source of female authority and social power. In exchange for sex, Pueblo men gave a woman’s parents marriage- validating gifts and manual labor as needed and was bound in obligation to provide for the woman.126 Through sex she was enabled to produce the sons who, bound by ties of obedience, would care for her in old age. The ability for women to give birth “links women very closely to the earth mother, the primary locus of the sacred for the Hopi…Hopi men do not participate directly in the birth process as women do but they can participate in other creative processes symbolically through the hunt.”127 Women were thus more closely associated with life, which Hopi cultures designated as the good or the holy. Both forms of creative processes shed blood to create “new forms”: children in the case of childbirth, meat and leather goods in the case of hunting. However, as Pueblo cultures more closely linked women with the good and simultaneously connected them to the sphere of domesticity both were consequently associated with non-violence, as neither hunting nor warfare took place within the confines of the domestic pueblo. On the moral spectrum, “the taking of human life through violence was at the negative end; giving was at the positive end, signifying the avoidance of war.”128 While killing a deer or rabbit was not as bad as killing a human, pre-Hispanic Pueblo peoples considered both actions forms of violence that had to be addressed through a system of ritual moral redress. An animal pelt would be sexually taunted, have its genitals removed and placed inside of itself, and sometimes be used to imitate sexual acts.129 Enemy scalps received a similar treatment of shameful harassment, imitation intercourse, and were then given an offering of meal.130 Both of these rituals shifted the violent act closer towards the sexual, creative and morally good side of the spectrum. They also sought to deprive the spirit of the killed creature of the power for revenge by binding it into a relationship of obligation and mandating respect, according to the rule of reciprocity, through unilateral giving. Once the pueblo sublimated the taint of violence through the enforced bonds of Pueblo relationship norms and domesticated the power for inclusion in pueblo life, the felled

93 being became a part of the Pueblo community. As such, the social body expected the new Pueblo member to behave in an appropriate and respectfully obedient manner. Within the ritual of everyday ethical actions, the social context and positioning of an individual delineated and governed right and appropriate actions.131 Right action was behavior that was socially acceptable relative to the relationships of obligation that posited someone within the community political plane. “In their own view…’Hopi’ isn’t an ethnic group or a language, but a way of life that people chose at a particular time and place. This way of life is not so much a matter of belief but of practice – being Hopi is hard work.”132 That is to say that being Hopi or Pueblo was a matter of behaving in a Hopi or Pueblo manner. If Puebloan ethical actions were based upon social negotiations governed by reciprocal relations then to be a member of the pueblo was to observe the proper actions within the context of these relationships. Children were expected to be obedient and respectful to elders, juniors to seniors, and everyone to the religious professionals that managed the social order.133

Sacred Order and Socio-Political Hierarchies Pueblo religious traditions were inextricably bound to the social systems of inequalities and conceptions of authority that undergirded Pueblo life and the actions of colonial Pueblo peoples. Those hierarchies of power, structures of society and collective affirmations most readily identifiable as religious were impossible to accurately extricate from those that challenge conceptions of conventional religious content. The binding structures of Pueblo culture were fused and indistinguishable from the religious cosmology that girded collective and individual practices. Recognition of the historical interconnectedness of religion and authority within the pre-Hispanic settlements of the Southwest explicates later Pueblo experiences of colonial religious trajectories and the illuminates the effects of cultural encounter and negotiation. Although David Weber’s brief treatment of the pre-Catholic Pueblo recognizes a connection between social leadership and religious activities, it projects upon the early Native American population the segregation of civil and religious authority imposed by Spanish observation and American cultural expectations.134 However, Pueblo unification of these spheres of power embedded the later, prolonged contact with the catholicisms of Nuevo Mexico and

94 the associate changes within the leadership of the Native American settlements with meaningful significance that motivated the revolution of the seventeenth century. The religious worlds and social hierarchies constructed among the pueblos and the interactions within the colony of Nuevo Mexico were intertwined within the comprehensive, cohesive web of Pueblo life. The hierarchies that concretized and reified political relations among the pre- contact Pueblo were neither conceptualized nor reproduced identically across Puebloan cultures. The relative equality of wealth and esteem, the privileges and responsibilities of those in power, and the means and criteria for the succession of power varied between pueblo villages. “Among the Rio Grande Pueblos…members of nonkinship sodalities or associations were in charge of governmental functions; whereas in the west, governmental duties were the prerogatives of clan members.”135 Each pueblo community realized the degree of influence, coherency and political responsibility wielded by each modality and subsidiary organization of Pueblo society with subtle differences. However, amidst the particularity and exclusivity of specific Puebloan political forms the justification of authority, fractional cultural groups and religious underpinnings of social hierarchies transcended cultural specificity and united Puebloans across village boundaries. The interwoven, persistent presence of supernatural and religious aspects of Puebloan worlds unveiled itself through the ways and means by which the Pueblo structured power and authority. Pueblo society was a theocracy. The kiva, the connective conduit between a people and their corresponding supernaturals, represented society itself and political authority.136 The Inside Chief, town chief or cacique was the heart of kiva and pueblo authority and a judicial voice in all matters. Next in prestige and influence were successful seniors, men with highly efficacious knowledge of “hunting, warfare, medicine magic, and rain conjuring who by virtue of their abilities had accumulated large followings as well as large amounts of gift-stuff with which they could stage communal rites and offer gifts to other on behalf of unsuccessful villagers.”137 Less successful elders, venerated for their age if nothing else, were the next most influential voices in pueblo life. Males of any age on the path of initiations and tutelage that would bestow their generation with the religious, practical and political knowledge to rule the pueblos

95 in successive years exerted minor, but nonetheless officially recognized, presences in Puebloan hierarchies. “And finally, at the margins, as men saw it, were women, children, slaves, and strays.”138 Free Pueblo men were the only individuals who could realistically aspire to increase wealth and obtain political authority within a village. However, disenfranchised groups were recognized and incorporated into the religio-political worldview albeit as marginal demographics over which men could and should exert influence. The religious cosmology, imbedded in architecture, affirmed in ethical performances, and invoked by Inside Chiefs’ unifying rituals, was shared within each Pueblo culture and congealed the aggregate segments into a united, if fractional, whole. Pueblos were compositions of several matrilineal organizations, with particular rituals, artifacts and supernatural personages. However, “Marital exogamy and cross-cutting lineage affiliations in kiva and esoteric societies fostered village integration.”139 The central elements of Pueblo social organization included “strong matrilineal descent, the presence of clans, curing, kachina and kiva societies, and priesthoods. The primary decision making body consisted of a council of priests.”140 If religion solidified communal identities and the sacred was a force of order in the cosmos, then those religious professionals who mediated the sacred were responsible for the preservation of the social order. Indeed, priests, including the Inside and Outside Chiefs, permeated the highest echelons of Pueblo society and wielded the greatest authority. The Pueblo were “governed by hierarchies of priests – members of secret sodalities who exercise authority over the ritual and, in many communities, the mundane aspects of everyday life.”141 Religious professionals supervised the various religious organizations that counteracted the inherent divisiveness of sodalities and the ensured the performance of public ceremonies. “In order for the ceremony to be conducted properly…all segments of society must cooperate.”142 The development of religious organizations negotiated the multiple identities, priorities and interests of social segments and component hierarchical divisions. The religiously situated conceptions of authority and explanation and social inequalities stratified Pueblo societies and bound them within overlapping, aggregate layers of religious leaders and authoritative systems. Pueblo communities in the pre-

96 Hispanic and early colonial Southwest heeded the leadership and recognized the privileged status of religious authorities within their settlements and the cosmos. The central division of power was between religious leaders and everyone else or, as the Tewa would later term them, the Made People and the Dry Food People.143 The central articulation of social leadership was a third category of people, the Towa é, and consisted of Pueblo authorities whose power was religiously rooted but generally employed in matters of overall, pueblo concern. The Towa é were endowed with the right and responsibility of punishing “antisocial acts” including “breaches of custom, range from failure to participate in ritual activities to charges of witchcraft.”144 Violations of these norms endangered the whole community and invoked administrative retribution from the Towa é and frequently the larger category of Made People as well. Ortiz avers that this third social category, the authoritative political leaders, “merely act as the executive arm of the Made People, unless it is a Made person himself who must be punished.”145 The religious leaders were the central authorities within pueblos. The Towa é, when they appear as distinct from religious powers within a given pueblo, act as tool for those powers. More often, however, the central political leader was, at least nominally, the ultimate authority over ritual matters and supernal relations. The Inside Chief officiated kiva rituals, mediated the sacred and was the recognized chief priest of the settlement. As such, his Pueblo community esteemed him the primary authority in all matters of concern, ritual or mundane. The Inside chief, or cacique as he was termed by the Spanish, was “simultaneously a lawgiver and a peacemaker, a war lord and a high priest. He symbolized cosmic harmony and the embodiment of those forces of that constituted society.”146 Wielding physical force, social unifying rituals and power over prosperity and fecundity, the Pueblo recognized the cacique as a mediator between and fusion of the sacred and profane. Among some pueblos, the village chief was “a direct descendant of the Sun, ‘the holder of all roads of men,’ and the person who brought order to an otherwise chaotic cosmos. The people ‘esteemed and venerated the sun above all things,’ said Hernando de Alarcon in 1540, ‘because it warmed them and made the seeds germinate.’”147 As a semi-divine authority viewed through his religious position and knowledge, the Inside Chief wielded authority through those religious leaders that

97 composed the elite, socio-religious sodality that ruled the village.148 The cacique and his attendant priests enforced participation in communal duties, including ritual obligations, by employing physical punishment, seizure of house and lands and banishment as potential consequences of disobedience.149 Among those pueblos found along the Rio Grande, the Inside Chief was exempted from the obligations of ordinary pueblo members that he might focus his attention on his primary duties: the preservation of society, the flow of time and balance in the cosmos.150 He accepted responsibility for maintaining the proper relationships between individual Pueblo and between the pueblo and all attendant supernaturals, thus ensuring the continuing existence of the community and the web of the interconnected relationships that was the world.151 Each settlement tasked their Inside Chief with rendering impotent all sources of chaos that sought to disrupt society and ensuring peace and prolificacy for the pueblo.152 Through the use of the appropriate knowledge and performance of the necessitated rituals, the cacique unified the pueblo and integrated the plurality of moieties into a cohesive community. “Through these ceremonials…the Inside Chief integrated the town into one communal whole. The fragmenting pull of clan, lineage, and household affiliation were suspended as each [organization] contributed its special role to a ceremony.”153 United in purpose and the shared experience of religious rituals, each fractional component of society was recognized and yoked to the realization of a ceremony that simultaneously ignited Pueblo solidarity.154 To segregate the sacred, harmonizing power wielded by the Inside Chief from the exotic pollution of violence and the incumbent antitheses of pueblo morality, the pre- colonial Pueblo posited a second authority, the Outside Chiefs, to engage all external threats and enemies, natural or supernatural. These war chiefs protected members of the pueblos from mundane, visible enemies and threats posed by spiritual beings. They supervised the regular wars that plagued the Puebloan cultures of the Southwest over issues of “women, land, water, salt, turquoise or hunting grounds as well as hunts, salt expeditions, wood-gathering trips, and visits to sacred springs for waters.”155 Outside Chiefs, or Hunt Chiefs, assumed positions in Puebloan cosmology as negotiators, adepts, and gatekeepers of those alien powers that defied Pueblo order and, by their very existence and necessity, challenged quotidian existence. As a mediator between the

98 Pueblo and the forces of war, hunts and violence, the Hunt Chief was the only figure qualified to escort a foreign bride into the pueblo, purging her of her aberrant exotericism and inducting her into the new community.156 Among the Acoma, Outside Chiefs were associated with or descendants of the twin sons of the Father Sun, Masewi157 and Oyoyewi.158 Born of a Pueblo woman who had consumed two acorns gifted by the Sun, the two children possessed their father’s divine potency but were antithetical to the inherent, orderly creativity possessed by Pueblo sacred powers. The Twin War Gods were the ideal warriors of Pueblo history. Devoid of fear, they wandered the wilderness creating chaos, seeding mischief, and causing terror and violence among their foes. While still adolescents, the divine warriors lethally employed the birthright weapons bestowed by their father: bows with arrows tipped by flint arrowheads.159 Their feral barbarism and savage mischief would have destabilized the cohesiveness of society had it been allowed to permeate the pueblo. Thus, the twins and their later successors, the Outside Chiefs, were hierarchically situated outside of the contained civility of the village and tasked with engaging forces that arose from the world outside of the known pueblo.160 Among the Pueblos, “warfare was conceived as marginal, young, and outside the pueblo, while the sacred was at the center, old and inside the town.”161 The pre-contact Pueblo maintained that warfare and violence disrupted the community, order, and the sacred. The Outside Chiefs were skilled in the arts of safely manipulating these destructive forces for socially beneficent ends. The responsibilities and potencies of the Hunt Chiefs expressed themselves most clearly within the wilderness around the pueblos. In time, the authoritative warriors were likened unto forces of nature such as those that characterized the wilderness where they roamed and with which they were associated. Within the iconography of the Pueblo IV period, The Outside Chiefs were referenced through “falling stars, comets, and particularly Morning Stars – all war symbols. Lightning and thunder were their arrows, sources both of destruction and germination.”162 This latter symbolic association evidenced the role of violence and the Outside Chiefs within the community. They were destructive and dangerous but their force and brutality could be harnessed and domesticated for communal use. Religious narratives of several Pueblo cultures noted that in the distant past, when the earth was still moist, the Twins had “‘made canyons

99 with lightning, made mountain and rocks…[and] cut channels through which the waters rushed away, wearing their courses deeper and deeper, thus forming the great canyons and valleys of the world.’”163 Within the Pueblo religious world, violence was natural and just when it appeared outside of the created boundary of the settlement.164 It destroyed order but when properly oriented could create a new order in its passing. The Outside Chiefs were more than military generals and excellent trackers. When necessary, they engaged the forces of dissolution to inaugurate change and create a community healed of its hunger or freed from its undesired relations with external peoples.165 In part due to the diametric opposition and subsequent negotiation between the holistic unity imposed by the Inside Chief and discordant potential of the Outside Chiefs, the social structure of the Pueblos exhibited a high degree of fluidity and relative instability. The necessary fissions that accompanied the centrality of segmentary lineage groups within each Pueblo culture between 1250 and 1400 further encouraged such fluidity. Social tensions, exacerbated by political and environmental factors, splintered communities along lineage and household lines and produced pueblo abandonment and population emigration.166 Pueblos at the time of contact with the Spanish Empire were aggregates of several, lower order, cohesive household and lineage groups united through an integrative mechanism that preceded lineage organizations. “The solution to this problem [of factionalism] is the creation of higher order units that cut across the primary segments and integrate the town as a whole, be it through exogamous among lineages or the development of work groups, esoteric societies, or all-encompassing cults that promote ritualized reciprocal exchanges across segmentary units.”167 Religiously contextualized exchanges of goods, services, obligations and respect united and maintained relationships across social segments. Transactional relations affirmed a shared religious vision and the interwoven network of organic interactions that comprised Pueblo society. As has been noted, beneath the umbrella of religious solidarity and the common authorities of the religious leaders, Western Puebloan cultures each incorporated several matrilineal clans. These clans demonstrated the persistent presence of religious variation and complexity in the pre-Catholic pueblos and highlighted the interconnectivity between Pueblo religious traditions and perceptions of authority. Divisions between matrilineal

100 clans declared religious diversity but were surmounted and cohered by their concurrent recognition of shared religious leadership. Though pueblo residents were nominally and practically unified as members of one pueblo, among the Pueblo of the West, primary ceremonial obligation and participation was owed to lineage or kinship groups. Western Pueblos, including the Hopi and to lesser extents Acoma, Hano and Zuni, demonstrated “rather weak development of village integration. The socially and ceremonially important units in the village are the clans, or more properly, lineages – the living segments of the clans represented in each village.”168 Unlike their easterly cousins, western Pueblos tolerated a more significant or even dominant role for kinship lineages within matters of ritual, political and industrial significance. Among eastern Pueblos, religious solidarity and ceremonial involvement were the responsibility and due deference of non-kinship, religious organizations or associations. Regardless of the social strata at which the majority of religious ceremonies were observed, public religious performances observed by village Chiefs and priests were recognized and participated in by the community for the promotion of unity.169 However, even among the eastern pueblos and those with higher degrees of integrative solidarity, matrilineal, matrilocal lines structured social lives and hierarchies. “Married men live with their wives but look upon the households of their mothers and sisters as their ‘real’ homes. These men return frequently to their natal households to participate in ceremonial life and to exercise their authority over junior members of their own lineages.”170 Pueblo men recognized the house of their birth as home and remembered their filial obligations, both deferential and ceremonial, to the line of their mother throughout their adult lives even as they realized new duties to the lineages of their wives. Pueblo societies developed several systems of inequalities to regulate the relationships within and between familial lineages and bind the segmentary units into an aggregate cohesion. These hierarchies were intertwined with religious significance and the performances of religious obligations. The oldest or most prestigious household of each clan lineage in each village assumed guardianship of the clan’s esoteric knowledge, rituals and religious artifacts. The eldest female within each custodial household was recognized as the head of the clan but official leadership was located in one of her highly esteemed male kin. The privileged onus of planning, staging and directing the rituals that

101 were relevant to and associated with the clan fell upon this male relative.171 As an expert in the ceremonial lore and the uses of clan ritual objects, his office of leadership elevated the status of his household and structured the lineage according to a hierarchy of prestige. A similar hierarchy often structured interactions between lineages. Each Inside Chief was an important position in each pueblo although its centrality and authority varied between villages. Among the Western Pueblos, an influential member of a specific clan traditionally inherited this pivotal leadership role each generation. Among the Hopi and Hano, caciques hailed from the Bear clan while among the Zuni, succession fell to the Dogwood clan. Acoma and usually turned to the Antelope clan for leadership after the passing of the village chief.172 These elite clans among the lineages provided another layer of status and authority within the pueblos thereby reshuffling lineage identifications into a more cohesive if complicated unity. Lineages publicly affirmed their viability and necessity within the social body by performing at least one ceremony for which the clan was chiefly responsible. Under the administration of the relevant clan lineage and associated director, these rituals incorporated members of the lineage and clan members from nearby pueblos to demonstrate the occult repository of ceremonial knowledge and ritual artifacts at the lineages’ disposal.173 Each lineage possessed a dedicated ritual space that doubled as the storage space for its artifacts when not in use. The male lineage leader supervised the lineage appropriate rituals while the female lineage head managed the custodianship. The liturgies of lineage ceremonies follow a common course. The male leader erected an altar in the sacred space of the lineage and artfully oriented the available ceremonial objects atop it. Centrally located in the altarscape was the “clan (actually the lineage) fetish – an ear of corn wrapped in cloth and feathers. Each ceremonial association has in addition a similar fetish – the association’s symbol – which [was] also displayed on the altar, along with…other ritual clan possessions.”174 After the space was prepared and the lineage referents were appropriately prominent, the ceremonial participants entered, smoked, prayed and conducted the remainder of the ritual absent of external observation. Although lineage relevance and prominence was manifest through religious ritual and religious professionals governed pueblo life, the multiplicity of religiously contextualized authorities decentralized supernatural interactions through a variety of

102 religious organizations. Pueblo religious life was realized within several competitive and symbiotic religious sodalities, including lineage groups, Katsina organizations, as well as medicine and hunt societies.175 Historians and anthropologists often term the central cross-lineage religious organization primarily associated with katsina interaction the Katsina cult. The Katsina cult was the religious sodality that invoked through ritual representation the involvement of supernatural beings within pueblo affairs for the beneficent prosperity of all. These supernatural beings and religious sodalities dedicated to their invocation contextualized the religious cosmologies of all of the early contact pueblos of the Southwest.176 The religious foundation of authority within Pueblo life projected upon the cosmos and infused its constitutive supernatural beings. Katsinas were influential, authoritative figures in the Pueblo world. The universal association of katsinas and their dedicated organizations with the kivas, the sacred spaces at the heart of the pueblo and cosmos that served as ritual room and dormitories for unmarried men, demonstrates their consistent importance for pueblo communities. Katsinas were those supernatural beings, often considered ancestors, which manifested efficacious sovereignty over the forces of rain and fecundity if properly engaged and petitioned. Katsinas demonstrated incredible diversity of forms including “some of animals and birds such as the owl, eagle, bear, and mountain sheep; others are identified by some characteristic aspect of their appearance: the Long-Beard Katcina, the Left-Handed Katcina, and so on; still others are called by the sounds they emit.”177 Through the remembrance and implementation of the relevant knowledge and ceremonies, katsina organizations invoked a wide spectrum of katsina spirits to realize petitions for rain, fertility, healing, pueblo solidarity and prosperity and success in crucial endeavors. These socially authoritative religious organizations promoted behavioral norms, reinforced Pueblo cosmologies and affirmed the solidarity of their communities. In so doing, they framed the experiences of Pueblo lives and influenced the perceptions of Native American participants in later Nuevo Mexico. The Katsina cult engaged supernatural beings represented by masked, costumed dancers at prescribed times of the year in “ceremonies made as dramatic as possible and given cheerfully without ill feelings towards anyone or towards any aspect of the universe.”178 According to

103 Puebloan religious history recorded at Zia, “the katsina used to come to the pueblo in person to dance, but because of some incident…they no longer come in person. The people were told, however, that they might impersonate the katsina by wearing masks and that the katsina would then come in spirit.”179 Thus, by donning the appropriate ritual garb, members of Katsina organizations became mediums through which katsinas could interact with the larger pueblo. Through the regular observation of these periodic ceremonials, katsina organizations preserved the ability to invoke the supernaturals spontaneously in response to regionally appropriate community crises. “Ceremonies for rain are emphasized at Hopi; curing and rain-making rituals receive equal attention at Hano and Zuni; and at Acoma and Laguna curing ceremonies predominate…In addition, among the Tanoans, there are governmental concerns…procedures employed in hunting and in warfare.”180 These discrete ritual concerns shared a dualistic performative scheme by including public, community-wide aspects and elements reserved for initiated cult members, including prayer retreats, altar erections, and dancer preparations. The large, communal portions of katsina rituals were usually performed in the pueblo plaza, or in the kiva proper among smaller pueblos, and invited public observation.181 The demographic composition of Katsina organizations and access to its incumbent religious authority differed between Puebloan cultural regions. At Acoma, Hano, Hopi and Laguna all children between six and ten years of age were eligible for membership. However, at Zuni and among the Tewa only males were inducted.182 Unlike other religious sodalities among the Pueblos, membership within Katsina organizations did not require personal vows of commitment or dedication to the cult by parents during the course of childhood illness.183 The Tewa initiated males automatically into the Katsina organization but employed a post-pubescent ceremony for complete, formal membership.184 Even among Katsina cults with open, bi-gender composition there was inequitable participation and distribution of the cults leadership positions. “Only men impersonate the Katsina in the ceremonies.”185 Similarly, prominent leadership positions within the Katsina cult belonged the cacique and his assistants and buttressed the central authorities of the pueblo. The popularity and necessary rituals of Medicine Associations consolidated considerable power for the central religio-political elite. The persistent authority of

104 medicine men in Pueblo society governed the pre-Hispanic communities and provided a critical point of later religious encounter with Franciscan missionaries. The religious education and training of medicine men provided dispensation and justification for their rule of pueblo communities. Initiation to the avenue of power provided by Medicine Associations necessitated either a personal vow taken to effect recovery from illness, childhood dedication to the religious professions by parents during the similar conditions, or the intentional or accidental trespass upon sacred space during ritual performances.186 Although the Keresans also allowed voluntary petitions for membership, the association’s right to reject potential initiates if they failed the “rigid standards set by the associations” resulted in “restricted membership.”187 Medicine associations were kept small. At Cochiti, medicine associations often contained only two or three dedicated professionals.188 The Inside Chief and his associated assistants were necessarily medicine men or religious professionals of medicine organizations. Medicine societies facilitated the most direct access to power, both sacred and social. Invariably, Medicine associations provided Puebloan leadership through the authority of the Inside Chief and the central authority structure of the pueblos.189 Medicine associations were centrally preoccupied with those rituals and spirits that effected curing or physical healings. The majority of ritual observations recorded among the Keresans of the Rio Grand were concerned with religious healing of the physical body. So important were these rituals and this religious function that “most Keresan pueblos have two or more… medicine associations” to enable specialization among medicine men in the treatment of “only specific kinds of illnesses.”190 Although the religious lives of the Pueblo were characterized by the prominence of healing practices, this preoccupation with healing concerns and ceremonies extended to non- corporal healings as well. Medicine societies were charged with the treatment of draught, maintenance of solar and seasonal conditions, regulation of weather patterns and the annual, ritual purge of the pueblo.191 Although the cacique was typically a leader among the medicine association, in many Keresan pueblos he was also a member of a clown association.192 Clown associations were religious sodalities that assisted the Inside Chief in social and ceremonial supervision and framed parallel religious organizations beside medicine

105 societies. Both organizations provided priests that reinforced the sociopolitical structure and assisted in the coordination and management of communal activities.193 Clowns however provided a greater public service than as ancillary supervisors. They were entertainers and comic figures whose antics were frequently uncouth and humorous. Their deviant behavior violated the norms and mores of Pueblo society to refresh and reaffirm communal commitment to cultural expectations. Sacred clowns played as children, glutted themselves, pulled the masks off of katsina impersonators, and jeered authoritative leaders in order to remind the population of the boundaries of appropriate adult behavior.194 Through ridicule and satire they exposed suspected miscreants who behaved contrary to Pueblo ethics or challenged traditional authorities. Thus, although clowns conducted themselves in non-traditional ways and engaged in socially inappropriate behavior, clown associations were inextricable components of the authority system within each pueblo.195 Participation within Clown societies, like medicine associations, required vow, dedication or ritual trespass. Although technically open to males and females, women were denied prominent roles in the organization and precluded from primary participation in the performances of prayers and other semi- public rituals. Although, they could assist in preparations and conducting food to participants, men dominated clown societies.196 The hierarchies of authority that buttressed Pueblo culture were incorporative of systems of inequalities based upon more than abstract religious knowledge or degrees of profession dedication to religious occupations. Social assaying regarding age, success in socially valued responsibilities and gender stratified Southwestern communities and further complicated the political dynamics of Pueblo society. Earlier scholarship on Pueblos discovered little differentiation in wealth or social division into recognized classes.197 “Craft specializations either by village, by families, or by individuals within the village, had not taken place. There is also no evidence of intravillage markets nor even of extensive trading between villages.”198 The industrial fragmentation and market complexity that indicate class division was not a significant component of pueblo life. Minimal industrial specialization, infrequent trade and the lack of influence from land ownership within early contact communities resulted in Spanish peoples recognizing little differentiation in the material goods posses by pueblo members. Observers from the

106 first moments on interactions and throughout colonialism asserted that, aside from the increased influence of a selected cacique, the Pueblo were egalitarian.199 In 1540, within the first decade of European interaction, Francisco Vasquez de Coronado observed the variations in wealth and status among the Pueblos and recorded “I have not seen any principal houses by which any superiority over others could be shown.”200 Approximately one generation later, Spanish perceptions of pueblo social hierarchies had not pierced the cultural variation posed by Puebloan signifiers of wealth and prestige. The Hopi were still recognized as egalitarian as Diego Perez de Luxan noted after a visit in 1582. He asserted that “they are all equal” and documented that there was no significant deviation in the wealth or material possessions claimed by village chiefs and town elite and those of any other inhabitant of the pueblo.201 Later scholarship similarly disregarded Puebloan inequalities and presented an idyllic depiction of societies in which “all men and women had equal access to those things a person of either sex needed in life, be it ritual blessings, esoteric knowledge, tools, land or seeds.”202 Spanish colonial witnesses were alienated from Pueblo society and failed to account for differences in conspicuous consumption between European and Puebloan cultures and alternative criteria for social hierarchical regimentation. The most obvious means of status differentiation within the pueblos formed over the valuation of elders and subsequent age gradation rather than the distribution of wealth or possession of land. A religiously significant hierarchy of superordination and subordination based upon age and personal ability governed relationships and interactions.203 “[As] one advanced through life and married, became a parent, a household head, and finally an elder, one’s power and prestige also grew.”204 Success in socially esteemed tasks brought public recognition and the veneration and gifts of supplicant juniors seeking apprenticeships. However, the eldest men, regardless of their success, were respected more than their junior counterparts and exerted the greatest authority within the pueblo. Hernando de Alvarado and Fray Juan de Padilla observe the community elders, “The old men are the ones who have the most authority.”205 As Pueblos approached the transformative threshold of death, the sacred substance of the katsinas would gradually infuse and enrich them. The Dry Food People, or Pueblos who bore no official office in the political hierarchy of Tewa villages, were the mundane

107 counterparts of the category of supernatural beings dubbed the “Dry Food Who Are No Longer.” To clarify, the Tewa understood that upon death even a common pueblo member could be transfigured into an ancestral spirit, a katsina.206 As an individual aged, he or she exhibited greater wisdom, sacred and mundane knowledge as well as increased authority and success that derived from that knowledge and from the aligning of their essence with the katsina they were gradually becoming. Although success generated prestige, wealth and the social influence that resulted from the ability to give gifts and finance hunts, campaigns and rituals, the pueblo maintained systems to promote and ensure the smooth upward mobility of seniors. This may be seen in the Tewa “water-giving” ceremony held once each year by each moiety chief. The rite served as the “second important rite of passage – and the first leading to incorporation into his own moiety” and was observed during the first year of each child’s life. During the ceremony each infant received a new name provided by that child’s ritual sponsor. This “water-giving name” was a moiety-specific appellation that was not used in mundane, public life. It was reserved instead for the potential occasion of ritual spirit impersonation or the child’s later adult initiation into the Winter or Summer moiety and exaltation as a Made Person.207 To participate in this crucial ritual in the religious lives of pueblo children, each child must have a sponsor from among the moiety chief or the successful seniors serving as lay assistants to the chief during the ceremony. The parents of each infant participant must make arrangements to obtain a sponsor. This usually means “all those within the inner sanctuary, including the chief, have agreed to serve as sponsors for one or another of the infants. The only requirement is that the sponsor come from among the chief and his several assistants.” One of the man or woman could sponsor “several infants of either sex, while another may serve as sponsor to only one.”208 Regardless of the number of infants sponsored, the elders allowed to assist with the ceremony reaped the benefits of gifts, wealth and prestige exchanged for their acquiescence and participation. Although ritual knowledge was held in trust for all of the clan as joint estate there was unequal access to this information and the corresponding power. Religion and politics were ruled by a hierarchy “controlled by an elite group of related individuals.”209

108 Gender provided the other prominent religiously influenced system of inequality that divided pueblo society and complicated political hierarchies. Men and women modeled distinct but interdependent norms, each with their own responsibilities, differentiated spheres of action, and ideal types. Men engaged in agriculture and hunting, tanned the hides of their kills and fashioned the tools and weapons they needed to slay men and beasts. They crafted bows, arrows, clubs and shields but also non-martial items such as baskets and blankets. “Women assisted men in communal type tasks…cared for the children, prepared and cooked the meals, made pottery, and performed other duties around the house.”210 Pueblo women were tasked with the supervision of the domestic sphere and the fulfillment of all tasks that took place within the boundaries of the pueblo. These gender norms were affirmed and embodied in the gifts given to participants during rituals of life transition. As infants, Pueblo children received ears of corn and males were additionally bestowed flint arrowheads. The corn represented and was often named for the Corn Mothers who had enabled all life on the surface of the earth. Consequently, it referenced by association “the feminine generative powers latent in the seeds, the earth, and women.” The arrowhead symbolized the typically masculine forces embedded in the sky and the figure of the Sun. “Father Sun gave men flint arrowheads to bring forth rain, to harness heat, and to use as a weapon in the hunt.” Flint was associated with thunder and lightning that accompanied rain and rain fertilizes crops as semen fertilizes women. It also served as a symbol to denote hunters, warriors, fire, and the Twin War Gods – all of which were associated with maleness as corn, the earth and childbearing were relegated to the domain of female things.211 Hernan Gallegos observed the gifting component of a Pueblo marriage in 1582 and recorded the gifts and associated meanings. The people place before the bride a grindstone, an olla, a flat earthenware pan, drinking vessels, and chicubites.212 They also put a grinding stone in her hand…[T]he gifts set before her, which are all entirely new, signify that with them she is to grind and cook food for her husband; that she is to prepare two meals every day for him, one in the morning and the other in the afternoon…[B]efore [the groom] are placed a Turkish bow, spear, war club, and shield, which signify they with them he is to defend his home and protect his wife and children. They give him his crate (cacoxte-cacaxtle) and leather band (mecapal) for carrying burdens. Then they place a hoe in his hands to signify that

109 he is to till and cultivate the soil and gather corn to support his wife and children.213

Despite the influence of Gallegos’ embeddings in and expectations from Spanish colonial culture, such wedding gifts were intended to bestow the couple with those material objects that they would need to begin and fulfill the obligations of the new phase of their lives. Pueblo societies expected women to prepare food and Pueblo men anticipated a life of hunting, farming and engaging in warfare. Though prescribed norms restricted and regulated the social activities and spheres of authority of each gender, sexuality was an integral part of life for both men and women. Heterosexuality, homosexuality, and bisexuality were acceptable erotic manifestations in which both sexes could engage.214 “Sexuality was equated with fertility, regeneration, and the holy by the Pueblo Indians.”215 Sexuality was a creative force that contributed to the order of the Pueblo universe. As such, within Pueblo religious worlds, it was indistinct from primal acts of cosmic ordering.216 For women, sexuality provided an avenue to respect and security and the venue for expressing the meta-natural powers of creation and domestication possessed by female Pueblos. Female sexuality in the pre-Catholic pueblos attested to the infusion of religious authoritative structures within Pueblo life and lived experiences. The Pueblo accorded women the right to regulate their own sexual participation ensuring that sexual activity remained predominantly voluntary. Within marriages, women could exchange emotional and sexual affections for reciprocal emotional and physical offerings, including the incorporation of husbands, their marital gifts and their labor into uxorilocal familial hierarchies. “For a man to enjoy a woman’s body without giving her a gift in return was for him to become indebted to her in a bond of obligation.”217 Female expression of sexuality also resulted in children, who were obliged to offer their piety and labor to their parents, and the esteem that accompanied maternity. Perhaps most striking, Pueblo women employed sexually explicit activities and erotic performances to domesticate “the wild malevolent spirits of nature and [transform] them into beneficent gods.”218 Female sexuality ensured the security and continuity of the pueblo and communal peace.

110 By gifting their sexuality through ritual intercourse women domesticated violence and incorporated foreign entities into the household and pueblo life. “Through the gifting of food and the offering of hospitality in the form of intercourse women assured communal peace.”219 Fray Atanasio Dominguez’s testimony of a 1776 scalp ceremony describes such a rite of domestication and incorporation. After the men approached the pueblo singing of their victory and ushered the scalps of their vanquished enemies into the village, “the women scornfully touch their private parts with the scalp.”220 According to the later ethnography of Elsie Clews Parson, “They said it was their second or third husband and lay down on it as if having sexual intercourse. All of this was to take power in this way, they were attached to a large wooden pole and a dance was performed for them, which included much singing about the feats of battle and the prowess of Pueblo warriors.”221 Consequently, the enemy spirit that was embodied in the fresh scalp incorporated into the system of obligation and reciprocity that permeated pueblo society and transformed into a malleable component of domestic life. While men enjoyed no such power over domesticity or sexuality, they shepherded the pueblos’ relationships with the encircling supernatural powers that empowered farming, hunting, military victories, and rain invocations. The performance of Pueblo masculinity similarly professed the fusion of and interconnectivity between religion and authoritative structures and the experiences of Pueblo lives. Through regular observances and spontaneous kiva rituals, men staved off calamity, identified and reconciled with sources of illness and misfortune, and ensured the existence of the pueblo within a habitable world. Although men were authorized to regenerate and maintain cosmic equilibrium by “mechanistically…coming together in unison at the center…Warfare was the most generalized masculine task in Pueblo society.”222 Violence in general and warfare in particular were antithetical to pueblo life and order.223 The pueblo was the location of family, ordered life, and the sacred powers that ordered and maintain the world. Violence however created a pocket of life-negating chaos and disorder. “Warfare was a male activity among the Pueblos that was outside and beyond the moral order of society.”224 Just as Puebloan femininity corresponded with the home and pueblo, masculinity was associated with the less ordered realm beyond the pueblo. The territory outside of the village hosted predators, hunted game, threatening enemies and potentially

111 violent katsinas.225 Pueblo men were connected to that realm and thus able to negotiate with those spirits but also able to engage in the violence that characterized the surrounding wilderness while outside the ordered existence of the pueblo. The transition from childhood to manhood required that young men first be recognized as capable warriors. To ensure their public esteem and subsequent maturation, young males petitioned a “warrior father,” usually an Outside Chief, through numerous gifts and requested that he “to teach them the prayers, songs, dances, and esoteric lore that would give them power over enemies…[and reveal] how to harness the power of the prey animals for success in battle.”226 Through this gradual process, young men received the requisite education and the experiences needed to adapt to the violence that was essential to Puebloan masculinity and enable their maturation into manhood. Initiation into the Katsina society marked the commencement of adolescence and acceptance in the pueblo as a more complete community member. It was through Katsina initiations that children accepted their gendered roles and expected participation in the relevant community activities. Each winter solstice at Acoma, men and boys processed into the main kiva and called to the katsinas. After four days of proffered prayers, songs, material offerings, and prayer stick construction, Tsitsanits, the leader of the katsinas, emerged in the kiva. “Brandishing a , Tsitsanits entered and struck each child four times until he drew blood. He attached a turkey feather to each child’s hair and gave each a clan name.”227 By receiving the magnanimous gifts from the potent katsina, the children were obligated to him in a relationship of obedience. The initiates then learned of their requisite responsibilities and the potential disaster that would accrue if they gifted the Cloud Spirits anything less than their constant respect. This rite inaugurated adolescence when “boys left their maternal household and moved into the masculine world of the kiva, where they gradually learned how to communicate with the spirits and gods by offering gifts to successful seniors.”228 The initiate males were then responsible for fulfilling masculine tasks but would not be recognized as full adults until their first marriage. Marriages initiated males and females into a higher, deeper, or more complete participant membership within the pueblo community. Marriage was the ritual transition from adolescence to adulthood and the full florescence of each gender’s manifestations.

112 Marriages transformed males and females into more complete men and women who were capable of fulfilling the gender expectations and roles only possible within marital relationships. Men could become protectors and providers and women providers and household custodians, only if there was a family to protect and a household to manage. When adolescent boys and girls were approximately nineteen and seventeen respectively, they could initiate relationships with marital potential. The young man was then required to discuss with his parents and the seniors of his lineage his desire to wed and intended betrothed. If the family approved of the pairing “the senior members of his household gathered the necessary marriage-validating gifts on the boy’s behalf. The willingness of elders to gather these gifts testified that the boy had been respectful of his elders, had toiled for them tirelessly, and had been obedient.”229 By accepting these offered gifts, the girl’s family members consented to the marriage and were obligated to reciprocally present a gift to the groom’s kin. Only after participants from each family exchanged their gifts could the marriage ritual transpire. Hernan Gallegos described the simple marriage ceremony that he observed in 1582. “Colored and ornamented blankets are set before the couple. The groom covers his bride with her blankets and she places his on him, in such a way that they clothe one another.”230 The couple then received from attendant family members the tools and products that they needed to fulfill their mutual responsibilities to the community and each other. With the ceremony complete, the man and woman were adult Pueblo, fully yoked to the communal expectations of participation in their respective social tasks and ceremonies. Marriage was not an insoluble monogamous commitment but rather an arrangement for cohabitation and reproduction between two individuals for an indefinite period. Polygamy was a well-documented practice that was frequently referenced with distain in European records.231 However, after the first marriage served its role of subsequent social initiation, and though its dissolution resulted in the reversion to bachelorhood and loss of many responsibilities, the elevation of participants to more complete members of and participants in community life remained.

113 Communal Activities and Pueblo Daily Life Pueblo religious life was governed by living. The subsistence, industry, actions and concerns that consumed the days and nights of the Pueblo structured daily life and was inextricably tied to the religious worldview and identity of the various pueblo communities. In contradiction to the 1973 assertion of John Upton Terrell that Pueblo religion could not be motivate violent action, Pueblo religious traditions were intertwined with the social structures, behavioral norms and material cultural world in which Pueblos performed solemn ceremonies, mundane activities and violent encounters.232 Pueblo religion prompted and participated in the armed conflicts of the Revolutionary Era in the seventeenth century as well as quotidian subsistence industries in the pre-colonial region. Farming, hunting, trading, and manipulating the numerous material objects employed in daily activities performed religion within the pre and early contact Pueblo religious world.233 Through the context, motivations and form of quotidian activities Pueblo communities realized their religious commitments, concretized their religious worldviews, and lived lives that were inseparable from religious performance.234 The daily activities, industries and artifacts that shaped and structured Pueblo experiences were essential components of Pueblo religious life. The multiple symbolic referents of the Tewa term seh t’a, articulated in Alfonso Ortiz’s twentieth century ethnography of the Tewa, provide insight into the subtle influence of religious cosmology, the religious identity of one Pueblo community, and the interrelation of quotidian activities to each. Seh t’a literally translates as “dry food.” It is a composition from seh, which references any prepared dish, and t’a, which means both dry and hardened. Within the appropriate context however, seh t’a references the world of dried, hardened matter “after the hardening of the earth upon the people’s emergence from the lake.”235 However, as the term also distinguishes children over six or seven years of age from younger ones, it has the tertiary connotation of lost innocence or resolved unknowing. Thus to be a rational participant in Tewa society, one must no longer be innocent but be hardened and seh t’a. As Ortiz summarizes, “to be innocent is to be not yet Tewa; to be not yet Tewa is to be not yet human; and to be not yet human is to be, in this use of the term, not entirely out of the realm of spiritual existence.”236 To be Tewa then is be human, a hardened physical being engaged in the actions and

114 performances that constitute physical life.237 Member of the Pueblo community understood themselves, their humanity and their place in the cosmos as inseparable from the activities and material setting of daily life. Few activities were as labor or time intensive in Pueblo lives or held as prominent a position in the experience of the Pueblo worlds as agriculture. Consequently, any detailed explication the religious lives and experiences of the pre-Catholic and early colonial Pueblo must recognize the significance and rituals of agricultural industry within the lifeways of the sedentary Native American peoples of Southwest. Like the precedential Basket Maker III peoples, Pueblos supplemented their diet with gathered piñon nuts, juniper berries, cactus fruit, acorns, and sunflower seeds.238 However, Pueblo communities committed considerable effort and resources to enriching the land and garnering crops from the often-inhospitable climate.239 Pre-colonial Pueblo agriculture utilized wooden digging sticks and shovels, stone axes, and woven baskets for transporting dirt.240 In the arid geography, annual rainfall averaged ten inches. The high altitude of pueblo settlements exposed crops to “early and late frosts which limit the growing season. During the late summer, sudden torrential rains cause considerable damage.”241 In the western Pueblo territories, there were few permanent streams. Although a small stream serviced Zuni there were none among the Hopi pueblos. The agricultural efforts of these Pueblo cultures were contingent upon the frequency and abundance of precipitation and the largess of rain-producing powers. Rainfall and run- off watered crops and determined the yield of harvests. Eastern Pueblos, frequently situated along the banks of the Rio Grande and its tributaries, were less tied to precipitous fortune for successful crops. These Pueblos constructed extensive networks of irrigation canals to divert the water of streams and river tributaries to often-distant fields.242 Although the Acoma, Hopi and Zuni may have utilized small-scale irrigation, they did not demonstrate the prodigious investment of labor that characterized irrigation agricultural among the eastern pueblos. “[W]ater brought to fields located sometimes at considerable distance from permanently flowing waters, necessitates a larger manpower output. The complex tasks of clearing terracing, breaking, damming, and ditching require” large labor forces and significant communal effort in irrigation based societies.243 Farming, as with other cosmologically connected

115 rituals, among the eastern Pueblos was typically a communal activity and a family or lineage task among the western. Thus, agricultural performances demonstrated and effected similar social prioritization and the integrative relationship between religious traditions, local geography and the experiences of life as other Pueblo rituals. Amidst the ways of moving and existing within the material world suggested and promoted by Native American lifeways, the ritualized activities and cultural role of animal husbandry and the acquisition of meat revealed the integration of daily activities and interactions within the Pueblo religious life. Prehistoric peoples of the southwestern plateaus and their historical descendants domesticated turkeys.244 Just as maize cultivation filtered into the region from various Mesoamerican cultures, so too did the practice and tendency to maintain flocks of domesticated turkeys. Although, Basket Maker III societies husbanded turkey flocks, “they did not consume turkey meat. Instead they harvested turkey down feathers for incorporation into feather robes, and they used larger feathers for ornamentation.”245 The use of turkey feathers for dress and ritual ornamentation continued through the early Pueblo periods. The peoples of Pueblo III continued the earlier practice of animal domestication but incorporated turkey meat into their regular diet and utilized turkey bones in tool construction. Although Pueblos similarly domesticated canines, they functioned primarily as guardians, companion assistants and pets. Dog meat did not appear in the Pueblo diet and dogs were not recognized as a potential source of bones or hides.246 However, by the time Puebloan cultural practices were fairly routinized during Pueblo III, the Pueblo produced the majority of their food staples – corn, squash, turkey and beans – but augmented their diet with the same wild plant foods and their meat supply with wild game.247 The yield of turkey production was insufficient to solely supply the dietary demand for animal flesh among prehistoric and historic Pueblos. Men hunted, diversified the meat supply and supplemented the food staples at each pueblo. Among the western pueblos, where crop yields were primarily dependent upon precipitation, hunting became necessary for meeting the nutritional needs of the community. The Pueblo of the southwest primarily hunted deer and rabbits, although the occasional small bird would be considered fair game.248 As the industry continued to

116 assert a significant profile within Pueblo life, the social prominence and prescribed behaviors of hunting activities communicated religious relevance and context. Within the sedentary communities of the Southwest, hunting was a male responsibility performed as a community and remained an integral component of the performance of Puebloan masculinity throughout the colonial era. After young men were initiated into the pueblo’s katsina association, they proceeded into a Hunt Society. There they garnered the hunting techniques and skill knowledge they would need to be successful by heeding the stories and examples of more experienced hunters. On the occasion of a young member’s first kill of a small game animal, “he was initiated into a hunt society and apprenticed to a hunt father who gradually taught him the prayers, songs, and magical ways of the hunt in return for gifts of corn and meat.”249 The initiate received the practical and esoteric religious knowledge woven through cultural hunting practices for rabbit, deer, and buffalo, over the course of the following years. Hunting was a regular but non-daily activity among the prehistoric pueblo. The Hunt Society organized and staged a hunt whenever meat surpluses were low or when fresh meat was required for the performance of a religious ceremony.250 During the four days preceding the hunt, society members were directed by the Hunt Chief to sing, craft prayer-sticks, pray, and bring the “‘offspring’ animal fetish [of their lineages] to the kiva and [place] it next to the hunt chief’s ‘mother’ fetish on the society’s altar. There the hunt chief empowered the fetishes with animal spirits for a successful hunt” by anointing and offering them the blood and flesh of the animal species the society intended to kill.251 These artifacts depicted lineage relevant species and embodied the life and breath of those animals. Through the appropriate blood offering and ritual, the Hunt Chief harnessed the potency of the embodied and present animal spirits to provide assistance in subduing the target animal. On the fourth day, suffused with the essence of and transformed into their prey animal, the men of the pueblo enwrapped themselves in animal skins that still bore the head of previously successful hunts. The Hunt Chief distributed the society across the landscape encircling a previously selected hunting ground. The circle tightened until the prey was exhausted and more easily subdued. The prey animal was then wrestled to the ground and either suffocated or, more likely, slain by arrow.252

117 The routinzed actions and collective activities of the residents of the pre-colonial pueblos of the Southwest averred the integration and complexity of Pueblo religious traditions within the history of Pueblo life. In addition to the subsistence enterprises of each community, the Pueblo maintained an active if infrequent trade network that populated the known, Pueblo cosmos with non-Pueblo inhabitants. “They traded for pottery, turquoise jewelry, and marine shells from as far away as the Pacific coast and the Sea of Cortes.”253 Trade did not serve as means to generate profit from excess product but as a negotiation with alien peoples for obtaining religiously significant artifacts and prestige goods. Pueblo communities in the Chaco Canyon and Cibola region developed deeper relations with and experienced greater access to the peoples of northern and western Mexico. These societies incorporated macaw feathers, copper bells, and a broader significance for turquoise items garnered through interactions with Mexican cultures.254 The absence of economic exchange for staple diversification or wealth enhancement demonstrates the influence of the Pueblo conception of foreign peoples. Their trade partners, whether dwelling in Mexico or along the Pacific Ocean, existed beyond the horizon and beyond the orderly cosmos structured in Pueblo myth and regulated by Pueblo ritual. Foreign cultures were distanced from the cosmic center of the pueblo kiva and thus alienated from the influence of its sacred order. Non-Pueblos were understood as less orderly and civilized but also as less a part of ordered creation.255 Trade negotiations with peoples considered less of a component of the Pueblo middle realm would logically produce goods also associated with supernatural beings and ritual interactions.256 Thus, the material exchanges and commercial industries of the pueblos were inextricably connected to the cosmological perceptions and ritual activities of the pre-Hispanic Native American peoples. If the production and exchange of physical goods confirmed Pueblo religious worlds, the practices of crafting, manipulating and using material artifacts similarly influenced the historical activities of Puebloan peoples and professed religious significance. The material garments worn during each day literally framed the experience of life among the pueblos. Clothing was fashioned from prepared animal skins and woven plant fibers, the prominence and use of each varying according to availability and historical circumstance. Although the thickness and number of their

118 layered garments depended upon the season, standard attire by the consisted of yucca fiber aprons for women and cotton breechcloths for men. “Women’s aprons consisted of yucca fiber cords hanging down from a string belt tied around the waist. These chords passed between the legs to be looped over the belt again in back and hang down over the buttocks.”257 Both sexes wore blankets or robes of temperature- appropriate construction. Early prehistoric pueblos crafted robes from deerskin and later cotton, after the cotton supply became dependable in Pueblo I. As early as 700 C.E., ancestral Puebloan communities produced warm feathered robes for winter from domesticated turkey feathers. “They wrapped split brown and white turkey down feathers… around twisted yucca fiber strings to fashion fluffy cords… then loosely twined…into a blanket or robe.”258 Spanish observer, Antonio de Espejo, noted that “They wear their blankets like the Mexicans… over the shoulders [and] fastened at the waist by a strip of embroidered material, with tassels, resembling a towel.”259 By the Pueblo II era, male and female Pueblos wore sandals made from split and plaited yucca leaves.260 But during the Spanish colonization both sexes were observed wearing buffalo and deer hide shoes.261 The presence and proliferation of leather within Pueblo dress exemplified the cultural understanding of animals as gifts to mankind in order to ensure its survival.262 By wrapping themselves in leather products, the Pueblo affirmed their commitment to the myth of creation and a cosmos in which they were surrounded by subdueable animals and potentially helpful spirits. That is to say that the practice affirmed the centrality of human prosperity within the cosmic narrative. In addition to frequently embroidering the borders of woven garments and observing cultural norms in hair presentation, the Pueblo ornamented their bodies with a variety of crafted items that conveyed religious meaning.263 Pueblo jewelry exhibited incredible variation between regions, pueblos and individuals. The most prolific category of ornamentation was neck jewelry, either strung bead necklaces or pendants. However, archaeologists have excavated numerous bracelets, rings, and earrings as well.264 Most personal adornments were crafted of locally available materials including turkey bones, juniper berry seeds, and various shales and stones, including hematite and lignite. More influential individuals, and thus those with religiously potent positions, wore jewelry of imported materials including the “wing bones of eagles and Canada geese, turquoise,

119 and…marine shells…and abalone from the Pacific coast.”265 Throughout the Pueblo world by the middle to late twelfth century, after the end of permanent habitation in the Chaco canyon region, turquoise was used with increasing frequency and began to be employed by artisans to craft bodily ornamentation. The use of turquoise items was not evenly distributed throughout pueblo societies and was a likely indicator of elite status and efficacious power. As the authoritative hierarchy was indistinct from the religious contextualization of leadership positions and these privileged few wore the turquoise ornamentations, jewelry constructed from rare resources evidence religious importance.266 “Changing patterns of turquoise use suggest that…increasing use of Chacoan ideology and structures as a political resource.”267 That is to say that the proliferation of turquoise jewelry indicated the simultaneous diffusion of religious authority among the social elite, the use of religion as a unifying social identifier, and subsequent pervasion of religious power into the daily life of Pueblo elders. The material artifacts and discourses of the pre-Hispanic Pueblo evidenced the thorough insinuation of religious traditions within the daily experiences of the indigenous Native American peoples of the Southwest. Pueblo pottery presented diverse but cultural identifiable patterns and iconography that evidence cultural diversity and historical religious adaptation. Frequently crafted by non-religiously authoritative female householders, the symbolic expressions contained in ceramic ornamentation exemplify popular Pueblo religious elements and concerns. However, there was not a singular iconographic style and no meaning can be generally applied to all pueblos or moieties within a pueblo. “Different social groups deployed similar imagery in different contexts for different reasons, and they used images to reference the past as well as near and distant neighbors.”268 Indeed, analyses of the iconography evidence divergent cults or conceptions of similar shared, popular symbols.269 Pueblo iconography and, by extension, religious content changed, incorporated new elements, sloughed off disused elements and adapted to the religious practice of the prehistoric Pueblo over centuries of cultural negotiations with neighboring peoples. Thus, the history of pre-colonial cultural exchange and negotiations were interwoven with religious significance and incorporated within the inclusive web of Pueblo religious life. “Many scholars currently argue for an early spread of iconography in North

120 America…these studies sometimes look at individual elements, sometimes argue for the spread of an entire iconographic system.”270 The presence and prominence of the horned or feathered serpent upon Salado polychrome pottery, Medio period pottery, and the ceramics of “late prehistoric and historic Pueblos of northern New Mexico and northeastern Arizona,” combined with the dominance of symbolic elements tied to the underworld-moisture-life symbolic node on Salodo and Casas Grandes polychromes after 1000 C.E. evidence the strong history of cultural exchange with Mesoamerican and other southwestern societies.271 The experiences of pre-Catholic Pueblo religious life included cultural encounter and dialogue with divergent peoples and traditions. The horned serpent symbolic node or grouping of symbols with similar meanings and associations became central to Pueblo religion by Pueblo IV and incorporated the content of the Uto-Aztecan Flower World symbolic complex proposed by Jane Hill and Kelley Hays-Gilpin.272 “In Hopi traditions, butterflies are flying flowers, associated with the underworld and summertime and the direction south…Butterflies and flowers signify moisture and fertility…[as do] frogs, turtles, tadpoles, dragonflies, and spattered paint…snakes, pubescent girls, and sand.” These symbols dominated the bulk of non- geometric and geometric patterns depicted on Pueblo ceramics and evoked moisture and the underworld, the origin of all water including rainfall.273 Consequently, they were associated with katsinas and the plumed serpent that resided in the underworld and the hydrological cycle over which these beings manifested competency and control.274 The prominence of such iconographic patterns indicate that Pueblo religious concerns were primarily fixed upon with the continuity of life through moisture regulation and the maintenance of relationships with the supernatural beings that populated the cosmos.275 Pottery decoration and iconography attested to integration and persistent influence of religious concerns and symbolized content within perceptions, aesthetic evaluations and experiences and activities of Pueblo lives. As demonstrated by traditions of dress and ceramic iconography, the religious worlds of Pueblos were populated were various supernatural potencies and expressed through material cultural products. These cosmologies and physical goods framed the daily existence and events of the Native American inhabitants of Nuevo Mexico. Among

121 the religious artifacts that filled the known cosmos, the Pueblo had regular access to the xayeh. These prominent and well-distributed religious items illustrated the cosmological relations that contextualized life among the pueblos. Xayeh were material, religiously relevant objects that were not restricted to certain ceremonial contexts and thus frequently incorporated in the less public and more frequent rituals that characterized Pueblo life. In their various forms they were “man-associated objects which are endowed with spiritual value, because they are believed to be the tangible manifestations of ancestral souls.”276 Katsinas and ancestral beings manifested in the shrines that dotted the landscape and as xayeh that could be brought into the home. These artifacts were a central element for the religious lives of non-elite Pueblo. Among the Tewa, these spirits were the only ones that non-religious specialists could properly invoke or petition.277 Xayeh were incorporated into the private rituals of domestic life and the structure of the home itself, buried in the of each home. During naming ceremonies, death rituals and personal supplications, Pueblos held the xayeh if it was unburied and audibly addressed the spirit embodied within it. In the example of the infant naming ceremony, the buried xayeh were petitioned for wisdom, guidance and protection and offered gifts of white cornmeal.278 Thus, the ancestral spirits were active participants in significant rituals of life transition and providers of prosperity during daily life. Xayeh, or “souls,” were the material remnants or distillations of fragments of katsina spirits and thus were seldom augmented or worked by craftsmen. The form and attributes of the xayeh varied and included, but were not limited to, “seashells, stone axes, arrow points, and a pair of long smooth pieces of white quartz, one of which is grooved so that the other fits over it. These lasts are called ‘lightning stones,’ because when rubbed together in the dark they glow and give off sparks.”279 Although most scholarly evidence of xayeh use, importance and forms stem from modern ethnographic studies, the few examples of xayeh discovered in the archaeological record and those discussed in monographs are of mineral composition. The substance of xayeh composition – minerals, rocks, and shells – resonates with prehistoric Pueblo conceptions of the human essence, the soul, or the component part of humans that was less material than the flesh and transcended limited mortality. Their mineral composition invoked the primal emergence narrative in which the first Pueblo crawled from their original home

122 and source of origin beneath the surface of the earth.280 Xayeh served as daily affirmations of the interconnectivity between human individuals and the material earth. Moreover, if the transition from infancy to childhood was referred to as a hardening process and intentionally corresponded with the process of the hardening/drying of the earth’s surface, then the transition from living human to continuing ancestral spirit might produce a similar product of hardening. The rocks and shell of xayeh were the hardened substance of human beings. Katsinas were not abstract principals but concrete realities and purer manifestations of the ordered universe than the Pueblo that still lived. The religious significance of the xayeh and respectful relationships with katsinas affirmed the association between religious traditions, Pueblo life and the material setting of the later colony of Nuevo Mexico. In the archaeological record, bodies become artifacts crafted by the Pueblo world and indicative of Pueblo experiences.281 The literal embodiments of Pueblo life depicted the activities that filled the days and nights of the historical peoples. The indigenous religious traditions of the territory prioritized material existence and the physical world and recognized no stark division between collective industries and social rituals. Thus, even the lifeless flesh of pueblo inhabitants must be deemed meaningful with Pueblo religious lives. Far from profane, the corpses of deceased Native American religious practitioners confirmed the close association between the historical experiences and religious contexts of the indigenous peoples of the Southwest and revealed the details of their lives. The bodies of Pueblo men averaged approximately five feet four inches to five feet six inches in height while women stood about three inches shorter. From infancy, the heads of the Pueblo demonstrated artificial augmentation. Archaeologists usually consider this flattening an unintentional consequence of the use of wooden cradleboards and wooden pillows upon which they slept.282 Puebloan bodily remains exhibit signs of consistent wear and heavy usage. Vertebral column deterioration reveals repeated heavy lifting and endemic arthritis suggests rigorous joint usage. Female skeletal frames display consistent stress patterns in the elbows evidencing extended, repetitive labor, likely the daily grinding of corn on sandstone metates. The resulting sand that permeated the cornmeal supply and the dominant presence of corn in the Pueblo diet frequently produced tooth wear, cavities, abscesses, exposed nerves and lost teeth. The proliferation

123 of dental disease meant that approximately one quarter of prehistoric and early historic Pueblo experienced considerable, consistent pain from oral attrition.283 Bodily deterioration and death were components of the Pueblo experience of life. Common causes of death revealed the common mortal experiences of pueblo residents and subsequent mortuary practices affirmed the incorporated presence of religious traditions within such activities. Death claimed nearly fifty percent of children before the age of four. Survivors of infant mortality typically lived into their late thirties with a minority elder population that survived into their sixties. “Skeletal studies show that tuberculosis was apparently endemic in their populations prior to European contact.”284 Typical causes of death included disease, accident and violence. When the bodies of Pueblo reached their end, they were interred with their “with the legs flexed against the chest, lying on one side, with the heads oriented directionally – often towards a solstice sunrise – or parallel to the contour in on a steep slope.”285 The Pueblo buried their dead according to this historically persistent, prescribed tradition, returning the fleshly body to its primordial home beneath the crust of the middle realm. The lives, historical experiences and ultimate ends of the inhabitants of the pueblos during the earliest era of Spanish colonization were incorporated within the cohesive web of Pueblo religious life and set within cosmologies that continued to shape Pueblo responses to and actions within the cultural encounters of Nuevo Mexico.

124 CHAPTER THREE

BECOMING NEIGHBORS: CONSTRUCTIONS, CONCEPTIONS AND ENCOUNTERS OF COLONIAL SPACE AND PEOPLES

It was midsummer of 1598, on the eve of St. John’s Day, when Fray Cristobal de Salazar first penetrated the pueblos. At his side sat Don Juan de Onate, Fray Alonso Martinez and a handful of the most capable soldiers that he had lived beside and shared the trail with for the last year.1 The previous evening, he had suggested to the adelantado and commissary that the expedition press on to the pueblo amidst such a storm as this so that their arrival might coincide with the portentous weather.2 As a theologian of some renown among his peers in Nueva España, he hoped that the city dwelling Indians of this heathen land might associate rain with the blessings or attention of their gods, as had those throughout his homeland. His cousin, Onate, the leader of this expedition who rode next to him as they entered the pueblo, had agreed after a few moments of consideration.3 His military training had foreseen that the weather might also provide a strategic advantage to their approach. Despite the inhospitable weather that they rode through, the blackened skies and frozen rain had allowed them to near the pueblo of Pueray unhampered by native scouts or soldiers. Though tired, hungry and layered with mud and grit, the companions doggedly entered the pueblo besieged not by hostile arrows but by hail and torrential rain. After a few hours of surprised introduction and the pantomimed pomp of greeting, the friars found themselves within a makeshift church.4 Fray Alonso had quickly changed and stood robed in his finest ritual . Holding his crucifix in his right hand, he intoned the prayers of a formal “.” Cristobal had prayed along with him and felt the spiritual darkness that weighted this land lighten, as the sacred authority of the rite purged the devil’s grip on this realm. As planned, the prayers had continued until the skies also began to lighten and the driving rain had stopped. The soldiers had marveled at the wrought miracle and the Indians had appeared to echo their surprise. If any part of Cristobal doubted the authenticity of the natives’ reactions, he did not allow it to color his behavior towards them.5 Later, he stood in the crowded native structure that he and his fellow friars had requisitioned for use as a temporary visitas while the company rested among the Indians

125 of the newly christened San Juan pueblo.6 It had not rained since he and his colleague had performed that exorcism and drought stretched across the land.7 Some part of him worried if perhaps God was angry at their ruse, their attempt to correlate for the natives the observance of that holy ritual with the subsequent cessation of the rains. Cristobal listened as Fray Alonso spoke comforting words to the Indians whose anxious bodies pressed close in the darkened enclosure. The commissary told them that God would save them. He preached that there was one God who created all things and that only He, not their heathen idols, had the power to end the drought. Then the Franciscan friar instructed the potential Christians that if they would worship this God, “He would send them rain.” As he looked out at the rustic faces of the assembled Indians, their eyes showed some glint of comprehension. It appears that the simplistic message appealed to their limited abilities and child-like intellects. He sincerely hoped so, for the memory of the mural discovered by an overly curious soldier in Pueray, that first Piro pueblo, was still fresh in his mind.8 Even while he joined Fray Alonso in leading the settlers in prayerful entreaty for rain, he could still see in his mind the crude painting of a figure dressed in robes like those he now wore, being shot with arrows by several Indian figures while one larger figure swung a massive macana at his head.9 The red of the painted blood had faded but was still plainly visible upon the sandy texture of the pueblo wall. The next day, while the smell of a hearty lunch prepared from food that the soldiers had acquired from the natives began to fill the air, Cristobal sat in conference with Onate, Martinez and the captains of the company before their meal.10 When exclamations of joy resounded from the central plaza, the friar thanked God for he knew that the rain had come. Indians began to crowd around the entrance of the room, clamoring with excitement and Cristobal was certain that the Indians would recognize this as the direct action of the hand of God. The Pueblo gazed upon him with a new understanding and began treating him with the deference he expected they showed spiritually powerful people. He stood, waded out into the crowd and began channeling this newly cultivated respect towards the inauguration of baptism in this land that had been sought for so many years.11 The Pueblo who whirled about the uninvited visitors excitedly welcomed these new, supernaturally-potent medicine men into their midst, hoping that if they did so the hungry foreigners that abused their hospitality and devoured

126 the efforts of their labor would begin to behave appropriately. Perhaps if they treated them as they did their own leaders and incorporated them into the community, these strange people would not act as violently as they had in years past among the surrounding peoples but would become good neighbors or respectful members of the pueblo.12 The early perceptions and encounters of Fray Cristobal de Salazar and the Pueblo of Pueray and Ohkay Owingeh demonstrate that the initial interactions between Spanish and Native American individuals occurred within religiously rich contexts and complex cultural negotiations. The cast from each culture sought to understand and position the other through and within their native cosmologies. Indeed, any narrative of the events would be incomplete and any analysis of the experiences of the historical actors would be inhumanely lifeless without the inclusion of the religious worlds of each peoples. When Fray Cristobal attempted to coordinate his arrival with portentous weather, when he participated in an exorcism of the land and when Pueblo witnesses sought to pacify and domesticate the Spanish migrants through ritual gifting and demonstrations of deferential obedience, both groups instigated a process of encounter that would last for the next three centuries. In so doing, they simultaneously installed religion in a prominent position within the relationships that structured the society of Nuevo Mexico. Failure to see the religious complexity of the Franciscans or the integration of Pueblo experiences within the wholeness of their religious lives would undermine or ignore the role of religion and diminish the complexity of the historical encounters between Pueblos and Spanish settlers. It is only by recognizing the layers and influences within the religious lives of each collective that a more nuanced image of colonial interaction resolves. Inclusion of such a detailed picture and appreciation of the historicity of the events in the borderland colony enable a richer understanding of the history of Nuevo Mexico and deeper grasp of the complexity of the Pueblo revolutionary era. When Franciscan missionaries and Spanish migrant settlers pierced the Pueblo landscape in 1598, they inaugurated a new era of prolonged colonial interaction. Over the following centuries, Pueblo and Spanish colonists and successive generations of their descendants fashioned the colony of Nuevo Mexico. Constituent to that process, the colonial residents reconstructed the physical and cultural landscape, developed nuanced relationships and repeatedly sought to situate and reposition each other amidst a dynamic

127 social situation. In this colony, amidst fierce resistance to settlement and accommodation, both peoples conceptualized and engaged one another through a variety of mediums and industries. However, throughout this period of consistent contact and negotiation, Catholics and practitioners of Pueblo religions encountered one another through the twin veils of cultural and religious conceptions and expectations. Both populations perceived and ambivalently positioned their counterparts within their own socio-religious conceptions. Religion contextualized the identities, cosmologies and perceptions of colonial encounters for Franciscan missionaries and Pueblo parishioners and thus grounded their experience of one another. The religious worlds of the inhabitants of the borderland colony provided the setting and context for their conceptions and construction of each other and the medium through which cultural interactions were viewed and understood. The early colonial history of Nuevo Mexico was significantly influenced by the history of the religious experiences and encounters of its residents – Spanish, Pueblo, and all peoples that inhabited and dwelled in the colony among the pueblos. Pueblo and Spanish peoples together forged a colony in seventeenth century Nuevo Mexico. Despite distrust and fear, ignorance and hatred, Pueblo and Spanish descendants dynamically created a world based upon mutual coexistence. Where these two cultural groups met, they fashioned a borderland without stark boundaries and cooperatively constructed a contact zone where the lines between cultures frayed, blurred and bled into one another. Although peoples from each culture repeatedly tried and failed to purge and eliminate each other, “Circumstances largely beyond their control, combined with notable resilience on the part of both, dictated mutual survival.”13 If the Spanish colonists that braved the frontier of Nueva España had discovered the silver and easy wealth they had sought, the provinces and pueblos of New Mexico would have been flooded with sufficient waves of Spanish settlers and culture to gradually erode Pueblo resistance and presence. Had the tides of epidemics not buried multitudes and diminished the numerical strength of the Pueblo people, the indigenous inhabitants of this land of Spanish aspirations might have exterminated the foreign threat to their homes. However, instead “the colony’s abiding poverty discouraged immigration long enough for the Pueblo’s disease-thinned ranks to stabilize and come about.”14 Each component people

128 of the missionary province were pushed and pulled by circumstantial conditions and motivating desires into continuous and more nuanced interactions with one another. Nuevo Mexico became a colony comprised of Catholics and non-Catholics, Spanish and non-Spanish, those loyal to the authorities of the Spanish Empire and those used for its glory. Within these continually renegotiated relationships, Pueblo and Spanish colonists encountered one another. Native American peoples participated in a dynamic process of perception, consideration and situation of the persons, ideas and practices from the catholicisms of Nuevo España. Spanish migrants and their children experienced consistent contact with the people, traditions and lifeways that were indigenous to land that reformed into the colony of Nuevo Mexico. The history of the construction and reconstructions of the colony, interpersonal relationships and resulting cultural negotiations was guided and shaped by the religious worlds of its inhabitants.

Early Colonization and Missionary Expressions Missions stood as the vanguard of Spanish colonial efforts and marshaled the frontline in cultural interactions with each pueblo. Franciscans were the generals of this colonizing force and unofficial ambassadors of the Spanish regime. Granted special dispensations of clerical authority, rights in managing Indians and missions, and authority within the colony by crown and church, the friars subsumed the responsibility to serve as divine agents of the ecclesiastical will as upheld by crown rule. New Mexico was initially framed by missionary aspirations and evangelical intentions. The explorers and conquerors that traversed the region at the behest of colonial powers were granted leave to do so contingent upon their evangelization of Native Americans. The later desiccation of the colonists’ hopes for the region’s profitability solidified the centrality of the Franciscan missions to the Spanish conception of Nuevo Mexico. As such, the religion that permeated the contact zones between Spanish and Pueblo peoples was centrally influenced by and revealed in the colonial experiences of the Franciscan missionaries. Franciscan attempts to evangelize and transform the religious worlds of the indigenous Native American inhabitants of Nuevo Mexico dominated the early interactions between Spanish explorers and Pueblo communities. The initial evangelical overtures of the friars during the Coronado, Chamuscado-Rodriguez, and Espejo

129 expeditions appeared to be well received by pueblo leaders within each of the major Pueblo cultural groups. As the friars attempted to communicate the essential doctrine of Spanish Catholicism through pantomime and, when available, interpreters, village authorities reportedly welcomed them, listened attentively with polite interest and even prompted friars to elaborate upon various points.15 After these early missionary efforts, the Franciscan missionaries were comforted and confident that their work among the semi-sedentary peoples of Nuevo Mexico could proceed in earnest as soon as the Spanish returned to the territory. “The district was soon divided into mission stations, and though the manpower shortage spread them thinly, priests were assigned to cover each area.”16 The friars wielded charisma and the looming presence of Spanish soldiers to settle the Pueblos into fixed communities and fashion them into congregations. Missionary churches and chapels were erected beside the largest pueblos. During this process, Franciscan missionaries visited the pueblos on rotation and sought to implement regular catechetical education among their Pueblo flocks. Although the various primary records of the friars and Spanish commanders of the sixteenth century reflect a variety of political and practical slants and adjustments, “a realistic estimation is that an average of less than thirty Franciscans labored among colonists and natives during the seventeenth century and ministered to a baptized population of approximately 20,000 Pueblo.”17 However, despite Franciscan expectations, the recorded histories of the first decades of continual Spanish colonial habitation of the area do not affirm the anticipated steady growth of Catholicism or depict a pattern of constant missionary efforts.18 Franciscan efforts to establish Nuevo Mexico as a Spanish and Catholic territory were hindered by the actual experiences of interactions with Indian populations, Spanish colonists and the constant internecine tensions between ecclesiastical and governmental authorities.19 When the friars returned to the Pueblo landscape in the company of Onate, they did not enter a virgin landscape awaiting the seeds of Spanish culture and Catholic practice. The Pueblo retained the memory of the previous exploratory Spanish expeditions and bore the scars and experiences of earlier Spanish interactions. The Native American populations of the territory remembered the violent advance of Coronado upon the region and its climax in July of 1540 when Spanish soldiers and their Indian allies from Nueva España forced themselves upon the pueblo of Hawikuh during

130 the Zuni summer rituals. Over the next two years and their the long, arduous winters, “hundreds of Spaniards, their servants and trail hands, and a fearsome contingent of twelve hundred or more Mexican Indian auxiliary troops” resided in the Rio Grande region, displaced indigenous families, demanded provisions, and dependently devoured the labor and food stores of the Pueblo.20 When the people of Arenal defied Spanish expectations of compliance and refused to provide the requisitioned supplies, Coronado’s army razed the pueblo and executed thirty of its residents at the stake. After those two winters, the Coronado expedition left thirteen destroyed Tiwa pueblo in their wake.21 Throughout the war with the Tiguex people, Spanish colonists and friars forcibly extracted and extorted supplies and food from other Pueblos.22 The early experience of Spanish avarice and brutality ensured that Pueblos tempered their later contact with migrant Franciscans with wariness and the hard lessons of previous experiences. As a result of the violence and assumed entitlement of the Coronado expedition, the friars that engaged the Pueblo in subsequent years inherited a relationship tainted with the legacy of resentment, revolt and fear. Historian Andrew L. Knaut noted that “resentment flared into open resistance several times during Coronado’s years among the Pueblos, as the region’s inhabitants lost patience with these strangers who took what was not offered them and never gave of themselves.”23 The physical traumas and violation of cultural norms of reciprocity inflicted upon the Pueblo seeded the experience of resentment that was repeatedly expressed as violent resistance to Spanish demands. “By the time of the Chamuscado-Rodriguez expedition in 1581, memories of Coronado’s brutalities continued to burn in the Pueblo consciousness.”24 The leeching of pueblo food stores and theft of communal goods implanted fear within Pueblo cultures and associated such deplorable behaviors with Spanish people. As the later explorations traversed Pueblo territory, they frequently encountered the vacant remains of abandoned pueblos.25 The Franciscans that accompanied Chamuscado discovered the pueblos among the southern Piro forsaken and deserted. “As the natives had to provide quarters for the Spaniards, they found themselves compelled to abandon a pueblo and seek lodging for themselves in other pueblos of their friends. They did not take along any belongings but their persons and clothing.”26 The Pueblo inhabitants had been warned through rumor and border scouts of the approaching Spanish horde and fled rather than face provisional

131 demands and possible violence. The villagers, usually discovered in the countryside, a short distance from their settlements, were coaxed back to their homes with promises of peace and displays of respect for native leaders. However, the association of Spanish people with violence and disrespect was only strengthened with each insatiable exploratory detachment from Nueva España. Each was equipped with arms and armor but insufficient provender. These later expeditions repeated Coronado’s pattern of demanded sustenance and violent punishment of non-compliance.27 When Onate arrived in the region, he frequently encountered the same stark and fearful reception.28 His expedition’s first encounters with the pueblos were as skeletal shells devoid of people. Inevitable, Pueblo peoples returned to their villages “under the sway of trade goods and curiosity.”29 However, the relationship established between earlier Spanish soldiers and Pueblos was recreated through the actions of Onate and his men. In this way, Pueblo experiences of Spanish peoples were reinforced and intertwined with the relationships they developed with the Spanish additions to their territories whether soldiers, missionaries, or the religious avenues they presented. Although leadership of the Spanish forays into pueblo territories changed and extant records demonstrate a more prominent awareness of the violence and mistreatment of Native Americans in Franciscan accounts, the plight of the Pueblos was marginally differentiated under the dominion of don Juan de Onate. Before the conclusion of the first summer after his arrival, the destitute colonists that accompanied his expedition commandeered and appropriated the pueblo of Ohkay Owingeh. Although some of these migrants lodged in vacant rooms within the Pueblos’ structures others arrogated the dwellings of indigenous families, displacing the occupants into the homes of their neighbors or into hastily erected temporary structures raised within the central pueblo or beyond the transcribed border of the village. Spanish colonial perceptions of the events were noticeably different. Captain Gaspar Perez de Villagra proudly informed the readership of his 1610 epic poem of colony history, Historia de la Nueva Mexico, that the indigenous inhabitants of the pueblo graciously offered the Spanish horde hospitality, joyfully inviting the soldiers and colonists into their homes. So moved by the Christian- like charity of these Native Americans was Juan de Onate that he chose to remain near them, adopting Ohkay as his earliest capital in Nuevo Mexico, and christening the village

132 after his own patron saint, San Juan Bautista.30 Thus, the actions of the Spanish settlers during the tenure of Onate perpetuated a legacy of broken reciprocity and subsequent resentment that surrounded Pueblo encounters with Franciscan Catholicism and infused the later revolutionary actions of the following century. 1581 marked the commencement of prolonged Franciscan missions among the Pueblos. With the pull of ripe souls awaiting Christianization and the promise that their task would inaugurate the new millennium of Godly rule on earth, friars embraced their missionary task with a fervor not diminished by the increasing secularization of their missions in Valley of Mexico. Over the next century, over two hundred Franciscan friars swaddled themselves in the missionary vocation and weathered the long, hard road north from Mexico City to the borderlands in order to recreate an idealized reflection of Spanish culture complete with theocratic rule.31 During that first year of occupation, Father Augustin Rodriguez and two additional friars insinuated themselves among the people of Puaray pueblo and, with military support, established the mission they dubbed San Bartolome. The soldiers were then recalled and, in the absence of the motivation and obedience prompted by their armed escorts, the three friars were slain by their congregation. Other companies of Franciscan missionaries sought to establish permanent missions among the Acoma, Hopi, and Zuni but encountered consistent resistance. The friars and other governmental authorities “concluded that evangelization was going to require military conquest. Ordinances of Discovery not withstanding.”32 The soldiers and Franciscans required pueblos to simultaneously submit to Spanish sovereign governance and the authority of the friars among them, frequently reading the Requerimiento at each pueblo to establish the twin divine obligations of discharging this duty and of Indian compliance. The establishment of the Franciscan missions among the pueblos coincided with and supported Spanish efforts to colonize and subjugate the indigenous populations. Throughout the decade of the , Spanish interaction with the Pueblos was characterized by peaceful receptions followed by violent resistance to the settlers’ subsequent, ever present demands for supplies and sustenance. The Spanish smothered these early revolts with intense, public violence through displays of military force. They hoped that disseminated tales of the fate of these pueblos might serve as deterrent to the

133 other Native Americans of the region. “In 1590 Gaspar Castano de Sosa defeated the pueblo of Pecos after a fierce battle, leading to Franciscans implantation.”33 This military action temporarily subdued overt Pueblo resistance to the colonizers and heralded an era of intensified Franciscan mission activity. Within the minds and actions of the Catholic settlers, the Spanish colonial endeavor and the stability of the borderland colony were inextricably linked with the missionary activities of the Franciscan and the establishment of the missionary province. By 1598, after Keresan and Tanoan-speaking Native Americans had inhabited the region more than three hundred years and Spanish-speaking friars had engaged in fairly consistent missionary activity for nearly twenty years, the Franciscans viewed the upper Rio Grande territory as an “outpost of Spanish civilization, an opportunity for colonizing, mining and missionary exploits.”34 Nuevo Mexico was a colony and a cultural outpost. That is to say that Franciscans conceived of Nuevo Mexico as a recreation of Spanish culture amidst the wilderness. Central to that colonial task and to the culture that it sought to recreate amidst the pueblo was the Spanish Catholicism imported in the hearts and lives of friars and colonists from Mexico. To ensure the success of these missions, the crown commissioned don Juan de Onate to pacify the indigenous Native Americans of Nuevo Mexico that the Franciscans could cultivate this ripe missionary field. In the summer of 1598, Onate shouldered the task of “the conversion of the souls of these Indians, the exaltation of the Holy Catholic Church, and the preaching of the Holy Gospel.”35 He led an initial company of 400 individuals, including ten Franciscan friars, north through the territory that bordered the Rio Grande. The entrance of this force into each pueblo was preceded by the banner of “Our Lady” and culminated in the theatrical reenactment of the conquest of Cortes.36 Amidst this pageantry and as a result of this martial procession, the more than thirty thousand inhabitants of the regions’ estimated 75 pueblos first experienced Catholicism. However, “The first decade was a time of mismanagement and unsteady beginnings for both churchmen and civilians, but in 1609 the crown stabilized the colony with strong financial and administrative support, largely for the sake of its missionary enterprise.”37 Despite repeated setbacks and the foibles of its administrators that characterized the colony in the later sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, the religious and governmental authorities of Spain affirmed their commitment

134 to the success of the missions of the province of Nuevo Mexico and the centrality of the friars’ work to colonial life.38 That same year, Don Juan de Onate declared the primacy of the Franciscans’ missionary endeavor within colonial life and the foundational position of religion within the colonial relationships of Nuevo Mexico. At the future ecclesiastical base of operation, Santo Domingo, Onate invited the nearby pueblos to convocation in order to explain more readily the presence and intentions of the Spanish colonists that had arrived in and begun settling throughout the province. He spoke to the assembly through his remaining interpreters; two Native Americans originally from Mexico but that had resided among Keresan-speaking peoples after they took their leave of prior Spanish expeditions. Through the questionable linguistic proficiency of these little known mediums, Onate informed his guests that “he had been sent by the most powerful king and ruler in the world, Don Philip, king of Spain, who desired especially to serve God our Lord and to bring about the salvation of their souls” and bade them to submit to the reign of Christendom among the pueblos.39 Although Onate’s recollection and the Native Americans’ earnestness might be questioned, Onate later remembered and recorded that the gathered Indians “replied to this through the interpreters, all in agreement and harmony and with great rejoicing.”40 Onate commanded the leaders of the various pueblos to kneel upon the ground before him. Once they were appropriately positioned, Onate instructed them in Catholicism by stating, “if they were baptized and became good Christians, they would go to heaven to enjoy an eternal life of great bliss in the presence of God. If they did not become Christians, they would go to to suffer cruel and everlasting torment.”41 The apparent caciques reportedly then knelt before Fray Alonso Martinez and don Juan de Onate, kissing Onate’s hand in heartfelt submission to Christian rule. Fray Martinez concluded the convocation, celebrating and sealing the humbled pledges of obedience, by performing a shared mass attended by both Spanish and Native Americans.42 For the next two years, Don Juan de Onate enforced this pledged submission among numerous pueblos, ensuring Spanish rule and promoting obedience to Catholic colonial authorities. Although such violent force calmed the immediate political tensions and enabled permanent missionary implantation at several pueblos, friars asserted that it

135 served as a deterrent to Christian conversions.43 Villanized for his brutality by an increasingly dissatisfied clergy, Onate resigned. Not eager to be hampered by a new governmental administrator, the friars sought to maintain their heighted autonomy by displaying their missionary results. Before assumed the position of governor in 1610, Franciscans trumpeted the success enabled by their self-government by reporting prolific number of conversions. According to Fray Lazaro Jimenez and Fray Isidro Ordonez, the missionaries enabled seven to eight thousand conversions and were awash with “others [that] were clamoring for baptism.”44 Although the numbers of such conversions and incumbent are absent from extant records, the reports evidence the prominence and continuation of missionary activity in the interim of gubernatorial records. Despite the social, cultural and cosmological importance of the missionary activities of the Franciscans within Spanish efforts of colonization, in 1607, only three friars labored in Nuevo Mexico. Over the following decades missionary efforts continued to expand as additional friars, facing secularization in Nueva España, trekked north to avoid the constraints and isolation of conventual life. In 1626, the additional Franciscan population increasingly regularized the evangelical enterprise and enabled the establishment of the pueblo of Santo Domingo as the ecclesiastical capital. The missions continued to spread numerically and geographically across the landscape. “San Ildefonso, Nambe, Santo Domingo, Zia, Galisteo, San Lazaro, Sandia, Islet, Pecos, and Chilili all had mission centers, with visitas at neighboring Indian towns. Acoma, Zuni, and Hopi gained missions stations in 1629, as the Franciscans tried to establish their spiritual regime over the western Pueblos as well as those along the Rio Grande.”45 By 1630, more than thirty Franciscans actively ministered to Pueblo congregations while several more resided at the in Santa Fe, meeting the religious needs of the colonists in Nuevo Mexico’s capital city. Throughout these decades, the missionary activities and subsequent religious interactions proliferated throughout the border territory and permeated the daily lives of the Pueblo. Although evangelism remained a prominent and even central task in the records and rhetoric of colonial administrators and Franciscan missionaries, after that year, “problems with secular opposition, replacement difficulties and delays in supply and

136 communication” limited mission growth and ensured that their history was “one of trying to maintain the level of rather than pursuing larger and more ambitious objectives.”46 However, despite and amidst difficulties from governmental administrators and logistical delays, the friars continued to perform their missionary duties and attempted to convert Native Americans to Christianity. Although Franciscan efforts during this time exhibited a more conservative concern with maintaining the Catholic practices among their converts, the friars continued to believe that “converting more people to Christian practices was, nevertheless, the reason for New Mexico's existence.”47 Franciscan missionaries throughout the early and middle seventeenth century strove to craft the Pueblo into Catholic congregations and the pueblos into the theocratic land of their imaginings. The religious motivations and activities of the friars and civil authorities of Nuevo Mexico infused the history of Spanish settlement throughout the territory. The establishment of the Franciscan missions and their intended evangelistic dialogue prompted and shaped Spanish efforts to enforce Pueblo submission and transform the region into a colony and province under the dominion of Spain.

Constructed Spaces of Colonial Encounter Pueblo and Spanish peoples mutually fashioned the spaces and relationships of the colony of Nuevo Mexico throughout the seventeenth century. Life amidst the settlements, missions and pueblos of the borderland territory included the reconstruction of spaces as a constituent process to the dynamic positioning of each people within the religious worlds and religious lives of their colonial counterparts. That is to say that with coercion, contestation and cooperation, migrants from Nueva España, native Pueblos, and their descendants simultaneously created the religious worlds and colonial territory in which they dwelled. As the religious traditions and constituent individuals from each people interacted, they reconstructed the surrounding cultural and spatial landscape. Spatial schemes were important components of pre-Catholic Pueblo religious traditions. The landscape of New Mexico held an indissoluble centrality within Franciscan efforts to recreate a Spanish cultural outpost, reconstruct their imagined homeland, and realize their religious cosmology among the Native American peoples. Thus, the history of the residents and, by extension, the history of religious encounter of Nuevo Mexico was

137 inseparable from the construction of the setting and cosmologies that they inhabited. The structuring of the physical landscape of the region was an integral and influential part of the reconfiguration of the religious landscape and the ensuing relations between friars and Pueblos, catholicisms and pre-Hispanic practices. The experience of the land and colony of Nuevo Mexico throughout the seventeenth century seldom met or aligned with Spanish expectations. The land was not overflowing with wealth or thronged by natives whose behavior only nominally differed from Christianity. The colony was not an impermeable bastion of Spanish superiority and did not anchor extensive subsequent conquest and settlement of the distant countryside. “A tiny, peopled rift in the arid vastness fifteen hundred miles north of Mexico City, on the far side of every crossroad or market center, impossibly distant from seaport or navigable river, the colony nevertheless represented Spain’s visionary claim to half a continent.”48 Nuevo Mexico was envisioned as an island of Spanish culture, a little model of the ideal Spanish civilization, amidst a vast, largely unexplored wilderness encompassed by grand aspirations and claims of Spanish colonial territory.49 Spanish migrants including those in the Franciscan Order understood the landscape they sojourned through as a wild but nonetheless possessed territory of colonial España.50 Indeed, Spain claimed possession of a swath of American geography from the Pacific Ocean, east across the desert mesas of the Southwest and over the buffalo spotted grasslands of the Great Plains and north to an unbounded limit.51 Adrift amidst that unconquered landscape, the colony of Nuevo Mexico was conceived as unique and a jewel of colonial and missionary hopes, differentiated from the barren surrounds and neighboring peoples. Spanish explorers and colonists perceived and recorded nearby peoples as distinct from the Pueblo, sometimes referring to them as “those other people” and frequently by the appellation “inhabitants of the buffalo region.”52 Fray Benavides’ later archive described the colony as surrounded by “innumerable Indians so barbarous and savage that they are naked and have no house or agriculture, supporting themselves on all kinds of animals, which they hunt and eat raw.”53 The relatively dense Native American population and the preexisting permanent dwellings marked the land as distinct and the endeavor of colonization as auspicious. Hernan Gallegos “concluded that our project was directed by the hand of God, who

138 enabled us to find these people and a settlement like this, where the holy gospel might be planted in order that the natives might come to the true faith.”54 This discrete expanse was structured and organized to embody Spanish schemes of colonial space and the embedded ideas of conquest and Christianity. Although the process of converting the landscape began when early explorers, colonial cartographers and later Nuevo Mexican colonists began imagining the territory, the active restructuring of the region into a colonial space began when Onate commandeered the pueblo of Okhay and remapped it as the first capital of Nuevo Mexico, San Juan. From this colonial foundation, he led the colonists in a concerted effort to weave the allegiances of the Rio Grande pueblos into support for the colony. As Onate obtained pledges of obedience from the various pueblos and incorporated their lands into the province of Nuevo Mexico, he immediately “divided them into missionary districts, and assigned a friar to each district.”55 Political interference, economic disparity and the difficulties of mission administration conspired to delay the uniform imposition of Spanish culture and institutions across the pueblos. By the time the capital of the colony was relocated to Santa Fe in 1605, Spanish regional dominion was bolstered by the limited influx of new colonists from Nueva España.56 Emboldened by a numerically strengthened population, “The move toward altering the political organization of the Rio Grande Pueblos soon followed.”57 The first decade of the seventeenth century initiated a renewed attempt to suborn pueblo independence and wed Spanish settlements and isolated pueblos into a unified colonial space. Throughout the political and military maneuverings that sought to engineer Native American submission, the friars led a similar campaign to remap the region and assert Spanish claims upon pueblo lands and their inhabitants. The Franciscans erected massive edifices that restructured pueblo spaces and architecturally declared Spanish Catholic dominion. Fray Alonso de Benavides reflected upon the results of the first decades of Franciscan missionary effort in Nuevo Mexico and was pleased for, once “in all the land there was nothing but idolatry and worship of the devil, today it is all dotted with crosses, churches, and convents.”58 The establishment of Catholic space sanctified the territory and exorcised it of its non-Christian orientation. Due to material constraints and in order to symbolically link the colonial constructions to preexisting architectural traditions, the

139 new buildings of Nuevo Mexico mission complexes echoed the architecture of the corporate structures of the pueblos. Throughout Spanish settlement in the seventeenth century, the friars directed the construction of imposing “fortress convents” at , Giusewa, Humanas, and Quarai.59 Although the utility of these imposing erections was short-lived, with each of the four fortress convents abandoned by Franciscans prior to the successful Pueblo revolution of 1680, their construction and use asserted the prominence and permanence of Spanish Catholicism among the pueblos. Tall, thick walls encapsulated the convents, reinforced the ominous scale of the construction and reminded their Pueblo congregations of the imposing defensive capabilities of the Spanish. In the case of Giusewa, Franciscans incorporated purely martial features, including lookout towers, into convent architecture to affirm their potential defensive, protective function in case of attack by Native Americans.60 Sixteenth-century Franciscan missionaries erected their protective homes on the perimeter of Pueblo communities, near but exterior of pueblo communal structures. By situating the fortress convents outside of the pueblo, they positioned it at the margins of the Pueblo world. “From the Franciscan perspective the location of the fortress convent symbolized the reorientation of the Pueblo world to a new public space centered on the central plaza of the new mission communities, facing the new sacred space of the church.”61 Reflecting Pueblo traditions and urban planning found in other Spanish American colonies, the plaza spaces became the public center of pueblo colonial communities. The large convents loomed over one side of the new pueblo plaza. The friars sought to reorient pueblo communities towards Spanish authorities and the role of Christianity by directing native laborers to construct Franciscan convents as the focal structure in a new communal plaza. Spatial schemas expressed more than colonial relationships and evangelical strategies. Space was one of the dimensions that structured and was structured by Spanish Catholic cosmologies. “When Christians gathered together to ritualize their relations, it was on ground sanctified by the presence of sacred objects, at times that commemorated the life of Christ or those of his saints.”62 Devoid of such sacra and bereft of the liturgical cycle and ceremonies by which space was sacralized, the pre- colonial landscape inhabited by Pueblos could not have been other than profane.

140 Although Franciscan migrants maintained that the topography was crafted by the same divine hand that shaped the rest of the world and acknowledged the land within the sovereign jurisdiction of their God, before the landscape could be sublimated to the will of the Crown and Church and incorporated into Christendom, the space had to be purged of its profane elements and recast within a Christian cosmology. This process began when Fray Marcos de Niza erected a cross in 1539 at the pueblo of Hawikuh christening the area as a Spanish and Catholic territory, continued through the campaigns of sixteenth century Spanish expeditions and the settlement of Spanish colonists across the territory, and culminated in the projection of Christian spatial conceptions over the region by the destruction of native spaces and the construction Christian places. Through the use of sacred artifacts and the observance of sacramental ritual, the friars of Nuevo Mexico transformed structures of mud and brick into mission churches and cast a religious conception of space upon the pueblos. The cornerstone of the spatial matrix projected by the Franciscan mendicants was the mission church.63 The churches at Pueblo missions became the primary architectural symbol of the Christian community. Respective of their role in Pueblo encounters of Christianity, the churches were massive bastions of Spanish presence manifesting walls over twenty feet high and three to four feet thick. Like the convents, they often included parapets that served a military function. Benavides remarked that, as a result, “Whoever takes refuge in a church…in New Mexico [will] be fully protected…And the Indians, when they see this, will conceive a greater respect and veneration for the church.”64 The interiors were large and uncluttered in order to host the faithful in times of siege. The enclosed space held the site of the “the experience of community when the faithful gathered as one to revere the sacred objects that embodied supernatural power.”65 During times of dangerous conflict, congregations consolidated inside the churches for proximity to the potent, efficacious and comforting sacred artifacts of missions. “In times of festivity or natural disaster they sanctified the space in their village by processing outdoors with these objects.”66 That is to say that some friars and Pueblo congregants understood the sacred connection represented by or infusing such Catholic ritual objects to be spread to communal spaces by proximity. The sacred prominence of material artifacts within the practice of the religious worlds of friars united and fused Franciscan religious cosmologies, spatial constructions

141 and conceptions of the borderland provinces. Thus the role of artifacts within the minds of missionaries interpenetrated the process of spatial organization and the development of relationships within that framework. The importance of Catholic sacra increased over the course of colonial history in Nuevo Mexico proportionately to the poverty of the province.67 In a letter to Custos Vargas, Fray Jose de Arbiza expressed his intent to return to the abandoned mission in San Cristobal in order to protect the “church and the sacred vessels.”68 As the fine goods of Nueva España succumbed to the ravages of life in the borderlands and colonists incorporated more locally crafted items into their daily routines, the religiously meaning-laden goods of Catholic practice became a tether to the wealth and glory of the Spanish empire, the liturgical routines of a friar’s youth and a connection to a remembered homeland. When Nicolas de Aguilar stood before the Inquisition tribunal in 1663 his scant inventoried belongings were primarily comprised of goods crafted in Nuevo Mexico and noted for their “badly worn” or “worn out” condition and their “coarse” rusticity.69 However, included within the twenty-six items recorded, were the books “Catechism in the Castilian and Timuquana languages” and “Instructions for Examining the Conscience” as well as a “ with large beads and a little silver cross, strung upon coyole wire.”70 These religious goods had been carefully tended to and the imported rosary preserved and restrung on local wire during its owner’s lifetime. Religious artifacts including these commercially acquired goods provided a connection to trans-New Mexican Catholic practice and identity and the life and lifestyle colonists had experienced prior to their migration. The greatest concentration of religious artifacts and holy objects clustered around the altar within each mission. The redemptive elements of the were placed upon the altar and the majority of those sacraments observed in Nuevo Mexico were performed within its close proximity. The predella was situated beneath the altar and was frequently “‘adorned with relics,’ the physical fragments or clothing of holy dead.”71 A communion rail circumscribed the place and potency of the sacred mission artifacts and delineated the space into which only a priest or his assistants were permitted. The Franciscan friars religiously mapped the local community relative to this most sacred space.

142 Surrounding this communion rail, within the perimeter of church, across its associated cemetery and courtyard, and throughout the pueblo, spatial conceptions within religious cosmologies recreated social inequalities. “One’s proximity to the main altar and the Eucharistic table was a sign of one’s standing in the terrestrial community.”72 In the provincial church at Santa Fe, the governor sat upon a dais in the left transept, closest to the altar. Next in proximity and social status were the men of honor in Nuevo Mexico society, provincial administrators, caballeros, and wealthy estate owners who jockeyed for positions near the governor and the altar and thus asserted their importance and masculine dominance. Behind these prestigious colonists, missionaries clustered Pueblo children, segregating them according to their gender. Boys stood “on the Epistle side of the nave, girls on the Gospel side.”73 Together they stood as the generation of promise, young Native Americans with the most potential for Catholic conversion and most able to bridge the rift between Spanish and Pueblo colonists. Behind the youthful congregants, their mothers and fathers stood together as married couples, living representations of the importance and superior status placed upon monogamous marriage and married parents with the missionaries teachings. Widows and widowers were exiled to the outer rows of the church as a means to visually demean Pueblo elders, the pre-colonial leaders and authorities within indigenous communities. Thus, spatial organization and positioning reflected religious attitudes and activities within the missionary province and infused the religious interactions between Native American religious practitioners and Catholic authorities. Franciscan friars utilized spatial constructions within the process of colonization and evangelization of Pueblos.

Franciscan Perceptions of Encounter Within the spatial schema by which the friars conceptualized and organized the colony of Nuevo Mexico, life proceeded. The members of the Friars Minor participated in a dynamic process of perception, negotiation and frequent reconstruction of their neighbors, peers and fellow residence in the missionary province. The current of religiously rich encounters and more mundane interactions between the Franciscans and the other various peoples that comprised the colony complicated the easy social structure and religious delineation implied by initial missionary perceptions. Continued contact

143 between the religiously, educationally, and racially diverse people of the borderland missionary province problematized Franciscan efforts to mold the population into a little Spain, a theocracy, or the ideal missionary setting. The complicated conceptions, cultural encounters, and historical actions of the missionary friars throughout the sixteenth century and leading to the Pueblo revolutionary period were shaped by the religious worlds that they performed and sought to implant in the colonial territory. Franciscans encountered the people and religious traditions from the pueblos through the social expectations and ethnic conceptions in which they steeped prior to their departure for and arrival in Nuevo Mexico. The subsequent religious negotiations with Pueblo congregants incorporated and reflected the ethnic and racial understandings of the friars. Within Nueva España, Spanish colonial culture “roughly divided men according to ‘merit’: a partly inherited, partly acquired quality” that reflected one’s social position and standing.74 Such merit was an amalgamated virtue that incorporated wealth, education, occupation, age, personal honors and family background. The last of the listed influences, family background, included more than familial history and social situation, opening the door for the association and occasional conflation of race with merit.75 The clergy of the Spanish colonies were differentiated and distinguished according to such merit and thus likely utilized similar categories when perceiving their fellow colonists, including their Native American constituents. Franciscan perceptions of Indians were inseparable from evaluations of their merit, which encompassed their moral virtue, inherent abilities and conversion probability. As the roles of friars within their assigned communities were often complex and contradictory so too were their relations with Native American individuals and the collective community. Subsequently, the language that the Franciscan missionaries employed to describe the Pueblo was similarly diverse and contradictory. Although such diversity eschews the task of generating a comprehensive list of assigned Pueblo attributes, the following are among the most frequent terms used by Franciscans to describe Native Americans during sixteenth-century encounters: “ignorant, barbaric, savage, malicious, cunning, disorderly, uncontrolled, lazy, prone to drunkenness, lustful and gluttonous, meek, humble, obedient, long-suffering, docile, innocent, simple in spirit, patient, hardworking, modest, rational and teachable.”76 These terms and the represented

144 missionary conceptions of Indians clustered around two sets of dichotomous perceptions: Indians as simple innocents or deceitfully maleficent; and Indians as industrious subjects or slothful laborers.77 Some Franciscans held both polar notions simultaneously while others vacillated between the two depending on the writer’s contemporary circumstances. Among the rare, public dialogues between these two ideas, separate friars typically clung fast to each of the views and defended it with religious fervor. Initial observations, as recorded for royal inspection and reported to the supervising bursars of future expeditions, lauded the rustic virtues of the Pueblo and made special note of those attributes that would ensure their swift utility. Diego Perez de Luxan blatantly noted, “They are very industrious.”78 Fray Benavides circuitously alluded to the same qualities when remarking that in the region of Nuevo Mexico, “there are people who wear clothes and shoes and who are excellent farmers.”79 Hernan Gallegos demonstrated the conflation of simple virtues, industry and obedience within perceptions of the Pueblo when he wrote, “These Indians are very clean people. The men bear burdens, but not the women…They are very obedient…and willing to serve.”80 For Coronado, the Pueblos’ primitive simplicity displayed a natural, non-intellectual virtue. “The people around here are pious and in no way cruel. On the contrary, they are faithful friends and opposed to cruelty. They keep their word and are loyal to their friends.”81 Though lacking in reason, Christian ethics, and occasionally honesty, Coronado’s depiction of the Pueblo highlighted an insular, clannish loyalty that appealed to the veteran soldier. The sixteenth century correlation between Indian innocence and industry grew increasingly divergent and scarce towards the eighteenth century. Growing Bourbon reformative momentum throughout Nueva España emphasized “human industry and production [and] encouraged images of Indian parishioners as potential ‘busy bees.’”82 Concurrently, clergy in Nuevo Mexico frequently described Indians as wickedly lazy, in part, to mitigate the limited achievements of their proselytizing efforts. Those seventeenth and eighteenth century friars still willing to praise Native American virtue were more likely to eulogize their meekness or humility rather than innocence or industry.83 However, “the idea that Indians were lazy was deeply ingrained and growing deeper in the late colonial period” and paved the way for the conception of Indians as

145 sinful idolaters, too simple or slothful to escape the machinations of the devil.84 By the early seventeenth century, friars generally conceptualized and labeled the inhabitants of the Nuevo Mexico as “idolaters…[who] talk to the devil.”85 Alonso de Benavides named and described “the Hemes nation, one of the most indomitable and belligerent of this whole kingdom; above all, they are very great idolaters.”86 Connected within this Franciscan portrayal of heathen malevolence was a childlike, aimless lack of industry. “This nation is gay by nature, always talking of dances and games, and very fond of roaming through other lands.”87 The missionaries that settled Nuevo Mexico understood those Pueblos that proved most resistant to Spanish dominion, including “the Picuries,” as obvious idolaters and “the most indomitable and treacherous people of this whole kingdom.”88 Sixteenth century Spanish bishops, curas and friars throughout the Americas asserted “Impaired or poorly developed rationality left Indians prey to their passions…[including an] ‘insatiable thirst’ for lawsuits, alcohol, and sex.”89 Deprived of robust rationality, Indians embodied the antithesis of civilization and thus Christendom for their Franciscan missionaries. As Spanish colonial culture understood civilization to be built upon rational capacity and divine dispensation, the absence of established permanent dwelling throughout most of North America necessitated the absence of reason or divine favor. Thus, pre-colonized Indians were conceptualized as uncivilized savages without the boon of honed rationality who were denied access to through Catholic teachings. Indeed, Fray Alonso de Benavides equated “those who have not yet been converted” with “the barbarians…who would have eaten us alive and also the Christian Indians.”90 The migrant mendicants conceived Native Americans who had not yet submitted to their vision of Catholic devotion as dangerous, primitive threats in need of the advantages and advancements that accompanied submission to the Spanish colonial authorities. The fact that the Pueblo did dwell within cities aligned them with Moorish Turks, the city dwelling antitheses of Christian civilization or its synonym within Franciscan thought, Christendom. As with other city dwelling Indians, the Pueblo remained classified, at best, as marginally civilized. However, as non-Christians, the friars associated them with other non-Christian antagonists of Christendom, the Turks of the

146 Iberian Peninsula. A Franciscan doctrinero in Mexico City described such Indian parishioners as “moors without a lord.”91 In the subsequent narrative of Hernando de Alvarado, the Pueblo were frequently identified as “Turks” and the dark-skinned Pueblo females were described as “Moorish women.”92 The non-Catholic religious forms that excluded both peoples from Christendom were similarly linked to the extent that Alvarado and colonist Santa Fe colonist Joseph de Armijo noted that Pueblo rituals were enacted in underground “mosques.”93 Franciscan friars and Spanish colonists in sixteenth and seventeenth century Nuevo Mexico acknowledged the civilization of Native Americans as a necessarily concurrent process with the Christianization of Native Americans.94 Despite the edict of the 1573 Ordinances of Discovery that “Discoveries are not to be called conquests,” Onate was commissioned for the stated task of “the reduction and pacification of the natives” in order to more efficaciously spread Catholicism among the Pueblo.95 These two tasks and dual goals linked and fused within the minds and actions of Franciscan missionaries. Thus, the friars initially encouraged military campaigns to subjugate Native American populations and force Puebloan submission to Spanish dominion. The friars experienced persistent fears of the surrounding Pueblo peoples that incited their early support of the utilization of martial force. The possibility that Indian converts might revert back to uncivilized, pre-Christian ways generated a fear that plagued the provincial colony. Reversion served as the primary indicator of immanent violence within a colony. More importantly, it posed a threat to the ideological and socio- economic foundations of colonial life. The Pueblo people “were vital as builders, farm laborers, market producers, taxpayers, responsible Christians, underlings, and buffers against hostile frontier tribes. Without their incorporation into colonial Christian society, the religious justification of Spanish rule in America dissolved.”96 Without Indians to convert, the stated purposed for the Nuevo Mexico colony would have been absent. Without tacitly acquiescent Native Americans, the labor pool upon which the colony was dependent would have run dry. Amidst the complexity of their conflicting views of Indians and the complicating dependency posed by Pueblo incivility, Franciscans consistently portrayed Native Americans as possessed of a diminished intellect and “miserable.” “Miserable was the

147 term most widely applied to Indians. Meaning helpless, unfortunate, and impoverished in possessions or spirit, miserable implied that Indians required protection and pity.”97 Miserable encompassed both a material and existential condition, pejoratively describing appalling poverty and an unfortunate, subhuman existence. Sixteenth through eighteenth century connotations of the term included shameless rusticity, ignorant laziness and weak-willed simplicity. Omerick evoked this perception when he referred to Indians’ “small hearts and lowly spirits” and Castaneda built upon it to describe regions of Native Americans without “the intelligence of men, [where] the barbarism of animals dominates.”98 Within the cognitive framework of the Franciscan friars and settlers of the Spanish colonies, Indians inhabited a liminal category of being and displayed at once human and subhuman attributes. The representatives of the Catholic Church deemed the Native Americans of Nuevo Mexico incomplete humans but still recognized them as capable of conversion and thus human. As a result, the Franciscan friars posited the Pueblos as “niños.” They were not fully rational and were seldom held solely accountable for their improper conduct. The Itinerario cemented the analogy of Native Americans as “simple children.”99 “Anthony Padgen’s account of a sixteenth-century deterministic theory of racial inferiority that regarded Indians as natural children …fits well with much of the opinion expressed by New Spain’s priests at all levels.”100 Such a racial conception contextualized the relationship between Spanish fathers and their children and positioned idealized Franciscan interactions within that framework. Native Americans were children due the care, correction, protection and instruction that they received from their paternalistic friars. The relationship between Franciscan and Indian was more complex and integrative that one between dichotomous opposites. Missionaries engaged Native Americans as more than posited foils for cultural ideals, more than the anti-Spanish, non- Christian antithesis of colonial civilization.101 Already complicated by dependency for the continuance of the colony, the Pueblo held a special place among colonial racial conceptions and within the legal structure of colonial Nuevo Mexico. In legal theory, if not always in practice, “settled Indians in Spanish America had a special claim upon the crown’s protection, and most of them had a corporate legal identity as members of

148 ancient landholding pueblos that distinguished them from other groups of the dependent, laboring, usually landless poor.”102 Indians, as a general category, were deemed inferior to Spanish colonists and were subject to biased treatment and potential enslavement. The Pueblo contended with colonial officials who were frequently unwilling to recognize their humanity and thus unwilling to enact legal impartiality. The 1558 instructions to Escribano Antonio de Espinoso was one of several that reminded administrators to be fair in the distribution of property and “to give lands without prejudice of the Indians.”103 Spanish defendants accused of murdering an Indian were typically acquitted or faced more lenient penalties than were levied for the death of a Spanish colonist.104 As the objects of a sizable legal corpus that entailed a continued dialogue over their nature, rights and obligations, Indians were distinguished as wards of the state and thus demarcated from other subjugated racial groups.105 “Indeed, blacks, mestizos, and other mixed groups were regarded as ‘infected races’ – provocative, grasping classes of people who could easily contaminate weak, impressionable Indians.”106 As objects of evangelization and the subject of frequent patentes and breves, Pueblos were bound within a privileged and permeable, if pejorative, category of race. However, the frequency and banality of Franciscan observations of and experiences with racial hybridization robbed the cognitive categorization of Pueblo of rigidity and mitigated the religious and social position of Native Americans. Racially hybridized people of the borderland province complicated Franciscan perceptions and encounters of the Pueblo and blurred the stratification and status of Native American neophytes within the early colonial era. Relatively isolated in the frontier colony of Nuevo Mexico, Pueblo and Hispanic colonists interacted, interbred and intermarried. Even by the end of the sixteenth century, “only forty-two of the region’s two hundred male Spaniards had brought families with them from the south.”107 Although no direct documentary evidence records quantitative data of racial hybridization rates, Franciscan and gubernatorial manuscripts imply frequent sexual encounters between Spanish and Pueblos. Such interactions, within or outside of marriages, resulted in children sufficiently “to alarm those conservative members of the colony who were convinced of the need to maintain clear lines of European heritage in the midst of a Pueblo majority.”108 Although there were few peninsular Spanish friars in Nuevo Mexico,

149 “mixed ancestry was not a badge of honor that aspirants to the priesthood paraded in public.”109 Ecclesiastical law permitted the ordination of mestizos who demonstrated ability, education, good habits and legitimate birth. However, regardless of heritage, “The large majority of late colonial priests were, or passed as, Spaniards of American birth…[for a]ll had demonstrated to the satisfaction of the examiners that they were men of noble ancestry and legitimate birth.”110 Although racial hybrids were authorized and acknowledged within the Order, cultural disdain for mestizos and mulattos ensured that Franciscan examiners perceived the racial purity of prospective initiates.111 In 1631, Fray Esteban de Perea, then Commissary of the Holy Office in Nuevo Mexico, bemoaned the proliferation of and problems attending the products of interracial breeding. He asserted that his difficulties in discharging the duties of the Inquisition stemmed not from the Pueblo but from a colonial population infected with “so many mestizos, mulattos, and bastards, and others [who are] worse…and of [such] little moral strength that I am sometimes confused [by their testimonies in the course of my investigations].”112 Thirty years later, Inquisition administrators echoed the friars’ contempt for the hybridized population of Nuevo Mexico by referring to the colonists as “the dregs of the earth, mestizos and mulattoes.”113 However, despite the official eschewal of racial hybridity, miscegenation was widespread and locally permissible, though still not encouraged, within the borderland colony. Within the insular provincial community, the mestizo population flourished so prolifically that “many mestizos and others of mixed racial background attained official positions in New Mexico’s colonial government, a rare phenomenon in other parts of a rigidly cast-oriented Spanish-American empire.”114 Such staffing decisions evidenced the scarcity of qualified Iberian Spanish or American-born Hispanic colonists to fill the prestigious and vital positions within the Nuevo Mexican colonial regime and the limited acceptance extended to mestizos within the fairly isolated context. Though colonists of mixed ancestry experienced disdain from many settlers that claimed pure Spanish descent, they were deemed capable, if not worthy, to shoulder the expectations of military and administrative roles of responsibility. “Such social pressures could prove explosive and gave rise to frequent incidents of violence and confrontation.”115 This alienation encouraged mestizos to recognize similarities and shared experiences with their Pueblo

150 kin, weakening Spanish racial and cultural hegemony in the colony and circuitously strengthening the presence, solidarity and resentment of the Pueblo and their extended, mestizo family. The large mestizo population fueled racial tensions in the small, taut communities of Nuevo Mexico and added another layer to the complex matrix of colonial interaction. The process of perception, construction of mission relationships and religious exchange that the Franciscans enacted among the pueblos occurred in relation to their cognitive conceptions and positioning of the other people and populations in Nuevo Mexico. The missionaries engaged and attempted to inculcate Catholicism within the individuals and communities of the Pueblo while surrounded and influenced by their understandings and constructions of the Spanish colonists and military personnel. Emblematic of the dualistic conception of Native Americans, friars encouraged the segregation of Indians from Spanish colonist for similarly disparate reasons. This separation stemmed in part from to the missionaries’ fear of the pollution and dilution of Spanish racial, cultural, and, by extension, religious purity. The second and more prominent reason that the friars isolated the Pueblo was rooted in the dubious regard in which they held Spanish colonists. Friars in Nuevo Mexico, as elsewhere throughout Nueva España, “complained frequently that the Spaniards who came to the Americas were blasphemous and irreverent and set a poor example of piety for the Indians.”116 Although they seldom labeled their Spanish neighbors idolaters, heathens or infidels, friars recognized a lack of piety and doctrinal rigor in the religious lives of colonial settlers.117 Soldiers and colonists were fairly religiously pragmatic and willingly accommodated their religious rhetoric and doctrinal precepts to their own imagining of what ideas would be comprehensible to the Pueblo. The following dialogue between a soldier and an inquisitive Native American illuminates the panoply of religious encounter accessible through the words and deeds of the colonists. “To his question as to who sent me, I answered that I was sent by the sun, pointing out to them the sun as I had done before in order that I should not be caught in falsehood. He asked how the sun could send me when it was high in the sky and never stopped; that for many years past the old men had never seen others like us or heard of them, nor had the sun until then sent any one. I replied that it was true that the sun was high above and never stopped, but that they could see that at sunset and sunrise it came close to the earth where it dwelt; that they could

151 always see it rise in the same place; that the sun had created me in that land where it rose just at it had created many others and sent them to different places; that the sun had sent me now to explore and visit that river and the people living in that region that I should talk to them and express my friendship for them, and give them the things they lacked and tell them not to wage wars against one another…”118

As is evidenced by the unorthodox religious ideas conveyed to the Indians, such conversations bolstered the perception of Spanish colonists as a complicating, even hindering, presence within the Franciscan missionary agenda. Captain Hernando de Alarcon revealed the lack of concern with religious specificity and doctrinal orthodoxy that friars typically associated with the religious practices of Spanish colonial solders when he spoke to an Indian scout in 1540. “I told them He was in heaven and that He was called Jesus Christ. I did not care to dwell on theology with him. I asked him if they had wars and for what cause.”119 The relative lack of religious language or interest within the historical accounts penned by soldiers supported the commonality of this sentiment and affirmed the Franciscans’ generalizations of the religious lives of Spanish colonists. Apart from the occasional invocation of God’s Grace or Will as it pertained to their coveted ends and shocked or disgusted accounts of Indian idolatry, overt religious rhetoric was notably absent. The most effusive engagement with religion in records of soldiers and settlers came through the unflattering depictions of disobedient friars and Inquisition accusations levied against Franciscans who allegedly abused their charges.120 The friars’ religiously rooted conceptions and subsequently influence relations with their fellow colonists shaped the social climate, culture and history of interactions between Pueblos, Spanish settlers, and mendicants. Franciscan missionaries stereotyped settlers and governmental administrators as secular-minded, profit-oriented hindrances to the establishment of a proper theocracy among the pueblos.121 Benavides informed the king: One of the main reasons for the unrest in that land of New Mexico is the desire of the governor that there be no other judge or tribunal than his; that the custodian, who is the one who administers ecclesiastical justice there, does not do or execute anything in the matters of the church without the intervention and authority of the governor…the governors issue proclamations, telling the people not to obey the friars in anything, except that those who want to may hear mass…122

152 Such blanket assumptions heightened the abundantly documented and historiographically debated rift between colonial church and state authorities that permeated Nuevo Mexican society.123 The tumultuous relationship between Franciscan and civic authorities dominated the political history of the Hispanic community in the province throughout the seventeenth century, periodically threatening mission interests and the continuity of colony.124 The majority of conflicts between Franciscan friars, royal representatives and Spanish settlers within the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries resulted from of each factions’ authority and jurisdiction over Pueblo labor, territory and tributary payments. Within the largely impoverished economic climate of early Nuevo Mexico, the Franciscan Order laid claim to and utilized the largest proportion of Pueblo forced labor. By royal decree and papal writ, the friars had usufruct of Native American labor for the benefit and maintenance of the mission and could “assigning Indians to tend mission fields and livestock, construct churches and related mission buildings, and provide personal service to the clergy as cooks, porters, interpreters, sacristans, bell ringers, organists, and cantors.”125 Though such labor was coerced and strongly encouraged through emotional appeal, contextualization as religious obligation and the ever-present threat of military retribution, the missionaries were able to claim the Pueblo in ecclesiastical employment as mission servants and thus sheltered them from the expectation of paying tribute to civil administrators.126 The process of religious encounter did not occur within an isolated, ideological realm, devoid or divorced from considerations of power or the material transaction of the colonial enterprise. Economic motivations, political forces and personal desires simultaneously molded the colony, the religious experiences of and relationships between friars, colonists and Indians. Indeed, economic motivations were among the central concerns and motivations of Nuevo Mexico’s early governors and settlers. Many Spanish migrants considered the potential for economic gain the sole benefit to military service or resettlement in the remote, desolate borderland of the colony. Motivated by similar evaluations, provincial governors and subordinate officials “engaged in violations of trade regulations, harsh and often illegal exploitation of Pueblo laborers, forbidden slave-taking expeditions into the surrounding Athapaskan-controlled territories, and other commercial ventures designed to ensure that their years of service were financially if not

153 professionally and personally rewarding.”127 These activities became the crux of Inquisition accusations and proceedings against friars and governors, as each side wielded its juridical power to subdue the other.128 The centrality of economic considerations and the acquisition of wealth within colonial experiences were readily apparent from Onate’s entrada into Nuevo Mexico. King Felipe II had not authorized use of the term kingdom in reference to New Mexico when he commissioned Don Juan de Onate to pacify the territory in 1583. However, when Onate prayed in April of the same year, he entreated God to “give to our king, and to me in his royal name, peaceful possession of these kingdoms and provinces for His blessed glory. Amen.”129 Onate elevated the status of the territory to a kingdom for he aspired to be “the equal of the viceroy in Mexico City. Hence, he must rule a kingdom.”130 The economic preoccupation and entrepreneurial spirit was even evident among the previous Coronado expedition. “Many jars were found full of choice shiny metal, with which the Indians glaze their pottery. This was and indication that in that land there were sources of silver, if they had been looked for.”131 Accounts of the Coronado and Onate included conspicuous detail of the mineral wealth on metals found in each pueblo.132 While the conception of the colony and social climate of the missionary province were infused and influenced by the material interests of Spanish colonists, the friars demonstrated personal economic motivations that shaped their historical experiences, encounters and religious lives. Throughout the first two centuries of colonial occupation of Nuevo Mexico, “Disputes over land, labor, tribute, and rights of jurisdiction pitted governor against Franciscan during almost every administration between 1610 and 1670, with the alignment of the settler population often playing the crucial role in determining the outcome of the struggle.”133 These conflicts held deeper significance for the friars than as mere threats to mission finances and the accompanying lifestyle to which whey had grown accustom. Gubernatorial interference presented a hindrance to the conversion of the Pueblo and posed an irreverent delay of Franciscan millennial expectations. Thus, before the Hispanic exodus of the colony in 1680, jurisdictional disputes with provincial governors prompted Franciscans to excommunicate three such incumbent officials.

154 Within that time four governors were arrested and Lopez de Mendizabal and Diego de Penalosa were brought to trial before the Inquisition of Mexico City.134 Nevertheless, non-Franciscan Spanish settlers maintained a permanent, complicating presence amidst the religious negotiations between friars and Pueblos that wove through the revolutionary era. Although conflicting interests and jurisdictional conflicts predisposed friars to suspect colonists’ moral integrity and attempt to limit their interaction with settled , Franciscans did not abhor settlers as evil and interracial interaction did occur. Indeed, continuous contact between Pueblo and Spanish colonists increased the interconnecting bonds between these two groups, making each integral to the religious lives of the other. Within one decade of Onate’s settlement, the majority of the subsequent generation of Hispanic colonists were surrounded by and exposed to Pueblo lifeways and religious elements from childhood. “In the schools of religious instruction run by the friars, Hispanic and Pueblo boys learned together, sang together, and, presumable played together, in many ways closing the gap that separated their parents worlds.”135 According to Fray Benavides’ roseate memorial, almost as soon as the original colonists entered Nuevo Mexico every pueblo and village in which a friar resided had “schools for the teaching of praying, singing, playing musical instruments and other interesting things.”136 Though such universal educational opportunities were unlikely fully realized, Spanish and Pueblo children began prolonged contact at an early age and initiated social bonds and interactions that persisted throughout their lives, if in augmented forms. First generation Spanish migrants and settlers educated in less culturally diverse schools were also pushed and pulled into closer social interactions with colonized Pueblos. During the initial territorial exploration of the Onate expedition, colonists despaired over Nuevo Mexico’s mineral poverty. Many had undertaken the journey certain that silver mines riddled the river valleys of the region, unmolested and awaiting Spanish extraction. Depressed over the colony’s profitability and lack of fiscal opportunities, the expeditionary force began to weigh the option of against its correlate penalty of death. During the September festivities, four men decided Nuevo Mexico’s poverty merited the risk and fled south along the Rio Grande upon stolen horses. Governor Onate, aware of the precedence a successful desertion would set,

155 assigned Gaspar Perez de Villagra, Captain Geronimo Marquez and a well-armed company of recruits to locate and execute the desperate criminals.137 “Fourteen days later, near the mines of Todos Santos in Nueva Vizcaya138, they caught up with two of them and slit their throats. As proof, the posse cut off the victims’ right hands to send in brine to the governor. The other two escaped.”139 Displaced in a foreign land and alienated from a callous administration that demonstrated indifference to their concerns, colonists begrudging settled within the communities of Nuevo Mexico. The incremental distance from hegemonic authorities spawned by conflicts over capital interests generated the opportunity for more frequent interaction and contact with the Pueblo and opened the possibility of prolonged cultural dialogue. Spanish settlers grew increasingly dependent on the shared territory, crafts and skills of the Pueblo as they established colonial communities among and between the pueblos. Several circumstantial conditions encouraged proximity and experiences of mutual dependence that wed the Pueblo and Spanish colonists into the communities of Nuevo Mexico. “Certainly one of the major factors that pushed Hispanic settlers into accepting Pueblo practices was the extremely limited availability of medical care in the European sense of the term.”140 Though the Franciscan missionaries answered the need for medical caregivers, their medical training was scarce if present at all. Mission inventories indicate that bloodletting was a frequently diagnosed procedure.141 The geographic sprawl of colonial settlements made access to even this quality of healthcare at the San Felipe infirmary impractical for most Spanish. “Inquisition testimonies from this period reveal many examples of Hispanic settlers in New Mexico turning to Pueblo Indians in search of medicines, aphrodisiacs, and love potions.”142 Documentation of the possessions of Nicholas de Aguilar in 1661 included references to bear grass and manso grass, known medicinal plants that the Pueblo used for curing fevers and wounds respectively.143 In times of illness and disease, Pueblo and Spanish colonists turned to Pueblo healers and participated in shared religious ceremonies. The proliferation of Pueblo practices among Spanish congregations caused the Holy Office to intervene and enjoin the friars of Nuevo Mexico with Spanish parishioners to preach at least once each month on the forms of Indian idolatrous practices and the penalties incurred by all those who embraced them.144

156 The environmental setting of Nuevo Mexico facilitated the development of relationships of mutual dependence between Spanish and Pueblo peoples and subsequently promoted geographical and cultural proximity. According to climatic studies and meteorological histories, the American southwest became substantially more arid after 1200 C.E. and experienced an especially brutal drought during the summer and fall of 1601.145 “Such variance and unpredictability in weather and growing conditions forced the region’s inhabitants to seek ways of smoothing over the recurrent periods of hardship.”146 Thus, Pueblo food caches of maize and beans became the lynchpin of Spanish and Pueblo survival. The Franciscan missionaries and 250 colonists relied upon Pueblo stores of food, consuming years of labor in a single season.147 Juan de Ortega noted that the Pueblo stored “maize…and other things mentioned…for times of need as long as two and three years” which they were impelled to hide “to prevent the soldiers from taking them.”148 During harsh draughts throughout the history of the colony, Spanish occupiers ravaged Pueblo reserves and subjected Native American community members to deprivation and violent coercion. Obdurate commandeering of Pueblo food stores expressed the dependence of Spanish settlers upon the Indian residents of the region. However, the callous acquisitions similarly goaded the Native American inhabitants of the pueblos into reliance and dependence upon the Spanish colonists. Pueblo not protected by friars as missionary laborers faced the additional hardship of forced tribute. Such collections often proved too great a burden. Handfuls of Pueblo trickled out of their traditional homes to be absorbed by their nomadic neighbors rather than pay additional tribute during years of asperity.149 “With no crops to harvest and their reserves stolen, many Pueblos now found themselves unenviable dependent upon the newcomers who had violated their means of survival in this difficult land.”150 Regardless of origin, inclement conditions bound Pueblo and Spanish colonists into relationships of dependence that ensured their mutual survival and continued interaction.151 In this colonial environment in which friars encountered Pueblo and Spanish residents and such peoples engaged one another frequently, albeit reluctantly, the Franciscan missionaries similarly encountered themselves. The character, conceptions and memories of their peers influenced the daily religious lives of the mendicants and

157 shaped the history of and later Franciscan reflections upon the Pueblo missions. Members of the Friars Minor perceived, positioned and engaged their fellow evangelists within relations that reconfigured their constructions of and interactions with Spanish neighbors, Native American congregants, and themselves. Historian John Kessell sympathetically, yet honestly, depicted the vast majority of the friars who labored in Nuevo Mexico as “humane souls who carried their lonely crosses with devotion and charity, if at times clumsily…A few proved woefully deviant, sexually or physically abusing their charges.”152 Franciscan friars entered the order and answered a vocation motivated by a range of social influences and personal reasons. Family and social circumstances combined with personal aspirations and, for some, religious experiences of the supernatural to encourage young men to assume the mantle of missionary service. Most of these friars committed themselves to diligently if not always successfully using what opportunities and abilities they had to engender trust among their charges and discharge the duties of their offices. “Some struggled to establish any rapport with their Pueblo congregations, while others relied on their charisma or ingenuity to endear themselves to the native peoples…A missionary’s effectiveness depended more on his persuasive personality, creativity, and willingness to hear from his neophytes than on formal knowledge of Christian doctrine.”153 Though successful conversions often depended on various practical conditions, friars were committed to a religious vision of Nuevo Mexico as a colony that existed, at least primarily, to convert the souls of the Pueblo.154 Such men waded into the missions, conventos and visitas among the Native Americans of the frontier province and attempted to redirect the religious lives of the local people alongside their ecclesiastical fellows. In their vocation and in the history of colonial encounters with the Pueblo, the missionary friars did not labor alone. Franciscan mental constructions of their peers played a significant role in the religious lives of the friars, the performance of the missionary identity and later reflections upon the missionary events that led to the Pueblo revolutionary era. Though often isolated within their visitas from the majority of friars in the field, itineration, correspondence and memories of Franciscan predecessors brought the missionaries of Nuevo Mexico into contact with their peers.155 They were brothers by vow and by spirit, possessed of a degree of camaraderie that was strengthened by the

158 endurance of shared hardships. However, men of the Franciscan Order frequently perceived their fellow mendicant evangelists, especially those who were deceased and remembered, as the exemplary ideal to which they aspired. Franciscans saw their fellows, in life and in death, as “good workers” and “as a lighted torch to guide them [and the surrounding pueblos] in spiritual as well as temporal affairs.”156 Franciscan missionaries conceptualized their fellow friars as a new generation of apostles, anointed by God for the task before them. “So many centuries have passed…in which the devil tyrannized all these nations without any opposition, there arrived the fortunate hour and time when God, the Eternal, had determined that the light of heaven should descend upon them through the intervention and preaching of the seraphic sons [of Saint Francis].”157 Fray Benavides often lauded the friars that served in Nuevo Mexico as the “apostolic and seraphic sons” of the church.158 Each friar was an “ there by apostolic authority” and expected to demonstrate their “excellent virtues…[and devote] himself to his task with great and apostolic spirit.”159 They were endowed with divine conviction and jurisdiction over the spiritual health of the Pueblo and bestowed with righteous authority over the Indians and nature itself in pursuit of conversions. Indeed, memorials of the missionaries’ labors note the occasional miraculous deed expected and performed for evangelical ends. The chief captain said: ‘You are a priest of God and can do much with that holy cross; heal our many sick before you depart.’ Then they brought people with all kinds of infirmities, and when these two friars made the sign of the cross over them and recited the gospel of Saint Luke, Loquent Jesu, and the prayer of our Lady, Concedenos, and the one of our father, Saint Francis, they immediately arose, well and healed. More than two hundred of the latter were counted. In this manner the Indians were strongly confirmed in our holy Catholic faith.160

The Franciscans understood their fellow friars as apostles sent to Nuevo Mexico to serve as God’s agents for the conversion of the Pueblo.161 Missionaries who died in the colony were transfigured into martyrs and their deaths into noble sacrifices. In Franciscan recollections, the Pueblo region was an antagonistic, heathen territory that threatened Christian conviction with death. Before the friars entered the landscape, “so many people were blinded in the darkness of idolatry; and, because [Fray Marcos de Niza] opposed it, they martyred him in the pueblo of Sibola. Thus he deserves the palm as the first martyr of New Mexico”.162 Although Fray

159 Marcos died suddenly, apparently by poison, his passing was marked by “the great sorrow of all the Christians and the friars but to his own great joy because he had attained the goal which he sought, namely, to give his life in the preaching of our holy Catholic faith.”163 In official histories and memorials, martyrdom was framed as a Franciscan ideal and a glorified destiny for missionary friars.164 Similarly, Fray Agustin Ruiz, was deemed a “blessed martyr” who was tasked with “overcoming the terrible difficulties which the devil set up for him to defend his empire.”165 There was little overt expression of a drive to martyrdom in the actions and language of the Spanish friars of Nuevo Mexico while they still lived. However, Franciscan recollections and remembrances articulated the lives of deceased missionaries as a rhetorical tool for the edification of their congregations.166 Friars who died while administering their obligations were invoked in frequent memorial masses as a means to frame the Franciscans’ limited success as a triumphal victory over the forces of the world.167 Franciscan mendicants saw reflected in their living, fraternal peers the realization of their idealized aspirations but also the full range of foibles and shortcomings that they perceived within themselves. The friars who labored in Nuevo Mexico saw themselves, for better or worse, in one another. Consequently, missionaries among the Pueblo were frequently accused of misconduct or heresy and investigated thoroughly by their fellow clergy within Inquisitional proceedings. These charges issued from their Native American congregations, the reigning provincial governor or their missionary brethren but were pursued and evaluated by their Franciscan peers.168 Frequent Inquisitional investigations of those accused of holding a heretical idea or practicing unorthodox religious forms demonstrate that the missionaries of Nuevo Mexico were aware of the variations in religion and hybridizations found among their congregations and among their peers.169 Friars of the Order of Saint Francis, including Fathers Juan de la Ascencion and Nicholas de Freitas, were accused of such heresy and investigated before a tribunal.170 Though both were acquitted, the evident concern for policing religious exchanges with indigenous populations and maintaining internal orthodoxy reveals the reality of such a fear. Friars were routinely enjoined to avoid assisting pueblo congregations in games such as “naypes, gallos y dados,” lest such practices blur the religious boundary of Catholic practice.171 Indeed, the mendicant missionaries took

160 accusations of impropriety and heresy against their peers seriously and rigorously policed the line of orthodoxy within the religious lives of their peers. In 1692 Fray Juaquin de Hinojosa and Fray Corvera initiated an investigation into and audit of the administration of the missions and the friars throughout Nuevo Mexico.172 Fears over their fellow friars misconduct and susceptibility to the temptation of Pueblo religious practice plagued the daily lives of Franciscans sufficiently that they unburdened upon and discussed the matter with friends and lay people. Vice-Custo Fray Pedro Gomez was forced to specifically forbid this prolific and threatening transparency into Order affairs in 1686.173 So effusive was this internal evaluation and intra-missionary critique, that in 1710, Fray Martin de Aguirre of Mexico City issued a patente that echoed those of his predecessors and again forbade friars to write letters against each other or any secular person, without the expressed permission from provincial headquarters.174 However, the fears and suspicions of Nuevo Mexico’s mendicants found purchase and expression among the clergy in Nueva España and ecclesiastical authorities in Europe. The rusticity of the friars’ New World origins combined with their minimal education and possible contamination by Pueblo practices and evoked a complimentary wariness, if not distain, from such distant administrators. The Propaganda Fide took advantage of the Franciscans’ need for assistance to dispatch a company of Dominican brethren to investigate and confirm in incredible accounts of miracles and evangelical progress in the region. The Dominican mendicants were instructed to “submit a detailed report concerning the land of New Mexico, the docility and ability of its people, and the fruits and conversions which the Franciscans have attained up to the present.”175 Five months later, their orders were amended to include: the miracles which God through the holy cross has wrought…especially to the miracle of the one born blind then thirteen years of age, who regained his sight by touching the cross…The Sacred Congregation orders that…the Spanish …investigate the truth of the above report…[and] transmit and make known the proof and evidence which can be obtained.176

The Proganda Fide demonstrated that the accounts of Franciscans in Nuevo Mexico were to be treated as suspect unless accompanied by outside verification. Ecclesiastical authorities repeatedly issued instructions to the missionary friars to minimize their involvement in non-ministerial affairs and avoid any situation in which they would have

161 the opportunity for misconduct.177 They were to not only avoid quarrels with the provincial governor but also abstain from ”unessential traffic with seculars.”178 Unwilling to trust the friars to follow these instructions, Fray Juan Alvarez forbade friars from involvement in civil governmental proceedings or even traveling from their missions to the capital of Santa Fe without authorization.179

Pueblo Perceptions of Encounter Religiously integrative cosmologies and expectations framed the mental and physical landscapes in which the Pueblo encountered the migrants from Nueva España, including Franciscans missionaries. From the earliest encounters to the consistent contact and interaction of the colony of Nuevo Mexico, Native American understandings of the friars were indebted to religiously molded perceptions and motivations. Throughout the colonial era, Pueblo practitioners used religious cosmologies and normative expectations to comprehend and conceptualize Franciscan friars, Spanish settlers, and the catholicisms that they presented. Similarly, the subsequent cultural shifts and augmentations that defined early colonial Pueblo communities primarily resulted from religious contact between colonial peoples. Indigenous religious traditions supplied the medium and context for Pueblo conceptions, attitudes and behavior towards the Spanish friars. The relationships and sentiments developed during the earliest eras of missionary activity and religious encounter continued to affect and effect the actions of Native American residents of Nuevo Mexico, including the violence and religious resistance of the Pueblo revolutionary period. Pueblo religion mediated and influenced the experiences of the indigenous inhabitants of the pueblos and thus the history of colonial interactions and cultural exchange. The earliest Pueblo observations and initial impressions of the foreign missionaries were embedded within the religious worlds of the Native American witnesses. When the friars arrived within the Pueblo territories, they intentionally attempted to parallel the roles, responsibilities and abilities of the religious leaders of the Pueblo. When they entered Nuevo Mexico, they presented themselves as potent men with sovereignty over the forces of nature. Not surprisingly, the Native Americans that dwelled in the region understood these foreigners as powerful, supernatural efficacious

162 leaders from a distant land. According to the records of Fray Geronimo de Mendieta, the missionaries’ attempts were so successful that the Indians believed “we were gods or men from the sky…whom they received like angels without the least suspicion.”180 Although Mendieta’s condescension and confidence in the gullibility of the Pueblo impugn the accuracy of his assessment, the friar’s observation that the local Indians treated them as supernaturally potent beings had some basis in his experience of the Pueblo. In the ensuing violence and chaos that followed in the wake of the missionaries with their accompaniment of mounted soldiers with firearms, the friars performed theatrical displays to convey to the native populations that they were the ones who wielded the power responsible for the communities’ defeats. Correspondingly, the Pueblo recognized the missionaries as the origin and authority behind the waves of military encounters and forced subjugation. Although many of the pueblos did not know the exact location from whence these aliens came, they perceived in the friars a recognizable religious authority that influenced these unfamiliar migrants in a similar manner as their own religiously contextualized leaders governed their indigenous communities. The Franciscan missionaries sought to perform the religious obligations and embody the religious authority traditionally held by several native leaders. As the cosmologies of the Pueblo were similar to those held by Native Americans in central Mexico, the friars understood the religious importance of rain. Thus, the missionaries timed their 1598 entrance into Nuevo Mexico to coincide with the beginning of the rainy season in order to assume the mantle of efficacious rain chiefs and frame indigenous perceptions of their authority, and by extension, their Christianity, through this association.181 The Pueblo were in the midst of a severe draught when the friars arrived. According to poet and chronicler of the Onate expedition, Gaspar Perez de Villagra, the Indians of Nuevo Mexico languished in hunger and despaired that the drought would destroy their crops. Villagra recorded that the Pueblo had beseeched “their gods for rain” but, despite their continued prayers, the drought persisted unbroken.182 On hearing this, the commissary and the good Fray Cristóbal, trusting in God from whom all our needs must come, commanded the Indians to cease their wailing, for they would offer prayers to God in heaven, asking Him to look down with pity, and, though they were disobedient children, to send abundant rains that the dying plants might revive and yield plentiful crops…[and when] the clouds of heaven opened and poured forth regular torrents of rain…The barbarians stood spellbound

163 in awe and mute gratitude at the unbounding mercy of God.183

When the friars later performed a similar feat of meteorological manipulation, the Pueblo of San Juan rejoiced and venerated the supernaturally charged missionaries. “San Juan’s inhabitants rejoiced and presented many feathers, corn meal, and other gifts to the crucifix and to the friars.”184 They praised the Franciscans and presented them with traditional religious offerings that were appropriate gifts for supernatural beings or potent religious leaders. Similarly, they offered oblations at the cross, as they would have done before a tihu or upon a shrine prior the arrival of the missionaries. Thus, the Pueblo understood the friars within and incorporated them into their religious worlds. The public performance of the missionaries’ religious authority and responsibility included healing rituals typically performed by native medicine men. The ability to effect healings became so wedded to Pueblo religious conceptions of friars that, according to Spanish documentation, indigenous populations expected such abilities from missionaries and traditional religious healers frequently resented the competition. At Awatobi in 1632, several medicine men had become disgruntled at Fray Francisco de Porras’ successes in healing lesser afflictions and set to testing his medicine power. They brought before him a blind thirteen-year-old and proclaimed, “‘you go about deceiving us and disturbing the people with what you call a cross. If what you say about it is true, place it on the eyes of this boy; if he regains his sight, we shall believe everything you tell us; but if not, we will kill you or cast you our in shame.’” 185 Fray Francisco kneeled and prayed that God grant a miracle ‘for the confusion of these infidels.’ He placed the cross upon the boy’s eyes, made mud with dirt and his own spit and rubbed the mud across the boy’s eyes. Suddenly, Francisco cried out “epheta” and the boy was healed. Many of the surrounding Hopi “proclaimed the friar a powerful healer” and subsequently accepted baptism.186 Not all were convinced of the spiritual efficaciousness or implied veracity of Fray Francisco or his Christianity, nor accept him as a surrogate medicine man, a fact that his critics voiced on June 28, 1633 when they poisoned him.187 Although healing abilities usually credentialed Franciscan friars as legitimate, spiritually potent individuals, such supernatural talents did not necessitate good will or enjoin obedience. The friars’ healing ceremonies often yielded subsequent conversions and immediate baptisms of the injured or those present for the event. However, such displays of power

164 convinced the Pueblo of the missionaries’ efficacy and religious authority but not necessarily of their benevolence or primacy. The Pueblo understood the friars as men able to exert command over the presence and prosperity of animals. The colonial missionaries intentionally presented themselves as wielders of such talents in order to establish their religious power and authority as superior to that of indigenous hunt chiefs. The friars entered Nuevo Mexico at the head of significant flocks of large, domesticated animals accompanied by fearsome warriors atop beasts that were as strong, fast and obedient as any animal in their experience.188 According to Fray Alonso de Benavides’ 1634 record, these herds reproduced rapidly, doubling every year and a half, which enabled the Franciscans to usurp the role of the hunt chiefs by providing a seemingly superior, permanent, competition-free meat- supply.189 The friars entered the Pueblo in the presence of magnificent beasts, the likes of which the local populations of Nuevo Mexico had never before perceived. “The Indians approached each monster (horse) with trepidation and spoke to it ‘as if it were a person.’ They ‘rubbed their bodies against the animals’ haunches raising their hands to heaven and blowing towards the sky,’ thus imparting a prayer that the monster not hurt them.”190 Horses were unfamiliar creatures, seemingly obedient to the will of the Franciscans and their companions, and further evidenced the missionaries’ awesome abilities.191 Friars embraced and continued to encourage this association throughout their tenure among the Pueblo by continuing to keep, trade, and sell livestock to the various pueblos despite repeated reprimands from Mexico. Although religion provided the means for understanding and digesting cultural encounters with the Spanish, it did not divorce the Pueblo from the influences of their more mundane experiences and practical reasoning. The friars sought to portray themselves as spiritual potent beings worthy of the Pueblos’ respect and veneration. However, that does not necessarily imply that the Indians of Nuevo Mexico understood the mendicant migrants as katsinas. The various pueblos had prior, though not extensive, experience with the process of encountering and interacting with peoples from foreign lands during times of trade and war. The narratives of the Coronado expedition evidence that the Native Americans of the region communicated the movements of Spanish in advance of their arrival at each pueblo. “The people of Cibola sent word to the people of

165 this pueblo and its environs, telling them that if any Christians should come they should not respect them but kill them, for they were mortal.”192 Not only did the Pueblo anticipate the arrival of the Nueva España colonists, they understood that these strange beings were mortal foreigners, regardless of their exoticism. Captain Hernando de Alarcon affirmed the Pueblo conception of Franciscans as unusual mortals when he recorded a Pueblo elder reminding his people “‘This is our lord; you know very well how long ago we heard our forefathers say that there were in the world bearded white people, and we though thought them stupid…They have mouths, hands, and eyes as we do, and talk as we do.’”193 Regardless of how supernaturally powerful they appeared, the Pueblo knew the missionaries as humans. However, the friars’ striking exoticism and efficacious abilities demarcated them from the mundane and over time shifted their categorization closer to the katsinas. Within two generations of sustained missionary occupation and religious negotiation, Pueblo practitioners began to reposition the friars within their cosmologies and reconstruct the potent religious authorities as meta-human beings that defied pre-Hispanic religious categories. “The first mention of martyred friars being incorporated into the native pantheon as katsina occurred in the late .”194 After the pueblo of Taos overthrew and murdered their local missionary, Fray Pedro de Miranda, in the summer of 1639, a being robed in the friar’s garments appeared and participated in Taos performances of the katsina dance. The Native American religious cosmology at Acoma reveals the later colonial rationalization and incorporation of Franciscans into traditional religious forms. Later Acoma descendants utilized “a category of katsina, the kopishtaiya, who come from the east, live there, vow perpetual sexual continence…and have potent medicine magic.”195 The anomalous element of sexual continence, itself an anachronistic religious concept, and the association with the east, typically the origin for everything introduced by the Spanish within Acoma worldviews, suggests that the kopishtaiya were subsequent colonial religious adaptations in order reconcile the friars within their cosmology. “Linguistic evidence from the Tewa underscores this point. The Tewa call their katsina oxua. A Catholic priest is owha, which means ‘cloud-like’ or ‘katsina-like.’”196 After the first generation of continued coexistence and interaction with Franciscans and Spanish colonists in which both peoples began to share lands, cultures

166 and ancestors, the missionaries were further incorporated into Pueblo religions. As a result of this shift, they were reflected in Pueblo cosmologies as distinct religious authorities positioned somewhere between traditional pueblo leaders and the supernatural beings. Moreover, the presence and behavior of the friars confounded the religiously incorporative gender categories of Pueblo cultures. Consequently, the missionaries further complicated the process of perception and religious negotiation of Franciscan authority for their potential Native American congregants. Franciscans defied the religiously contextualized, gender behaviors of indigenous pueblos and augmented their receptions and relationships with their host communities. Mendicant missionaries posed an interesting anomaly to Pueblo gender norms. The friars failed to perform masculinity as expected and did not participate in many male tasks. Before Spanish settlement in Nuevo Mexico, Pueblo men practiced agricultural and hunting technologies and engaged in leather tanning and tool crafting. The mendicants did not till the soil or stalk wild beasts. They did not fashion weapons or craft baskets and blankets. However, they did profess to maintain the pueblos’ proper relationship with the supernatural influences that enabled industrial prosperity and military victory, traditionally powers engaged only by men.197 The Franciscans performed male-overseen religious rites, including rain invocations, and communal rituals that brought pueblos together to stave off calamity or reconcile their supernatural relationships.198 The presence of friars also encouraged the existence of the pueblo within a habitable world by mitigating Spanish military hostilities and limiting encroachment upon their missionary fields.199 The Franciscan practices of and chastity obfuscated their proper gender categorization and subsequent position within Pueblo religious cosmologies. Pueblo cultures affirmed that “women’s voraciousness for semen…sapped masculinity of its potence…[Thus,] men abstained from sex with women for a prescribed period before and after their rituals.”200 However, sexuality in its various manifestations was recognized as an integral part of each gender.201 The friars though did not openly engage in sexual activity with either Pueblo women or men. Moreover, the Pueblo religious equation of sexuality with regenerative, creative forces and thus with sacred cosmic order alienated the friars from the natural order.202 Their celibacy divorced them from the proper order

167 of the mundane world and their chastity cast them into a liminal zone as religiously potent figures that abstained from an important, sacred-laden act. The padres’ liminal placement in the Pueblo spatial cosmological schema reinforced their position at the threshold of historical gender categories. As femininity was bound to domestic spaces and the pueblo and masculinity was aligned with the less ordered realm beyond the boundary of the pueblo, missionaries inhabited a realm that permeated both spaces. Just as mission churches and convents were often constructed immediately outside of the existing pueblo, Pueblo practitioners similarly conceived and positioned the gender of Franciscan friars as outside of traditional community structures but still connected to the spaces and activities that occurred within it. The constituent violence and paternalism of Franciscan evangelical efforts complicated the missionary relationships, colonial interactions and Pueblo encounters with Catholicism. The religious interactions and reactions of the early colonial and Pueblo revolutionary era were intertwined with Native American constructions of Franciscan gender, perceptions of their violence, and evaluation of their proffered religious traditions. Pueblo efforts to situate Franciscan mendicants relative to the gendered categories of society and aptly construct a place for the friars within the religious cosmology proceeded contiguously with attempts to reconcile the missionaries to the social pressures and physical violence that they routinely engaged. If warfare was the enterprise most closely associated with masculinity in Pueblo society, the forceful behavior of many friars emphasized the difficulty Pueblo experienced when trying to conceptualize and situate the missionaries relative to religiously interwoven gender norms and expectations. The friars wielded social and religious authority as only Pueblo men were enabled. They engaged in masculine, violent acts and waged a sort of war against traditional leadership figures. The Pueblo observed from the earliest interactions with the friars from Nueva España the systematic attempt to emasculate and undermine pueblo authorities, both human and supernatural. In order to demonstrate the impotence of such powers before them, the missionaries reasoned that the “humiliation of fathers before their own children was most demeaning when the friars emasculated the men, thereby symbolically transforming them into women.”203 Pueblo witnessed as their fathers, elders and religious leaders who remained steadfast to traditions and resistant to

168 the will of the Franciscans were subjected to violent humiliation. To punish obduracy and demean elders before their children, friars seized the testicles of the offending Native American and twisted until the man was prostrate in pain. Though hardly a daily performance, such smoldering displays of passion occurred with sufficient frequently that excesses in the implementation of this corrective technique were noted by Inquisitional oversight. Pedro Acomilla, a Pueblo man from Taos, declared that Fray Nicolas Hidalgo grabbed him and “twisted [his genitalia] so much that it broke in half” depriving him of “the head of the member.”204 From such callous treatment, shame, fear and resentment flared among the Pueblo and smoldered among subsequent generations. However, for all the violence, the masculine paternalism of the missionaries did not lack tenderness or affection. In 1626, after rebuking a Zuni medicine and father who sought to dissuade his son’s conversion, Fray Martin de Arvide turned to the child and said “Son, I am more your father and love you more than he, for he wants to take you with him to the suffering of hell, while I wish you to enjoy the blessings of being a Christian.”205 By the friar’s own account, the emotional appeal was effective. The son continued Catholic practice and the Zuni father did not persist in overt subversion of the Franciscan’s mission. The force and violence of Franciscan authority echoed and reinforced the difficulties experienced by Pueblo cultures that attempted to situate the missionaries within historical socio-religious organizational schemes. “Force in the Indian world was exercised by the Outside Chiefs and their warriors, who protected the village from external enemies. [Inside] the pueblo, force was culturally prohibited.”206 Within the pueblo, the Inside chief managed the cosmic order and social continuity. The friars were able to muster soldiers from beyond the pueblo boundaries and impel the forces of violence as Outside Chiefs. Yet, Franciscan missionaries vigorously asserted influence over communal matters and village proceedings as did Inside Chiefs.207 “The Franciscans masterfully asserted their control over fertility and force, and by presenting themselves as ritual specialists before whom mortals had to kneel, the unmistakable conclusion was that the friars were Inside Chiefs who controlled the sacred.”208 Pueblo understood the missionaries as aberrant amalgamations of the dialectical positions of the Inside and Outside chiefs, capable of wielding violence and sacred forces. The unusual religious leaders commanded soldiers and served as custodians of sacred knowledge and

169 artifacts.209 They sheltered the Native Americans from incursions from enemy tribes and Spanish military personnel and shepherded their relationships with less tangible powers. Divergent construction of Franciscan missionaries by the Native American communities of Nuevo Mexico affirm the complicatedness of religious conceptualization, the frequent ambivalence of the resulting positions, and the dynamic process of religious situation and renegotiation that stretched through the history of missionary encounters. The accounts of several Pueblo cultures note the ambivalent reception of the friars and common Franciscan modes of interacting with indigenous religious traditions. Although the oral religious histories differ between pueblos according to cultural variations and divergent experiences of contact with Franciscan missionaries, synthesis of the oral histories of the Hopi provides an exemplary, though not always consensus, narrative of Pueblo perceptions and experiences of the arrival of missionaries among them. According the testimony of Wikvaya, recorded in 1902 by H. R. Voth, when the friar appeared at Hopi, the Franciscan demanded that the locals erect a house and church for his use.210 While the Hopi labored to clear the rocks for the construction of the church, a second friar arrived and was well received for he shared clothes and supplies with the people. The priests shortly began ordering the Hopi to fetch water from the west, near Moencopi or the Little Colorado River. “The priest was called Tutaachi, a Hopi word approximating "dictator," for his habit of giving orders.”211 To satisfy the demands of the friars but not labor inefficiently, the Hopi began drawing from a nearby spring, located beside a sun shrine to the southeast of the pueblo, and constructed several cisterns. The 1967 oral account of Emil Pooley, collected as part of the Duke Oral History Project, reflects that the task of retrieving water was likely “a deliberate ruse on the part of the priests to separate husbands and fathers from families, thus permitting the priests free access to illicit affairs with the women.”212 Although the friars were conceived of as powerful and supernatural skilled authorities, later remembrances testify that the Pueblo also initially understood the missionaries as lecherous dictators. The long process of reconsideration and evaluation of the role, status, and social position of the Franciscan missionaries produced shifting categorizations and dynamic constructions that were wedded to the religious interactions within each pueblo. Later oral histories of early Franciscan evangelical efforts among the Pueblo reveal

170 the integration between conflicting perceptions of mission religion, the ambivalent position of friars and the reception of Catholicism. This instable dynamic of religious negotiation shaped colonial interactions within Nuevo Mexico and continued through the events leading to the Pueblo Revolution. Hopi oral histories, despite their differences, affirm that Pueblos openly engaged and initially accepted the Christianity of the friars. Some Hopi sought baptism and others actively desired religious instruction. However, according to Wikyava, enforced, mandatory church attendance diminished the initial fascination with Catholicism.213 Hopi narratives recall that the friars led a concerted against kiva religion and traditional religious artifacts. The Wikyava testimony narrates that the missionaries forbade the Hopi from staging katsina dances or crafting pahos, or prayersticks, “and as a consequence there was a drought that lasted at least five years.”214 Spanish accounts similarly chronicle this drought but do not attribute it to suppressed Pueblo religious performances. Later oral histories maintain “The Hopi chiefs met to discuss their situation and began to hold kiva ceremonies in secret and began again the making of prayersticks. [In the absence of rain, the] Hopi then decided to have a public dance.”215 According to modern Hopi recollections, the friars at pueblo discovered the Hopi plans for a public dance for meteorological amelioration and permitted its performance by not actively suppressing it. While the friars continued to destroy the Pueblo religious artifacts that they discovered and eradicate non-Catholic Native American religious observances, Hopi tradition suggests that such generalizations were not . Thus, variations in the constructions and remembrances of friars from the early colonial era testify to the polyvalent perceptions and dynamic process of positioning the missionaries within the religious worlds and histories of Pueblo peoples. The recorded diversity of interpretations of the character, authority and religious relevance of the Franciscans demonstrates variant Pueblo religious conceptions and cognitive constructions of the Franciscans that resulted throughout the history of colonial encounter. Native American perceptions and encounters of the people, practices and places of Nuevo Mexico were intrinsically connected and inset within their religious worlds and lives. The construction of convent-fortresses and mission churches represented the initial means by which the Pueblo experienced the reconfiguration of their religious worlds and

171 the suppression of their traditional religious practices. The imposing scale and military elements of convents and churches declared the permanence and strength of Spanish Catholicism upon the Pueblo landscape. The Native Americans of Nuevo Mexico were familiar with the appearance and utility of similar defensive features from the construction of pueblos. Thus, they understood well the implied message of impervious might broadcast by the thick walls and lookout towers of the ominous structures. Additionally, the soaring walls and enclosed vertical space of churches like that of the Pecos pueblo were marvels, inspiring curiosity and awe.216 The architectural erections incited Native American emotions that heightened the affective appeal and influence of the associated Catholicism throughout the later history of the Franciscan missions. Mission Pueblos experienced the creation of colonial structures and reconstruction of Pueblo space as integral components of their encounters of Franciscan friars and the religious authorities of Nuevo Mexico. The mission churches and fortress- like convents were often erected adjacent to but exterior of existing pueblo constructions at the margins of Pueblo communities. To the Pueblo, the positioning of the Catholic structures clearly conveyed the affiliation of the new religious spaces with the violent, chaotic domain, traditionally associated with warfare, exterior threats and the domain of men.217 Native American congregations perceived that the convents and mission churches were placed outside and in antagonistic relation to the realm of sacred pueblo order and the religious world that it embodied. Such religious connotations of masculine territorial positioning, combined with Franciscan gendered preference for educating and converting young men in indigenous populations, explain the overwhelming majority of male mission neophytes.218 When mission churches were erected within the pueblo perimeter, the inhabitants were often forced to build them atop their community’s kiva.219 Friars believed that the missions’ “superimposition atop a native shrine or kiva served an instruction end.”220 The Pueblo learned that the friars sought to shamelessly defile their sacred spaces and delighted in driving out their katsinas.221 However, the Franciscan missionaries of Nuevo Mexico were unable to position the new Catholic structures at “the center of Pueblo life, and Pueblo communal spaces such as the kiva survived despite Franciscan anti-idolatry campaigns and other efforts to stamp out traditional religion and cultures.”222 Despite this failure, the Pueblo experienced the looming presence of

172 Catholicism over daily life through the shadow of the towering structures and the reorientation of traditional authority in the conscripted labor the friars exercised in the their construction. Just as the ecclesiastical edifices reconfigured Pueblo villages and spatial structures, the Franciscan presence within Pueblo worlds displaced cultural patterns and augmented the social landscape. Divergent religious understandings of gifting behaviors deepened tensions between Pueblo practitioners and Spanish friars and reconfigured the social status and position of the religiously authoritative foreigners. Few acts posed as significant a disruption to Pueblo socio-political order as the missionaries’ distribution of material goods. The circulation of Spanish artifacts wrought the intrinsic changes to bodily practices, industry and quotidian life. However, the introduction of these material objects also disrupted intra-pueblo gifting economies. The Franciscans maintained that, due to their vows of poverty, they “offered seeds, livestock, manufactured goods, and an immense ritual arsenal to the Indians for which they wanted nothing in return.”223 In 1628, Fray Roque de Figueredo sought to persuade his Zuni congregation that he had not come to them “for the purpose of taking away their property, because he and the members of his order wished to be the poorest on earth, but rather he was bringing them help and…knowledge of the one true God.”224 Despite Fray Figueredo’s confessed intent, such exchanges of unreciprocated giving indebted swathes of the pueblos’ populations in traditional bonds of obedience. Although the missionaries asserted that they desired to give rather than ask of the Pueblo, their practice of gifting and custodianship of religious and practical knowledge transformed the friars from disconnected foreigners into the equivalent of a Pueblo ritual elder.225 In exchange for livestock and training in Spanish techniques of animal husbandry, missionaries were often repaid with deference, baptism and the practice of Catholicism. The Pueblo were encouraged to give the friars obedience and displays of piety for such men were favored recipients of the mendicants’ gifts, “just as the hunt chiefs before them had taught [obedient] young men hunting techniques and hunt magic in return for corn and meat payments.”226 Within the first generation of Franciscan occupation, the friars’ gifts and livestock threatened historical Pueblo authorities partially based upon hunting efficacy or meat distribution.

173 Perhaps more insidiously imperiling for the Pueblo social structure, the missionaries habit of bestowing gift items and Spanish material goods upon juniors rather than elders challenged social hierarchal stratification and jeopardized religious systems incorporative of such traditional relationships. Such behaviors contradictorily situated the friars as disrespectful juniors but simultaneously elevated them to the equivalent of elders. Thus, the Pueblo posited the friars in similar relative positioning to the community as their newly erected churches. Mission Indians understood these figures as adjacent to the community and traditional social categories. Native American congregants conceptualized the Franciscans as outside of society, alienated from the heart of the community, but nevertheless connected to it. The irresolute position of missionary authorities within the Pueblo cosmology enabled the diversity of responses and reactions to their enforced Catholicism and various modes of religious negotiation throughout the Pueblo revolutionary era. Native American perceptions, religious negotiations and divergent responses of the following century unfolded amidst the conceptions and relationships that they developed with their Spanish neighbors and fellow colonial residents. The subsequent history of religious encounter and revolution necessarily incorporated Pueblo experiences of the diverse peoples, political forces and subtle cultural dialogue that filled Nuevo Mexico. Pueblo initially encountered Spanish migrant colonists as foreign warriors.227 If the Franciscans vacillated between the roles of Inside and Outside Chiefs, the Pueblo firmly understood the Spanish governor of Nuevo Mexico as an Outside Chief able to mobilize his cadre of warriors with little warning. The soldiers and settlers of Nuevo Mexico presented the face of intimidation and voice of menace for the Spanish colonial regime. Spanish military personnel imposed mission discipline for the friars and bolstered Franciscan authority.228 According to Fray Estevan de Perea, Spanish soldiers frequently threatened the Native Americans and warned them that if they harmed the missionaries, “the governor would bring his army against them and burn their pueblos and lay waste their fields.”229 In 1599, Don Juan de Onate reflected upon his initial intent among the Pueblo and recorded that he sought to compel them to “recognize the friars as their benefactors and protectors and come to love and esteem them, and to fear us.”230 The Pueblo did learn to fear the colonists who often remained in Nuevo Mexico, despite its

174 poverty, in order to enjoy a life of privilege at expense of the Native American residents.231 The settlers took what they desired and would “eat and drink…and have no desire to abandon the said land; on the contrary they want to …remain there for their rest of their lives.”232 Although Espinosa’s vignette of the colonists depicts an unlikely, orgiastic contentment among the settlers, the thefts and primacy that the early conquering settler soldiers enjoyed were accurate descriptions of behaviors that the Pueblo learned to fear. The events of 1582 exemplified the perception of Spanish soldiers that the administrators of Nuevo Mexico wished to disseminate among the Pueblo. After soldiers of the Rodriguez expedition apprehended the thieves of three horses, “the friars devised a theatrical ploy to rescue the guilty from the chopping block.”233 Fearful that their execution could ignite a revolt, they willing utilized the opportunity in order to reinforce the perceptions of Franciscans and soldiers that they desired to instill within the pueblo of San Lazaro.234 The missionaries conspired with the soldiers and scripted the events of the execution as a theatrical performance for Pueblo witnesses. As the executioner’s ax was poised to fall upon the first victim, the friars emerged, robed in their formal vestments, harmlessly assaulted the Spanish soldiers and whisked the condemned from the block. “As we pretended that we were going to take them, the Indians who were watching immediately took hold of the said friars and Indians and carried them away to their houses…Due to what had been done and attempted the natives became…terrified of us.”235 The friars intentionally depicted themselves as the saviors of the Native Americans and communicated the image of Spanish settlers, and soldiers especially, as threats. However, the Pueblo peoples of Nuevo Mexico were not strangers to ritual theatre. Katsina dances, seasonal ceremonials and ritual performances of the time of emergence were frequent pre-Hispanic religious observances. Adult initiates within the katsina cult could observe a ritual and differentiate the dancer from the katsina that the dancer performed.236 Similarly, the Pueblo who witnessed this spectacle understood the message of protection and salvation that the friars offered without necessarily, starkly correlating the soldiers with the forces of violence and mortal peril that they embodied during the ceremony.237

175 In time, the savagery and foreignness of the exotic strangers began to diminish in tandem. Years and decades revealed cultural similarities and parallel experiences that familiarized the subsequent descendents from Nueva España migrants. Men farmed and hunted, sometimes in competition with one another and sometimes in cooperation. Despite Franciscan displeasure, pueblo hunters and craftspeople traded regularly with their Spanish counterparts, exchanging language and ideas along with their goods. “Recipes, cures and curses, and words in their languages passed back and forth, forming small cultural sutures. As soon as Pueblo boys taught Spanish boys to crack piñon nuts, snare a rabbit, and find the local hot springs, the newcomers lost their unfamiliarity.”238 Within the imposed confines of domesticity, Pueblo women lived lives as necessary for the success of their communities as their Spanish corollaries and received as little recognition in public.239 Sexual relationships blossomed between Native American and Spanish colonists with increasing frequency and were noteworthy only when contested by litigation or disgruntled third parties. Similarly, the notable absence of any mention of Pueblo midwives who consoled Spanish mothers or the Spanish laborers who commiserated with Pueblo farmers during times of drought within the extant historical record testifies to their conventionality. Moreover, the impoverished context of Nuevo Mexico drew Pueblo and Spanish cultures even closer together. “Except for the dozen or more interrelated Spanish families of landholders, tribute collectors, and colonial officials who put on airs, Pueblo and Spanish commoners sharing clothing, food ways, and subsistence, soon looked not so different.”240 With few affluent exceptions, by the end of the sixteenth century, the constituents of Nuevo Mexico began to share goods and spaces, staples and fashions, lifestyles and cultures. Pueblo and Spanish colonists added a veneer of familiarity over the exoticism in their perceptions of one another, initiating a deeper phase of colonial contact that continued the processes of interaction and adaptation.

176 CHAPTER FOUR

BETWEEN CONVERSION AND REVOLT: RELIGIOUS RESISTANCE, ENGAGEMENT, AND THE ROAD TO REVOLUTION

In 1629, Father Fray Roque de Figueredo finally arrived in the rich missionary field of Nuevo Mexico “with great zeal for the conversion and salvation of those souls.” He had traveled in the company of “thirty other friars…[each] sent by the great zeal of the Catholic king, Philip IV” to reinforce the evangelical efforts of the Franciscan friars of the province.1 He emerged from the long journey with an indefatigable spirit but a worn body that suffered from “very poor health” that marked him as “destined and endowed by God for this conversion through suffering…as He did with Saint Paul.”2 With his divine favor revealed through his affliction and his local privilege guaranteed by his personal history with the new custodio of Nuevo Mexico, the Spanish friar had no difficulty procuring a fine, horse-drawn cart to convey him into the nearby pueblos. Though he suffered from the privations of the trail and was nervous that “his strength would fail before he could actually begin converting souls,” the experienced friar knew the impact such an entrance would engender and the importance of presenting himself as a powerful spiritual and physical leader of the Spanish people.3 Thus, he garnered a military escort and availed himself of every advantage that he could in order to impress upon the local Native Americans his might and due respect. While still over “fifty-six leagues from the of Santa Fe,” his caravan of Spanish migrants arrived within “the province of Zuni” at the pueblo of Hawikuh. Fray Roque marveled as the native population “having tendered their good will and their arms,” welcomed the weary missionaries with “rejoicing…[and,] with the same impulse and appearance [as Spanish Catholics, received] the Franciscan friars as if they had already held intercourse with them for a long time.”4 Roque ruminated that this reception was portentous and “understood very well that this visit was ordained of God.”5 As his Indian hosts escorted the band of Spanish migrants into the village, he was shocked and moved to note “they had some slight knowledge of the holy cross [likely] from some Mexican Indians who had happened to pass by there in the early times when the Spaniards had first entered New Spain, and it inspired such devotion in them that they

177 always worshipped it and offered it meal.”6 By this sign, Fray Roque knew that the hand of God had led him here. “It seems quite evident,” reflected the friar “that God kept his vineyard in readiness for these workers.”7 From the stirring of his heart, the Franciscan mendicant recognized this pueblo, which had witnessed such blood shed and Indian hostility in the past, as his ordained mission. This was exactly the sort of missionary assignment that Father Fray Roque de Figueredo had dreamt of when he had first begun to imagine a life free from the confines of conventual life. Among the Zuni nation, here in the kingdom of Nuevo Mexico, he would have the opportunity to model San Francisco’s piety for heathens and surround himself with more than abstract thought, ecclesiastical bureaucracy and pious friars. For years he had diligently observed the routine of his monastic community. He had sung and prayed, read and preached. He had quenched his appetite for learning with theology and alleviated his boredom by devoting himself to “the ecclesiastical chant, harmony…plain music [and] the playing of instruments for the choir, such as the organ, bassoon, and cornet.”8 However, the work of his soul, for which he was called to renounce the comforts of his position as “one of the of the province of the Holy Gospel,” could only be found in the world, administering to the unconverted.9 Although well esteemed by his colleagues in Nueva España, his heart anxiously yearned to lend aid and reap the harvest of souls for the imminent coming of the Kingdom of God.10 He leveraged his august position as a of the province of Mexico and applied his influence during the appointment of Fray Alonso de Benavides to wring an appointment to this frontier missionary territory.11 Once the caravan was amidst the people of Hawikuh, “In order to make these people understand the true veneration that they should show the friars whenever they met them, the governor and the soldiers kissed their feet, kneeling before them, and urged the Indians to do the same, which they did.” Over the next hour, the newly appointed governor, Don Francisco Manuel de Silva Nieto, negotiated with the apparent cacique of that pueblo “for lodging for the friars”. The following day, Fray Roque, garbed in his most formal attire processed into the recently acquired, humble dwelling and sanctified it as “the first church of that province.” Kneeling before a makeshift altar with the Zuni and Spanish crowded behind him, he intoned a celebratory mass. When he completed the

178 performance of the sacrament, the appointed soldiers hoisted “the victorious banner of the cross” and the missionary turned to his new congregation to recite the Requerimiento by the dim interior light, clamming possession of the region “both in the name of the and in that of the king of Spain.”12 In the cramped confines of the sanctuary, Father Fray Roque stood before the teaming sea of Zuni and, “Through the interpreters that he had brought along” sought to explicate the reasons for the Spanish incursion. He explained as clearly as he could that he came only “to deliver them from the miserable of the devil and from the utter darkness of their idolatry, and to make them inhabitants of that great House (thus they are wont to call heaven)”, stressing the importance of his task in light “of the coming of the Son of God to the world.”13 His new neighbors listened politely and “with great attention.” The learned friar recognized in their attention the mark of an intelligent and understanding people but questioned the source and significance of their subsequent obedience as “they at once started to serve the friars by bringing them water, firewood, and other necessary things.”14 After an afternoon of celebratory gunfire, military displays of mock skirmishes, and awesome horse races, the governor and soldiers proceeded to Santa Fe the following day to continue their settlement into the colony.15 Father Fray Roque remained, and chose as his companions: Fray Agustin Cuellar, priest and fellow linguist;16 Fray Francisco de la Madre de Dios, a Native American lay from Nueva España;17 and three Spanish soldiers noted as “men of ability and adapted to that conversion.”18 Though he was hesitant to celebrate the Indians welcome and hospitality as the “first fruits” of conversion, he was eager to convey the message of Christianity to these heathen people. When the Spanish caravan disembarked the following morning and he turned to the curious faces of the Zuni who crowded around them in the plaza, the Hawikuh mission of La Purisima Concepcion began.19 Father Fray Roque’s reticence proved well reasoned. Despite what he initially perceived as promising behavior that paralleled the façade of Christianity, the Zuni congregation in Hawikuh rejected the call to Catholic conversion that Fray Roque promulgated upon his entrance of the village. The cacique quickly informed him that neither he nor his people desired conversion or baptism “because with the water of baptism they would have to die.”20 The longer he stayed among the Zuni the more he

179 became aware of the variety of their non-Christian ways. He became convinced that “They are great idolaters” and increasingly troubled for the success of his mission as he observed his congregation’s worshipful devotion to fire, serpents and “many other forms of idolatry” sustained by the false authority and brutal intimidation of their “old sorcerers.”21 Nonetheless, the Spanish friar applied himself to reaping “a vast harvest, converting and baptizing innumerable souls” even though he was frequently obstructed in this labor by “many dangers from the priests of the idols.” However, through his apostolic efforts and steady influence, he believed that he ushered “those people into a state of much better living.” His missionary attention focused upon impressing and wining over the young children and emphasized the less doctrinal elements of Christian living. “The boys with the best voices especially, he at once taught organ chant, which enhances the mass and the divine service with much .”22 Fray Roque knew that music could uplift the spirit and inspire “the devotion of all.”23 The canny friar applied himself to learning the languages and ways of his Native American host community.24 He had experience framing Catholic piety within indigenous religious terms and was theologically proficient enough to do so effectively.25 Over the following year, initial Zuni resistance reconfigured into an ambivalent admixture of acceptance, continued defiance, love and resentment. However, when his pedagogical guidance “had converted almost all the people, the sorcerer priests returned to urge them to revolt. By this event he and his companions suffered innumerable hardships, but they withstood them all with great valor and spirit.”26 Even the cacique of the pueblo “urged his people ‘to throw that foreign priest out,’ but as the friar’s presence deeply divided the community, he was not expelled.”27 Fray Roque endured native resistance and renewed religious hostilities. He had insinuated himself into the community too thoroughly to be neatly excised. Although neighboring Zuni pueblos rejected Catholicism and rebuffed the presence of missionaries all around him through the repeated martyring of his peers, he survived. Fray Francisco de Porras entered the Zuni territories to convert the natives and was soon dispatched by poison. “Because of their witchcraft and idolatry the [Zuni] Indians also martyred the blessed

180 Fray Francisco Letrado28 and Fray Martin de Arvide.”29 However, Father Fray Roque survived and his presence among the pueblo was tolerated as long as he chose to stay. The tale of Father Fray Roque de Figueredo illuminates many of the contours of early religious contact between Franciscan friars and the Pueblo of Nuevo Mexico. His perceptions of the constituents of his mission congregation and the perception of his authority that he sought to instill were typical of early Franciscan experiences. His manner of evangelism and the emphasis of his ministry likewise paralleled a trend among the mendicants of the region that contributed to more successful interactions and religious expressions. Although the strength of his vocation, the success of his ecclesiastical career, and depth of his preparation exceed generalizations regarding the missionaries of the province, it marked him as an ideal if not a typical missionary friar. However, it is these differences and the narrative ellipses in his biography that suggest the breadth of his experiences among the Pueblo.30 This learned friar was a skilled theologian who demonstrated a willingness to negotiate, adapt to and partially understand Native American beliefs. The continued presence of indigenous religious leaders within his mission bounds indicated that he was willing to tolerate their presence or ignore their deviant practice. Fray Roque demonstrated that, as Franciscan friars learned the languages and customs of the surrounding peoples actively by study or passively by immersion and proximity, the two peoples became an integrated if heterogeneous whole. In expressing an example of one man and one community’s process of religious encounter and negotiation, the definitor from Nuevo España showed that the Franciscans, their missionary and religious experiences were not uniform. The religious life and the dynamics of religious encounter during the first half of the seventeenth century in Nuevo Mexico were more complex than earlier histories have recognized. After Don Juan de Onate’s Entrada and before the increasingly violent and successful succession of revolts by Native Americans drove the colony towards revolution, the friars and the pueblo met one another within a process of religious negotiation. Initially, both peoples rejected religious dialogue and exchange. However, time, proximity, cultural similarities, and genuine affective appeal drew these two people to examine and interact with the religious worlds of the other. Pueblo and Franciscans encountered and negotiated elements from the religious lives and cosmologies of their

181 colonial counterparts. Both groups participated in a continuous, but non-static relationship of rejection, acceptance, subtle religious incorporation and hybridization. The experiences of the peoples of Nuevo Mexico, both Native American and Franciscan, experienced their religious lives within one amalgamated field of religious variation that included Spanish, Catholic and Pueblo religious components. The colonial performance of religion among the pueblos of Nuevo Mexico included the presence of religious elements initially introduced by Pueblos and Franciscans but engaged by both. Diffuse currents of ideologies, religious authorities and cosmological concretizing practices streamed through the colonial, missionary province. Religious traditions from the Franciscan missionaries that could be readily identified as Catholic were infused with conceptions and understandings from the indigenous and colonial populations of Nueva España. Religious traditions rooted in the geography and people that served as the base setting of the New Mexico colony similarly permeated the religious atmosphere of the colony and mingled with their alien counterparts. These religious elements were embraced and rejected to varying extents, hybridized or practiced side be side by the participants in Nuevo Mexico, Franciscan or Puebloan. The peoples and inhabitants of colonial New Mexico each engaged a similar spectrum of ideas, conflicting as the constituent elements could be, and brought their religious traditions, or religions, into contact. Within that contact zone of many religious ideas and practices, traditions changed, transitioned, and recombined in the practices of their historical consumers in polyvalent variation.

Pueblo Resistance to Religious Engagement Initial interactions between Pueblo and Franciscan missionaries were often characterized by the rejection of each group by the other and hesitancy to engage the religious content of their colonial counterparts. Throughout the history of Nuevo Mexico, cultural contact and exchange became deeper and more significant with each successive generation. In time friars and Pueblo practitioners exhibited evidence of religious variation prompted by cultural interactions with one another. Though such foreign elements became increasingly intrinsic to the practices and religious worlds of each, early reactions of each people to the other demonstrated their resistance and

182 unwillingness to negotiate the alternate, aberrant religious order in the colony. The resistance exhibited by each people was not limited to a temporary, initial reaction. It did not dissolve to be replaced by acceptance. It persisted, augmented and refashioned, even alongside of the eventual cultural engagement. Native Americans resistance to the forces of colonization occurred in subtle and overt expressions from the earliest moments of contact.31 If Pueblo listened attentively and politely to Franciscans without the intention of obedience, their humoring of the friars was a form of resistance to missionary demands of pious conformity. When the Indian inhabitants of the region fled before the approaching Spanish invaders rather than interact with them or subject themselves to misfortunes associated with the foreign host, they resisted engaging the other. Each time a Pueblo exhibited hesitancy in accepting the authority or direction of or religious cosmology articulated by the Franciscan missionaries he or she demonstrated subtle, sometimes temporary, resistance to the colonial world.32 Native American resistance of colonial forces included resistance to the religion of the colonizers. Though violent military opposition might appear to focus upon royal representatives and martial forces such rebellions simultaneously articulated Native American rejection of Christianity. During their armed resistance, the Pueblo rejected engaging the missionaries in ongoing religious dialogue. Moreover, such battles and conflicts were religiously relevant for they expressed the Pueblos’ rejection of the first step in the Franciscan model of Christian conversion. By wielding arms against the forces of Christendom and the Spanish empire, they expressed a clear refusal to engage in the purgation of their old selves. Dissident Pueblo refused to commit themselves to the path of conversion modeled by San Francisco and championed by his mendicant order. When the Native Americans of Nuevo Mexico fought the soldiers from Nueva España, they simultaneously did not follow the friars’ direction to cultivate the sting of conscience against the world, the flesh and devil.33 When, in time, some Pueblo accepted the presence and dictates of the friars, situated the foreign figures within their own religious cosmology or embraced the Christian messages of their colonial subjugators, resistance to Catholicism and colonial authorities did not dissipate.34

183 Native American critique and antagonism of the colonial order was a continuous component of Nuevo Mexico’s colonial culture and the history of its religious interactions. Though resistance to the colonial regime took many forms, overt violence was a component of interactions and colonial culture from Coronado’s entrance and manifested throughout Onate’s prolonged occupation of the territory. Such resistance was present even within the first year of the colony’s foundation in the explosive bloodshed of the Acoma Revolt of 1598. The dramatic event began a thread of Native American resistance that became part of the fabric of colonial culture and committed the colony to the path that led inexorably to revolution. In late October of 1598, Governor don Juan de Onate convened several pueblos around Santo Domingo and treated with their representatives, including those from Acoma. This was the convocation at which he informed the Pueblos of the intentions of the newly arrived Spanish colonists and commanded that they submit in obedience to the sovereign reign of Christianity and King Felipe II. Through the lag of double translation, Onate warned the representative Pueblos of the threat of damnation but promised those who pledged vassalage and obedience “the knowledge of God and the king our lord, on which depended the salvation of their souls and their living securely and undisturbed in their nations, maintained in justice and order, safe in their homes, protected from their enemies, and free from all harm.”35 The Acoma representatives, along with the other attending Pueblo, knelt in expression of acquiescence. Thereafter, according to the Onate, the inhabitants were members of a Spanish colony, subject to Spanish authorities and laws and accountable to Spanish requisitions and reprimands.36 However, Governor Onate remained justifiably wary of the Native American residents of . In November of 1598, approximately one month after the ritual submission of the surrounding pueblos, Onate received a report from Captain Gaspar Perez de Villagra that when the latter was returning from the pursuit and execution of several deserters he had encountered several Indians that he believed to be from Acoma.37 Fearful of their intentions, the captain fled into an oncoming snow front without sufficient provisions and accompanied only by his steed and canine companion. When his horse stumbled into a pit trap lined with sharpened spikes and perished, Villagra became convinced that Acomas had laid the trap to engineer his death. The

184 terrified Villagra retreated further into the desert where a party of surprised Spanish caballeros discovered him several days later.38 Returned safely to civilization, Villagra related his ordeal and suspicions to Onate in detail.39 Even without the hysterical account of Villagra, Acoma was a foreboding presence within the territory of Nuevo Mexico and the minds of the Spanish colonists. Acoma stood atop a massive sandstone mesa that soared 360 feet above the surrounding terrain. The forbidding, sheer bluffs, treacherous, highly defensible pathways and terraced architecture of the pueblo declared Acoma a nearly impregnable position.40 Francisco Sanchez Chamuscado had recognized Acoma pueblo as the “best stronghold in existence even among Christians.”41 Such a military advantage in the clutches of non- Christians posed an intimidating prospect to the Spanish soldiers and missionaries. Several years earlier, Francisco Vazquez, cowed by the might of the Acomas, remarked that although the local inhabitants had greeted the Spanish force “peacefully…they could have spared themselves the trouble and stayed on their rock and we would not have been able to trouble them in the least.”42 The mere presence of the Acoma was a looming threat to Spanish dreams of dominion throughout Nuevo Mexico. In December of 1598, Maestre de campo Juan de Zaldivar faced this hesitancy and intimidation as he stood before the Acoma mesa, urged by deprivation to wring supplies from the Acoma. Just days past, Zaldivar and the thirty soldiers under his command had returned to San Juan from an exploratory expedition upon the Great Plains and received awaiting orders to rendezvous with Onate among the Zuni. The governor awaited their reinforcement before embarking on a search for a safe harbor for Spanish galleons upon the Gulf of California, understood by the Spanish colonists to lie just west of the Pueblo territories. Ill prepared for the desert winter, Zaldivar’s company detoured from their plotted course to Acoma for emergency provisions.43 Upon arrival at the mesa, Zaldivar, wary of Acoma might, directed Captain Geronimo Marquez and seven soldiers to sojourn to the top and request the needed supplies. When Marquez deemed the goods provided by his Native American hosts insufficient for his expeditions, he took several hostages. As soon as Zaldivar discovered the brewing tension, he immediately ordered Marquez to “let the chiefs go.”44 He was anxious to not antagonize the Acoma and “thought that in this manner, as the Indians

185 gained confidence in us, they would furnish the provisions more willingly.”45 After the resolution of the hostage situation and an ensuing round of trade negotiations in which Zaldivar promised Spanish iron hatchets and other trade goods for additional corn flour, the Acoma were granted two days to satisfy the colonists’ demands. The Acoma used these days to make preparations for the return of the Spanish soldiers. The Zaldivar Company returned and mounted the mesa on December 4, 1598 and encountered willing if not friendly obedience. However, the Acoma delayed delivering the full amount of ground corn that the colonists expected, inviting the Spanish into various homes to assist them in finishing gathering the provisions.46 When Zaldivar permitted the soldiers to divide into small groups and follow the Pueblo into their homes to acquire the flour, the Acoma slew the isolated soldiers with arrows, clubs and even rocks.47 Before the Spanish force could mount an organized defense, Zaldivar, ten soldiers and two servants fell before the coordinated fury of the Acoma. Five trained Spanish soldiers, armed but helpless before the overwhelming attack and terrified as they witnessed the slaughter of their friends, threw themselves from the top of the mesa rather than fall into Acoma hands. The desperate tactic proved profitable for four of the colonists who landed upon sand dunes at the base of the drop and emerged broken but alive. The fifth, however, came down upon the rocks that covered the surrounding desert floor and “had his flustered brains knocked out.”48 According to the historical narrative of Villagra, the entire pueblo, including men and women, young children and the elderly, fell upon the Spanish host in an overwhelming fury. As one Spanish soldier languished in pain, wounded on the battlefield, an elderly Acoma denied him mercy and smashed his head “When from the topmost of a house/From on its parapet, a mighty rock/Was by a weak old woman thrust.”49 When word of the hostile reception of his soldiers at Acoma reached Onate, the governor promptly returned to his base of operations at San Juan Bautista to face the first significant challenge of his regional sovereignty and the advance of Christendom that he had experienced. Onate knew trepidation as he considered the appropriate response. He was hampered by embarrassment by the flaunting of his proprietorship and guilt at the loss of Juan de Zaldivar, his second-in-command and nephew.50 The attention of the entire colony was fixed in rapt suspense upon the governor. The Pueblo were fearful of

186 the scope of Spanish reprisal and the Spanish colonists eagerly expected retributive action to avenge their fellow colonists. Onate felt certain that if the Acoma were not swiftly and overwhelmingly humbled through punitive force, then claims of Spanish dominion were a farce and hopes of Spanish sovereignty throughout the region must crumble.51 “The Franciscan priests within the colony concurred, urging ‘just war’ by a Christian prince to quell ‘rebellion’ and preserve the peace.”52 The governor accepted the task with recognition of dual significances to the Acoma’s punishment: the instilment of fear into the Pueblo and the promotion of Native American conversions to Catholicism. For, he reflected, “should they lose fear, it would inevitably follow…that the teaching of the holy gospel would be hindered which I am under obligation to prevent.”53 However, even with his response shaped by the performance his sacred duty, Onate acknowledged the right of filial vengeance and reciprocal violence, mandated by Spanish virtue that fell upon Zaldivar’s younger brother. He charged a military company with the task of humbling the Acomas to the yoke of Spanish rule but granted Sargento Mayor Vincente de Zaldivar, his own younger nephew who was also stationed in Nuevo Mexico and the brother of the deceased, permission to lead the force. Although his pride had been wounded and he still grieved for his nephew, Governor Onate reasoned that “a measured response…might bolster the image of the friars in the eyes of their potential converts and allow the missionaries to follow safely on the heels of the military men.”54 He was confident that a population of Christianized Indians would be more passible and willing constituents of the Spanish colony. Thus, the pacification of the Indians and the success of the colony depended upon the success of the Franciscan missions. To that end, the governor commended Zaldivar to recognize the simplicity and savagery of the Acoma and “make more use of royal clemency than of the severity that the case demands.”55 Onate specified that the sargento mayor should clearly offer the Acomas a peaceful resolution to the situation three times with the non- negotiable terms that the rebels “lay down their arms, surrender the leaders of the rebellion, and abandon their lofty pueblo for another site in the valley below.”56 However, regardless of the Acoma response, the military sortie should unconditionally express the full range of Spanish displeasure upon the pueblo, “burn it to the ground, and leave no stone on stone, so that the Indians may never be able again to inhabit it as an

187 impregnable fortress.”57 If the Acoma rejected Zaldivar’s proffered peace then he was expected to seize every Acoma and subject them to such public punishments, as he considered appropriate. Zaldivar was granted free reign to vent his avenging wrath upon the miscreant Pueblos. Onate ensured that “To execute this punishment as you may see fit, I grant you the same powers I myself hold from his majesty.”58 However, if Juan’s grieving brother chose to restrain his righteous justice in favor of mercy, the governor maintained that he should “seek all possible means to make the Indians believe that you are doing so at the request of the friar with your forces. In this manner, they will recognize the friars as their benefactors and protectors and come to love and esteem them” and yet still “fear us.”59 With fresh orders and flush provisions, Sargento Mayor Vincente de Zaldivar led a troop of seventy armed caballeros and their Spanish mounts out of San Juan Bautista and into the snows of the desert winter. Despite the assembled Native American figures crowding the edge of the mesa “yelling, brandishing the swords of dead Spaniards, letting fly arrows and spears, hurling down rocks and chunks of ice,” Zaldivar ritually shouted offers of peace from the base of the rock three times.60 The Acoma would have had difficulty understanding the Spanish commander’s offer had they been able to hear him. However, given Zaldivar’s latent hostility and burning desire for vengeance, the tone of his offer belied the reality of such a possibility. The soldiers waited but received no formal response, although numerous horses fell as early casualties in the conflict to several, well-concealed animal traps. “Camped a little way off, the Spaniards could faintly hear the Acomas’ all-night war dance. The sweet pungence of juniper-wood smoke seemed out of place.”61 The following morning, the Pueblo overcame the language barrier, conveyed a message of violent hostility and manifest their autonomy from Spanish desires by openly attacking with a volley of arrows that killed the horses of two soldiers. Certain of the intent of the Acoma, Zaldivar regrouped and issued the order to attack at three o’clock on January 22.62 After hours of unsuccessful assaults upon the top of the mesa, the sargento mayor ordered a feign upon the northern face of the rock while he and Captain Villagra led ten other soldiers in a covert attempt to scale the less populated, southern bluff. Freed from the attentions of the majority of the Acoma defenders, the stealthy team made their way

188 up the steep cliff, sheltering from Acoma attacks behind the craggy rock face. Although their assent was successfully halted, the Spanish soldiers were able to hold their position throughout the night. The following morning the entrenched soldiers hoisted up two small, swivel-mounted cannons to within range and began the artillery bombardment of the pueblo. The pueblo was soon breached, the cannons advanced and turned upon the residents. Despite the ensuing massacre and the Acoma’s ritual offering of turkeys and blankets to secure peace and reestablish the continuity of the pueblo, the Spanish soldiers maintained the siege and barrage of shot throughout the third day.63 When he spurned the Pueblo offer of surrender, Zaldivar revealed his vengeful intent and sought to attain a decisive and aggrandizing victory. The twenty-fourth of January saw a second attempt at surrender, but “as attackers began herding Acomas into a kiva under arrest,” a skirmish developed into another round of violence in which the Spanish set the pueblo ablaze. In the wake of choking smoke, flames and approximately eight hundred deceased Acomas, the improbable Spanish victory arrived on January 25, the feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul.64 “The Franciscans of New Mexico, recognizing the foundational import of this singular event, adopted the Conversion of the Apostle as the banner of their ministry to the Pueblo Indians.”65 The Spanish colonists, including the friars, understood the fall of Acoma as the symbolic end of Pueblo resistance. The missionaries expected this traumatic experience to inaugurate an era of Native American cooperation and humble supplication to the path to Christian conversion that they would illuminate. Despite expectations, Native American resistance to Christianity and Spanish occupation did not end with the fall of Acoma for the saga and the significance of the events at Acoma did not end with the Spanish victory. The defeat of the Acoma seeded fear throughout the province that only intensified in the shadow of the shambling column of Acoma prisoners, forced to march up the Rio Grande, through each adjacent pueblo on their way to face uncertain judgment at a public trial. Although the eastern Pueblo had been intimidated by Acomas from their unassailable home for generations and portrayed them to the Coronado expedition as “marauders feared throughout the land,” the overwhelming destruction of regional natives by the colonizing force sent trepidation throughout the hearts of similarly discontent Indians.66 Native Americans who embraced the new inhabitants of Nuevo Mexico were not spared the fear that followed the Acoma

189 Revolt. After negotiating and interacting with the defeated Acoma, Captain Villagra asserted that those Pueblo who were hostile to the Spanish colonists “wanted nothing more than to kill all the Spaniards in the army, and after disposing of them to kill the Indians at the pueblos of Zia, Santo Domingo, and San Juan Bautista.”67 The captain maintained that the violence expressed against the Spaniards was the vanguard of a larger feeling of anger directed towards all those who supported the Nuevo Mexico colony. Though ameliorated somewhat by the routing of the Acoma, the scale of the revolt made Spanish colonists apprehensive of their overwhelmingly Native American neighbors. During the battle for the mesa top, rumors of a possible attack upon San Juan Bautista by the surrounding Pueblos had emboldened the suspicions of Spanish settlers. “Onate ordered musketeers and small field pieces to the four entrances…[and] the Spanish women, with so many of their men absent in the field…organized a wives’ brigade.”68 The wives of the soldier colonists, with the encouragement of governor, armed themselves and took to the rooftops and balconies to patrol their village. Although Villagra’s eulogizing narrative recounted the courage and will of the women, who with, “gallant spirit…did promenade / The roofs and lofty terraces”, such widespread mobilization against shadowy threats demonstrated the permeation of fear throughout the Spanish migrant population.69 It was within this pitched climate of timorous anxiety that the colonial judiciary authorities of Nuevo Mexico arraigned the Acoma prisoners. Governor Onate presided over the climactic trial, held as an exhibition for the whole colony from the pueblo of Santo Domingo. The recently renamed Keresan pueblo was more centrally located within the province and forty miles removed from the anxieties and tensions that plagued San Juan Bautista. The governor granted the captives a Spanish advocate who valiantly pled that, as child-like, uncivilized people the Acoma were ignorant of and unable to understand colonial laws.70 However, Onate contended that they had, through their representatives at his convocation, sworn allegiance to King Felipe II and as his royal subjects were beholden to the full range of Spanish responsibilities and penal consequences. Even before the trial commenced, Pueblo and Spanish residents of Nuevo Mexico knew the Acoma would be made examples of the consequences of dissidence. Their expectations were fulfilled as the appointed crier announced the governor’s ruling,

190 which was echoed in translation for the assembled Pueblo. All captive Acoma, male and female, over the age of twelve were sentenced to twenty years of personal servitude. Acoma males that Spanish magistrates judged older than twenty-five and thus legally adults within Spanish colonial law were subjected to the amputation of one foot in addition to their bondage. Although “Acoma children under twelve [were] declared innocent of their parents’ crimes” the governor subjected the girls to custodianship of Fray Alonso Martinez, the Franciscan superior, and condemned the boys to the charge of Vincente de Zaldivar.71 Elderly prisoners deemed too infirm for amputation and enslavement were scattered among the surrounding pueblos and sentenced to house arrest. The consequences of this sentence were not entirely what the Spanish governor intended. The dissemination of the Acoma elders circulated the tale of the massacre at Acoma and proliferated their antagonism and resentment throughout the new adoptive pueblos of their Keresan-speaking neighbors. As the wisdom and experiences of the culturally varied Pueblo elders mingled within each of the pueblos so too did their perspectives of the Spanish colonists and the forces underlying their occupation: military strength and Christian indoctrination. Although they were spared the trials of slavery, the loss of Acoma children to the permanent custody of friars and soldiers resonated with the deepest fears of many Pueblo parents throughout the province. Such fears of vulnerability and realizations of the tenuousness of life beside the Spanish were fertilized by the fate of two Hopi men who allegedly had been captured fighting alongside the Acoma. They were each sentenced to lose their right hand and be set free to serve as walking memorials to the hazards of resistance and the cross-pueblo scope of Spanish retaliations.72 As the supposed Hopi returned to their homes, their wounds seeded reasonable doubts regarding the accuracy and judiciousness of Spanish retribution.73 According to trial documentation, “the Indians whose hands and feet were to be cut of were punished on different days” at Santo Domingo and in surrounding pueblos.74 Captain Luis de Gasco Velasco lamented in 1601 in personal correspondence to the viceroy that “twenty-four Indians had their feet cut off as punishment; all those more than twenty years of age were taken as slaves; those younger were put under surveillance for twenty years…it was pitiful.”75 Historian John Kessell reveals sufficient evidence to

191 question the veracity of the veteran captain’s account and avers that the lack of subsequent reference to “a one-footed Acoma slave in the [extant] record… raises reasonable doubt” as to whether or not the Spanish colonists ever performed the requisite maimings.76 As a host of slaves with one foot created more of a hindrance than opportunity, the Spanish colonists may have used the opportunity as a theatrical performance intended to commend the Franciscans to the Native American populations. Soldiers might have assembled the residence in each pueblo to witness the dismemberment of Acoma prisoners “raise high the sword or axe, then on cue have the Franciscans intercede, as Onate had prescribed to Zaldivar.”77 However, the lack of documented Franciscan intervention for the Acoma during the siege, throughout the subsequent trial or within any extant documentation when Onate was so willing to record his humble sacrifices for the success of the friars’ missions indicate that the missionaries were unwilling to promote leniency. The Franciscan friars participated in the same fears and suspicions as other Spanish colonists and supported the unsympathetic dispensation of vengeance and royal justice.

Franciscan Resistance within Religious Engagement Franciscan friars within Nuevo Mexico resisted participating in religious dialogue and exchange with the Pueblo. Though initial expressions of Native American resistance were more often violent and bloody, the friars were no less committed to repulsing Native American cultural influences or rejecting the Pueblo and their religion. If the Franciscan mode of resistance was less immediately sanguinary, it was no less violent to Native American identities or destructive of indigenous cultures. Just as the Native Americans did not heed the friars’ prodding to wield the sting of conscience against the temptations of the devil and material world, the friars came to reject the Pueblo as sympathetic, human subjects. The migrant mendicants instead often understood the objects of their missions as manifestations of the sinful world and its diabolic regent. That is to say that the missionaries quickly resisted religious exchange with the Pueblo by equating Pueblo religious expressions with idolatry and devil-worship. They then dismissed the Native Americans of the missionary province as unworthy of engagement

192 by reimagining and revaluating the Pueblos through the veil of their abhorrence at such practices. Within the first generation of colonial residency in Nuevo Mexico, the Franciscan missionaries understood Pueblo religious expressions not as heresy to be corrected but as idolatry to be purged. The friars reasoned that the indigenous Native American population had not yet been exposed to sufficient Catholic education or Pueblo culture adequately infused with Christian practices to hold the intellectually impoverished denizens accountable to the rigors Christian orthodoxy.78 Fray Benavides presented the royal court with his summation of the Pueblo by noting, “above all they are very great idolaters.”79 The entire missionary territory was rife with “delinquents and apostates” who only grew in strength and number.80 The periphery communities of the Hopi and Zuni were havens for anti-Christian sentiment where “all the people…cling closely to their idolatry.”81 The Franciscans condemned “as idolatrous, pagan, and diabolical everything [they] associated with the Pueblos’ kachina religion – kivas, stone shrines, feathered prayer sticks and painted ‘idols’ of wood or rock, offerings of sacred cornmeal, tests of endurance for entry into secret societies, and the ubiquitous native priests or ‘sorcerers’.”82 The earliest observations of the Coronado Expedition dismissively categorized the Pueblo as idolaters, noting, “They worship the sun and the water.”83 Later friars echoed such perceptions and noted the omnipresent pervasion of idolatry among each pueblo. “Fire they hold in high veneration. It would be an endless task to attempt to describe all the different forms of idolatry, for from the house of only one old Indian sorcerer I once took out more than a thousand idols of wood, painted in the fashion of a game of nine pins, and I burned them in the public square.”84 The friars that journeyed from Nueva España were familiar with the constant need to extirpate idolatry from among rural communities. Native Americans through Spanish colonies were often charged “as idolaters…for having kept small figurines and other idols…[whether or not] they have used them for idolatrous worship”.85 Such accusation allowed priests to inspect and encourage Christian devotion as well as seize valuables for support of their ministries.86 However, the persistence of perceived idolatry among the Pueblo testified to the centrality of the Franciscans view of the Native Americans of Nuevo Mexico as too immature for accusations of heresy.87 Intellectual insufficiency and

193 persistent idolatry did not condemn the Pueblo as irredeemably evil or without virtue in the friars’ regard. Indeed, Spanish colonists “admired the Pueblos for their industry, cleanliness, and craft, but they despised their religious ceremonies: their masked dances in the plazas and their secret meetings in underground chambers called kivas, which the Spanish referred to as ‘mosques.’”88 Even the hated, idolatrous practices of the Pueblo were given a veneer of respect by associating them with the religious practices of Muslim Turks who the Spanish understood as quasi-civilized enemies of Christendom. Though idolatry did not mark Pueblo practitioners as irredeemable, it delineated their practices as definitively non-Christian. During the first years of residency, the Franciscans of Nuevo Mexico perceived the orientation and subject of indigenous worship to be the Christian devil. The absence of Christianity among the Pueblo did not create a benign ignorance but a beachhead for the demonic antagonists of the Church. The devil “ensnared and blinded” the child-like Pueblo from Christian truth through idolatrous practices. “Innumerable were the rituals with which the devil had ensnared this heathen people.”89 Though the unfortunate niños could be pitied or contemptibly distained, such sympathy was not allowed to undermine the need for continual resistance of Native American ways and ideas. The friars observed in Pueblo idolatry similar as they had experience during their tenure in Nueva España.90 However, the “Franciscans regarded Pueblo religion as devil worship. Their Christian monotheism viewed the kachina cult as polytheistic idolatry and the Indian priesthoods as infernal foes of Christendom.”91 The Pueblo became so associated with the forces of diabolic influence that their history, culture and persons became viewed relative to such powers. Fray Benavides described the origins of the Pueblo within the province as resulting from an occasion in which, “the devil, as instigator of this discord, [having] embroiled them in…wars against each other, …appeared personally to the faction called Mexicans and told them that he would lead them to the best land in the world.”92 Thus, the Pueblo were linked to the peoples, popular religious practices and heresies that the mendicants experienced in Nueva España but differentiated by the active role of the devil among them. Later in his narrative, Benavides recognized the active hand of the devil in Pueblo history and culture when he posited, “The Teoas nation [have] become master of all the land which the devil designated for them with the iron

194 ball…[and thus] worship the devil with infinite superstitions and idolatries, bloody sacrifices, and devastating wars, even devouring one another.”93 The role of the devil among the Native American congregations was not limited to historical actions or abstract influence. Friars observed one Pueblo man speak “to a large snake as thick as an arm, which coils up when it is about to talk. The whipped ‘lord’ calls to it, and the reptile answers in such a manner that it can be understood. We thought this snake might be the devil, who has them enslaved.”94 The devil could manifest as an embodied being within the physical landscape of Nuevo Mexico.95 Franciscan missionaries did not condemn or dismiss the Pueblo as hopelessly, bound minions of satanic will. The Native Americans of the missionary province were inhabitants within a region rich and teeming with supernatural, demonic presences. “Lacking the light of the gospel and blind in the darkness of their idolatry, they offered infinite souls to the devil in bloody sacrifices,” and consorted with the servants of Hell.96 The Tewa were known to heed the direction of “another demon in a different guise, which was that of an old woman, very tall and extremely thin. Her mouth was large and filled with enormous fangs, which protruded; her breasts, sagging loosely, were long and flabby; claws on her hands, feet, and heels; her head covered with coarse, gray, matted hair.”97 According to the friars, it was the fault of such nefarious figures that the Pueblo “worshipped the devil with infinite superstitions and idolatries, bloody sacrifices, and devastating wars, even devouring one another.”98 In the absence of Franciscan missionaries, demons prowled the lands and hearts of the Pueblo. While overt non-Christian practice persisted within the pueblos, the missionaries re-imagined and condemned their potential congregants and their practices as abhorrent, demonically influenced hazards to the spread of Christianity. “The collective consciousness of missionary society demonized Native American identity and literally demonized Native Americans.”99 Franciscan missionaries perceived the diabolic idolatry of Native Americans to be the essential orienting and structuring institution of Native American society and identity. Thus, when the friars understood Pueblo worship as centered upon demons, Indian society and identity were conceptually bound to demonic- influences and framed as forces to be resisted.

195 The presence of demonic influence within the Pueblo world was a prompt for resisting religious exchange and devaluating the Pueblo people as well as an invaluable opportunity for validation of their own religious views. Early Franciscan perceptions of Pueblo religion affirmed their more general conception of Native Americans and their position within a dualistic, morally ambivalent category. Observations of idolatry and perceptions of demonic actors affirmed for the Franciscans the reality of the devil and the permeating presence of the supernatural in a world filled with wonders. “When an attempt was made to establish a large settlement on the site chosen by them, the devil hindered it and prevented the church from being founded there; and these intentions were frustrated by an accursed Indian who killed the chief captain in a war waged on them.”100 The devil was an active foe that they combated through their missions to the Pueblo. The reality of the maleficent forces associated with the indigenous traditions of Nuevo Mexico reinforced Franciscan perceptions of divine activity in the world. That is to say, through the reality of demonic forces evidenced by Pueblo religious practices, the friars were more readily able to affirm and experience the presence of God among their missions. The mendicants attested that God wrought a miracle in 1628 to promote their missionary efforts by transporting a “ named Maria de Jesus de la Concepcion, of the order of Saint Francis, residing in the town of Agreda in the province of Burgos” to Nuevo Mexico “to preach our holy Catholic faith to those savage Indians.”101 In correspondence and testimony to ecclesiastical superiors, several Franciscans from the missionary province piously maintained that she was transported by the aid of the angels that she has as guardians. Her wings are Saint Michael and our father, Saint Francis. She has preached in person our holy Catholic faith in every nation, particularly in our New Mexico where she was carried in the same manner. The custodian angels of its provinces also came in person to get her by command of God, our Lord.102

While such grand expressions of divine intervention were rare, the Franciscans of Nuevo Mexico fervently believed in their possibility and historical reality, even in the face of criticism from their non-missionary peers.103 The divine and demonic forces that contended for the fate of the Nuevo Mexico missions suffused the landscape with supernatural potential. The Indian residents of the region were recognized as so thoroughly permeated by the influences of devils and,

196 consequently, sin that Franciscan friars engaged them as manifestations of the sinful world itself. Consequently, as Pueblo culture and Pueblo people were infused with supernatural, i.e. demonic, forces, the landscape that they inhabited and characterized became similarly infused with supernatural majesty and forces. The colonial world of the missionary province was alive with wonders. Colonial documentation of religious investigations and history include reference to wondrous supernatural events. Among the records of one Franciscan, the recorded testimony of several runaway enslaved Africans, captured in Nuevo Mexico, stated that their captain, who has not been caught yet, has a snake which visibly speaks to him. These arrested negroes declare that they have seen and heard likewise a small stick the size of a finger, which stick speaks and eats like people. When the black captain goes away from his rancheria to steal, the snake goes out first to learn where there are chickens, then it comes to tell him publicly in front of the other negroes…When he is sleeping, the snake rests on his shoulder and awakens him when people come. And other things of this sort 104

The lack of concern or attention given such supernatural occurrences testifies to their accepted reality within Franciscan religious worlds. The sinful nature of the Pueblo bolstered Franciscan perceptions of supernatural powers permeating the landscape of Nuevo Mexico and events of conflict over the success of their success of their conversion of the Pueblo. By evidencing the reality of devils, the Pueblo illuminated the presence of God for the Franciscans and prompted the friars to appraise their potential converts as religiously invaluable and worthy of their missionary labors. If potential Pueblo proselytes became ambivalently positioned within the Franciscan religious framework, Native American religious observations assumed a more prominent position among friars’ practical concerns.105 By incorporating Pueblo into their own religious contexts, the foreign religious elements within colonial life became increasingly relevant and threatening. By extension, the presence of religious practices that impinged upon the sanctity of Catholicism in the missionary province developed into matters of daily experience. The friars that dwelled among the pueblos observed religious variations of concern among the Spanish and Native American populations of the colony.106 The perception and classification of Catholic orthodoxy, heresy and religious deviation became an important component of the religious lives of the Spanish friars in the borderland province. Delineating and maintaining the boundary between

197 Catholic and non-Catholic religious reinforced the Franciscans’ unwillingness to completely analyze or negotiate Pueblo religion and thus their resistance to developing a religious dialogue. Within the spectrum of religious variation that characterized life in Nuevo Mexico, Franciscan missionaries experienced multitudinous articulations of Catholic heresies. Franciscan histories described encounters of divergent religious forms that they asserted obstructed the conversion of the Pueblo and their realization of a theocratic . However, the residents of the borderland province were not neatly delineated into Catholic Spanish and Pueblo adherents of traditional religions. Although the friars recorded encounters of heresy during their time among the pueblos, it was frequently observed among Spanish colonists, not the Pueblo. Some of the compelling and challenging religious encounters for the friars occurred among their fellow Spanish Catholics. Missionaries “complained frequently that the Spaniards who came to the Americas were blasphemous and irreverent and set a poor example of piety for the Indians.”107 Proclamations of the Inquisition of the late sixteenth-century evidence frequent Franciscan experiences of the proliferation of a “kind of independent thinking…in regard to Church doctrine” that may be labeled “doubt”.108 A syllabus of errors produces by the Inquisition of Toledo dedicated one-fifth of its length to the declamation of such heresies. According to the five folio document, envoys of the Inquisition increasingly encountered Catholics “who have said, or affirmed that there is no heaven for the good nor hell for the bad and that there is nothing more than birth and death…or have said heretical like ‘I do not believe,’ ‘I cease to believe’.”109 Such doubts and hesitancy to inculcate missionary-mandated orthodoxy easily took root among the doctrinal fluidity of the enlisted colonists of Nuevo Mexico. However, Inquisition trials indicate that unorthodox religious ideas were more common than doubt or adamant among the colonies of America. Franciscans were more likely to encounter Spanish residents of Nuevo Mexico who embraced original and often unacceptable ideas of “‘God or Lord and the virginity and purity of Our Lady the Virgin Mary’…or who said heretical blasphemies against the heavenly saints…or that said that the soul of man is no more than a breath, and that blood is the soul…[than] anyone [who] did not believe in the creed or doubted any one of the articles of faith.”110 Beginning in

198 the , the Franciscans of Nuevo Mexico employed the powers of the Inquisition to highlight the threat of heresy and spur religious heterogeneity.111 Missionary fears of the proliferation of heresy within their province were exacerbated by the increasingly significant colonial population with mixed ancestry. Examples of Native American religious ceremonies “taking place in a vacuum of Spanish authority, particularly with the attendance and participation of mestizos and persons of other mixed ethnic background, appear in documents from the period.”112 In 1629, Juan Garcia and Captain Bartolome Romero disrupted once such evening ritual as it was being conducted within the church of La Alameda. The ceremony was led by a Pueblo religious leader but attended by a mixed ethnic congregation, including Diego de Santiago a mestizo identified among the crowd.113 Although “no definitive stance can be taken regarding the degree to which Hispanicized mestizos…actively took part in Pueblo ritual,” Inquisition investigations affirm that the friars became increasingly concerned that colonists of racial hybridity might taint the sanctity of Catholicism with Pueblo religion. With the Spanish population and the foundation of Catholicism in the colony under siege by religious tenuousness, doubt and heretical variation, Franciscans were all the more attentive to the reception of Catholicism among the Pueblo. Although religious deviation was the foremost concern of the missionary friars, Franciscans seldom recorded observations of heresy within the Pueblo missions. Pueblo religion was distinctly not Catholicism and therefore less likely to penetrate and augment Franciscan orthodoxy. Franciscan friars considered the Pueblo “perpetual minors in the Faith…[Thus,] Indians who retained their Indian identity were exempt from prosecution by the Inquisition, which was not necessarily a blessing. Mission discipline, depending on the friar in charge, could be much more arbitrary and even sadistic.”114 Although the missionaries observed and persecuted religious deviations among their congregations with fervor, the alternate practices and understandings of the Native Americans were not labeled heresy. The Holy Office of the Inquisition developed a means of differentiating potential heretics from immature practitioners that classified Catholic practitioners into one of two categories: gente de razon, or “people of reason” and gente sin razon, or “people lacking reason.”115 The Franciscans of Nuevo Mexico observed this legal distinction in order “to protect neophyte Indians from prosecution for heretical ideas.

199 Since Indians were gente sin razon, mere children lacking the rational faculties to understand the complexities of the faith, they could not be punished like gente de razon, rational individuals who fully understood the implications of their behavior.”116 Heresy as an official category could only be properly applied to peoples with sufficient rational capacity to understand missionary teachings and could be justifiably held accountable to the Catholic orthodoxy enforced by the Office of the Inquisition. The Pueblo, as Native Americans, “were technically free of the Inquisition” and thus free from persecution as heretics. Nevertheless, “they were punished severely for their practice of traditional religion.”117 Although missionary friars viewed the Pueblo as insufficiently Catholic or too intellectually deficient to be heretical, the Pueblo of the Nuevo Mexico missions were frequently described as idolatrous and the Franciscans took steps to safeguard Indian neophytes from Catholic heresy. Indian idolatry remained an important element in the minds of Franciscans and a prominent component of the religious interactions of seventeenth century Nuevo Mexico. The Itinerario para parochos de indios, a popular guide to moral theology that circulated among parish priests in rural Mexico, expressed a typically “seventeenth-century social outlook” shared by Franciscans from Nueva España and emphasized the importance of “rooting out ‘idolatry’… [the relevance of] the Seven Capital Sins and the view of the Indian faithful as ‘hijos del castigo’ who would require repeated floggings to practice a moral life.”118 As Enrique Dussel observed, the Itinerario illuminates the influence of “class-ridden” perspectives of Native American inferiority and the privilege of Catholic rule upon the performance of the priesthood and the perception of Indian idolatry within the Spanish colonies of North America.119 These conceptions encouraged the missionaries’ occupation with the eradication of idolatry and constant mindfulness of the intellectual adolescence of the Pueblo. Both of these considerations combined to foster Franciscan fears that, once converted, their Native American congregations would be susceptible to the predations of heresy, even though they were estranged from the jurisdiction of the Inquisition. “Fearing that the Indians were incapable of understanding the sacraments accurately, and so to avoid heresy – especially since the priests did not understand Indian languages by and large – Franciscans emphasized dances, plays, , and the paraliturgical displays of incense, candles, vestments, and music”.120

200 Friars emphasized communal religious expressions in order to present Catholicism as a viable religious alternative to indigenous practices while circumventing doctrinal elucidation that could produce improper understandings and lead converts to heresy.121 The missionaries’ concern over the doctrinal orthodoxy of their congregants encouraged the friars to engage Pueblo religion as they attempted to communicate the performance of Catholicism within terms their potential converts could understand sufficiently.122 The Franciscans’ desire to comprehend and manipulate Native American religious contexts as well as prolonged proximity to Pueblo cultures produced contact and a dialogue of negotiation within the religious lives of the friars. When the friars from Nueva España penetrated the missionary province of Nuevo Mexico, they sought to encourage the benevolent reception of Christianity by framing their religious authority, and by association, their proffered Christianity, through the performance of the roles and responsibilities of Pueblo religious leaders. The missionaries embraced and attempted to fulfill Pueblo expectations of their abilities and authority and conform to indigenous religious understandings. Fray Geronimo de Mendieta assures his readership that the friars attempted to portray themselves as “gods or men from the sky…[to be] received like angels without the least suspicion.”123 Before interacting with the Pueblo, the Franciscans assumed that the cosmological assumptions of the residents of the borderland kingdom would resemble those encountered in Nueva España. The missionaries demonstrated their dependence upon such presumed insights when they coordinated their entrance into Nuevo Mexico in 1598 to coincide with the initiation of the local rain season in order to associate their reception with the indigenous authority granted efficacious rain chiefs.124 Thus, the friars initiated engagement of Native American religion prior to their arrival in Nuevo Mexico. When Franciscans formulated their mission strategy and believed that they understood Pueblo religion sufficiently to ape their religious leaders, they began a process of interaction with Pueblo religion, albeit with a form of those religious traditions that may have only existed within their imagination.

201 Franciscan Religious Negotiation and Augmentation The Franciscan friars that settled into residency in Nuevo Mexico encountered local religious expressions that prompted augmentation of their prior perceptions and performances of their religious world. Although the missionaries initially rejected indigenous religious forms as unworthy of interaction, they were nonetheless exposed to the aberrant religious practices and ideas of the colonial population. During the early and middle of the seventeenth century, Franciscans participated in a dynamic process of religious contact and negotiation. The migrant mendicants expressed a range of reactions to the presence, practices and ideas of these new religious configurations including ambivalence, tacit acceptance and incorporation. Consistent colonial contact produced challenges to Franciscan orthodoxy, prompted adaptation and created new articulations of the Franciscan Catholicism of Nuevo Mexico. Franciscan encounter and negotiation produced few wholly original religious elements. However, preexisting components of their religiosity received greater importance and became expressed in ways relevant to their local context. Before the friars entered the province of Nuevo Mexico they embraced the roles and responsibilities of missionaries and conceived of their behavior as an illuminated example of Christianity and the initial means by which they could educate the indigenous residents. When the Franciscan missionaries tried to parallel the capabilities and fill the capacities of Pueblo religious authorities, they expressed the willingness to embody a hybridization of earlier forms of Franciscan Catholicism with Pueblo religious traditions within their own religious practice. The friars attempted to convey, “through thespian acts that they were men of enormous magical power.”125 The emergent missionaries believed that the Native Americans “were understandably awestruck” and predictably understood the friars as “Christian chiefs [who] combined in one person what it took five native chiefs to accomplish” and could humble their indigenous leaders.126 The missionaries coordinated theatrical displays to demonstrate that they possessed the power that defeated the indigenous communities. They paralleled the religious powers of indigenous hunt chiefs by controlling and distributing Spanish flocks of locally exotic, domesticated animals.127 In so doing they augmented the religious practices of the mendicant Order of Friars Minor. When the friars claimed the social and cosmic

202 authority of Inside Chiefs or performed healing rituals similar to those observed by native medicine men, they infused their understandings of their own missionary identity with corresponding expectations of such power and miraculous ability. The missionaries’ engagement of Pueblo religious traditions promoted the infusion of Native American ceremonialism and the bolstered the importance granted to external religiosity within Franciscan Catholicism of Nuevo Mexico. The “Franciscan model of personal re-formation and evangelism, with its pronounced emphasis on externality – transforming the ‘outer person’ (behavior) to change the ‘inner person’ (the soul) – predisposed the friars to” emphasize the role of physical religious artifacts and exterior, behavioral reform.128 Fray affirmed that physical elements of religious life, including mission artifacts, ritual vestments and music were essential to the successful conversion and religious practice of Catholicism by the Pueblo. Such physical paraphernalia and their manipulation were able to “uplift the soul of the Indians and move them toward the things of God…because they are by nature lukewarm and forgetful of internal matters and must be helped by means of external displays.”129 Though accredited to necessity to overcome Native American deficiencies, the Franciscans’ evangelic strategy with its promotion of many paraliturgical components of Catholicism, rather than strict sacramentalism also resulted from “their linguistic shortcomings, which many eventually overcame, [and] the Church’s fear of inadvertently nurturing heretical beliefs.”130 In addition to these ecclesiastical influences, the friars struggled to realize an “evangelization strategy of eradicating native rites and substituting Christian ones that mimicked indigenous gestures and paraphernalia, no matter how divergent their respective meaning” because Pueblo practitioners emphasized orthopraxis.131 Prolonged contact with Pueblo religious traditions emphasized the preexisting privilege of externality granted by the Franciscan Order and observed by the missionary friars.132 The Franciscans of Nuevo Mexico maintained that “the Christ St. Francis carried in his heart was available to others through the Christ he wore on his body in the form of the …[and correspondingly] chose to celebrate among the Pueblos rituals that paralleled, or at least on the surface appeared to mimic native dances and rites of passage, regardless of their deeper meaning.”133 Previously observed forms of Franciscan Catholicism aligned with the local context of the expectations of their Pueblo

203 congregants and encouraged the promotion of behavioral reform and paraliturgical elements by the missionary friars. The mendicants of the Franciscan Order desired to supplant indigenous rituals with Christian ceremonies that approximated native performances. This mission strategy led some “friars to misinterpret the apparent piety with which the Indians worshipped God.”134 However, this does not imply that the Franciscans were unconcerned about doctrinal cogency or proper, sacramental observation.135 On the contrary, Franciscan friars were tormented by the possibility of incomplete or improper religious understanding taking root among their flocks.136 They promoted the external and performative elements of Catholicism but did not sacrifice the sacramentalism encouraged by the Council of Trent. Sacramental obligation remained a central duty for Catholic practitioners and a prominent responsibility for missionary friars in Nuevo Mexico as it had in Nueva España.137 While “post-Tridentine fathers were hesitant to develop devotions around the sacraments that might be misinterpreted by the natives,” they observed the evident emphasis upon works and practice that emerged from the dialogue and of Trent.138 Indeed, representatives of the Order of Friars Minor, as agents of “the Roman Catholic Church, responded more quickly and uniformly to the reforms of the Council [of Trent. As a result], New Mexico’s missionaries were less tolerant of Pueblo ways than were most Spanish colonists.”139 Far from unconcerned with the proper communication of religious orthodoxy or Native American understandings of Catholicism, the missionaries of Nuevo Mexico observed the edicts of Trent in such a way that allowed them to focus upon adherence to moral standards and liturgically relevant religious elements in order to foster the performance of religion. The Franciscan friars of Nuevo Mexico encountered the diffuse boundaries and peripheral elements of Pueblo religion as bastions of Catholic orthodoxy and ecclesiastical representatives participating in a hybridized religious world. From within the matrix of these cross-influences, Franciscans ambivalently perceived and situated themselves relative to indigenous political and religious authorities. The preeminence that the friars granted religious authority within political schemas allowed Franciscans to fixate and aggrandize the authority and relevance of indigenous religious leaders that conformed to Spanish expectations of stereotypical medicine men. That is to say that the

204 missionaries focused upon the social role and associated capabilities of Pueblo authorities that resembled the indigenous medicine men that they expected to find among the local inhabitants. Vocal leaders who manifest some degree of observable religious involvement were labeled medicine men or, more likely, “sorcerers.” The pueblos throughout the province were described as under the influence and “brutality of old sorcerers and impostors.”140 Medicine men were necessary, antagonistic foils for missionary virtues and a hindrance to efficacious evangelism. Opposition from a Pueblo sorcerer catalyzed the martyrdom of Fray Martin de Arvide in the hagiographical record of Fray Benavides. “The old sorcerer arose, grasped a large club near by, and struck the blessed father such a blow on he head that he felled him and then he and others dragged him around the plaza and ill-treated him cruelly.”141 Native American religious leaders were uniformly wicked, the cited origin for Pueblo resistance to conversion and often identified as the primary agents through which the devil manipulated the populace. While the migrant friars increasingly understood the performance of their priestly identity within the context of Pueblo expectations, they mapped the cultural norms imported from Nueva España upon native leadership. Fray Benavides noted “All these nations were divided, at the time of their , into two factions: warriors and sorcerers. The warriors attempted to reduce all the people to their domination and authority; and the sorcerers, by emulation and argument, persuaded them all that they were the ones who made he rain fall and the earth yield good crops…at which the warriors jeered greatly.”142 Consequently, the missionaries tended to secularize the positions of authority that managed pueblo social order. The Franciscan friars recognized and recorded the existence of Pueblo leaders that conformed or appeared to conform to accepted and expected authority structures. “All the pueblos have caciques, allotted according to the number of inhabitants. Thus there are the principal caciques, who in turn have other caciques under them, that is to say their tequitatos, the latter functioning like sheriffs to execute the orders of their superiors in the various pueblos, exactly as in the case of the Mexican people.”143 The missionaries’ focus upon the religious relevance of medicine men allowed them to concentrate religious leadership into such figures and project a division between religious and secular authorities upon the pueblos similar to that which characterized colonial Spanish culture.

205 The Franciscans in colonial Nuevo Mexico recognized strong community leadership as a quality associated with cultural sophistication and civilization. Before Coronado or his accompanying friars beheld the pueblo of Cibola and deflated their hopes of its grandeur, they included among its laudable achievements “that its ruler was thoroughly obeyed.”144 Similarly, Pueblo leaders were likened to an aristocracy or subset of social elites that approximated the social divisions of Nueva España. The friars referred to the constituents of this strata of social authority as “The principal Indians of this pueblo...leaders…chief men and tequitatos”.145 Friars marked the privileges and prestige enjoyed by the conceived native aristocracy that referenced the privilege enjoyed by Spanish elites. “When their chieftains died they buried all their belongings with them. Also, when these lords ate, many of their people watched them at the table to honor them and see them eat.”146 Fray Benavides suggested that the Pueblo might have honored their rulers and elite authorities with religious devotion in the “peculiar temples of idolatry and sepulchers where they bury their important personages.”147 If they did not conform to expectations, then native leaders were dismissed or ignored. Those pueblos that did not welcome the Spanish colonists or were resistant to Franciscan embedment were described as lacking civility and “Having no ruler.”148 Resistant leaders and caciques were critiqued as weak, described as lacking just authority, or ignored completely in Franciscan records.149 “All these nations are governed by the oldest captain of each nation, to whom the captains of each pueblo of the same nation are subordinated. Among these the most honored is he who fills the office of town crier. He goes forth with full authority, proclaiming in a loud voice whatever he desires to order.”150 The importance of the “town crier” in Benavides’ Memorial was left intentionally unexamined and portrayed as arbitrary or ludicrous to affirm the lack of just authority within the pueblo. The leadership of the pueblo is misrecognized and misrepresented in order to demean indigenous authorities and ignore the religiously infused leadership positions within Pueblo communities. Franciscan missionary encounters of Pueblo gender norms presented another avenue for interaction with local authority structures in which the friars projected culturally inherited expectations that obfuscated their records of indigenous relations.151 The early waves of missionaries marveled at the Pueblo division of labor that seemed to

206 muddle the expected roles of men and women. “The women build the walls and houses; the men spin and weave and go to war.”152 For the friars, such task divisions evidenced a deeper fracture within Pueblo conceptions of the proper, Spanish-observed positions of men and women in society. Indeed, Franciscans during the first decades of the seventeenth century were appalled that among their potential converts a woman “always commands and is the mistress of the house, and not the husband.”153 The Spanish migrants condemned the gendered variation as a degenerate perversion practiced by ignorant non-Christians.154 The friars among the missions recognized that the deviation of Pueblo gender roles from Spanish norms was important and relevant to the implantation of Catholicism among the natives. Franciscan friars perceived the shamelessness of Pueblo women as morally reprehensible and indicative of the pervasion of a greater threat to the souls and religious lives of the Pueblo. The Spanish colonists viewed Pueblo women as licentious slaves to their passions. Spanish soldiers asserted that the female Native Americans possessed “no vices other than lust.”155 According to Gines de Herrera, Pueblo women were afforded every opportunity to satisfy their sexual cravings, as their husbands did not typically “care much whether or not their wives are faithful.”156 Consequently, the friars defamed the Native American women of Nuevo Mexico as shameless. Coronado wrote that female Pueblo immodestly flaunted their bodies, parading about in little more that “table napkins, with fringes and a tassel at each corner, tying them around the hips.”157 Ramon Gutierrez affirmed the missionaries’ assessment that “Modesty and shame were not sentiments the Pueblo Indians knew in relationship to their bodies.”158 Though Franciscans recognized the interconnectivity between religious life and gender performances, they maligned female sexuality as the decadent consequence of indigenous idolatrous practices. The Revised Memorial of 1634 relates “The idolatry of the wicked women is amazing and ridiculous. When they are fat and lusty, if the men do not look on them and give them blankets, which is their main desire, they go into the fields, and at a suitable spot they put up a stick or a stone, the very first thing they find that resembles a figure. This they set up as an idol.”159

For the Franciscans residing among the pueblos, prominent displays of female sexuality were intrinsically linked with the sin of lust and non-Christian practice. “What better way

207 to celebrate fertility than by copulating with the katsina? And this is precisely what always happened, said Fray Nicolas de Chavez in 1660”.160 Though colonial Franciscans failed to understand or appreciate the intricacies of Pueblo gender performances and condemned female sexual liberties, they aptly recorded the close relation between “sanctity and sex” and recognized the religious overtones of socially affirmed gender expectations among the Pueblo.161 Despite the protestations and condemnations of the friars, expression of Pueblo female sexuality generated numerous intimate encounters between Native American women and Spanish men. Although the Pueblo may have viewed such liaisons as the cooling of “the passions of the fierce fire-brandishing Spanish katsina through intercourse”, it is clear that the Spanish settlers interpreted such interactions as a supreme act of conquest and subjugation of the Native Americans of Nuevo Mexico.162 Spanish men who engaged Pueblo women in sexual acts understood the encounter as the assertion of their own masculine virility and the corresponding territorial possession of the indigenous women. The soldiers eagerly foisted themselves upon Pueblo women exclaiming that only through such “lascivious treatment are Indian women conquered.”163 The apparent openness to sexual advances demonstrated by the Pueblo and its implication of subjugation prompted Spanish soldiers to conceptualize Native American women as seized property that they could use as they pleased. Fray Francisco Zamora confessed “I know for certain that the soldiers have violated [the women] often along the roads.”164 If Spanish soldiers viewed Pueblo women as theirs to take in the fulfillment of their masculine virtue, Spanish friars, as custodians of the Pueblo through their missions, understood the female residents as theirs to protect in parallel fulfillment of their own masculine virtue. One friar bemoaned the liberties that the colonists took with Pueblo women and the abuse heaped upon the Native Americans by Spanish men. He noted that the soldiers were constantly “entering their houses, taking their women, and causing them a thousand such annoyances and vexations.”165 As early as July of 1601, the viceroy had heard sufficient Franciscan censures of colonists’ behavior and castigations of Onate’s permissiveness of the debaucheries of Spanish settlers that he directed Don Francisco de Valverde to conduct an inquiry of the governor’s entrance into Nuevo Mexico and pacification of the Pueblo.166

208 Perhaps just as disturbing and troubling for the Franciscan visions of model Catholic Pueblo converts were the expressions of sexuality and Pueblo gender variations performed by Native American males. Remarkably, Franciscans deemed or at least discussed these performances as less connected to religious practices than their female counterparts, aside from references to such variations as sinful deviations. Within the religiously reinforced “Pueblo world, it was common for men and women to give their bodies to persons they deemed holy in order to partake of their supernatural power…[Thus,] Indian men desired sexual intercourse not only with the Spanish women, but with the soldiers as well.”167 However, when Captain Gaspar Perez de Villagra narrated an account of a 1598 encounter between Spanish soldiers and Pueblo men, he accredited the sexual behavior of the indigenous men merely to sinful degeneracy and not any religiously connected motivations. “If a youth in our company had not cried out for help, he would have been attacked,’ said Villagra, because ‘these people are addicted to the bestial wicked sin [of sodomy].’”168 Male genders and sexuality were divorced from any connection to indigenous social norms or the authority granted such behaviors with the religiously contextualized and interconnected Pueblo world. Spanish colonists described male homosexual activity as pecado nefando, or the abominable sin, for it challenged the gendered social hierarchy instituted in Nueva España. Such sexual acts threatened the continuity and stability of the social order, “undermining the reproductive function of sex and the formation of the core social unit, the family; it was ‘against nature,’ and placed men sexually and metaphorically in the position of women (as ‘passives’ in intercourse), thus subverting their power and taking their honor.”169 The mere accusation of participation in such acts would publicly humiliate and defame the accused and imperil his honor and his life. Spanish colonial priests feared the potential threat such sexual practices posed to potential unravel the social order. “Punishments of those found guilty could be severe and brutal, ranging from exile to service in the galleys to death by strangulation (after which [the body of the accused] was burned at the stake).”170 The significance and severity of such perceptions and the resulting Spanish fears are illuminated by the severity of the punishments associated such actions. Pueblo homosexual activity presented a threat to the Catholic

209 practice outlined by Franciscans, the honor and lives of the colonists and the stability of the social order of Nuevo Mexico. The third gender of Pueblo society, available to biological males, presented Franciscan missionaries with a puzzling, potential complication to their encounters and understandings of Pueblo religion. In Pueblo society, the third gender, “‘third sex’…or the berdache (from the Arabic bradaj, meaning male prostitute), as the sixteenth-century Europeans called them…were biological males who had assumed the dress, occupations, mannerisms, and sexual comportment of females as a result of a sacred vision or community selection.”171 Castaneda recorded that “There were among them men dressed as women, who married other men and served them as women…From then on she was not to deny herself to any one, as she was paid a certain established amount for the service. And even though she might take a husband later on, she was not thereby to deny herself to any one who offered her pay.”172 The Spanish colonists perceived these berdaches as bizarre and emasculated men. Fray Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca described berdaches as “impotent, effeminate men [that]…go about dressed as women, and do women’s tasks…and carry great burdens…and they are huskier than the other men and taller.”173 The males who performed this gender possessed components of each of the ritual repertoires and sacred portfolios typically assigned to and observed by men or women. However, the friars ignored or diminished the religious significance of this third gender. Instead they condemned berdaches as deviant men and often labeled them putos, or man whores. According to Alarcon these male prostitutes did not “have carnal relations with women at all, but they themselves could be used by all marriageable youths…They receive no compensation for this work…although they were free to take from any house what they needed for their living.’”174 Safely conceived as condemnable, emasculated men, beardaches were divorced from their religious context within Franciscan conceptions of Pueblo society and thus posed little challenge to the religious negotiations within encounters of the seventeenth century. Although the friars were able to resist infusion of Pueblo gender norms by diminishing their importance, ignoring their religious significance or misunderstanding the cultural variations, their encounter of more encompassing Pueblo ethical systems and social schema proved a richer context for interaction and adaptation.175 Early migrant

210 colonists and subsequent generations of Spanish colonists indigenous to Nuevo Mexico carried with them the social importance of honor that permeated Nueva España. Within the missionary province, “Honor mediated social relationships between individuals and groups on the basis of ethical choices...[particularly] from the seventeenth to the early nineteenth centuries, a concern they brought from Spain as part of their cultural baggage.”176 Honor was the key to virtue, the scaffolding of personal moral conduct and the cornerstone of social positioning within Spanish colonial societies.177 Franciscan friars posited that to be properly virtuous as a Christian, a man should be assertive and dominant. The associated feeling of pride, whether in oneself or in a moral action properly executed, demonstrated publicly through the expectation of deference and authority and the denigration of less successful men, affirmed the virtue and subsequent status of an individual. Honor reflected for a person, through its validation in the humility of others, the reality of his/her virtue and one’s social status. “Honor was born of victory and dominion, dishonor of vanquishment and domination.”178 To realize the personal virtue of honor required the subjugation and submission of others. Though the impetus to claim personal honor certainly motivated soldiers and friars into the missionary territories and provided further motivation for the subjugation of Native Americans, the colonists of Nuevo Mexico additionally affirmed that individual virtue and adherence to honor generated prosperity. The Spanish settlers expected that adherence to honor would result in displays and offerings of deference from the world around them. As long as the Spanish migrants demonstrated honor and Christian virtue, then “I trust in God that, if there is any [gold or silver in Nuevo Mexico], we shall get our share of it, and it shall not escape us.”179 The focus of many records of Native American exchanges was on the spontaneous, un-requisitioned gifts that the locals poured upon their Spanish visitors. Hernando de Alvarado and Fray Juan de Padilla bragged “from twelve pueblos, there came chieftains and people in proper order, those of one pueblo after the other…in this manner they came inside the tent and presented me with the food, blankets, and skins they had. I gave them some small articles, whereupon they went away.”180 The Spanish explorers emphasized the pomp and generosity of Pueblo gifting while highlighting the minimal reciprocation that they returned.181 Within the colonial borderland, observance of proper social virtues properly aligned the cosmos to produce

211 advantageous results. The Pueblo expressed a comparable expectation of prosperity when individual and communities observed the socially affirmed virtue-generating system of reciprocal exchanges.182 In Nuevo Mexico, the similar correlations between virtue performance and expectation demonstrate an example of a point of cultural contact and possible hybridization between Pueblo and Spanish colonists. Among many Spanish colonial societies, honor and the deference it generated stratified populations and ordered communities within one continuous ladder of status that differentiated those with the greatest honor from those without any. Within the cosmology and social hierarchy of Spanish communities “first of all was the honor of God. The honor of the king was next, for his sanction to temporal power was divinely imbued. The honor of the corporate Church followed, then that of the religious orders, that aristocracy, the landed peasantry, on down the line to those persons who had no honor, Indians and genizaro slaves.”183 However, in colonial Nuevo Mexico social structure and stratification was seldom that neatly implemented or rigidly defined. Personnel shortages, limited social mobility, and prolific racial hybridity eroded fixed boundaries of distinction. Within the missionary kingdom, some Native Americans could obtain honor and negotiate its incumbent exchanges.184 Spanish colonists perceived most Pueblos’ observation of the comparable virtue of reciprocity as meekness and deference and thus, dishonor.185 These ethical performances of Pueblo humility, modesty and obedience to Spanish authorities were reinforced by mission disciplinary corrections but simultaneously cast the Native American men as distinctly un-masculine in Spanish colonial culture. The failure of Pueblo men to be properly masculine according to the dictates of Spanish expectations reinforced the perception of Native Americans as childlike, or not fully developed adults.186 Native Americans were often referred to in governmental and Inquisitorial document by the second person informal personal pronoun, tu, typically reserved for friends and children, rather than the more formal and respectful, usted, that was applied to their Spanish counterparts.187 In Nuevo Mexico, in opposition to the intrinsic expectation found in Pueblo cultures, that “increasing age brought increasing respect, [Native Americans] were permanently infantilized, even by…children.”188 Despite Spanish misrecognition and ethnocentric interpretation of Native American behaviors,

212 Pueblo virtue was much akin to honor in that both hierarchically organized oneself in the cosmos. Both peoples asserted their presence and virtue within social relations governed by the dictates of honorable action. In so doing, Pueblo and Spanish colonists affirmed their personal virtue and position within communities governed by honor and reinforced by the feelings of shame and pride. Over the following century the demonstration of deference became subsumed and increasingly important within the local context of the practice reciprocity. Gift giving was observed within pre-colonial Pueblo cultures, colonial Nueva España and the kingdom of Nuevo Mexico. The practice formed an important tool for status negotiations and, when properly utilized, increased one’s social standing in Spanish culture. The family of Don Bernardino Bustamante y Tagle “secured a place of prominence in church in the early 1700s by purchasing two small altars in Mexico City – one to and the other to St. – and having them installed in the transept of Santa Fe’s Church.”189 Infused with the expectation of a colonial culture of reciprocity, such lavish generosity indebted the friars and the congregational community to the family and mandated the appropriate responses: performances of deferential behavior, respect and preferential treatment. Giving gift and endowments reciprocally returned respect and acknowledgement from others that correspondingly heightened prestige and status. Similarly, “Honor materialized when deference was paid or when preferential access to scarce resources was gained because of it. Because public recognition of honor was essential to its value, the number of persons paying one honor depended on their familiarity with the claim and their willingness to pay it.”190 Gifts, offerings and demonstrations of subservience became increasingly important to the missionaries of Nuevo Mexico. One friar noted that upon arrival in Pueblo communities, the Franciscans “regaled them with bells, rattles, feathers, and beads of different colors, for the Catholic king orders that we be furnished with things of this kind so that” the Native Americans would, in turn, provide the appropriate reception and gladly convert.191 In order to perform their masculinity, publicly affirm their personal virtue, and reap the reciprocal reward due their selfless service, the friars wrung deference and obedience from their mission congregations.192 Their procession and the reception of a friar into a pueblo demanded humility, pomp and circumstance.193 When a missionary arrived among the

213 Pueblo, they “welcomed him with much courtesy and affection…placing him in the position of honor” within the village.194 While in residence among visitas, friars drew upon native labor as servants, porters, chefs and woodchoppers.195 However, large-scale public constructions, such as Fray Andres Juarez’s mission complex at Pecos conscripted swathes of the local population for long-term servitude.196 Franciscans expected displays of humility and servile labor from the Pueblo because of the material gifts, education, religious leadership, and protection from Spanish military and antagonistic Native Americans that their mission presence presented.197 Displays of deference and reciprocal gift giving were emphasized in the missionary province of Nuevo Mexico by their parallel reflections in Pueblo culture The Franciscan friars of the borderland colony were influenced by the less dualistic cosmology of the Pueblo and incorporated elements into their Christian practice. The missionaries who encountered the Pueblo conception of a unified cosmos more fully integrated material artifacts and supernal presence, infusing physical objects with greater sacred importance. The friars in Nuevo Mexico reasoned that since “reverential objects were the most potent loci of the holy in Christianity, it was primarily through enclosure, through the construction of a church or oratory, that space received its power.”198 Fray Lucas Maldonado affirmed that the church structure became an important place for worship only when it surrounded the objects or “things of divine worship.”199 The friars imported images of various saints, Mary and Jesus, instructed the Pueblo to erect tabernacles and altar stones and consecrated the Eucharist among them to serve as the central focus for Pueblo converts and the Christianity the sought to establish in the missions.200 Fray Benavides suggested the pivotal importance attributed artifacts when he recorded that, in order to convert them peacefully and [so] that they will gladly hear the word of the Lord from us, I made a cross the length of a lance and set it up in the center of the rancheria. Then, as best I could, I explained to them that if they worshipped this holy symbol with all their hearts they would find therein the aid for all their needs. Falling on my knees, I kissed it. They all did the same. With this my soul was comforted greatly, for it was the first cross that they adored in this place.201

Benavides erected the cross and instructed the potential converts to worship and adore it. The missionaries recognized that the implantation of artifacts into the life of a community

214 embedded the corresponding religious practices and germinated into Christian sentiment, or religious affections. That is to say that the Franciscans understood that the material objects seeded Catholic conversion. The Franciscan historian continued his record of Pueblo responses to the newly constructed cross. Among others, there came an Indian woman with a toothache; which much devotion she held open her mouth with her hands and put her teeth close to the holy cross. Another, in the pains of childbirth, touched the holy tree with her body. From the comfort and joy with which they departed, I have great faith in the divine majesty who would work there His miracles in confirmation of His divine word.202

The friars believed that the objects that they manipulated in religious practice generated successful conversions, validated the faith of believers and realized miracles associated with the presence of the sacred. Through the altar, tabernacle, reredos and Eucharist “God was made man and bread and wine were transformed into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. This conjunction of the divine and the human, of the triune godhead and the community that filled the church” was attributed by the friars of Nuevo Mexico to the fusion of sacred and mundane within the province’s holy objects.203 Religious objects transcended the division between the natural and supernatural world and, in so doing, bridged the cosmology of Franciscan Catholics and potential Pueblo converts.

Pueblo Religious Negotiation and Expansion The first generation of Pueblos to endure Spanish colonization bore witness to a modulating dialogue between the religion taught by the missionary friars and the religion that had endured among their people for centuries. The resultant religious encounter and negotiation produced a spectrum of reactions including conversion, continued rejection and a multiplicity of hybrid religious forms. The Pueblo of the early seventeenth century engaged and were influenced by the presence and actions of the Franciscan missionaries, and their accompanying ideas, rituals and culture. Persistent colonial contact induced religious adaptation among the pueblos of Nuevo Mexico. New ideas were scoured, digested and then incorporated, modified or discarded. Ritual performances, behavioral norms and public expressions of religious or ethical expectations reconfigured to the colonial context of Catholicism and previous Pueblo religious practices. As the

215 ideological and ritual elements from each people mingled and sought new equilibriums, Pueblo authoritative and authoritarian systems stretched to contain royal edicts, Spanish expectations and the infrastructure of colonial rule. Between 1620 and 1621, the king of Spain issued a real cedula that decreed that at the beginning of every year, each pueblo in Nuevo Mexico should elect a governing body of officers.204 The royal edict initiated the system of local government that would remain throughout the Spanish occupation of Nuevo Mexico. The resulting council of elected officials imposed colonial rule within Pueblo life and fused “Spanish and Tewa political institutions and concepts … to such a degree that no one has yet been able to disentangle them in any analytically satisfactory way.”205 Even modern, historical accounts that dismissively referenced the group as a motley hybrid of “half secular, half ceremonial officers” and vestiges of Spanish cultural dominance recognized the religious interests and integration of the council in Pueblo culture.206 Ortiz identified the later manifestation of this local governmental body as the contemporary manifestation of the Towa e, the social elite of traditional Pueblo society endowed with religiously rooted power to assist in the government of issues with pueblo-wide concern. Historically, these leaders wielded authority and punitive rights over acts that threatened social well being, including violations of religious traditions and practices. They seldom manifested as a distinct source of authority divorced from the religious authorities of a given pueblo, instead appearing as tools wielded by those powers.207 However, during the first generation of Spanish sustained colonization of Nuevo Mexico, a gradual process began “whereby the council has appropriated more and more duties for itself and assumed more and more power at the expense of the Towa e…[Indeed,] we should not assume the present importance of the council as something which always existed, as most writers have done.”208 Since the Spanish authorities implemented the council, contemporarily referred to as the Towa e, the elected fellowship have assimilated powers and responsibilities over local matters of sacred and quotidian concern, once reserved for a diverse range of pueblo religious leaders. As these indigenous authorities were discredited, divested of leadership and purged by Franciscan missionaries, the council subsumed and preserved elements of their religious rights and privileges, ensuring the continuation if augmentation of Pueblo religious practice. Though attributable more to

216 historical irony “than by design,” the establishment of the council and behind that Spanish colonial administrators, presented “Tewa a means of coping with change by providing them with a non-tradition bound institution to serve as a receiver for decision- making power.”209 Among the Pueblo of Nuevo Mexico, the authoritative systems of government fused within a hybrid colonial culture to preserve elements of native religiosity within the Spanish and Christian influenced structures of government. As the Franciscans disseminated and grafted Catholicism throughout Native American villages, they turned indigenous Pueblo into the constituent parts of the machinery of colonization. In order the realize the missionary agenda and the reformation of the Pueblo into a utopian Catholic society, the friars elevated from among the community “the policia espiritual, native assistants who served the friars as ‘spiritual police.’”210 The spiritual police force was comprised of common members of the mission congregation who were sympathetic to the missionary endeavor, possibly vehement in their embrace of Catholicism but certainly willing to enforce the religious expectations and obligations ordered by the friars. Through their support, monitoring and correction of religious actions, this corps of apparent colonial collaborators buttressed the presence and maintained the homogeneity of Catholicism among the pueblo. Though possessed of the least social authority, the Sacristan presents an example of a position, created and used by the agents of Catholicism among the pueblos, that retained its religious distinctiveness and affirmed the sovereignty of the missionaries within village life. “The Sacristan, who was Spanish-introduced, served as an assistant, altar boy, and general errand boy for the resident priest.”211 The friars selected from among the devout converts of each pueblo an adult man who was literate in Spanish and knowledgeable in Catholic doctrine to assist them as a servant for life as the Franciscans discharged their missionary duties. “The Sacristan was also relieved from many communal work obligations, and sometimes received a very modest weekly honorarium from the priest.”212 The appointed male was plucked from his previous social position with its requisite communal actions and rewarded for his allegiance with privilege and gifts from the new religious authorities. Other positions within the policia espiritual were less clearly delineated as non- participants in traditional Pueblo religions. In order to instill Catholic doctrine and

217 stabilize Christian orthodoxy, the Franciscans within the missionary province established “several fiscales (church wardens), disciplinarians who maintained order during services, punished the morally lax, and supervised ecclesiastical building projects. Fiscales freely administered half a dozen lashes to anyone found negligent in their Christian duties.”213 The Catholic enforcers were so adamant in their promotion of Catholic practice and liberal in their dispensation of discipline that the whip became identified as a symbol of the Fiscales and Christian authority in general. However, as Franciscan attacks on the prestige and worth of native leaders destabilized traditional authorities, the church wardens transitioned into non-Catholic Pueblo religion to assume hybridized religious leadership. “The four Fiscales are referred to in everyday discourse as the ‘Keepers of the entrance to the church.’ An analogy is perceived in Tewa thought between these four and the four lay assistants to each moiety society, who are in charge of rituals involving the deities…and who are referred to as the ‘Keepers of the entrance to the lake.’”214 Doctrinal parallels bridged Catholic and Pueblo cosmologies and allowed the Fiscale to assume religious significance in both systems simultaneously. The Tewa of the early seventeenth century recognized that “the Fiscales are to Catholic ritual and to the Church what the ‘Keepers of the entrance to the lake’ are to native ritual and to the earthly representation of the primordial home.”215 Similar analogies between the relationship between the colonial governor and his two lieutenants and the traditional social organization of Made People allowed the Catholic actions of the governor to translate with indigenous religious significance for the Pueblo.216 Within each mission, Franciscan friars erected “temastianos (Indian catechists), who led converts in prayer and memorization of the catechism…[and] a coterie of cantors, sacristans, and bell-ringers” to monitor the religious lives of their fellow Pueblo and instill Catholic devotion and colonial obedience within their communities.217 The diffuse systems of authority that organized Pueblo society were not immune from engagement with the Catholicism promulgated by Franciscan missionaries. The friars conducted a concerted war upon historically implemented sacred traditions and forms of pueblo structure. These structures of power including gender prescriptions and hierarchies established upon age preferences adapted to the demands and influence of Christianity in Nuevo Mexico. The mission system wrought changes in traditionally

218 Pueblo divisions of labor between the sexes. Before missions reconfigured indigenous geographical and social landscapes, Pueblo men engaged in agriculture and hunting, tanned hides, wove fabric, crafted weapons and conducted war. Women managed the home, performed the necessary tasks to ensure successful domestic life, constructed the buildings of the pueblo and were responsible for the rearing of children. However, with the introduction of Catholicism and Spanish culture, the friars “established new work categories. Men were to toil in building arts, women were to weave, and hunting, warfare, and all native religious works were to cease.”218 The new colonial division of labor violated earlier gender norms among the pueblos and often provoked shame and ridicule for those Native Americans who attempted to adhere obediently to the decrees of the friars. Fray Alonso de Benavides complained, “If we compel any man to work on building a house, the women laugh at him…and [so embarrassed] he runs away.”219 The shamed refugees often fled mission life and the emasculating direction of the friars for the promise of a masculine life of raiding and continued resistance to the forces of Spanish colonization among the nomadic .220 The Pueblo hierarchies of superordination and subordination built upon cultural valuations of age were included in the scope of the Franciscans’ struggle to supplant traditional structures of authority and pueblo organization. Within the context of mission education, friars conscripted Native Americans to stage religious dramas before their local communities. “Whatever the text of the didactic plays and dances, the subtext ensconced in the generational casting (Indian children playing angels or Christians, the Indian adults playing devils, infidels, or enemies) was the defeat of Indian culture and the subordination of adults to Christianized youths.”221 When combined with the Franciscan attempt to attain ritual elders status and challenge Pueblo relations between juniors and seniors, Catholicism provided an alternate means of understanding or prioritizing age within a village. Children were given places of honor in the church and granted access to the gifts available to mission personnel. Younger converts, through such ritual dramas and minor social exchanges were elevated above their elders in respect and prestige.222 Pueblo did not uniformly accept or reject this competing strategy of prioritizing maturity. However, the Catholic infused culture of Pueblo missions provided a parallel or alternate

219 avenue to importance and social validation for younger Pueblo willing to incorporate Catholic practice. Competing conceptions of social positioning segued into a dialogue between Catholic and pre-Hispanic ethics and behavioral norms. Pueblo communal identity and inclusion was based upon participation within the way of life and practices of that culture.223 That is to say that being a constituent member of a pueblo or being Pueblo was primarily enacted and presented by behaving in a manner prescribed by social expectations. Thus if behavioral norms varied depending on social status and position, Pueblo ethics were partially defined by the context of social organization and its matrix of interpersonal relationships. Proper ethical actions were dictated by individual positioning amidst the web of reciprocal relations that characterized pueblo life. Alonso Ortiz posits that among the Pueblo, social authority structures and positioning so permeate the other categories of Native American life that it its only in reference to these relations that “the rules governing conduct, thought, and belief in the Tewa world [may] be fully understood”.224 The rules that govern ethical conduct and organized personal experience comingled with elements of religious ideas and social identity. During the first decades of the seventeenth century, interaction between Catholicism and pre-Catholic Native American religions augmented the ethical practices and behavioral rules of the Pueblo. “The more important differences between Indian and European emerged in actually trying to live by these divergent views of right conduct while attempting to convert one's opposite number.”225 The friars assigned to each mission invested Pueblo public life with the importance of monogamous marriages, sacramental observation, frequent prayer and obedience to Catholic authorities for the fulfillment of a proper, moral life.226 Prior to the arrival of the Franciscan educators, Pueblo society and ethical behavior was organized by an elaborate system of overlapping societies that presided over the annual cycle of communal rituals. The central obligation of the pre-colonial Pueblo was to participate in and to proliferate those performances that ensured the satisfaction of the community’s needs and realized a “well-ordered” life for the village.227 Pueblo members participated and were situated within various moieties, lineages, and societies and social clusters that ensured various corporate activities including planting, irrigation, harvesting, hunting, home construction, governing or

220 various supernatural feats. “Social structures conformed to the works necessary for cooperating with natural rhythms [of an agrarian year]. Ritual activities were orchestrated to facilitate these works; food, shelter and health followed as a result of attention to ceremonial obligations.”228 Pueblo fulfilled their ethical duties and behaved morally by conforming to communal expectations, fulfilling the appropriate responsibilities and discharging the obligations constituted by one’s place in society. Franciscan efforts to reorganize pueblo communities and displace prior models of ethical understanding amplified the religious exchange within the missions among the pueblos. Differing conceptions of moral obligation formed a significant point of cultural contact and conflict in Nuevo Mexico. “For Spanish ethical guidelines were thought to derive from biblical and theological traditions, sources transcending any particular cultural group. Pueblos derived their sense of duty and propriety within an understanding of the community and its needs.”229 Franciscan missionaries communicated an ethical system in which behaviors were valuated as good or bad in reference to a standard maintained by ecclesiastical authorities as earthly emissaries of divine institutions and judgment.230 Native Americans within Nuevo Mexico initially constructed their models of ethical determination upon situational appropriate behavior that encompassed the relational context of the local community. Friars sought to embed a constant awareness of the punitive consequences of immoral actions that would condemn unsanctioned Native American behavior in life and continue throughout the afterlife.231 However, “Indians expected ultimate sanctions, like death for witchcraft, to apply in this life with no rewards or punishments reserved for the future.”232 Native American negotiation of divergent ethical norms informed the history of religious encounter, exchange and inculcation among the Pueblo. In the confluence of disparate systems of ethical behavior, public performances often expressed antithetical messages and conflicting conceptions of moral practice. Franciscan missionaries coerced Pueblo congregations to reenact privileged narratives of Spanish conquest and Pueblo submission to Christian rule through the observation of dance dramas including Los Moros y los Cristianos, Los Matachines, and Los Pastores. Spanish colonists believed that the “conquest and reconquest of the Pueblo Indians had defined them as infamous and dishonored.”233 The remembrance of these episodes of

221 military defeat by Spanish soldiers was expected to evoke shame and the theatrical dances intended to force Pueblo “to publicly mock themselves and to relive the humiliation of their defeat at Spanish hands” as they would have for the Spanish population of Nuevo Mexico.234 If Native Americans perceived the intended subtext of denigration, there is little indication that the performances evoked the desired emotional response. Although the ridicule of Pueblo pacification was likely apparent, their decimation was a matter of living memory and their loss to a superior military force no cause for shame. Rather, contrary behavioral practices and emotional performance recast the theatrical displays as opportunity for gifting undeserved deference and performing unreciprocated virtue towards the Franciscan interlopers among them. By demonstrating public submission and obedience to friars who did not fulfill their reciprocal responsibility of respect and gifted goods, the Pueblo intended to bind the missionaries in relationships of debt and obeisance. In addition to manifesting pre-colonial models of ethical practice, the observance of these commemorative dances conveyed abstruse religious and political messages.235 The dances reenacted Pueblo defeat and reaffirmed the persistent relevance of historical submission upon the communities’ colonial condition. As such the theatrical conquest commemorations provided a public venue to recollect the prior defeats, remember their continued influence and perpetuate feelings of resentment from generation to generation. By enacting the forced dances, pueblo communities reflected upon the past and colonial present and seethed in preparation for resistance. Amidst the divergent, parallel or obfuscated interpretations of moral behavior, the ethical practices of Franciscan missionaries and Pueblo practitioners interacted to produce augmented systems of public virtue. The pre-Hispanic underlying sentiment of reciprocity continued to inform social norms and influence Pueblo cultural constructions and historical encounters throughout the seventeenth century.236 The ethos of reciprocity remained an important rule within the Native American behavioral systems of Nuevo Mexico during Spanish colonization. Indeed, within the context of Franciscan encounters, associate interpretations of asymmetrical gifting received heightened importance. Asymmetrical giving accrued debts and should have made Friars and Spanish obedient participants in the pueblo. Such ethical strategies contributed to

222 competition amidst the Native American inhabitants over the opportunity to greet the Franciscans with generosity and hospitality and so indebt the friars. From the era of the Coronado expedition, Spanish colonists marveled over “the many attentions those people had shown him, saying that they vied with one another to see who would take him to his home.”237 Through the history of colonial exchanges, the Pueblo virtue of reciprocity fused with Spanish moral models of virtue through honor.238 This hybridization and the parallel necessity for the public performance and recognition of each ethical scheme promoted the theatrical aspect and heightened the scale of public displays of virtue. After more than a century of prolonged mingling between the two behavioral customs congealed into a mottled ethical strategy, Don Francisco Armijo stormed into the home of mother in-law armed with a whip and a knife. He bellowed for his wife, Dona Maria Rosalie Maestas, who had resided there while he was away and commenced whipping her on sight. He threw here to the floor, put his foot on her throat, and with the knife cut off her braids and hair. Don Francisco hurled the braids at his mother in-law and dragged his wife out of the house…Don Francisco said that it was “to protect my honor” [and loudly declared that] Dona Maria Rosalia had brought scandal to his reputation “because she will not live in seclusion…she is shameless.”239

The scandalized husband had heard rumor while out of town that his wife had been propositioned by Juan Garcia, accepted the unrequested gift of two sheep and was seen accompanying the scoundrel un-chaperoned in his carriage to a fiesta held as Los Ranchos. The public perception of moral impropriety and implication that Don Francisco lacked the masculine virtue to maintain the submission of the women within his sphere of influence demanded a reciprocal and rectifying action according to the hybrid virtues of reciprocity and honor. The fervent display of public violence affirmed the virtue and moral sanctity of Don Francisco and demonstrated the reciprocal action dictated by the impugning of his honor.240 Those in the inside and outside the house witnessed the violence of the retributive act. Thus, Don Francisco Armijo’s moral performance was socially confirmed, his public virtue recognized and his position within the interconnected relationships of society affirmed. The ethical behavior mandated in this situation was anger for Don Francisco, performed here through callousness and violence.241 The socially requisite shame impingent upon Dona Maria Rosalia was

223 forcibly performed for her through public embarrassment and the removal of her hair. The ethically appropriate response to certain situations within the colonial borderland included publicly enacted feelings and displays of reciprocal affections.242 Among the Pueblo of Nuevo Mexico demonstrations of public virtue often coincided with emotional performances. Within emotion or in the heart, religious commitments merged with the source origin of honor. Within the culture of Nuevo Mexico, colonists recognized the heart as the source of feeling, whether that affection led to Christian devotion or sexual wantonness. “The heart was the organ through which personal desires and conscience were experienced.”243 Fray Jose de la Prada explained that room must be made before Christianity could be successfully implanted, for “their customs and heathen wantonness have sunk very deep roots into their hearts.”244 The heart was the seat of the conscience, source of emotions and regulator of life-giving blood. As the central organ of the circulatory system, the heart supervised the blood, which was in turns conceived as “the vehicle through which honor was perpetuated.”245 The spilling of blood demanded reciprocal bloodshed and offenses to individual or communal honor were only rectified through violence or blood, “the soap of honor.”246 The Pueblo residents of colonial missions steeped in the often intertwined, cultural constructed rules for feeling and ethical practices as well as the accompanying ideology. Resultant cultural exchange reinforced the indigenous emotionology based on reciprocity, augmenting it with greater emphasis upon public virtue and violence. Pueblo religious practitioners incorporated new ideas and perspectives from mission Catholicism that did not significantly conflict with prior ways of negotiating historical experiences and navigating life. Pre-Christian Pueblo religions emphasized rituals and architectural constructions to perpetuate the spatial organizations of the cosmos and recreate the era of the mythic past. Sacred persons and powers permeated this ancient, if removed, period and the associated ceremonies that recreated its constitutive events. However, within mission Christianity, the relevance and continuous flow of “Time was also thoroughly imbued with the holy. Much as a kiva’s shipapu, altars, and fetishes recreated the time of Pueblo emergence from the underworld, so too the reredos that rose up behind the church’s main altar brought as witnesses to Christ’s

224 sacrifice the saints”.247 The lives of the saints commemorated the sacrifice and biography of Jesus throughout the . Their subsequent veneration through feast days structured temporal experiences, providing religious meaning and context to the progression of days. In Nuevo Mexico, the cyclical remembrance of the saints and of the life of Jesus provided the measure of time, structuring the passage of days and years. In order to combat the prevalence of indigenous Pueblo religions, the Franciscan missions organized communal life according to “a rival ritual calendar that was incarnational and Christocentric – focusing on Christ’s birth and death rather than on cosmological events.”248 The friars imposed the prominence and structure of time upon Pueblo societies for whom time was not historically the primary category of mediating experience.249 The autos sacramentales functioned as the primary vehicle by which this temporal emphasis transgressed Puebloan cultural borders. These religious plays conveyed biblical or hagiographical narratives and the preferred colonial memory of historical episodes within Nueva España and Nuevo Mexico.250 “The explicit purpose of the auto was to inculcate the Indians with a highly ideological view of the conquest, simultaneously forging in their minds a historical consciousness of their own vanquishment and subordination as the Spaniards wanted it remembered.”251 By staging these dramas during key celebrations within the Catholic calendar, the friars modeled a Christianity that synthesized the prominence of Christian annual cycles, the subjugation of the pueblos, and the religious justification of colonization. The promotion of temporal importance through the regular enactment of autos simultaneously infused Pueblo encounters and understandings of mission Catholicism with messages of the necessity and morality of Pueblo obedience. The temporal period of the Spanish Conquest of Nuevo Mexico and the of the Franciscans were literally mapped upon the pueblos. Spanish records and reflections of the entrance and settlement of Nuevo Mexico were conceived and structured according to a religious reckoning of time. The journal of Don Juan de Onate made repeated reference to the liturgical significance of key dates in colonial history. The tenth of May was religiously framed as the feast of the Pentecost and the twenty-first of May remembered as the “day of the Most Holy Sacrament.”252 “This concept of time

225 inspired numerous toponyms. The Indian pueblo Onate visited on June 24, 1598, was named San Juan Bautista because it was the feast of St. John the Baptist. Zia Pueblo was called St. Peter and St. Paul for a similar reasons.”253 The calendar of the Franciscan friars often wedded important dates of Spanish victories and Pueblo defeats with religious meaning and implanted them within the geography of Nuevo Mexico through pueblo and mission appellations.254 The religious significance of history and time were cemented alongside memories of Pueblo submission within the Catholicism of the Pueblo of Nuevo Mexico. As the missionaries situated Christianity into the local landscape, they melded Christian calendric cycles and the climatological rhythms of Pueblo religions. “Christianity’s early fusions with European cosmological religion prepared it for its contact with the Indians.”255 The Catholicism imported into Nuevo Mexico was already attentive to the expectation of European religious practitioners who structured annual experiences according to seasonal periodization. Thus, the Christocentric liturgical calendar of the Franciscan Order paired neatly with the cadence of Pueblo ceremonial performances. In pre-Christian Pueblo culture, the activities of farming, hunting, and animal husbandry were typically male activities and associated with the authority and powers of an Outside Chief and some katsinas. Winter, as the half of the year dedicated especially to and dependent upon the yield of such industries was correspondingly masculine in ritual symbolism.256 Subsequently, “The timing of the Christmas liturgies and the winter solstice celebrations were so close that the two became conflated in the Indian mind.”257 The emphasis granted the observation of Christmas celebration by the Franciscan friars promoted the inception of the Catholic liturgical calendar and the embedded importance of time with its structuring narrative of the biography of Jesus by conforming to Pueblo annual rhythms and religious expectations. Parallels in the religious narratives of both traditions eased the emphasis upon the events and significance of the life of Jesus ensconced in the Christian calendar and promoted the incorporation of the conception of time embedded within the Catholicism of the missionaries. “The portrayal of Christ as war god…and the prominence of farm animals in the Nativity plays, particularly around the manger, reinforced” the links between Christmas and solstice rituals, and by extension Catholic and Pueblo ceremonial

226 calendars.258 Myths of Jesus recounted during Christmas festivities paralleled native stories of the War Twins, the sons of the Father Sun, who similarly displayed miraculous control over weather and hosts of warriors.259 At Acoma, the Outside Chiefs were recognized as associates or descendants of the Father Sun’s progeny.260 Supernaturally potent beings associated with war in Pueblo cosmology, including the Outside Chiefs and the War Twins were simultaneously associated and conceived as negotiators and adept manipulators of those alien powers that violated or challenged quotidian Pueblo order.261 The foreign Spanish migrants that actively supplanted Pueblo traditions with Christianity and colonial subjugation declared themselves servants to the authority of Jesus. As a result of these declarations of submission by forceful Spanish individuals, the figure of Jesus posed an exemplary Outside Chief or being of war. Thus, the Franciscan friars fused Christian calendrical and ritual cycles with Pueblo religions, emphasized the importance of time and history and provided ingress for the inculcation of Christianity within the religious lives of Pueblos. Some Pueblos incorporated religious elements that did not directly contradict traditional religious practice and thus encouraged the encounter between Catholicism and Pueblo religions. However, Pueblo practitioners also pioneered new rituals and incorporated new, non-Christian beings into their religious worlds that facilitated the dynamic process of interaction that characterized religion in Nuevo Mexico. Remnants of colonial religious exchange, several contemporary sets of “pageants and dances which are of obvious Spanish or Mexican derivation have a definite place in Rio Grande Pueblo ceremonialism… [including] the Horse, or Sandaro Dance, the Pecos Bull, and the Matachina dances.”262 In each of these dance rituals, members of religious clown societies speak in both Spanish and native Pueblo languages in a linguistic example of the underlying cultural hybridization.263 The performers typically wear masks that bear “no resemblance to those used by the Katsina impersonators and are obviously of Spanish or Mexican provenience.”264 The widespread popularity and observation of the Matachina ceremonials testify to their inception among a colonial population.265 The Tarahumara, Hucholes, and Mayo-Yaqui perform the dance, as do the Hispanic descendants of Spanish colonists that currently reside in Bernalillio, San Antonio, and Alcalde.266 The

227 invention and incorporation of new religious dances within Pueblo religion evidence the existence of colonial religious engagement and dialogue that necessitated the innovation. Contemporary Pueblo and Hispanic practitioners attest “that the Matachina pageant [was] ‘introduced’ by the Aztec priest-god, Montezuma. Among the Rio Grande pueblos, where Montezuma is variously known as Bocaiyany (Santa Ana), Poshaiyanki (Zuni), and Poseyemu (Tewa), he is a culture hero.”267 Although the incorporation of Spanish language and populations as well as non-Pueblo artifacts into the performance of the Matachina dance refute a pre-Hispanic origin, these elements and the prominent association with Montezuma evidence the colonial construction of religious elements to facilitate dialogue between Christianity and Pueblo religions. The religious figure labeled Montezuma was the quintessential embodiment of colonial encounter and religious resistance. He was a shape-changer who could speak any language and, though positioned in the ancient past of traditional religious narratives was rooted in Mexican colonial history foretold the coming of the Spanish settlers. The religious icon fulfilled Christian expectation of classical prophetic behavior but admonished the Native American communities to adhere to their traditional religion amidst the approaching religious challenges conflict. Despite Parsons’ suggestion that “the Pueblos heard a good deal about Montezuma from their early Mexican Indian visitors and later found Montezuma a ‘god’ that might be mentioned conveniently to white people,” the role of the character within the culturally inclusive Matachina dance avers the colonial germination of the performances and the use of Montezuma as a medium for religious encounter between Pueblo and Spanish Catholicism.268 Within the religious lives of many individual Pueblos, doctrines, practices and cosmological constructs that originated within the region merged with newly imported conceptions and variations to create hybridizations of traditional Catholicism and native religious traditions. According to Fray , O.F.M., “their limited grasp of Spanish Catholic doctrine and external worship dovetailed nicely with a native mythology which was their very Life.”269 In perhaps the most famous and oft-quoted statement regarding Pueblo hybridization, Ramon Gutierrez asserts that “Whether the Puebloans offered feathers and corn meal to the cross as they had to their prayer-sticks, honored the on Christmas as they had the Twin War Gods during the winter

228 solstice, or flogged themselves on Good Friday as they had called the rain gods, the meaning attached to these acts were fundamentally rooted in Pueblo concepts.”270 As Franciscans introduced new religious ideas, understandings and symbols, they established new loci within the spiritual geography of the Pueblos. Christian artifacts including statues, altars, relics and chapels prescribed sacred spaces and the Christian calendar mapped new conceptions upon Puebloan understandings of the flow of time. The religious traditions of the katsinas mingled with those dedicated to the saints.271 Chapels, often erected atop kivas, could readily serve as above ground kivas. Traditional prayer sticks were used interchangeably with crosses when invoking supernatural aid and presence. According to Christopher Vecsey, “Jesus, Mary, and Santiago could be war gods in the potential syncretism of Pueblo and Catholic religious systems.”272 However, of all the saints, those most venerated by the Pueblo were those that proved efficacious and compatible with pre-existing practices, especially those that were associated with useful, new concepts or goods introduced by the Spanish.273 Saint James, the patron saint of horsemen, and Saint Raphael, the patron saint of fishermen, were both embraced as potent personages within a cosmos alive with both katsinas and saints. The horse and European fishing practices became important in colonial pueblos and thus their corresponding saints were drafted to fill a niche unoccupied prior to the arrival of the missionaries. These saints became so accepted within a hybridized worldview that Pueblos frequently venerated them with traditional offerings of white cornmeal and prayer feathers.274 Similarly Catholic artifacts were incorporated and venerated within a religious tradition that included Christian and pre-Christian Pueblo religious practices. Franciscan records from the early seventeenth century note that the Pueblo “had some slight knowledge of the holy cross from some Mexican Indians who had happened to pass by there in the early times when the Spaniards had first entered New Spain, and it inspired such devotion in them that they always worshipped it and offered it meal.”275 The Pueblo of Nuevo Mexico incorporated Catholic religious ideas, practices and objects into hybrid religious systems. The Native American inhabitants of the Franciscan missions received educations detailing Catholic orthodoxy but encountered and expressed the promulgated sacramentalism through indigenous religious conceptions. Pueblo practitioners in Nuevo

229 Mexico embraced Catholicism and incorporated Catholic sacramental obligations into their religious observations.276 Although the subsequent ritual performances often conveyed and were experienced within the orthodox interpretations promoted by the Franciscan missionaries, the rites framed an inclusive articulation of Catholicism that enabled hybridization.277 Through the performances surrounding the central rite of Catholic sacramental observation, the Eucharist, Pueblo recognized the religious authority of the Franciscan friars as equivalents to Inside Chiefs and the mass as their associate ritual for enacting communal peace. “The Mass New Mexico’s friars celebrated was a rite that promoted communal peace and social accord… Through this sacrificial rite the congregation as a whole was put, in the words of Godfrey Lienhardt, ‘at peace with itself.’”278 After the recitation of the affirmed the composition of the ceremonial community, the performance of the mass united the community’s constituent factions.279 In the course of the unfolding ritual drama, the assembled congregation stood as one as “they presented the priest gifts of wine and bread. Spaniards and Indians, slave and free, male and female, the living and the dead, stood as one, suspending the earth’s inequalities for union as one body in Christ.”280 As the congregation prayed in unison for the power of God to grant peace to the assembled community by reciting the Agnus dei, the Pueblo experienced similar momentary social unity as that evoked by Inside Chiefs who performed comparable rituals to reconcile fractures among their pre-colonial communities.281 The Pueblo of Nuevo Mexico did not exile religious hybridization to a veiled, secret stratum of religious understanding. Pueblo religious synthesis was not always obscured from Spanish observation or besieged by intolerant Franciscan missionaries. Fray Alonso de Benavides noted with pride and satisfaction the grafting of Christianity and indigenous religious concepts articulated by the chief captain of the Xila , Sanaba in 1630. This Native American “apostolic ” traveled fourteen leagues to see the friar and present the missionary with a folded hide. When bidden by Captain Sanaba, Benavides unfurled the chamois and gazed upon an artful rendering of a green sun and gray moon with a cross depicted above each. The friar assures his readership that although the meaning of the symbolism was readily apparent to him he asked the Apache Captain to explain it so that the neophyte could elucidate his understanding.

230 He responded in these formal words: “Father until now we have not known any benefactors as great as the sun and the moon, because the sun lights us by day, warms us, and makes out plants grow; the moon lights us by night. Thus we worship them as our gods. But now that you have taught us who God, the creator of all things is, and that the sun and the moon are His creatures, in order that you might know that we now worship only God, I had these crosses, which are the emblem of God, painted above the sun and the moon. We have also erected one in the plaza, as you commanded.”282

The painted skin depicted a hybridized religious world in which Native American and Christian cosmologies were synthesized into a cohesive compound. Benavides was pleased by his encounter of this amalgam. He continued and described the religious unity of the God of Spanish Franciscans and the celestial beings of the indigenous religions of Nuevo Mexico as “the results of his preaching” and “the fruit of the divine word.”283 The final clause of the recorded dialogue between Benavides and Sanaba, “as you commanded,” reveals the complicating and ever-present influence of political dynamics upon the acceptance of Christianity and presentation of its role in Pueblo life to Franciscan missionaries. According to the Franciscan’s record, the canvas was freely given and represented a genuine articulation of Native American religious amalgamation. However, the conversation and the diagram of religious cohesion cannot be alienated from the matrix of colonial forces and pressures that contextualized the encounter. Benavides omitted from his memorial the prior history of missionary engagements between the Xila and the Franciscans and minimized the looming threat of a promised Franciscan visitation to the Apache with its corresponding military escort and subtext of forced submission. Similarly, the fact that Sanaba had been commanded to erect a cross in the center of his pueblo so that Benavides could worship it when he arrived clearly conveyed the importance that the friar granted the primacy of the cross and the impact that it would have upon his pleasure. Such considerations complicate any attempt to isolate this and similar episodes as simple expressions of Native American hybridization. The Pueblo certainly encountered Catholicism and situated the new religious tradition in relation to their prior religious traditions and hybridization occurred. Unfortunately, it is unclear the degree to which many recorded examples of religious synthesis were expression of indigenous hybridity or to what degree Native American practitioners were able to compartmentalize their religious worlds.

231 According to noted ethnologist, Edward P. Dozier, “Pueblo Indians affirm that they are good Catholics and also feel that they are conscientious and zealous practitioners of their own native Pueblo religion. This paradoxical situation apparently presents no conflict to the individual Pueblo Indian.”284 In addition to rejection and hybridization, the Puebloan people often expressed a practice subsequently termed parallelism, or the simultaneous practice of two distinct and divergent religious forms. Many modern and colonial Tewa are baptized, confirmed, and receive their first holy communion as children in addition to participating in water giving rituals and other initiation ceremonies that mark the birth and maturation of an individual. Despite the similarities between these series of ritual practices, 1632 “Declaration of Pedro de la Cruz” details his observation of the Tewa rite and contention that it was a non-Catholic practice.285 His early description of the Pueblo practice asserts the historical primacy of the indigenous rites and thus the parallelism in their continued simultaneous practice.286 Such ritual similarities allowed for the parallel practice of Catholicism and the continuation of pre- Christian Pueblo religions. “Children in both cultures went through similar rites of passage: from naming – with Pueblo babies held up to the sun for days after birth and Spanish babies receiving baptism in their first days – on through rituals of acceptance by the larger community and lifelong learning by imitation of parents and wise counselors.”287 Religious parallels in practice and ideology bridged religious traditions and brought the religions and people of Nuevo Mexico into dialogue. The results of these conversations included hybridization and parallelism within religious practices in the pueblos. Pueblo communities were able to partially compartmentalize various groupings of religious ideas and practices and maintain both Catholic and non-Christian trajectories throughout the history of Nuevo Mexico. Pueblo religious practices observed in plaza ceremonies as well as official Catholic ritualism are both accepting of the presence and participation of non-puebloans. However, the modern practice of secrecy associated with katsina rituals and its possible colonial roots, indicate that the Pueblo of colonial Nuevo Mexico could have segregated Catholic and public rituals from an exclusive, veiled stratum of their religious observations. It may have been possible for Franciscan missionaries to observe regulated Catholic ritualism performed properly and publicly and

232 even the corn and animal dances that frequently accompanied saints’ day celebrations, but be unaware, or at least claim to be unaware, of the religious practices invoking katsinas within the underground kivas. Regardless, Pueblo communities maintained kivas and chapels, church plazas and dance plazas, and sometimes both European and native languages during the colonial era. Their Native American inhabitants employed holy water in the chapel and corn meal in the kiva, utilized crosses above ground and prayer stick below. “Their masses contained some Pueblo ritual paraphernalia but not much, and their kachina services were kept free of overtly Catholic forms.”288 Such Pueblos welcomed priests into their heart to perform mass and observe the formal sacramental performances. They regularly observed Christmas and and decorated their homes with Christian images and paraphernalia. However, the person of Jesus was not pivot to their daily practice of religious worldview. As for the God of Catholicism, He was embraced as an important deity within a cosmos rich with such divinities.289 Modern observers of similar religious practices have asserted that such religious practices and understandings make of Catholicism an attachment, appendage or enrichment of Pueblo religious culture rather than a core or significant component. 290 However, even within Pueblo religious parallelism, Catholic religious traditions existed and were embraced to degrees that varied between individuals and generations and belie dismissive or grandiose generalizations. Amidst the hybridization and parallelism of the colonial religious landscape, Pueblo within Franciscan missions throughout the province accepted the proffered Christianity of the friars and converted to Catholicism. Fray Alonso de Benavides recorded the fervor and loving devotion with which some Pueblo neophytes embraced Catholicism. “Once the Indians have received holy baptism, they become so domesticated that they live with great propriety. Hardly do they hear the bell calling to mass before they hasten to the church with all the cleanliness and nearness they can.”291 Though the Franciscan records may exaggerate the popularity of Christianity among the Native Americans of Nuevo Mexico, there were numerous converts to Catholicism within the majority of Pueblo villages throughout the colonial era.292 Motivated by the depredations of Navajo and Apache; the appeal of Spanish military support, access to mission food stores, and favored trade status with the Spanish; or the experience of

233 personal emotional appeal and satisfaction granted by traditionally Catholic practices and cosmology, Christian baptism and participation in the Catholicism of the friars became the most appealing option for the majority of Pueblos before the revolutionary period of Nuevo Mexico.293 “By injecting themselves and their gifts into a system of calculated exchanges by which seniors gained the labor, respect, and obedience of juniors, the padres forged a cadre of youths who stood ready to denounce the sins of their parents.”294 Franciscans foisted their colonial goods upon the Pueblo system of reciprocal exchanges and incurred the indebtedness and loyalty of some young Pueblos, which the friars then invested in commitment to Catholicism. Through threat of force, promise of reward, religious education and promotion of the affective appeal of Catholicism, Pueblo observed Catholic rituals, imbibed Catholic cosmology and generally appeared to affect the mien of Christian converts.295 Some estimates maintain that by the middle of the seventeenth century, despite the presence of only thirty to forty Franciscans among the various pueblos at any time, there were “twenty thousand baptized Pueblo Indians.”296 Although Franciscan records estimated more than five hundred thousand Pueblo converts to Catholicism resided in Nuevo Mexico by 1630 in a rhetorical attempt to elicit royal and ecclesiastical support for the continuation of the Franciscan missions in the province, the same documents yield a number closer to fifty thousand when the baptismal records of each Pueblo are added.297 Despite the exaggeration of colonial missionary accounts and the imprecision of contemporary estimates, to deny that Pueblo were capable of properly understanding the teachings of the missionaries, feeling the desire to eschew their traditional religious traditions in favor of Christianity or of converting to Catholicism ignores the few extant records that remain and deprives historical Pueblo of common human abilities. Although many Pueblo adopted and internalized Catholicism in various forms, the absorption of mission Christianity was not consistent throughout Nuevo Mexico. Uneven conversion across the borderland province reinforced inter-pueblo tensions and intra- pueblo rifts. The Franciscans of seventeenth century Nuevo Mexico described the Native Americans of the “Hemes Nation” as “very docile, although before they were very belligerent and so hostile to the Christian Teoas, their neighbors, that one of their captains wore around his neck a string of ears of the Christians that he had killed, and he was

234 eating them.”298 Pueblos that supported conversion to Catholicism often faced persecution, violence and the threat of violence from pueblos that deemed such religious adaptations an unacceptable form of submission to the authority of the region’s colonizers. “Many recognized the conversion to Christianity as a serious compromise of personal liberty and as submission to the oppressive life-style for which Spanish missions would become renowned in the seventeenth century.”299 When asked to explain their justifications for abstaining from conversion to Catholicism, Franciscan records claim “the main and general answer given to us by those pagans for not becoming Christians is that when they do become Christians they are at once compelled to pay tribute and render personal service.”300 However, later accounts of the ridicule endured by Pueblo converts note that the critics of Catholicism believed “You Christians are crazy…You go through the streets in groups, flagellating yourselves, and it is not well that the people of this pueblo should commit such madness as spilling their own blood by scourging themselves.”301 Pueblo practitioners of Catholicism violated traditional behavioral mores and cultural norms and were consequently deemed mentally infirm at best and traitors at worst. Native American proselytes were often subject to from their fellow, non-converted pueblo members. These alienated Pueblo were driven to refuge among the bastions of Catholicism in the region, the Franciscan missionaries and mission pueblos, or face violent repercussions for their conversion. “Fray Geronimo de Pedraza, a surgeon of some renown, took it upon himself to cure Quinia, a widely feared war chief who had been shot in the chest with an arrow by his own warriors because of his friendliness towards the Franciscans.”302 Franciscans and Pueblo neophytes drafted socially respectable Spanish women to “serve as escorts to us as well as to the Christian Indians; were it not for this, the barbarians and those who have not yet been converted would have eaten us alive and also the Christian Indians.”303 However, even veiled behind the security of feminine presence, Catholic Pueblo were subjected to violent persecution and exile. The fervor of anti-Catholic sentiment in a neighboring village prompted Fray Benavides to note of his visitation of the Xumanas “When I came to convert this pueblo, I found there a Christian Indian woman who had fled to this

235 place.”304 Refugees of religious persecution were forced to seek shelter among missions and Pueblo communities that were more tolerant of their new religious practices. Pueblo proselytes endured more subtle forms of religious antagonism from their unconverted neighbors. Fray Tomas Carrasco related that in 1627, Taos who accepted baptism were harassed and their conversion subverted by an old woman who in secrecy did all she could to persuade them to the contrary. In particular, she sought to pervert certain good Christian women who lived alone with their husbands, as our holy mother church commands. In order to pervert them to her will, she invited them to go out to the country, and both on going and returning, all day long, she preached her loathsome ideas to them.305

A significant percentage of the Pueblo population was aroused by and accepted Catholicism. Some of those who were not and did not resisted Catholic proliferation within their pueblos and in adjacent territories. Within pueblos, Pueblo elders contested the of new converts from among their population and subjected Catholic neophytes to ridicule, subversion or overt violence. A similar but diametrical dynamic prevailed among those pueblos whose leaders espoused and promoted Catholicism. Native Americans who remained adamant in their resistance of Christianity were pressured, persecuted and often put to flight. Some adherents to Pueblo religious tradition were exiled to lives as refugees, taking sanctuary in widespread havens of religious resistance. In the first few decades of the seventeenth century, many of religious refugees sheltered “on the northern and western peripheries of the Spanish domain, seeking out pueblos that had not been reached by Spanish political domination and intense missionary activity.”306 Among the pueblos located within the interior of the Nuevo Mexico, proximity to Franciscan scrutiny and Spanish military reprisals made open defiance of colonial authorities difficult to impossible. Residents of these pueblos who desired to perpetuate opposition to Catholic evangelization expatriated in small, sporadic groups to distant pueblos or immersed themselves within the nomadic peoples that bordered Nuevo Mexico. For Native American dissidents who remained under the watchful gaze of colonial oppressors “little recourse remained other than to profess Christianity openly while attempting to practice and preserve traditional ways and beliefs secretly, away from the watchful eyes of Spanish friars and settlers.”307

236 Pueblo acts of religious duplicity were aided by a minority Spanish population that clustered about Santa Fe after it was established in 1610 and insufficient Franciscan missionaries in the province to monitor Pueblo religious deviation. “Equally significant was the fact that even when Franciscans were physically present among the Pueblos, they were seriously impeded by the language barrier that separated Spanish-speaking priests from their Indian parishioners.”308 The scarcity of missionaries in Nuevo Mexico and the relatively short time they resided at each pueblo combined with the multiplicity of Pueblo languages and the intentional resistance of some communities to deny Spanish foreigners education in their Native languages in order to effect a linguistic barrier between friars and their assigned pueblo communities.309 This barrier provided a veil for clandestine religious subversion, the continuation of non-Christian religion and the growing resistance to colonial authorities.

237 CHAPTER FIVE

BENEATH THE BLOODSHED: REVOLUTION, RELIGIOUS RECONFIGURATIONS, AND THE RENEWAL OF NUEVO MEXICO

The morning of August 10th had not yet dawned upon Santo Domingo. Surrounded by anxious faces crowded into the small confines of his residence, Alonzo Catiti fingered the knotted chord delivered to the pueblo by the herald of Po’pay.1 The friars of the local mission were gathered across the plaza in the looming church that his father had shed sweat and blood to erect. They were likely still absorbed in their morning rites and preparations for the days’ observance of the feast of San Lorenzo.2 Alonzo turned to his fellow Pueblo and in hushed tones repeated the litany of offenses and dishonors inflicted against this pueblo, attempting to capture in his narration the pitch and intonation that he could recall in the weary voice of his father from whom he had first heard it.3 Though Alonzo loved the Santo Nino that the missionaries introduced into his life as early as he could remember, as chief of his pueblo, he could not forget the insults heaped upon their elders, the lashes bestowed upon his neighbors or the apparent loss of the missionaries’ holy sanction and their inability to serve as religious leaders.4 He committed himself to the rousing conclusion of his morale bolstering speech and steeled himself to the butchery he would commit. Alongside his friends and fellow warriors, the local Pueblo chief charged across the plaza and was the first to burst through the unlocked doors of the friars’ sanctuary. The startled Franciscans were unable to mount effective self defense. The Religious were stunned for just a moment. Then two tried to flee while clutching their crosses and appealing to the Catholic obedience of their former congregants. The third looked about quickly and, finding no object at hand, charged his armed assailants with nothing for defense but his habit, cross, and fists, clenched in feeble denial of his fate. After a brief but bloody and emotionally-charged “battle…the Preachers Fray Juan de Talaban, Fray Francisco Antonio de Lorenzana and Fray Jose de Montes Oca had been killed.”5 Each Pueblo descended upon the lifeless forms to demonstrate his anger and personal virtue and assist in the restoration of the religious order of the pueblo. Wary that the sounds of battle may had roused the local Spanish soldiers and fearful that warning would spread

238 from the allies of the Friars to nearby pueblos and prevent the coordinated attacks of their fellow revolutionaries, Alonso directed the massed rebels to eliminate the other Spanish in the village. After dispatching his soldiers to complete the morning’s sanguinary work, the chief stared upon the mutilated forms of his priests and began to drag them closer to the altar and dig shallow graves for the religious leaders. While his subordinates repealed the last vestiges of imposed authority, he privately “buried in the church” the Catholic intermediaries, as close to the well of their sacred power, the altar, as possible.6 His work took him most of the day. He directed his fellow soldiers to line up the lifeless bodies of the other colonists “behind the church” and ready themselves to trek west to “the pueblo of Xemez” and reinforce the revolutionary efforts of their Tewa allies along the way.7 When the Catholic chief was finished “The church and convent were closed, and … the images and altars [stood] as they had been left. In the sacristy…all the ornaments consisting of six silver chalices, a lavatory vase, and incensary, a lamp and other things made of silver” remained unmolested and sanctified.8 If solemnity marked the first day of the restoration of sacred order for Alonso, along the trail to Jemez, he was less conflicted in assigning the fate of the Spanish officers that had held the during mission ministrations and the nooses of the Pueblo religious leaders slaughtered years before. When the troop procession passed the residence of the vindictively intolerant hand of their religious oppression, Captain Agustin de Carabajal, the volunteer army smarmed the grounds, broke down the door and poured into the house. Alonso led the soldiers in a search of each room until they found the captain cowering in a bedroom with his wife. Both were slain and their dead bodies left where they fell. Though angered over a century of slights and religious suppression and burning with resentment for the agents of their subjugation, the soldiers did not devolve into a disorderly horde. “An unmarried girl, a woman and the sons of deceased were not killed” and remained safe on this province-wide day of reprisal. However, “a short distance” down the road, at the “house of Cristobal de Anaya,” the passing army “forced open” the door, looted the home and murdered the ardent ally of the Franciscans and vocal advocate of Spanish dominion “together with his wife, six sons and other persons, numbering twelve in all.”9 The Spanish sympathizers were granted no respect, were denied human deaths, “their nude bodies being found lying on the road.”10 Before

239 the second day concluded Alonso and his small, makeshift company of revolutionary soldiers had “killed the Captain Agustin de Carabajal and Dona Damiana de Mendoza, his wife and all their family; the Sargento Mayor, Cristobal de Analla and Dona Leonor de Mendoza, his wife and all their family.”11 Twelve days later, Fray Francisco Gomez de la Cadena stared in bewilderment at the wreckage left in the aftermath of the revolt of the Pueblo and was stunned by the intensity of the violence and utter rejection of Christian rule. He stood amidst the wreckage of the once magnificent convent of San Francisco, abandoned to degeneracy in the depopulated shell of the pueblo of Sandia. Fray Francisco had endured over a week of deprivation in Santa Fe, besieged by his former congregation, and watched as his own church burned. On the road with the abrogated governor of the province, Don , the friar had heard rumors of his own death. “He was supposed to have made a last stand at [the residence of Governor Otermin], in which were also …the Rev. Fr. Juan de Pio, and the Very Rev. Fr. Juan Bernal” and the captain general himself. The devastation of the convent dedicated to his namesake and the patron of his order was one more and too personal a wound to bear. As his heart broke, small fires burned in the deserted pueblo. In the convent around him, the detritus of Catholic devotion declared to the Spanish mendicant the return of the Pueblo to their ways of idolatry and the repudiation of his ecclesiastical authority. The Franciscan convent stood in demolished languor; “all doors broken down and the cells without doors and everything robbed; the images missing, except for a life-size statue of St. Francis which had the arms chopped of with an axe.”12 Francisco stared down at the fallen carving and the brutal slashes that marked the torso and face of the Catholic saint and marveled at the fervor that possessed the Indian heathens to ware away at the solidly constructed sacred artifact. His tears fell upon the floor of the church that were strewn with dirt and straw and the demolished remains of benches, presumably to insult the Christian powers further. Everything of sacred importance was either defiled or taken by the rebel communicants for some nefarious end. “The Sacristy was found without boxes, and all the sacred vessels and ornaments were missing. Everything had been stolen and taken away by the traitorous Indians.”13 While the soldiers conducted a search of “the houses in the pueblo,” the defeated friar mourned the loss of sacred relics, his Franciscan brethren, and their

240 missionary province.14 A short time later, when his band of Spanish refugees were “half a league from said pueblo” Fray Francisco Gomez turned astride his horse to gaze upon the receding pueblo and “discovered that the church was in flames.” In sullen reflection, the Franciscan felt the fire a fitting end for the missionary hopes of his order and a sure sign of the reclamation of these territories by the devil.15 On August 10, 1680, the Pueblo Indians began an organized armed resistance of Spanish colonial domination. Through the violence that ensued over the next few days and months, the Pueblo Indians threw off the twin yokes of Spanish colonialism and Christianity for a time and resacralized their abandoned and disgraced shrines and rites. On August 14, two Indian messengers reached don Antonio de Otermin, governor and captain general of New Mexico, with word that “God and Santa Maria were dead, that they were the ones whom the Spaniards worshiped, and that their own God whom they obeyed had never died.”16 Despite the religious fervor and emotional intensity that would seem to be behind such acts of violence and profanation, few scholars of the 1680 revolt have analyzed Pueblo religion and emotional expression and fewer still have reconciled religious motivations and emotional expression within the integral or sufficient causes of the violence.17 However, such themes were prominent in the minds of the Pueblo revolutionaries that committed the acts and the Franciscans that survived to reflect upon the violence. Religious and emotional experiences and performances were inseparable from the sequence of Pueblo attempts to usurp Spanish authorities and liberate their cultures from colonial dominion. The series of successive Native American revolts that characterized the history of seventeenth century Nuevo Mexico were specific manifestations of a social dynamic of resistance within the colony. This stream of colonial resistance repeatedly sought to redress the religious transgressions of Pueblo and Spanish and reform the practices and religious worlds of the Pueblo through increasingly inclusive acts of violence and continued, subtle contestation of Spanish religious authorities. The actions of the historical Pueblo during the Revolutionary Period, including the Pueblo Revolt of 1680, were contextualized by Pueblo religious cosmologies and the emotionality that structured both the religious and secular spheres of human activity.18 The Pueblo engaged in a series of attempts to realize a revolution, reform the religion and culture of their

241 communities and reshape the established religious authorities throughout the province. The Pueblo revolts were contextualized within religious cosmologies and driven to obtain, among several goals, specifically religious objectives by motivations inextricably woven through the spectrum of religious variation in Nuevo Mexico. Thus, the Pueblo revolt was, in part, a religious action. The successful Revolution in 1680 reconfigured the religious relations within the territory during the interval of Pueblo independence and affected those reinstituted after the later return of Spanish colonists and Franciscan missionaries. The renewal of colony of Nuevo Mexico and the reimplementation of the missionary regime recreated in slightly augmented forms the spectrum of religious interaction from the pre-revolutionary colony including willing acceptance, various ambivalent relationships, and the persistent thread of religious resistance.

Religious Reformation and the Stirrings of The Revolutionary Period Between 1630 and 1640, the colony of Nuevo Mexico was characterized by heightened tensions between and within its constituent Hispanic and Pueblo populations. Over the intervening years, Franciscan friars became increasingly estranged and alienated from their congregations and the Spanish colonists that surrounded their missions. Among the Pueblo, the decade bore witness to the stirrings of concerted Native American unrest and discontent that swiftly built momentum towards revolution. “Oppressed in body and in spirit, many mission Indians sought ways to extricate themselves from the loving embrace of the sons of St. Francis. Strategies varied.”19 Throughout the 1630s, some Pueblo individuals and communities abandoned mission settlements. Others engaged in either covert strategies or overt attempts to rid their pueblos of the friars through contrary behavior, attacks of violence, or murder. A few pueblos sought to drive their resident missionaries away by making continued habitation within the mission bounds an undesirable or unbearable option.20 This critical decade ushered in significant transformation of the demographic, political and religious configurations of Nuevo Mexico that enabled the later cultural and hegemonic shifts effected by the imminent succession of Native American revolts. “Enemy raids, , movements into colonists’ communities, and forced labor also diminished the numbers of Indians in missions, but epidemics of smallpox, measles, and

242 other difficult-to-identify diseases appear to have been the principle cause of premature Indian deaths.”21 For years, little rain fell upon the already semiarid territory of the Spanish borderlands. Within this dire meteorological condition, entire harvests failed and famine plagued Pueblo and Spanish colonists alike. The few surviving crops and livestock tempted nomadic Apache peoples to turn upon and raid their Pueblo neighbors in order to maintain their liberty from colonial authorities, ensure their continued lifestyle, and provide for their swollen population of former Pueblo refugees. By the middle of the decade, the Apache obtained horses from raids and naturally propagating populations, infused their cultures with their use and transformed into mounted nomadic communities. “Against these mounted and increasingly armed Apaches, the Franciscans had little to offer the Indians in the way of protection at the missions. The small contingent of armed soldiers scattered throughout the kingdom was no match for the Apaches.”22 Although the Franciscan missionaries had shepherded nearly 150 pueblos in 1598, due to such adverse circumstances, by 1640 they ministered to less than forty- three.23 However, despite the rapid and recent devastation of their population and continued predations by Apache, the Pueblo were saddled with the constant, fixed tribute assessments for each pueblo. Faced with economic oppression, the loss of Spanish- promised peace with their Indian neighbors, and the continued imposition of missionary life, open defiance of the colonial regime and religious apostasy became an increasingly appealing and popular option among many pueblos. Escape and flight from the missions in which they had been congregated became a more common articulation of Native American religious resistance. Amidst this loss of their congregation populations, Fray Juan de Prada recorded in 1638 that many Pueblo converts had abandoned their homes in the missions and “gone over to the heathen, believing that they enjoy greater happiness with them, since they live according to their whims, and in complete freedom.”24 Throughout the 1630s, a steady trickle of Pueblos left their homes behind, fled to distant communities and peoples and embraced the promise of life beyond Franciscan oversight and colonial, Christian correction. The Pueblos’ experience of the catastrophic circumstances of the era prompted various religious perceptions, interpretations, and adaptations. Mission pueblos

243 throughout the region observed that the “prayers of the padres did not shield the natives from European diseases or from other natural or man-made disasters.”25 The Franciscans’ healing rituals had failed to rid their community of pestilence and famine. “The rain spirits had not visited the people, nor had the friars conjured rain.”26 Among the Pueblo that had embraced Christianity within or alongside of continued observation of their pre-Hispanic religious traditions, the afflictions plaguing the colony evidenced a shifting mandate from heaven. “Among the Indians there was a widespread belief that the friars’ charisma had dimmed, which by native standards, signified the loss of supernatural sanction.”27 The powerlessness of the friars indicated cosmic displeasure and the retraction of divine support for Franciscan and Spanish regional sovereignty. Among those Native Americans that had lapsed in or sought to restore the observation of traditional religions, the troubled times revealed “that Franciscan shamans had lost their magic, or that the Christian god did not have the strength of the old god.”28 Such revival movements incorporated Christian elements of a jealous, angry deity and interpreted the suffering and privations as proof “that the native gods were angry.”29 Among both groups of religious innovators, Pueblo elders whispered that, in the past “the Inside Chief and medicine men would have restored cosmic harmony through communal offerings, dances, and cures. If these failed, in all likelihood, the town would have disbursed.”30 The missionaries had shown themselves to be powerless before the forces of the cosmos but seemed to maliciously deny the community the option of dispersion. Denied escape and begrudgingly yoked to impotent religious leaders, some Pueblo imagined their only recourse to be the renewal of their pre-Christian rites. Thus, participants in a growing religious reformation movement dance their revived ceremonies “and begged the Corn Mothers to return from the underworld with blessings. They offered sacred corn meal to Father Sun and asked the katsina to visit them with food, prosperity and good life.”31 For ten years, non-traditionally Catholic elements began to increasingly permeate the religious lives of Pueblo within Nuevo Mexico. Franciscan efforts to excise this swelling religious reformation transformed covert deviations to overt rebellion. “The friars responded angrily to the resurgence of Pueblo ceremonialism and did everything they could to suppress it. They mercilessly flayed the most notorious backsliders, some even to the point of death, hoping to purge the Indians

244 of their idolatrous ways.”32 In 1637 and 1638 at the pueblo of Taos, Native Americans appealed to the governor to intervene and spare them from the excessive brutality of the corrections and punishments of Fray Nicolas Hidalgo. According to the pleas of the Pueblo, the friar “punished his insolent children by castration and acts of sodomy” and willingly used rape to assert his authority within the mission.33 As a result of Indian recriminations and the intervention of the colonial governor, Fray Hidalgo was relieved of his assignment the following year. However, Hidalgo’s replacement, Fray Pedro de Miranda, far from repentant or bereaved for his predecessor’s actions, admonished the abused congregation for their treatment of the former missionary of Taos.34 Although such obtuseness and malignancy were not common, Franciscan, gubernatorial and Inquisitional documents of this decade record many of the worst abuses and mishandling of the Pueblo within the mission history of Nuevo Mexico.35 Franciscan excess in the repression of native rites revived the collective Pueblo memory of Spanish abuses and violations of traditional, ethical norms and fused the remembrance with the renewed desire for religious change. On December 28, 1639, the Pueblo of Taos realized their desires for reformation and a change in religious leadership by slaying Fray Pedro de Miranda and two Spanish soldiers. However, their desire for moral retribution and religious revolution demanded more than immediate violence and satisfaction of balked frustrations. The Taos revolutionaries targeted the embodied loci of Catholicism in the region. After destroying the body of the friar, they deconstructed Catholic sacred space by demolishing the church and convent, and profaned the central religious artifact of the Franciscans’ tradition by maculating the Eucharist.36 The Pueblo then proceeded to Picuris Pueblo to repeat the retributive violence and liberation among their neighbors but were thwarted by the absence of the resident missionary. Nonetheless, the movement of the militant force with the intent to murder the friar of Picuris evidenced the early diffusion of revolutionary sentiment among the Pueblo. Indeed, a few weeks later at Jemez pueblo, the Native American congregation rejected the attempts of Fray Diego de San Lucas to forcibly reconcile the community to his utopian vision of Christian conformity. The local Pueblo killed the mendicant Franciscan and left his bleeding corpse wrapped about a cross.37 They slew the mission’s contingent of armed colonists and abandoned the village that had

245 been besieged by Franciscan offenders and targeted by disease, famine and the wrath of supernal beings. “At both places the Indians rejected their Franciscan theocracy and colonial regime.”38 The violent religious revolts at Taos and Jemez cemented the desire for retribution and religious revolution among the Pueblos, affirmed the viability of open rebellion, and inaugurated the Pueblo revolutionary period. The success and scale of the rebellions at Taos and Jemez created a rift between the dual authorities of the colony: the administration of the governor and the Franciscan missionaries. The public observations of Pueblo rituals realized Spanish colonial fears of Native American reversion and thus threatened the foundation and continuance of the colony. Unwilling to bear the onus of responsibility for the recent violence or the potential failure of the missionary endeavor, Governor Rosas and Franciscan friars each attempted to foist the blame upon the other. To further divorce themselves from guilt, each contingent sought to cast their adversary as malignantly incompetent and a malicious hindrance to the success of Nuevo Mexico by heaping upon them a host of recriminations and administrative rebukes. “The friars charged that Rosas’s greed, his slave raids, and excessive extraction of labor and tribute had precipitated the revolts and driven the Indians to apostasy.”39 The Franciscans incited colonists to criticize the governor for amassing dictatorial control over all local commerce, and forcibly appropriating the looms of the settlers to impose a monopoly upon the production of textiles in the kingdom.40 “Other citizens were angered by the fact that in 1638 Rosas had stacked Santa Fe’s town council (cabildo) with his cronies, thereby controlling the use of communal land, water, and pasturage.”41 Among the more florid accounts of the governor’s capricious abuses were accusations that Rosas had one third of the colonists’ cattle slaughtered in order to feed his massive staff of Native American slaves.42 As the division and tensions between ecclesiastical and governmental authorities deepened, the mendicant missionaries rallied the support of loyal Indian congregations in order to wield Native American opinion and direct their accusations for benefit in the colonial administrative dispute. Some Pueblo continued to embrace Catholicism and consistently tolerated the friars amidst the building revolutionary activity and intra- Hispanic conflicts. Native American communities still “welcomed missionaries, calculating that friendly relationships with friars would bring material benefits…[or

246 provide the] key to defense against predatory Spaniards or predatory Indian neighbors.”43 Many of the native peoples of Nuevo Mexico lived in Catholicized religious worlds and looked to the friars for religious guidance and leadership. Some regarded the Franciscans as useful mediums to Spanish trade goods and intermediaries between themselves and the potentially hostile and violent Spanish soldiers.44 Viceroy Antonio de Mendoza reflected on this acceptance by the Pueblo and recorded that the Native Americans “welcomed the friars, and where they flee from us like deer…they come to them.”45 Despite the general misbehavior of Franciscans within Pueblo ethical contexts and the horrific actions of some, the friars of Nuevo Mexico were torn by conflicting loyalties to Spanish regional sovereignty and the human neophyte before them. This ambivalence and empathetic attraction to their Native American congregants was heightened by the welcoming embrace of some congregations and only intensified the missionaries’ antagonism towards the governor and his administration. The Spanish Franciscans were simultaneously drawn to their Pueblo flocks while they were repulsed from their formerly stable position at the core of the Hispanic community. In evidence of the heightened tensions, the practice of the Office of the Inquisition became an increasingly significant component of the religious lives of the friars. As the chasm between the Franciscans and the governing administrators yawned wider, the missionaries began to wield the powers and authority of the Holy Office of the Inquisition against the governors and their supporters among the Spanish colonists. The agents of the Church possessed an awesome array of powers within the missionary province. The church asserted the authority to grant or withhold the sacraments, examine the private lives of congregants, and excommunicate those judged enemies of Christianity.46 Officially, the Franciscans of Nuevo Mexico wielded three categories of ecclesiastical authority, endowed by three distinct administrative units – the office of the custodian, the Holy Office of the Inquisition, and the Santa Cruzada. “In practice, the fact that only a small number of Franciscans resided in New Mexico meant that these separate lines of authority often converged, falling under the control of the custodian of the province and endowing its holder with an impressive degree of power.”47 After the position was established in 1630, as the commissary for the Holy Office of the Inquisition, the custodio could levy and investigate accusations of heresy among the

247 Hispanic colonists.48 Although Inquisitional powers were officially localized in the custodio and not dispersed among the missionaries, within the performance of the missionary identity, Inquisitional intimidation was a common ecclesiastical tool and a component of the public persona of the friars, even if they were devoid of any direct authority from the Office.49 The associate intimidation and powers of agents of the Inquisition alienated them from their neighbors and fellow Spanish colonists. “In the name of this intimidating office,” the Franciscans of the province appeared to be able to declare persons to be possible heretics and send them to “stand before the infamous tribunal in Mexico City.”50 “Although the Inquisition functioned as a sort of police force, the confessions were not taken in the same way that a modern statement might be taken from the accused in a criminal case. A person was imprisoned and investigated in response to a denunciation…those arrested were not informed of the charges against them. Rather, the suspect was urged to confess whatever he or she might have done that was worth of punishment by the Holy Office. The inquisitor’s questions, the confessant’s testimony, and any other events that transpired were recorded by a notary, who was instructed to record testimony in a complete and accurate manner.”51 Fray Juan Bernal proudly suffered the alienation that accompanied his appointment as agent of the Inquisition. While afflicted by sunburn, running sores, and “suffering other afflictions of this country,” the publicly pious friar assured the Holy Office of the Inquisition in Mexico City that his distance from his fellow colonists was a mark of his upstanding morality and volitional suffering for his vocation.52 He maintained, “Resentful colonists looked for any excuse to malign him. He lived in seclusion, mostly at Pecos, and carried out Inquisition business with extreme caution, ‘fraternizing with no one since they attempt to stain my reputation.’”53 Nonetheless, he reminded his superiors in Nuevo España that he remained “ever confident that Your Illustrious Lordship will protect me and take me from this country.”54 Even as Inquisitional authority distanced and isolated friars from their Hispanic neighbors, it provided one more avenue for critique and remonstration from Governor Rosas and subsequent administrations. During Rosas’ tenure as governor, the cabildo lambasted the Franciscans of the province for “arbitrary use of ecclesiastical power

248 through the Inquisition, the Santa Cruzada, and the prelacy.”55 The council alleged that the friars insidiously attempted to suborn royal authority in Nuevo Mexico by plying “censures, interdicts, excommunications, and threats of Inquisitorial prosecutions…to humiliate the governor and to intimidate the citizens” into aligning with ecclesiastical agents against the governor and all royal representatives.56 According to the 1639 allegations against Prelate Juan de Salas, in February of the same year, the friar withheld confessional absolution from all those who would not “sign a paper in [the Franciscans’] favor against the honor of the government and its justices and superiors.”57 The cabildo of Santa Fe insisted that the missionaries threatened to personally consume the Eucharist, deny the settlers access to all sacraments and leave the Spanish Catholics that heeded the direction of Governor Rosas without ecclesiastical representation. The governor’s supporters on the council castigated the friars for threatening loyal colonists for “no other reason than their pleasure” as they attempted to keep “the land oppressed and afflicted [so] they can control it with such a powerful and superior hand.”58 Amidst the widening social fracture, Governor Rosas and the allied cabildo of Santa Fe broadened their complaints against the resident Franciscans. The anticlerical colonists decried the Franciscans for tyrannically oppressing Nuevo Mexico for the precious 40 years. In 1639, they charged the mendicants with unjustly “controlling Indian labor, lands, and livestock” and prohibiting Spanish settlers “from keeping livestock, claiming that the cattle would destroy Indian cornfields.”59 This latter charge was deemed particularly heinous given the perceived avarice of the missionaries. The colonial governor asserted that the friars used Pueblo to tend their personal flocks that exceeded “one or two thousand sheep.”60 Moreover, they criticized the Franciscans or abandoning their lives of poverty and acquiring an excessive number of horses and firearms and conscripting a massive Native American work force to serve as porters, cooks, woodchoppers, and millers.61 Friars likewise wielded the administrative recourse left to their offices to criticize the governor before the viceroy. The majority of their allegations drew upon perceptions of Governor Rosas’ violation of ecclesiastical privileges.62 Such assaults upon gubernatorial power reinforced and bolstered the friars’ commitment to ecclesiastical superiority within colonial contexts. Within the internal documents of the Franciscan

249 missionaries, they described a sermon preached by Prelate Antonio de Artega during the first year of the Rosas administration. The friars asserted that the prelate was justly and innocently explicating the primacy of the authority of the Church and of the papacy over all the “children of the Church,” including Catholic monarchs. After Fray Antonio explained that all Christians were subject to ecclesiastical laws and that anyone “who challenged those laws was a heretic,” the governor became incensed and shouted down the friar.63 He silenced the friar, declaring, “what you say is a lie!” and asserting that in Nuevo Mexico the governor, “represented the king and the king was everything.”64 He then turned his back upon the altar, gathered a company of armed soldiers and stormed out of the church before the completion of the service. The Pueblo throughout the colony observed the fracture within the leadership of Nuevo Mexico. According to Fray Juan de Salas, when they witnessed the dramatic bifurcation among the Hispanic population and between colonial authorities, Native American congregants despaired and “walked about as if dazed, and they withdrew to their cornfields.”65 Given their mimicry of the authorities of Inside and Outside Chiefs respectively, the rift between the missionaries and the governor evidenced the further diminishment of the Franciscans supernatural profile and evoked the presence of supernatural ire either as a cause or result. “The relationship between the sacred and secular force enshrined in the structures of authority since the conquest had crumbled before its Indian audience.”66 Clearly, if the Franciscans had assumed the roles and responsibilities of Inside Chiefs, they were no longer efficacious whether by loss of power or by divine displeasure. In evidence of the breakdown of sacred order, reciprocal cosmic disorder settled upon the colony. The same year as the dramatic schism between Rosas and the missionaries “an unnamed pandemic settled over the colony, killing an estimated three thousand Pueblo people, literally decimating their population. [Moreover,] Temperatures dropped and stayed lower than at any previous time in this cold century.”67 The rift between the Spanish colonial authorities culminated in a swift succession of events that began in January of 1639. Unable to resolve a dispute with Fray Juan de Gongora over the legal immunities that he as the local representative of the Cruzada enjoyed, Governor Rosas begrudgingly banished the friar from the province.68 Devoid of

250 leadership in the absence of Fray Gongora, the Cruzada’s piercing critique of the colonial governorship dissolved. Later that year, the death of Fray Esteban de Perea similarly disbursed the focus and direction of the Inquisition in the region. Freed from the critical oversight of both major, ecclesiastical tribunals in Nuevo Mexico, Governor Rosas confidently pressed charges against Prelate Juan de Salas in an attempt to rid the province of clerical leadership and realize ecclesiastical submissiveness, “claiming that his censures and excommunications were invalid because he had newer presented his patent of office.”69 However, rather than submit to an illegal review by the governor, the prelate summoned all of the Franciscans stationed in Santa Fe, abandoned its church and congregation, and retreated in self-imposed exile to the pueblo of Santo Domingo. Early within the following year, the remaining Franciscan friars throughout Nuevo Mexico joined Prelate Salas in exile at Santa Domingo and in solidarity against the governor. Although beset with guilt for abandoning their missions and congregations, they were more fearful for the future of a missionary province and the fate of their Pueblo neophytes in a land terrorized by anti-clerical tyrants. The besieged friars solicited the loyalty and support of 73 of the colony’s 120 citizens and pledged their obedience solely to “the pope and his legate Prelate Salas.”70 The rest of the Spanish colonists were condemned to life under Governor Rosas and branded disloyal, illegitimate Catholics. The Franciscan friars and their supporters from the settler population remained barricaded within Santa Domingo for over a year. Meanwhile, Governor Rosas solidified his position and primacy by undermining the authority and rule of the Franciscans among their Pueblo missions. “He ordered the Indians not to obey the fathers and staged for them caricatures of Christian ritual that mocked clerical authority.”71 The governor’s anti-clerical antics gave umbrage to the committed Catholic converts among the Pueblo. Such displays of impiety demonstrated the depravity and heresy that permeated the colonial administration, thus attenuating their moral authority and the justification for Spanish rule in the kingdom. Among the more ambiguously aligned Pueblo religious practitioners, the satirical demonstrations buttressed the growing desire for religious reformation and further justified action to effect change in communal leadership.72 Within both groups, the open displays of ridicule sapped the fetters upon pent up displays of frustration, suppressed until now by relationships of respectful encounter and obedient

251 deference. As a result of abandonment by their missionaries and the eroding foundation of Spanish authority, by “1640, the political configuration of the colony had changed radically.”73 Pueblos throughout the province stewed in the coalescing desires for religious change and redress of past grievances that fomented revolutionary aspirations. The division between the administration of the governor and the friars reached a tentative, temporary resolution in the early months of 1641. Nueva España intervened and dispatched a replacement prelate, Fray Hernando Covarrubias, to provide new leadership for the Franciscan of the border province. Juan Flores de Sierra y Valdez was sent to accompany the friar and relieve Rosas as the new, hopefully less contentious, governor of Nuevo Mexico.74 The administration of Governor Flores and the life of the governor himself proved short and both ended within one year of his arrival. Nonetheless, the remaining tensions between the colony’s friars and Rosas realized their dénouement on January 25, 1642, when the former governor was murdered while imprisoned under house arrest. Investigations by the staff of subsequent gubernatorial administrations concluded that Nicolas Ortiz, a soldier who had recently returned to Santa Fe after a prolonged position in Mexico, discovered that the disgraced former governor was engaged in an affair with his wife, Dona Maria de Bustillas, and slew Rosas in retaliation.75 However, the requisite review of the late governor’s administration and investigation of Rosas’ untimely death conducted by Governor Flores’ successor revealed that “eight soldiers were guilty of cold blooded murder and sedition.”76 The implicated conspirators were executed on July 21, 1642. The account of the execution penned by Fray Hernando Covarrubias revealed the commendation accredited the criminals by, and possible complicity of, the Franciscan friars. The new prelate recorded that “after Francisco Salazar’s head was severed, much to everyone’s amazement, he miraculously recited the Apostles’ Creed from start to finish.”77 The official Franciscan history of the conspirators’ demise accorded the deceased a miraculous declaration of their moral sanctity through the articulation of the sacred creed. Furthermore, the murder of the governor did not shock the friars into repentance or moderate their condemnation of the victim. The body of Rosas was denied a Catholic burial and interred within a corn patch, beyond the sacred space constructed around the church. However, this final act of Franciscan condemnation had unforeseen

252 implications. For those Pueblo who supported the former governors’ anticlericalism, this resting place honored his remains within their pre-Catholic religious cosmology and elevated the governor to heroic status in memory.78 In 1642, the Franciscan friars conducted series of rituals of reconciliation that mitigated the tensions between ecclesiastical and gubernatorial authorities and sought to unify the bifurcated population. To aid this process, Alonso Pacheco y Heredia arrived in Santa Fe on November of 1642 under the orders of the viceroy to assume the mantle of the governorship, left vacant by the death of Juan Flores de Sierra y Valdez’s death, and restore social order under his civil authority. Informed by a similar mandate to negotiate peace for the success of the colony, the friars joined the citizens of Santa Fe in welcoming the new governor’s arrival with respectful and appropriately effusive fanfare. “In a gesture calculated to reflect their conciliatory mood, the friars agreed to exhume Governor Rosas’s bones from the corn patch in which they rested, to grant him absolution, and to give him a Christian burial in Santa Fe’s church.”79 Governor Pacheco fulfilled his secondary directive of investigating and resolving the murder of Rosas with the public executions of July 21, effectively ending the tensions and questions raised by the circumstances of his death and officially absolving the friars of involvement. On July 30, the missionaries gathered representatives form the Spanish and Pueblo populations throughout Nuevo Mexico for a ritual of unity, conducted in the sacred space overseen by the friars but at the seat of gubernatorial power. In the church at Santa Fe, friars from throughout the region performed a high Mass that articulated the solidarity of the colonial population. Within the context of this religious ceremony, “the Franciscan prelate and the governor pronounced their loyalty and obedience to the king and his appointed representatives. At last Church-state relations were calm.”80 Before the assembled Pueblo and Spanish colonists, the Franciscan friars affirmed their power over the social order and reconciled the fractured community, fulfilling their cosmic role within the religious worlds of many Pueblo. In affirmation of their redeemed authority and as though in response to their efficacious ritual actions, relative peace and diminished Native American resistance characterized the text two years of the colonial province. Freed from the consuming byplay with governors, the Franciscans focused upon their missions among the Native Americans and gradually distanced themselves from

253 concerns for the Spanish colonists. The renewed attentions of the ambivalently respected and resentfully remembered friars were not well received in all of the Pueblo missions. From 1644 to the middle of the 1650s, Native Americans throughout the province redoubled their violent efforts to shake off the shackles of colonial authorities. The intensifying animosity of these precursors to revolution “temporarily united the colonists, friars, and governors against their common enemy.”81 Consequently, despite their relative inattentiveness to the religious needs of the colonists “by 1656, the Franciscans seemed once again to have emerged as the dominant estate in provincial politics…stronger in number (70 friars by 1657) and ever more confident that ecclesiastical power reigned supreme in New Mexico.”82 In 1659, Governor Bernardo Lopez de Mendizabal emerged in Nuevo Mexico to lead the colony and give voice to the growing religious dissatisfaction and critique developing among the Spanish population.83 The friars countered that Governor Mendizabal was “openly contemptuous of the Franciscans… irreverent in word and deed, [and] aggressively anticlerical” since his original visit to the kingdom alongside a supply caravan the year before.84 Though labeled an “anti-Christ” by Franciscan opposition, Bernardo Lopez de Mendizabal had been educated by Jesuits in the arts and law and practiced a form of Catholicism that denounced the unassailable authority of the clergy.85 He was a loyal and competent royal administrator and would not suborn any interference in his religious or profession life, especially from ecclesiastical representatives.86 In the view of the new governor of Nuevo Mexico, royal privilege was absolute within a colony and as the preeminent royal representative he expected to be similarly esteemed and honored. Acting swiftly to disrupt Franciscan complacency and authority within the kingdom, Mendizabal declared the reception conducted by the missionaries at Socorro had intentionally insulted and impugned the honor of his royal position. Although Fray Benito de la Natividad had instructed the Pueblo to construct several triumphal arches and greeted the governor’s approach with resounding mission bells while he awaited the carriage at the cemetery entrance, Mendizabal claimed that the representative of the king should be celebrated and “like the Blessed Sacrament on the ,” with elaborate arches, companies of joyously singing and dancing Native Americans, and the resplendent pomp of mock battles and a high Mass.87

254 If Mendizabal’s chastening of the mendicants was based upon calculated hyperbole, he nevertheless restored honor to royal authority by refusing to acknowledge the writ of the new custodio, Fray Juan Ramirez, and thus denying his regional powers as prelate and ecclesiastical judge. “Throughout Mendizabal’s governorship he and the Franciscans would spar over Indian administration and the rights of the Church as a privileged institution.”88 Governor Mendizabal expressed an increasingly significant strand of religious sentiment in Nuevo Mexico that questioned the primacy and place of ecclesiastical authority in the world when he jockeyed for leadership of the colonial endeavor in the kingdom. This minority stream of colonial religious variation threatened the success and safety of the colony as it eroded the stability of Franciscan sovereignty over the Pueblo. Differences over appropriate policy and relations towards Native Americans in the province defined the dialogue between and critiques from ecclesiastical and civil agents. Governor Mendizabal sympathized with the Pueblos’ calumniations of mission friars and sought to liberate them from subjugation to Franciscan forced conformity and the missionary vision of utopian theocratic communities. Seeking to solidify the Pueblo population as allies against the friars and loyal colonial subjects, Mendizabal decreed to the Pueblo that “only he and God were to be obeyed…[and] no one was to punish the Indians nor should the Indians allow themselves to be punished.”89 Governor Mendizabal vigorously enforced this early policy of religious toleration. When the warden of Cuarac’s mission disobeyed the gubernatorial edict and whipped several Pueblo girls who chose to not attend Mass or catechism, the governor issued orders for the churchwarden to be flayed in kind.90 Fray Miguel de Sacristan despaired that without recourse to corrective punishment, “no longer do we have it in our power to correct, teach, or preach.”91 As a result of the friars’ toothless ministrations, Zuni’s residents no longer felt motivated to attend services and refused to ring the “Ave Maria or sunset bells and did not attend choir.”92 Given a degree of insulation from the religious direction of the Franciscan missionaries, more Pueblo reconfigured their religious practices by questioning the friars’ orders, openly disobeying or engaging in behavior intentionally contrary to “the mission regime by practicing concubinage and polygamy and by celebrating their indigenous rites.”93 The governor’s new policy towards Native

255 Americans undermined mission discipline and thus the authority and relevance of the Franciscans in the Nuevo Mexico. To the Franciscan missionaries laboring in Nuevo Mexico, the dangerous new Indian policy of Governor Mendizabal heretically promoted “liberty of conscience” that threatened the souls of their congregations and the future of the missionary province. Fray Nicolas de Freitas expressed the Franciscans’ perception of the governor’s actions and moral character when he lamented that Mendizabal desired nothing more than to “destroy…the tender children of the Church” and bind “the Indians for his particular ends.”94 The Franciscans understood the resistance to their Catholic leadership gaining momentum among the pueblos as the result of diabolic influence and Satanic plots against the advance of Christendom.95 “In worldly terms this meant that anyone who questioned ecclesiastical authority or the route the friars had laid out for the Indians to utopia was immediately branded an anti-Christ.”96 Governor Mendizabal, as instigator of the religious rebellion fomenting in their congregations was the primary target of Franciscan ire and decried as a heretic, an ally of Satan and an enemy of Catholicism.97 The Franciscans’ indictment that that governor fomented liberty of conscience, or the option to reach and hold whatever beliefs one chose, primarily stemmed from his toleration and defense of Pueblo observation of native religious rituals. Throughout the tenure of Governor Mendizabal, Native Americans augmented their religious practices, revived the remnants of their traditions and “increasingly turned to their ancient gods for power and solace. Despite the Franciscans’ punishments,” a rapidly increasing percentage of the Pueblo began to renew their relationships with supernatural, ancestral beings.98 The friars charged that Mendizabal condoned this religious rebellion and ignored the significance of native katsina dances as boberia de Indios, “Indian nonsense…that signified nothing.”99 Despite the governor’s insistence that the dances of the Native Americans were harmless entertainment, the missionaries perceived orgiastic rites, characterized by “infernal singing” and demonic costumes that “openly invoked the devil.”100 The migrant friars were horrified by the governor’s callousness and religious contempt. The governor contended that the ritual performances were devoid of religious context or “superstition” and alleged that the Franciscans were willing to tolerate the dances “whenever it suited their own convenience,” either at their arbitrary whim, in

256 order to celebrate Christian festivals or to yoke the mission congregations to “tasks connected with their gainful occupations,” such as planting or harvesting.101 As the divergence weakened the limited cohesion and sense of communal unity in Nuevo Mexico, Pueblo became less bound by social solidarity and less convinced of the authority of colonial leaders, including the resident Franciscan missionaries. Given the intensity of the unchecked factionalism that threatened Spanish communities, any claim of the friars to social authority and power over communal continuity was painted as inconsistent and unreliable. Pueblo experiences of religious variation enabled by Mendizabal’s religious liberties demonstrated the viability of religious divergence and diversity in their lives. The restriction of missionary punitive privileges bound the hands of Franciscans and created the opportunity for Native American congregants to try religious resistance and experiment with overt disobedience. Christian Pueblos were no less pressed towards consideration of revolutionary possibilities. In their evaluations, the actions of Governor Mendizabal tainted the religious authority of his and subsequent colonial administrations and cast governmental authorities as potential, heretical opposition and enemies of Catholic religious observation. Alongside this renewed rift within the Spanish population and partially a result of the division, tensions developed within Pueblo communities in opposition to colonial rule and against religiously sympathetic Native Americans. By the early years of the 1640s, in pueblos throughout the province, “a significant number of Christianized youths who had reached adulthood as loyal allies of the friars…openly struggled with those villagers who clung to their Puebloan religious beliefs.”102 Such animosities fueled intra-village factionalism and weakened Native American commitments to the identity and continuity of their communities. Thus, when the declining Pueblo population motivated a shift in the colonial policy of tribute collection, Native Americans were less willing to endure the intensified burden of the latest unreasonable, extortive demand from their colonial occupiers. In 1643, to compensate for income reductions, the burden of encomienda tribute became the responsibility of each individual rather than households.103 To escape the sacrifice of “one cotton blanket and one fanega of corn quarterly…many Indians fled their towns for life among the Apaches.”104 Although this was not the only or even the primary reason for Pueblo dissolution and flight to Apache

257 communities, the change in the forcible extraction of goods from villages reminded the Native Americans of Nuevo Mexico of the host of Spanish violations of the ethical rule of reciprocity and further distanced the Pueblo communities from colonial leaders. As the disgruntled and resentful refugees infused Apache societies, the reconfigured cultures became increasingly committed to careers and lives focused on raiding Spanish food stores and supply trains.105 Beginning in 1644 and continuing for the rest of the decade, news trickled into Nuevo Mexico to the growing Pueblo resistance that in Nueva Vizcaya medicine men of the Cabezas, Conchos, Opatas, Salineros, Sumas, Tarahmarans, and Tobosos led their people to revolt against their colonial oppressors.106 The Pueblo heard the tales of rebellious activities and elaborated upon plots to move against the imposed regional authorities. Beginning in the same year, Governor Fernando de Arguello began his term and promptly and consistently “moved aggressively to crush Indian dissent.”107 Within the first few years of his gubernatorial term, he had more than forty Pueblo “hanged and lashed and imprisoned for sedition.”108 Later, upon rumor and suspicion that the Jemez conspired with the Apache to attack the colonists, he summarily arrested and hung 29 Native American men.109 The successive administration of Governor Hernando de Ugarte y la Concha brought little relief for or from the Pueblo resistance movement. In 1649, just two years into his incumbency, Governor Ugarte contended with a possible treaty and martial alliance between various Apache groups and the Native Americans of Alameda, Cochiti, Isleta, Jemez, and San Felipe. In a preemptive, overwhelming response, the new governor arrested a swath of potential accessories in the theoretically implied plot, publicly executed nine Pueblo men and sold several into slavery throughout the colony.110 Pedro Naranjo, a Native American from San Felipe, later explained that it was the excessive brutality of Governor Ugarte that seeded resentment throughout the province. According to Naranjo’s testimony, after the governor’s repression of Native American resistance, calls to war constantly resounded across the mesas and Pueblo “always kept in their hearts the desire to carry out” any possible plot against the Spanish.111 The perceived excesses in Spanish punitive responses to Native American resistance and the unnecessarily, violent exertion of their regional dominion fertilized the

258 discontent and resentment of Pueblos whose desires for religious change were continually thwarted. Changes in the employment of force within religious, educational interactions further fueled some Pueblos’ resentment of colonial authority and wedged friars from their Native American communities. Amidst the weakened, more frequently questioned authority enjoyed by missionaries in the wake of the Mendizibal conflicts, the subsequent administrations of governors allowed the return to in Indian missions. Franciscan friars of this era typically avoided personally wielding the lash or administering their corrective sentences. More often, the mendicants sought to distance themselves from the infliction of violence and thus directed a soldier or fiscal to enact the punishments. Periodically, however, “a few ill-tempered friars took it upon themselves to whip, strike, or verbally abuse neophytes. In New Mexico, fray Salvador de Guerra whipped Juan Cuna, a Hopi Indian suspected of idolatry, until he was covered with blood.”112 The friar then applied burning turpentine to the body of the accused, killing the Native American congregant.113 Although the vehemence of Fray Guerra’s ministrations was exceptional, the use of the lash to flay miscreant practitioners was considered an appropriate measure in a culture that utilized whipping to correct children and adult soldiers alike.114 In addition to the application of immediate if indirect violence, the Franciscan friars wielded the threat of violence from their military companions against their congregations. Even Pueblo who willingly embraced Catholicism and submitted to Christian baptism lived under the specter of violence from soldiers employed “to prevent them from slipping back into apostasy. If new converts could leave the missions, they might miss essential sacraments and fall into the company of pagans who would surely lead them further into sin.”115 To protect the souls of their Native American communicants, Franciscans applied their accompanying soldiers to encourage Pueblo continued residence in their assigned mission communities and return those congregants who attempted to migrate elsewhere.116 The use of such force amidst the corporal excesses of military justice reinforced Pueblo perceptions of the unity and association between Spanish religious and civil authorities, or between the Franciscans and the governor. Thus, the Native American conceptions encouraged in the contemporaneous

259 historical period aligned with traditional understandings to affirm that resistance to civil authority was inseparable from resistance to religious authority. The return of corporal punishment and a more homogenized colonial hierarchy reinforced the collective memory of Spanish excesses, abuses and violations of the rule reciprocity among the pueblos.117

Religious Revolution and the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 The colonized Native American population of the missionary province attempted to wrest regional sovereignty from Spanish authorities and restore an imagined ideal of Pueblo culture and pueblo communities free from colonial leadership. Generations of impugned honor and a social system constructed in opposition to values of reciprocity called the Native American residence of the colony to avenge past and continually perpetuating offenses and oppression. Leashed discontent and inherited resentment chaffed under the imposition of Catholic orthopraxis and cultural conformity by oppressive religious authorities. Increasingly disillusioned with the status and efficacy of Franciscan missionaries Pueblo desired to restructure their social and religious landscapes and renegotiate the place of Spanish settlers and friars. The violence and rebellions of seventeenth century Nuevo Mexico attempted to realize religious revolution among the Pueblo. In the later half of the 1660s, the Pueblo made significant advancement towards their desires to realize widespread religious revolution within Nuevo Mexico. In one of several unsuccessful Native American attempts to violently assert their independence, Franciscans friars encountered a developed plan to “overthrow the kingdom.”118 Faced with the immediate threat of rebellion and fears of general territorial unrest, Governor Villanueva moved to protect his colony and swiftly hung six Piro men indicted in the plot. Though intended to cow the Native American resistance into submission, for many Pueblo who watched the latest offense from colonial authorities, the martyrdom of the six latest victims from Indian communities galvanized their commitments to end the perpetual violence reinforced by Spanish dominion. Before their bodies had been cut down, Don Esteban Clemente dedicated himself to revolution and avenging the deaths of his fallen neighbors by perfecting their foiled plan.

260 Though he answered to a Spanish name, Esteban Clemente was born a Pueblo and through a lifetime of competent leadership had become the Indian governor for all the pueblos of Las Salinas. Despite his newfound conviction towards revolution, the Indian governor was neither anti-Catholic nor anti-clerical. During “Mendizabal’s legislation of the katsinas in the early 1660s,” Clemente became known as a prominent and outspoken advocate of the Franciscan cause.119 Given his involvement in the administrative conflicts, the Catholic commitments of Esteban Clemente were not necessarily a passive veneer for covert religious and political dissidence as earlier scholars have suggested.120 He embraced a broadly inclusive religious practice that included elements from the teachings of friars and Native American religious leaders. When Spanish soldiers later searched his residence, they discovered “in his house a large number of idols and entire kettles full of idolatrous powdered herbs, feathers, and other trifles.”121 Despite the missionaries’ incomplete knowledge of Pueblo religious material culture, it is possible that the Native American used these artifacts “All to placate the katchinas” in preparation for his brewing revolt.122 However, the possibility that Esteban Clemente practiced a complex religion constructed in contact with Catholic and pre-Christian, Pueblo elements was equally likely and a less exceptional explanation. From amidst his particular religious admixture, Clemente leveraged his reputation and respectability as governor and chief war captain of the Salinas pueblos to keep covert his efforts to “to enlist the Pueblo leaders everywhere to rise against the Spaniards.” So veiled by his irreproachable fame and honor, Clemente bound the southeastern pueblos of Nuevo Mexico into a temporary alliance and formulated a “conspiracy which was general throughout the kingdom” that he expected would catalyze a general Pueblo revolt.123 Uncertain of the Indian governor’s allegiances, many of the caciques in the north of the province withheld their support. However, while many pueblos did not overtly participate in the plan, according to the later tale of Lopez Sombrano, “the whole kingdom secretly obeyed.”124 Modeling his tactics upon a previous attempted revolt in which “Pueblos and Apaches had conspired but failed to catch Spaniards off guard during the activities of Christian Holy Week,” Clemente intended to honor the sacrifices of earlier warriors by using and improving upon their tactics.125 Don Esteban evidenced the complexity of his

261 religious commitments by planning the battle that was anticipated to end Pueblo suffering at the hands of Franciscan overseers and mark the resurrection of Pueblo ways of life to commence “on the night of Holy Thursday” while the colonists were ensconced in churches throughout the province.126 Moreover, the leader of the ill-fated revolution employed Catholicized Pueblo to initiate the attack, “giving orders to the Christian Indians that all the horse droves of the jurisdictions should be driven to the sierras, in order to leave the Spaniards afoot.”127 Denied expeditious retreat, the congregated settlers would have been easy targets for the combined might of Pueblo and Apache soldiers that the Indian governor had coordinated for that night.128 Lopez Sambrano specified the importance of the religious revolutionary context of the intended attack. In his recounting of the military plan, he stated that the Pueblo conspirators understood that the goal of the battle was to “destroy the whole body of Christians, not leaving a single religious or Spaniard.”129 The detailed engagement never came to fruition. The Franciscans and the Spanish colonists were too well entrenched among the Pueblo and likely heard about the attempted revolution from loyal, Native American converts.130 In approximately 1670, “this treason being discovered they hanged the said Indian, Don Esteban, and quieted the rest.”131 Despite, Sambrano’s insistence, Pueblo resistance did not subside and the revolutionary movement repeatedly sought to shrug the shackles of imposed religious authority. Throughout the remainder of the 1670s, Pueblo desires for reformation frequently manifested smaller scale assertions of religious discontent and violent purgation of Franciscan presence. In the summer of 1672, the former secretary of Fray Juan Bernal, Fray Pedro de Avila y Ayala, departed for the historically, tumultuous pueblo of Hawikuh.132 Although the Native American inhabitants had slain their resident friar forty years earlier, the young missionary intended to end their lapsed religious instruction and provide the Zuni with local, Catholic leadership. The machinations for his murder concluded successfully in October of the same year. “Combined bands of Western Apaches overran the pueblo so completely that one suspects collusion with a Zuni faction. The attackers took women and children captive, killing their men, as other Zunis fled” to their historical mesa-top retreat, Dowa Yalanne.133 Later hagiographies recount the friar’s death within the appropriate context of religious furor. While the Zuni

262 abandoned their burning homes, the missionary cowered in the church, clinging piously to an image of Mary.134 Amidst the violence, Native American assailants dragged the friar into the plaza and stripped him of his habit. “At the foot of the large patio cross, his tormentors stoned and shot arrows at the writhing nude body, finally smashing his skull with a heavy bell.”135 The Apache and potential Zuni collaborators effectively rid the region of imposed Franciscan authority. Through the admittedly aggrandizing account of Fray Augustin de Vetancurt, the description of the body of the Catholic martyr reveals the religious importance of the missionary’s violent death to Pueblo witnesses.136 Stripped of clothing and human accoutrement, the friar was denied his humanity, desacralized and treated as an animal, specifically a rabbit. Huddled at the base of the cross, the Native American warriors surrounded the Franciscan and pierced him with arrows, before finishing him by crushing his skull. The same procedure was observed by traditional Pueblo hunt societies while hunting rabbits.137 The divergence from mundane animal killing highlighted the latent anger and resentment in the act. Pueblo warriors would have skinned the beast and Pueblo women would have fed it or treated it to sexualized ritual activities to demonstrate respect for the creature, honor its sacrifice and appease its spirit. The body of the friar was left amidst the burning village. As the colony plodded towards crisis, the Native American residents began to recognize and prioritize cross-pueblo identities. Amidst the linguistic and cultural diversity of the Pueblo, cultural boundaries and identities were nevertheless fluid and inconstant. However, constituent members of Pueblo communities seldom felt significant allegiance to or identification with other pueblo-dwelling peoples in general. Throughout the 1670s, collective identities that stretched across village bounds congealed and reconfigured the social landscape of Nuevo Mexico. Beginning in 1672, Fray Juan Bernal observed as to the south “of him, the Salinas pueblos, especially Las Humanas, debilitated by disease, famine, and flight, absorbed blow after blow from Siete Rios Apaches, former trade partners of don Esteban Clemente…At depleted Galisteo, Father Bernal took in refugees from Clemente’s former pueblos.”138 The lack of widespread Pueblo identity had minimized the involvement of distant communities, freed Native American Catholics to ally with colonial authorities and condemned Clemente’s revolution to failure. In the wake of that preempted attack, the pueblos implicated as

263 participants by the governorship of Clemente, suffered shared reprisals from the disgruntled former allies of the Indian governor as well as fearful Spanish authorities. As collectively targeted and mutually disadvantaged peoples within the landscape of Nuevo Mexico, the pueblos of Las Salinas had a germinative, collective identity foisted upon them. Refugee migration as a result of regional encumbrances spurred the development of cross community identification. During the 1670s, the residents of the borderland colony endured debilitating diseases and famine, and were repeatedly ravaged by hostile weather and Apache societies. Fray Francisco de Ayeta described in 1671 the colonies affliction by “a great pestilence, which…carried off many people and cattle.”139 The epidemic of 1671 added to the death toll and the numerous infectious diseases that already assailed the colonists and encouraged Pueblo to abandon their plague-ridden homes.140 As a result of diseases and famine and continued warfare with Apache, “Within a few years” many missions and traditional pueblos “lay deserted.”141 In addition to epidemiological obstacles, Nuevo Mexico was faced with an unrelenting climatological shift. Consequently, the beleaguered pueblos endured the privations of bitter cold. Spanish colonist, Gines de Herrera Horta, lamented that the winters that afflicted Nuevo Mexico lasted up to eight months and brought cold “so intense that …the river freezes over and the Spaniards are always shivering by the fire.”142 Fray Alonso de Benavides similarly detailed the intense frosts that broke upon the province. According to the Franciscan chronicler, “when we are saying Mass we keep a brazier on each side of the chalice; even with this precaution…the wine still freezes. Every winter a great number of Indians out in the country are found frozen.”143 Native Americans fled missions and villages disbanded before the ravages of the physical and political climate. Refugees sheltered among the communities of neighboring Pueblo cultures to eventually be absorbed by them. As pueblos integrated the residuum of diverse cultures and the remnants of various communities into a functional aggregate, the resulting exchanges heightened cross-cultural Pueblo identity.144 In the decade before the successful Pueblo Revolt of 1680, pueblos and Pueblo people began to experiment with and appropriate the idea of Puebloness, a new collective identity that could be used to legitimate collective resistance

264 to colonial authorities.145 “The first Pueblo attempts at unifying the region’s disparate language groups for a united stand against the Hispanic presence had surfaced by mid- century.”146 Native Americans within Nuevo Mexico began to conceive of themselves as Pueblo or Indios, identities constructed in opposition to a perceived Spanish collective.147 The slaying of a friar and several Pueblo by Apache conspiring with resident Zuni against their own village presented the often-unanticipated effects of an early stage in this ongoing process.148 Seeking positive content for the newly conceived cross-pueblo identities, Native Americans embraced cultural and religious similarities as the context for and markers of their solidarity. “These disillusioned and displaced persons prayed for a return of the kachinas.”149 Pedro Garcia, a Pueblo witness to the later revolution, revealed that the Pueblo desire to rebel and the attempted insurrections of the following twelve years of colonial occupation occurred, according to the exposition of Tano religious leaders, “because the Religious and Spaniards had taken away their idols and had prohibited their dances and superstitions.”150 Refugees and social fragments from several communities turned to elements of religion to solidify the boundaries of their new collective identities.151 The increasingly consolidated Pueblo revolutionary movement coordinated and motivated the religious resistance of Native Americans throughout the province. A shared though non-cohesive religious cosmology framed the retributive violence of martial actions and encouraged the practice of religious variation. As the fledgling sense of cross-communal Puebloness proliferated across the region, it facilitated religious deviation from Franciscan expectations alongside the call to collective revolutionary action. When Governor Juan Francisco Trevino entered the borderland kingdom in 1675, he was abruptly confronted with widespread Indian sedition that continually spurred violent dissent and what he observed as an attempt to reinstitute “idolatry.” Throughout his territory, at Jemez, Nambe, and San Felipe, the new governor arrested and hung Pueblo men suspected of being “sorcerers.”152 Spanish soldiers stormed pueblos across the colony and arrested forty-seven medicine men who allegedly admitted engaging in witchcraft or non-Catholic religious practice. The accused practitioners were bound and flensed and sentenced to lives of slavery.153 However, the more unified Pueblo people did not abide this affront to the honor of their leaders or the implied attack upon the

265 shared religious world that contextualized their religious authority and the developing Pueblo identity. “Before these men could be taken out of the kingdom, the Tewa, armed with clubs and shields, descended on Santa Fe demanding that Trevino release them, threatening to kill him and all the colonists if he refused.”154 Governor Trevino patronizing attempted to placate the Tewa soldiers. Still seeking the submission of the Pueblo to colonial authorities, he entreated the poised company to “Wait a while, children I will give them to you and pardon them on condition that you forsake idolatry and iniquity.”155 However, resistance to Franciscan authority and the Catholicism of Spanish colonizers had prompted this display of obstinate unity and expression of the desire for religious reformation. Thus, the gathered Native Americans did not capitulate and Governor Juan Francisco Trevino was forced to concede to their demands for the safety of his settlers.156 The unexpectedly liberated medicine men returned to their homes and spread word throughout the colony of the potential efficacy of collective religious resistance. In acquiescing to the Tewa resistance force, Governor Trevino “staved off certain rebellion, for a large force of Tewas had concealed themselves in the hills around Santa Fe, poised to attack if the governor did not agree to the ultimatum.”157 However, in saving the colony, Trevino demonstrated the possibility of successful Pueblo resistance. Consequently, “many Pueblos previously uncommitted to open defiance of colonial and Franciscan authority” began to contemplate revolution, “edging the province ever closer toward widespread rebellion.”158 As Don Antonio de Otermin, the governor of Nuevo Mexico after his arrival in 1677, continued a policy of vehement suppression of religious deviation, the escalation of “Spanish oppression at a time of unusual stress galvanized Pueblo leaders.”159 By the close of the 1670s, many Native American communities were emboldened and committed to revolutionary action against the authorities of Spanish colonial sovereignty. One Native American religious leader born several years earlier in Ohkay Owingeh, the village of San Juan, was among the Pueblo devoted to the cause of religious revolution. Although he was undoubtedly christened with a Spanish name in his youth, he was known to his Spanish adversaries and thus to history only by his Tewa name, El Pope. The appellation El Pope or Po’pay translates approximately as Ripe Corn

266 and, although the Spanish authorities never positively identified him, “the native name suggests a cacique of the Summer People.”160 As an adolescent he was exposed to Catholic and pre-Christian forms of Pueblo religiosity and witnessed the martyrdom of Don Esteban Clemente after his unsuccessful attempt to usurp the religious dominion of the Franciscans and possibly revive earlier religious practices.161 Through a lifetime of religious devotion, Pope commemorated the sacrifices of his ancestors, affirmed his commitment to rectify Spanish violations of Pueblo religious values, and concretized a world in which violent action was a necessary and imminent response to the confining religious vision of the friars. He engaged in covert religious dissidence and awaited the coming storm. The resolution of the confrontation between Trevino and the Tewa over the imprisoned medicine men signified the appropriate conditions for the commencement of anticipated revolution. The conflict steeled the resolve of many Native Americans throughout the missionary province including El Pope. However, for the medicine man from San Juan, the incident was more than a sign of increasingly efficacious resistance. Pope was one of the forty-seven religious leaders arrested and publicly flogged by Governor Trevino. “Convinced that the yoke of subjugation could no longer be tolerated, Pope moved from San Juan to Taos, the northernmost pueblo, to escape the governor’s watchful eye and to plot a provincewide revolt.”162 From the pueblo of Taos, the Tewa medicine man communed and negotiated with the leaders of neighboring pueblos. He gathered a confederacy of the religiously discontent, marginalized war chiefs, caciques committed to regime usurpation and Apache groups infused with embittered Pueblo refugees.163 Together this rebellious alliance formulated a “strategy to regain their religious freedom and, perhaps of equal importance, to free themselves from obligations of labor and tribute.”164 The Pueblo leaders committed themselves to the lofty goal of the thorough eradication of Spanish leadership and the purgation of Franciscan religious oppression.165 To expand the scale and efficacy of the brewing revolt and broaden their base of support, dissidence leaders sent envoys to the peoples of surrounding pueblos to appeal for collective action. In a 1681 narrative of the origins of the revolution, the allied leadership, ensconced in the new rebel capital of Taos,

267 sent through the pueblos of the custodia two deerskins with some pictures on them signifying conspiracy after their manner, in order to convoke the people to a new rebellion, and the said deerskins passed to the province of Moqui, where they refused to accept them. The pact [for collective Pueblo resistance] which had been forming ceased for the time being, but they always kept in their hearts the desire to carry it out.166

The aligned religious leaders of the northern pueblos encountered deep seeded suspicious and social fractures that prevented the unification of all of the Pueblo. The inhabitants of several villages and missions were regarded as irredeemably infected with sympathies for, commitments to and submission before Spanish authorities and were consequently denied invitation to the imminent sedition. Despite these obstacles, after five years of covert communication, subtle subterfuge and “concealing himself in a sacred room, or kiva, at Taos…Pope did unite most of the Pueblos” as well as several neighboring Apache groups.167 After months of discussion, Pope and aligned leaders cobbled together a coordinate offensive that directed 17,000 willing Pueblo that resided in over two-dozen communities distanced by more than two hundred miles and divided by cultural and linguistic differences.168 In the days immediately preceding the initiation of the revolution, Pope and the core leadership stationed at Taos sent envoys to pueblos pledged to the cause and vowed to participation. Each runner carried cords of knotted maguey fibers to deliver to his assigned community. The knotted cords served as an inconspicuous countdown calendar and act of commitment to the attack. These cords were “passed through all the pueblos of the kingdom so that the ones which agreed to it might untie one knot in sign of obedience, and the other knots they would know the days which were lacking; and this was to be done on pain of death to those who refused to agree to it.”169 After the initial knot was untied to demonstrate the pueblo’s promise to participate, one knot was to be untied each day until the Pueblo throughout the pueblo would attack in unison. As the chords unraveled, the allied pueblos poised to fall upon the colonial authorities and counted down to August 11, 1680, the ordained date of revolution. However, the conspirators were betrayed. Warning of the imminent revolt reached the leaders of the colonial regime that, after a century of continuous interaction

268 and negotiations, had cultivated loyal Pueblo allies and friends and were significantly insinuated throughout Native American communities. On August 9, two Franciscan missionaries received confirmation and warning of the brewing violence and swiftly dispatched Indian messengers from their congregation to entreat Governor Otermin to rouse the colonies defenses. The same day, “leaders of San Marcos, San Cristobal, and La Cienega opted out of the rebellion and informed the governor of the impending revolt.”170 The colonial governor responded immediately but cautiously to the sudden, large-scale threat to the peace and continuance of the colony. Otermin directed maestro de campo Francisco Gomez Robledo to seize two of the suspected messengers of the resistance and extradite both Pueblo to Santa Fe that he might question them and confirm this plot personally. When the news that the Franciscans and Governor had been “Tipped off by sympathetic Pueblos” and that two of the conspiratorial messengers were already in their hands reached the rebel leaders, they advanced their plans and moved up the date of the attack by one day.171 “Although the Spaniards had received some warning, they could not have imagined the magnitude of this unprecedented plan. The revolt caught them off guard. Scattered in farms and ranches along the Rio Grande and its tributaries, Spaniards were easy prey.”172 Despite the foreknowledge of the colonial authorities and the sudden reconfiguration of the revolutionary plan, the initial attack proved devastatingly effective on an unexpected scale. On August 10, 1680, the Pueblo Indians initiated organized, armed resistance of Spanish colonial domination. According to later Pueblo relations of the violence, the coordinated onslaught had proceeded in accordance with the prior instructions of Pope.173 The Pueblo liberators raided stockades and roaming herds, slaughtering the horses and mules first alongside the friars and that “had been so instrumental in the conquest and subordination of the Puebloans” or tactically, appropriate their number to equip the resistance.174 Without their equine companions, Spanish caballeros were ineffectual against the combined might of Pueblo and Apache cavalry. Similarly, the loss of their mounts rendered Spanish couriers unable to facilitate communication between the scattered remnants of the colonial military in the province and unable to realistically appeal to Nueva España for aid. In the northern reaches of the territory, the roads to the colonial capitol of Santa Fe were blocked and the Pueblo revolutionaries razed the

269 isolated Spanish settlements in rapid succession.175 At each village, the constructions of occupation were burned and the villages ransacked for Spanish armaments and provisions to strengthen the guerilla force. Within a few hours of frenzied warfare, approximately 400 Spanish colonists and 21 friars lay slain.176 The remaining settlers faced a revolutionary army that outnumbered their meager number by “a ratio of approximately 1 to 50.”177 The Spanish colonist who, for various, individual reasons, survived the initial wave of retaliatory violence fled their homes for the potential solace of Santa Fe or congregated at the , a centrally located village that repudiated the social pressures to join the revolution. “Believing themselves to be the only survivors, 1,500 refugees at Isleta abandoned the Pueblo on September 14 and fled down the Rio Grande toward El Paso.”178 In Santa Fe, Pueblo revolutionaries surrounded and lay siege to the assembled, remaining survivors who included in their number the recently deposed Governor Antonio de Otermin. The besieging army, equipped with scavenged arms and armor of European manufacture, was led by a former Tano servant and active Catholic practitioner, Juan. Juan attempted to negotiate with the helplessly incarcerated Spanish colonists and implored the governor to surrender. Juan presented the colonial leader with “two crosses, one red and the other white, so that his lordship might choose. The red signified war and the white that Spaniards would abandon the kingdom.”179 Otermin later wrote that the dissident leader requested that all classes of Indians who were in our power be given up to them, both those in the service of the Spaniards and those of the Mexican nation of that suburb of Analco. He demanded also that his wife and children be given up to him, and likewise that all the Apache men and women whom the Spaniards had captured in war be turned over to them.180

Governor Otermin refused to negotiate or acquiesce to the demands of the Indian warriors and the resulting siege extended for nine days. Although Otermin estimated that approximately 1,000 Spanish colonists harbored in the former capitol city, there was likely only 100 battle capable Spanish men among them, approximately.181 The encircling Pueblo force numbered nearly 2,000 soldiers.182 By Spanish accounts, the Pueblo suffered heavy casualties but succeeded in constricting around the town and setting fire to the perimeter of Santa Fe and the Franciscan church.

270 The Pueblo warriors were experienced to life in the desert region and knew the power of water. They advanced upon the settlement until they were able to cut the water supply to the Spanish vestige and thus forced a swift resolution to the standoff.183 On September 21, while Governor Otermin languished from a gunshot wound to the chest, he reluctantly gave to order for the last bastion of Spanish hegemony in Nuevo Mexico to flee. Although he would survive this encounter, in exile, he would bear the scars of “two arrow wounds in the face” for the rest of his life, daily reminders of the ungrateful natives of Nuevo Mexico and their treasonous incitement.184 “The Pueblo rebels allowed their adversaries, including several hundred Christian Pueblos, to retreat down the Rio Grande some three hundred miles to El Paso.”185 By permitting the flight of the final colonial authorities and the exile of the missionary-allied, Catholic practitioners, the Native American soldiers demonstrated their willing to emancipate if not exculpate the obedient servants and tattered vanguard of Franciscan Catholicism. The victorious rebels suffered the governor and refugees to live in order to conclude the hostilities and fulfill the vision of regional reformation.

Religious Reflections and Revolutionary Narratives The Pueblo religious revolution had realized its immediate goals – a reciprocal response to the injuries and tribulations of Spanish occupation and a landscape free of the perceived religious pollutants of Catholic corruption, imposed orthopraxis and oppressive religious authorities. Within weeks, the Pueblo revolutionary war of 1680 concluded. Spanish colonial occupation north of El Paso was effectively eliminated and the settlers either slaughtered or routed to rapid retreat. Avowed Pueblo soldiers and Native American residents of Nuevo Mexico who enlisted in the movement amidst the fervor of the revolt killed more than 400 of the over 2,500 Hispanic colonists in the province.186 In the course of the violent offensive, the Native American revolutionaries “destroyed or sacked every Spanish building, and laid waste to the Spaniards fields. There would be no mistaking the deep animosity that some natives, men as well as their influential wives and mothers, held toward their former oppressors.”187 The Pueblo liberators attacked the vestiges of the colonial regime, deconstructed the concretizing structures of colonial

271 space and violently demonstrated their honor, virtue and emotional commitment to the religious upheaval.188 The flight of the beleaguered colonists revealed the religious and emotional fervor and motivations behind the Native American attack. Spanish colonists retreating from the violence to less contentious territories of Nueva España confronted the corpses of their fellow settlers heaped upon one another or strewn about the still smoldering ashes of missions and homesteads. Their hasty evacuation observed similar scenes of desecration of Christian artifacts and churches repeated at each Pueblo mission through which they were forced to pass. Altars and statues were hacked apart or smeared with excrement. “At the mission’s statues were covered with excrement. Two chalices had been discarded in a basket of manure, and the paint on the altar’s crucifix had been striped off with a whip. Feces covered the holy communion table and the arms of a statue of Saint Francis had been hacked of with an ax.”189 At every congregacion and visitas, the material culture that had imprinted Catholicism upon Pueblo culture and embodied the religious presence manipulated by Franciscan friars were profaned and desacralized.190 Mission churches and conventos, the massive edifices of colonial authority and the looming shadows of imposed, religious authority of the Franciscans, were cast down stone by stone. According to John L. Kessell, “in terms of sheer determination…the Pueblos’ single most dramatic act of defiance” was the utter destruction of “the Spaniards’ emblematic icon of Christian occupation, fray Andres Juarez’s monumental Pecos church.”191 The persistent, sustained program of mission deconstruction demonstrated, through effort and consistent intention, the prominence of reforming the religious landscape of the territory among the affective commitments of the Native American revolutionaries. The stupefied Catholic refugees discovered the mangled forms of Franciscan bodies and swiftly constructed stories of their final moments that they framed as pious martyrdom. The narratives circulated among the displaced colonists and recorded the humiliation and lurid deaths of the Franciscan missionaries at the hands of Pueblo warriors. Within the later context of renewed colonial relations, various Pueblo groups detailed to attentive Spanish audiences the horrific deaths of the local friars as warning against the return of harsh, religious oppression.192 The hagiographic narrative of Fray

272 Juan de Jesus was exemplarily initiated after the fleeing settlers discovered his brutalized body in the forest near his mission. Later, among the Jemez, the tale of the death of the Franciscan missionary was repeated and elaborated for Catholic consumption. According to the narrative, on the night of the revolution, the hapless friar was seized by his communicants, stripped of clothing and bound nude upon the back of a pig. The Native American congregation publicly denounced his authority and religious efficacy by taunting and jeering the Franciscan as he was trotted throughout the pueblo atop the beast. Through this , the Pueblo denied him the respectful handling and cautionary rites performed for slain food staples and vanquished enemies.193 “Then they removed him from the pig, force him onto his hands and knees and took turns riding atop his back, repeatedly spurring his haunches to prod him forward.”194 Emasculated and humbled lower than the least respectful junior member of the community, the missionary was dehumanized by equation with servile, beasts of burden. Before his tribulation ended and he received the fatal consequence of his due reciprocity, sympathetic Pueblo neophytes attempted to dissuade the enraged fellowship and halt the violent restoration of the honor of the community. Fray Juan refuted their efforts for mercy and echoed the script of martyrdom revealed in the devotional manuals of Nueva España. According to Catholic records, the Franciscan addressed his loyal supporters and persecuting rebels, forgave their hostility and said, “Children, I am a poor old man, do not fight, do not kill each other in order to protect me; do what God permits.”195 With his willing embrace of death, hesitancy dissolved and the Pueblo revolutionaries overthrew the local religious authority of the colony. The Native American warriors beat him repeatedly and stabbed him through the heart, discarding his bloody corpse and abused spirit outside of the circumscribing boundary of the sacred ordered space of the pueblo.196 Similar fates befell the other twenty Franciscan friars subjected to the reformative fervor of the Pueblo. The Catholic refugees crafted narratives that attributed similar religious piety and context to the deaths of the Franciscan martyrs of Nuevo Mexico. In the wake of the unmitigated success of the Native American uprising, Pueblo communities turned for leadership to religious authorities lauded as native, non-Spanish and pre-Christian. Po’pay, the charismatic champion of the reformation, assumed prominent direction of the post-revolution religious and political structure. Heralded by

273 widely distributed pueblos as an efficacious power and effective leader, the religious professional from San Juan united Native Americans from diverse peoples throughout the northern and southern regions of the former missionary province into a loose, albeit temporary alliance. To affirm the deference of subservient pueblos, realize the social status of privileged authority and supply the material needs of continued religious oblations, Po’pay extorted “excessive demands for women, grain, and livestock.”197 However, despite his ready provisions, his promises of prosperity yielded “very small harvests…no rain, and everyone [who served him was] perishing.”198 By early 1682, Tewa and Tanos adherents to the religious vision of Po’pay rejected his authority and efficaciousness and consequently deposed the revolutionary medicine man.199 The centrality of religious authority in post-war Pueblo cultures persisted. Throughout the arid region, “civil war erupted at many pueblos among the caciques, the medicine men, and the warriors, each claiming precedence and superior magical powers.”200 Through the later reflections and remembrances of Pueblo that resided within these instituted and reconstituted theocratic regimes, the depth of integration between Pueblo religiosity and the Revolution of 1680 became revealed and expounded. From within the religiously structured and stratified society formulated by the swift war and Spanish exile, the recent veterans cast the military actions of the previously subjugated peoples of Nuevo Mexico as righteous and religious. As the revolutionary conspiracy spread throughout province in the months before the violence, anxious practitioners endowed the leadership of the contrived scheme with supernal authority and religious significance. Alongside the plan for a coordinated assault, narratives of the already legendary figures that directed the resistance proliferated among the willing participants. From the pueblos around Taos, tales disseminated through Native American communities affirming “how this medicine man communicated regularly with several of the key deities of Pueblo cosmology.”201 As the coalition grew, so did the legend of Po’pay and the participation of supernatural beings in the revolutionary plot. Within the sacred space of the Taos kiva, there appeared to the said Pope three figures of Indians who never came out of the estufa. They gave the said Pope to understand that they were going underground to the lake of Copala. He saw these figures emit fire from all the extremities of

274 their bodies, and that one of them was called Caudi, another Tilini, and the other Theume; and these three beings spoke to the said Pope.202

The three potent beings inspired the Tewa medicine man with the stratagem for revolt, charged him to deliver his people to life as had been before the arrival of the Spanish, and instructed him to revive the religious ways of their ancestors, before the domination of the Franciscans had curtailed their practice.203 Under the immediate guidance of their ancestral beings, the revolution transcended the reformation of religious practice to become, in part, a contest between the religious efficacies of supernatural forces. Moreover, with the incorporation of supernatural beings within the perceived leadership of the plot and the subsequent fusion of revolt with the will of these religiously significant powers, the Pueblo rebels became the ordained hand of supernal vengeance and the restorative agents of sacred order. Pueblo revolutionary soldiers tested through their violent actions the assertion that “the God of the Spaniards was worth nothing and theirs was very strong, the Spaniard’s God being rotten wood.”204 Historian David L. Weber posits that the Spanish colonists were shocked to discover that “Caught up in the momentum of the revolt, even once-friendly Pueblo leaders had turned against them.”205 As cosmological contextualization of the imminent struggle proliferated and framed the battle as divine contestation, consent to participation became an appealing consideration and the revival of non-Franciscan dictated religiosity a viable if ambivalently-received option. The religious motivations of the Pueblo Revolution of 1680 were affirmed in the targets of Native American animosity and the explicit directives for participants in the revolt. The leaders of the dissidence, including Po’pay, Alonso Catiti of Santo Domingo and Luis Tapatu of Picuris instructed loyal Pueblo to divorce themselves from Catholic religious elements in order to revive “the state of their antiquity, as when they came from the lake of Copola; that this was the better life and the one they desired.”206 The revivalist impulse of the revolutionary movement demanded a return to an imagined pre- Christian state of nature. The realization of this primitive state required the purgation of the Catholicism imprinted upon the bodies of Pueblo practitioners. Po’pay circulated amidst the pueblos teaching, “In order to take away their baptismal names, the water, and the holy oils, they were to plunge into the rivers and wash themselves.”207 Only through

275 this ritual purification or baptism would “thus be taken from them the character of the holy sacraments.”208 Indeed, the Pueblos’ consistent “repudiation of the symbols of Christianity suggested the strong religious impulse behind the rebellion.”209 According to the explanation of a Pueblo revolutionary held within Spanish custody, the rebel leader instructed all allied pueblos to immediately break up and burn the images of the holy Christ, the Virgin Mary and the other saints, the crosses, and everything pertaining to Christianity, and that they burn the temples, break the bells, and separate from the wives whom God had given them in marriage and take those whom they desired.210

The Native American soldiers desecrated and destroyed the vestigial artifices of Catholicism during the initial uprising and in the days and weeks that followed. Pueblo Indians, after defeating the Spanish army, and thus vanquishing their god, domesticated Christian sacred spaces and artifacts, using excrement rather than simulated sexual intercourse, thus stripping it of any supernaturally invested power. Their violence prominently targeted churches and sacred objects. The Pueblo revolutionaries were instructed to “kill the Custodian, the Fathers and the Spaniards” but included Spanish- allied, Pueblo practitioners of Catholicism as viable targets.211 The participating Indians slaughtered twenty-one of the thirty-three Franciscan missionaries within province, often only after harrowing, humiliating, and torturing them.212 The military offensive and integral acts of violence were religious actions. The resulting massacre aimed to reform religious practice and leadership, included religiously significant targets and manifest religious behavioral norms. The Pueblo Revolution was, in part an expression of the injuries afflicted within the hybridized confluence of reciprocity, honor and Pueblo religious ethics. The Spanish entered into a relationship with the Pueblos the moment of the first encounter in the fourteenth century. For over a century the Spanish took what they required from the Pueblo population without returning fair or equivalent exchange.213 When the respect and obedience owed to the gift-givers was not forthcoming, the reciprocity that rooted the cosmos was shattered. However, the Spanish had done more than behave disrespectfully. The Franciscan missionaries cajoled and threatened neophytes who did not willing embrace Catholic practice or hear an affective call to conversion.214 “In the seventeenth century, [the] Spaniards hanged and whipped shamans for practicing ‘sorcery,’ burned their kivas and

276 kachina masks, preached to them daily about the eternal flames they must endure unless they embrace Catholicism [and] the Puebloans learned to hide the religion that had sustained their ancestors.”215 The mendicants employed violence to correct Native American orthodoxy and emasculated even obediently Catholic Pueblo.216 “Friars for example attempted to end polygamy among those natives who practiced it and to impose upon them indissoluble monogamy. In so doing, the friars often enraged and humiliated native males who lacked the Christian arithmetic that one wife as better than two or three.”217 The missionaries forced warriors to construct dwellings and churches and subjected them to the ridicule of their peers.218 “Mission Indians heard their traditional practices condemned as idolatrous by the padres, who quashed the non-Catholic public religious ceremonies and who intruded into the most private aspects of native’s lives.”219 According to Don Pedro Gamboa of the pueblo of Alameda, the Native American residence of Nuevo Mexico “rebelled against his majesty…[and] renounced the Christian religion… because the Spaniards had punished their medicine men and idolators, the Teguas, Taos, Picuries, and Pecos Xemes tribes had formed a conspiracy to kill the Spaniards and Religious and that now they were executing their plans.”220 While they toiled to evangelize the Native American population and bring them under the guidance of their religious authority, the mendicants concertedly attacked the esteemed leaders and pre-Christian sacred sources of power and authority.221 They undermined the power of indigenous medicine men and the status of superiors whose positions were explained within religious systems. Franciscan transgressions towards Native religious authorities and offenses to the collective social order demanded a reciprocal response from Pueblo communities. As with disrespectful juniors, the gift-givers were culturally encouraged to abandon the disrespectful Spanish.222 Although many abandoned missions and fled the congregaciones of the Franciscans, for the majority of Pueblo this balked option generated frustration and the quest for an alternative response. Among the subsequent generations of Pueblo born within the colonial culture of Nuevo Mexico, the pre- Hispanic ethos of reciprocity had married the structuring schema of honor imported from Nueva España.223 Religious systems of emotion exchange and public virtue were integral components of Pueblo religions and became constituent elements behind the public

277 displays of the restoration of honor.224 The enslavement of Native Americans, the public humiliation of village leaders, and the lack of respect shown for Indians by not fulfilling their end of the reciprocal relationship classified as infringements upon the honor of Pueblo and Pueblo communities.225 Franciscan missionaries had demeaned or ignored Native American luminaries and disrespected Pueblo community members and, in so doing, impugned their honor. In Nuevo Mexico, redress of grievances for infringements upon honor was often public, emotional, and violent. The rules of public displays of honor were inextricably bound with the public expression of emotion that consequently colored the characteristic violence of the revolt.226 When the missionaries disrespected and dishonored Pueblo congregants, they simultaneously failed to demonstrate the incumbent emotional displays of gratitude, awe, fear, or love through obedience, deferential behavior, or the recognition of their indebtedness. The misdeeds of the Spanish Franciscans and transgressions against Pueblo personal and collective honor solicited reprisal, or the exoneration of impugned through public displays of virtue and masculine dominance. Had the missionaries performed the tasks and social expectations of men, warriors, or the masculine gender, they could have been challenged directly and publicly. Female offenders would have mandate domination as the dishonored party affirmed their masculinity and thus sanctified their honor. Although the friars enacted violent acts upon the Pueblo and were according masculine, they eschewed Pueblo masculine dress, did not participate in farming, hunting or warfare. Thus, the missionaries were distinctly feminine but did not observe the roles or fulfill the responsibilities of Pueblo women. However, due to the liminal gender of the friars, only violence was the appropriate reciprocal response for both situations. Only violence fulfilled the requisite ethical response to Spanish misdeeds. With the feeling rules governing respect violated, resentment grew.227 Don Pedro Gamboa avowed that “a strong sentiment had existed among the Indians since this Kingdom was discovered against the Spaniards and Religious, because they had been deprived of their idols and witchcraft, which had been handed down from generation to generation; he had known of this sentiment since he came to the use of reason.”228 The Pueblo “inherited successively from their old men the things pertaining to their ancient

278 customs,” and steeped each generation in this collective emotion alongside of occluded transcripts of religious resistance and proliferated this “resentment…[to each generation when they came of] an age to understand.”229 This collective attitude of resentment hung, checked by Spanish military superiority, but poised for the right catalyst to initiate reciprocity. The appropriate response to such abuses to personal and communal honor was the violent assertion of masculine dominance, the emotional of submission and the humiliation of transgressor.230 The Pueblo Revolution did all of these. The violence that ensued was a public response and reprisal that expressed a cluster of emotions including resentment, anger, hatred and moral indignation.231 Native American revolutionaries usurped colonial authorities and instituted their regional sovereignty. By publicly returning the appropriate response to Spanish offenses, the Pueblo proved themselves religiously sanctified and morally superior within Pueblo cultural systems.232 When the violent revolt occurred, it was grounded in the broken reciprocity and the appropriate response mandated by Pueblo religions and expressed according to the social rules for the public performance of morality, virtue, and emotion similarly influence by Pueblo religious traditions. The intended goals of the Pueblo revolution included explicitly religious objectives. The motivations and historical context of the 1680 usurpation contradict the assertion of John Upton Terrell that “In the way of Indian thinking, [religion] could not be the cause for armed conflict. Unlike white men, the Indian did not engage in religious .”233 Indeed, the reformation of Pueblo religious practice and leadership was among the primary aims of the Revolt of 1680. From elder to junior and father to son, the Pueblo passed down their traditional religion.234 “To control the forces of the cosmos, which seemed to have deserted them, mission Indians turned more openly to traditional gods, such as Poshaiyanyi, and to prayers, ceremonies, and priests that had proved efficacious in the past.”235 Religious authority embodied in Pueblo leaders, rituals and cognitive constructs revitalized the cosmology and suffused the religious lives of Pueblo revolutionaries. Through the usurpation of the colonial authorities of Nuevo Mexico, many Native Americans sought to incorporate and prioritize non-Catholic religious elements into their daily religious lives. Concurrently, the Pueblo revolution engineered the restoration and purification of the cultural and geographic landscape.

279 Governor Otermin recorded that “the Indians did not want any Spaniards or Religious in their country.”236 Within weeks of the successful revolution and exile of Catholic authorities, “the indigenous sacral topography was restored. ‘Flour, feathers, and the seeds of maguey, maize, and tobacco’ were offered to the spirits at pre-conquest shrines. Kivas that had been desecrated and filled with sand were emptied and resacralized.”237 The option of revolutionary upheaval promised the revival of a more homogenized worldview, framed as pre-Catholic, traditional religion. By reforming their religious orientation and ridding the landscape of the vestigial monuments to Catholic dominance, Pueblo soldiers felt that “At last the gods who had abandoned their people and allowed them to perish from hunger and sickness returned from the underworld.”238 However, it would be naïve to assert that all Pueblo revolutionaries repudiated the Catholicism that many had practiced all of their lives or to which some felt genuine cognitive or affective attraction.239 Indeed, some of the committed Catholic converts among the Pueblo experienced concurrent motivations and desires for religious reformation that were prompted and contextualized by their embrace of the Franciscans’ teachings. Native American neophytes had grown increasing disillusioned, disenfranchised from and discontent with the reign of Spanish Catholic authorities. The intemperance and the divisive impiety of historically prior gubernatorial administrations eroded the justification for Spanish sovereignty of the missionary colony. “The hypocrisy of Christians (including some of the friars), who themselves engaged in sexual practices they sought to prohibit, could not have gone unnoticed.”240 Royal writ and ecclesiastical law instituted the colony and the Spanish authorities that maintained its persistence in order to seed Christianity among the natives of the land and harvest the return of conversions. According to the perspectives of the some devout Pueblo neophytes, if the living Franciscan models of Christian practice were unable to effectively display Catholic expectations, then their continued presence among the Native American communities was no longer required. Spanish friars and governors sapped the foundation for their communal leadership and invited criticism and rebellion against their rule from within a Catholic religious framework. Catholic Pueblo similarly were able to understand and participate in the Revolution of 1680 as an avenue for the reformation of religious authority and practice.

280 In association with specific religious objectives of the revolution, there were less explicitly religious motivations behind the Pueblo Revolt of 1680. Some of the rebel leaders from Taos, including Po’pay, counseled allied pueblos to put an “end to all things Spanish as well as Christian.”241 A burgeoning Native American nativistic movement rallied willing participants against speaking the language of the Spanish oppressors, utilizing their tools or farming the crops imported from Nueva España. Bartolome of the pueblo of Galisteo had warned a Catholic Pueblo servant of Captain Jose Nieto that the “the Indians…have said that they will kill all the servants of the Spaniards and those who talk Castillian, and have ordered everyone to burn their rosaries.”242 According to later Pueblo histories, Po’pay instructed all Native Americans “to burn the seeds which the Spaniards sowed and to plant only maize and beans, which were the crops of their ancestors.”243 However, post-revolutionary Pueblo communities never fully embraced these nativistic ideals or implemented their associative directives. The dramatic disputation of Spanish cultural contributions and denunciation of colonial transformations were “to be done in the presence of the children so that they would learn the ways of the ancients and the meaning of respect.”244 In the year after the violence, “Some of Spanish rule, such as forms and motifs in pottery, seem to have disappeared, but Pueblos continued to raise Spanish-introduced crops and livestock and to make woolen textiles. Just as they had been selective in adapting aspects of Hispanic culture, so too were they selective in rejecting them.”245 Nativist or anti-Spanish sentiment synthesized with and complicated religious motivations for the revolutionary violence and the repudiation of Spanish, Catholic colonial culture.246 These impulses combined with the aggregate layers of political, cultural and economic considerations as well as personal grievances and agendas that contributed to the successful revolt.247 However, conceptualized within a religious cosmology, mandated and motivated by religiously influenced systems of interaction, shaped by religiously inextricable behavioral norms, led by religious leaders and supernatural beings, and targeting religiously relevant objects for aggression, the violence of the Pueblo revolution was in part a religious action. If the Pueblo understood the violence of 1680 as a chance for religious revival, reformation and revolution, the Spanish and Spanish-aligned colonists that expatriated Nuevo Mexico colored their reflections and records of the event with similar religious

281 tones. The survivors of the rebellion looked north from their refuge in El Paso del Rio del Norte to their constructed homeland and the only home most of them had ever known. They reflected with longing, regret, confusion and consternation upon the expensive consequences of their failure to establish an effective colony: their shattered communities, their lost property, and the burdensome loss of life. Within the religious cosmology that the Spanish colony apparently failed to ingrain in their Native American host populations, Spanish soldiers and Franciscans tried to comprehend how and why their Indian servants usurped their military superiority and divine mandate. The bewildered Franciscan friars wrestled with the pressing question of why the childlike Pueblo would so savagely annihilate their Catholic guardians and renounce their Christian guidance. While alienated from their missionary territory, the recollections of friars and settlers remembered and reconstructed the reality of the revolt in combination with its religious motivations and significance. The Catholic refugees from Nuevo Mexico recognized that Native American religious sentiments and attitudes catalyzed the rebellious activities of the Pueblo. “Spaniards clearly understood the Pueblo Rebellion as a rejection of Christianity.”248 For the exilic colonists, the usurpation of Spanish sovereignty was synonymous with the repudiation of divine sovereignty. Recollections recorded during this period from among Spanish settlers in Queretaro maintained that “on the day of the revolt, between 1:00 and 3:00 P.M. an ancient and sacred stone cross shook thirty-three times (once for every year that Christians believe Christ walked on the earth).”249 Within Spanish perceptions, the cosmos resounded from the overt rebellion of the Pueblo against just, Christian authority. Captain Andres Hurtado, a soldier of the missionary territory, summarized the Spanish conception of Pueblo revolutionary justification. “The heathen have conceived a mortal hatred for our holy faith and enmity for the Spanish nation.”250 The later reflection of Governor Antonio de Otermin upon the razing of the colonial capital city and the conflagration of its church affirmed the religious tones and content of the violent revolt. According to his account, all of Santa Fe echoed with “the scoffing and ridicule which the wretched and miserable Indian rebels made of the sacred things, intoning…prayers of the church with jeers.”251 The Spanish governor asserted that the assault upon his

282 authority was subsidiary to the rejection of Christianity by the Native American dissidents. However, Governor Otermin was quick to clarify to the viceroy that “This ruin did not originate because either of the repartimientos or of other drudgery which might have aggrieved these Indians.”252 Spanish survivors of the violent upheaval asserted that the rebellion against Catholic authority was neither encouraged nor invited by their “religious persecution or through excessive demands on native labor.”253 However, a Pueblo feeing from the violence of his neighbors told Spanish forces that “they had done this because of the hardships suffered at the hands of the Spaniards and Religious [and] because they were not allowed to till their lands or do anything for their own benefit.”254 Later, the review of a royal attorney in Nueva España concluded that the “many oppressions” heaped upon the natives of the borderland territory by shortsighted colonists “have been the chief reason for the rebellion.”255 Despite the shock expressed in Franciscan accounts of the sanguinary affronts to Christian dominion, the turmoil was not entirely unexpected by the missionaries. The friars did not toil in ignorance or adhere to a misguided conviction of Pueblo religious commitment to Catholicism or submission to colonial authority. In 1675, five years before the successful Native American revolt, an apparition of the Virgin Mary visited an ailing girl from Nuevo Mexico and healed her affliction. As the appointed, merciful herald of divine wrath, the Marian apparition instructed the young child to “arise and announce to this custody that it will soon be destroyed for the lack of reverence that it shows its priests.”256 Franciscan missionaries throughout the province conducted a series of commemorative high Masses in ebullient response to her appearance and message.257 Fray Juan de Jesus was so convinced of the reality the visitation and the imminence of violent destruction that he suggested to his fellow friar assigned to the mission and San Diego de Jemez that he halt the construction of new additions to the nave of the church. The friar was certain that the Franciscan missionaries should spend their remaining time on Earth devoted to “uniting ourselves with God and preparing to died for our Holy Faith” for the mission “will soon end in the ashes and many of us in death.”258 Some of the mendicant friars in Nuevo Mexico recognized the tentativeness of their missionary

283 endeavor and recognized a connection between changing Pueblo relationships with the missionaries and the sense of brewing violence. The Franciscan missionaries comprehended the Pueblo revolution as an act of refutation of their rule and authority and a denunciation of their efforts for the evangelization and catechism of mission congregations. Migrant Spanish friars “imagined the revolt as divine retribution for their sins or as the work of the devil – explanations that helped them understand earlier native rebellions.”259 Native Americans who murdered Franciscan missionaries, profaned Christian spaces and practices, and committed acts of violence against the sacred objects and places of the friars buttressed the mendicants’ assertion that the revolt expressed Pueblo insolence and diabolic antagonism against the advance of Christendom. “Friars often understood these revolts as the work of the ‘devil’ or as a sign of native ingratitude.”260 The friars pitted their evangelistic efforts against the machinations of the devil. However, demonic influence tenaciously clung to the “infinite souls” of the province by smothering them in “the darkness of their idolatry.”261 The mendicant Franciscans deemed the Pueblo Revolution the latest of “the terrible difficulties which the devil set up for him to defend his empire.”262 “Satan, continuously striving against God, had temporarily ensnared and misguided the Pueblo Indians.”263 The martyrdom of their colleagues was correspondingly the directed action of “the sorcerers, who could not bear to see destroyed the idolatry in which their power consisted.”264 Although the violent rebellion of mission congregations was occasionally dismissed in Spanish accounts as child-like ingratitude, Franciscan reflections typically ascribe the repudiation of Catholicism to the insidious influence of the devil upon Native American communities.265 The Friars of Nuevo Mexico reconciled the loss of Franciscan lives and their province to their certainty of their own valorous service through the attribution of supernatural intervention to the abjuration of their religious authority and missionary agenda.

Religious Reconfiguration and the Renewal of Nuevo Mexico The Pueblo Revolution of 1680 had produced one of the most effective and successful Native American revolts against Spanish colonization in the Western hemisphere. However, their independence did not last indefinitely. Spanish colonial

284 representatives would return. In the interim, the Pueblo asserted their sovereignty and self-governance of the region for more than a decade. Thirteen years passed before the Spanish Empire was able to reestablish a stable foothold within the former colony. A rugged, expanse of three hundred mile of inhospitable landscape divided the inhabitants of the pueblos from the Spanish force mustered in El Paso. Geography and roving Apache communities rebuffed early Spanish intentions to return, conquer and colonize the territory. However, in the absence of a cohesive Spanish threat or persistent cultural prominence, the aggregate Pueblo identity and coalition dissolved into competing claims of religious authority and fractured along internal divisions. Throughout the former missionary province, the unity forged in the revolution of 1680 fragmented. The interim period of Native American liberty and autonomy was characterized by continued warfare between Pueblo cultures and constant contestation between factions within pueblos. Keres from Cochiti, Santa Ana, San Felipe, Santo Domingo, and Zia, allied with the inhabitants of Jemez, Taos, and Pecos to forge a loose confederacy against the common threat posed by the Tewas, Tanos, and Picuris. The revolutionary leader, Po’pay, governed this shard of Pueblo solidarity until, weary of his “despotic rule and the heavy tribute he demanded of them on his frequent tours,” they deposed him.266 “In his place they elected Don Luis Tapatu, who governed the Tewas and Tanos until 1688, when Pope was again reelected. After Pope’s death, Tapatu was again elected. Catiti, the leader of the Keres, died during his time, and thereafter the Keres ruled their pueblos independently.”267 At Acoma, the community ruptured and formed two peoples that engaged in war against one another. The lives of the Hopis, Utes, and Zuni throughout the temporary era of freedom were similarly shadowed by frequent war.268 Without a sufficiently homogenized cosmology and culture and devoid of stable Pueblo identity, diverse claims to authority and divergent visions for the future of local life dissolved Pueblo solidarity and military strength. Pueblo communities “were inherently prone to factionalism by their very structure; the stress of the conquest and Christianization only exacerbated latent rifts.”269 The return of Spanish Catholic invaders to the territory preyed upon divisive pueblo politics and cross-communal antagonism to supplement their diminutive military threat. The disunity and divisions weakened the potential opposition the Pueblo could present against the return of Spanish dominion and

285 “made them increasingly susceptible to the Spanish invaders’ tactics of divide and conquer.”270 Despite the numerical insufficiency of Spanish forces, the Pueblo political conditions formulated during the era of independent rule enabled the eventual Spanish subjugation of the Native Americans of Nuevo Mexico. During the thirteen year hiatus from their lives in the borderland colony, the scattered, Spanish-aligned survivors of the Pueblos’ demonstration of liberty regrouped to the south of Pueblo territory in or near El Paso del Rio del Norte.271 Friars had established the site along the Rio Grande as a mission in 1659.272 In the wake of the Pueblo Revolt, the community expanded to house the refugees and evolved into a Hispanic civil community and the temporary capital of Nuevo Mexico.273 “There, factious New Mexico exiles found themselves unable to reconstruct their old way of life by exploiting Indian labor and tribute…[Many] resembled the eleven-person household of one Cristobal Martin, whose corn crop had failed and left them without food. He and his wife dressed in rags, to the point of being ‘indecent.’”274 The exiled colonists endured famine and pestilence in wretched poverty. Despite governmental decree, many Spanish survivors deserted the refugee hovel, heading further south for Nueva España.275 Those who remained in El Paso lacked the financial resources or martial strength to reclaim their lost properties or challenge Pueblo independence.276 In the last gasp of colonial sovereignty before Spanish forces subsided into an era of despairing languor, Governor Otermin led a company of disillusioned soldiers north in a half-hearted attempt to reconquer the Pueblo landscape in mid-autumn of 1681. According to the muster roll of the governor, the column included 146 loyal, Spanish men-at arms, including his second-in-command, Dominguez de Mendoza, and several dozen Native American allies. The miniscule corps of conquistadors headed approximately one thousand horses and mules and several wagons.277 The effort to penetrate and solidify Spanish occupation of the Pueblo world solicited the participation of two Franciscans: Father Ayeta, the local hero from the previous year for his appearance at the head of an emergency supply train, and his ecclesiastical secretary.278 The colonial vanguard felt the watchful gaze of Native American scouts and noted the smoke signals that marked their position and announced their progress.279 The advance of the intrepid explorers encountered a series of long-deserted pueblos at Alamillo,

286 Senecu, Sevilla, and Soccorro. At each burnt or abandoned village, the friars directed the idle soldiers to search the ruins and respectfully gathered the shattered fragments of Christian artifacts before committing the vestigial remains of missions and colonial society to flame.280 Initial interactions with the Pueblo inhabitants of the region were promising and quickly conformed to expected, Spanish tropes of colonial domination. “The Isletas allowed Governor Otermin to lecture them. When Father Ayeta set up his portable altar aboard a wagon and had it wheeled into the plaza, 511 of them consented to Christian absolution or baptism.”281 While some Pueblos ambivalently welcomed or deferentially honored the advanced Spanish expedition, Luis Tupatu of Picuris garnered support among various pueblos and plotted the demise of the latest representatives colonial authorities.282 Forewarned by their former neighbors and allies among the loyal Pueblo, the Spanish soldiers and friars withdrew, shrouded with heightened paranoia and the snowfalls of early winter.283 “Amid swirling charges of incompetence, Governor Otermin retired in ill health to Mexico City in 1683. From that safe haven eight years later, he vented his doubts about recolonizing New Mexico.”284 In the wake of the failed mission to salvage the colony and return the Spanish survivors to their homes, the exiled colonists settled into discontentment and dashed hopes. In mirrored response to their distant Pueblo neighbors, the refugee community in El Paso “also split into factions reminiscent of the days of Luis de Rosas. One group coalesced around the tall, graying native of Mexico City who had been raised in the kingdom, Maestre de campo Juan Dominguez de Mendoza.”285 Forestalling his aspirations to the governorship, his critics from rival refugee factions alleged that Dominguez de Mendoza, his extended family, and the Duran y Chavez clan, had conspired to profiteer in foodstuffs and livestock in flagrant disregard for the starvation and privation endured by most.286 Without promise for the restoration of their former lives or a clear plan for their redemption, the dispirited colonists endured a decade of infighting and impoverished subsistence. The ramification of the Pueblo Revolution spread beyond the Pueblo and Spanish remnants of Nuevo Mexico and extended throughout the Native American population of northern Nueva España. Rather than re-exerting control over Pueblo lands, the soldiers and missionaries from the demised colony struggled to maintain social cohesion and

287 cultural hegemony in El Paso. “Beginning in 1684, the rebellion of the Pueblos had begun to spread beyond the Pueblos’ world, like an ‘epidemic’ as one Spanish official put it. The contagion eventually spread as far east as Coahuila and as far west as Sonora, in what some historians have termed the Great Northern Revolt.”287 Throughout Spanish dominated Native American communities, mission congregations south of the Rio Grande aspired to the inspiring example of the Pueblo. The Conchos, Janos, Julimes, Pimas, Sumas and Tobosos in missions throughout the northern territories of Nueva España abrogated Catholic religious authorities, razed mission settlements and fled from Spanish exploitation. Spanish soldiers along the colonial perimeter suppressed each of these violent rebellions with violent displays of Spanish resolve. However, “for decades thereafter outbreaks of violent resistance continued across New Spain’s far northern frontier.”288 The Pueblo Revolution seeded Native American resistance throughout Spanish colonial cultures and placed further, hampering financial and military liens upon imperial aspirations for Nuevo Mexico. The rebellions that swept through the northern territories of Nueva España could have suborned and stalled Spanish colonial assertions over the Pueblos indefinitely had Spanish interests not committed resources to the reestablishment of a permanent outpost in the region to bolter their expansionist, territorial claims. In the final decades of the seventeenth century, Spain faced rumors of a growing alliance between the French and various native peoples, poised to threaten the northern of their colonial lands.289 “Moreover, the perennial chimera of mineral wealth – this time in the form of the mythical Sierra Azul – a mountain range of silver and a nearby lake of quicksilver – provided additional incentive” to blanket the region with sustained Spanish occupation and assert Spanish hegemony over the dissident Pueblo.290 In 1691, the colonial administration of Nueva España dispatched an ambitious veteran, Don Zapata Lujan Ponce de Leon, to realize its desires for the province. The forty-eight-year old nobleman from Madrid ventured into the Spanish borderlands to “seek my fortune in strange lands,” hoping to settle family debts.291 Twenty years after leaving his wife and children upon the Iberian Peninsula, the mid-ranked officer had established substantial debts throughout the Spanish colonies.292 However, the incorrigibly optimistic commander committed himself to his new task, certain that “New Mexico provided him

288 with another roll of the dice. Victory there might bring more profitable appointments.”293 Swift to capitalize upon his new position, in 1692, one year after his arrival in El Paso, Vargas planned an exploratory expedition in Pueblo territories to survey the temper and political circumstances of the former province. In an effort to reconnoiter the land before full-scale migration and occupation, Diego de Vargas mustered a small platoon that included three Franciscan friars. Fray Francisco Corbera, Fray Miguel Munis de Luna and Fray Cristobal Alonso Barroso volunteered to return to the field of Franciscan martyrdom, eager to assert religious possession of the unattended, missionary province.294 The Spanish commander spent the following four months navigating his troops through often hostile, frequently uncertain, and occasionally celebratory communities. “With the aid of Pueblo allies who had come with him from El Paso or joined him in New Mexico, and through skillful diplomacy and intimidation, the steel-nerved Vargas avoided annihilation on several occasions and won the token allegiance of twenty-three Pueblo communities.”295 On November 8 of 1692, the energized nobleman declared the surveillance mission an unmitigated success. As his caravan passed Inscription Rock along the long procession to Zuni he concretized his perception of the landscape as a renewed colonial space by carving into the rock the declaration, “General Don Deigo de Vargas, who conquered for our Holy Faith, and for the Royal Crown, all of the New Mexico, at his expense, was here, year of 1692.”296 Through public ceremonies held among pueblos along the estimated six hundred league trek and performed by “Fray Francisco Corbera, president of the who accompanied him, Vargas granted religious administrative authority over the region to the Franciscans.”297 As a sign of the assumed possession and returned religious authority of the Franciscan missionaries, the reverend father president celebrated for them the holy sacrifice of the mass on a feast day and Sunday. And likewise, they said mass for me at the encampment and parade ground which I established at the pueblo…and thus the said natives received them as ministers as they had served since the beginning, when this land was originally won by the said religious of our father Saint Francis. Also, they answered the questions that were asked by the religious, who were their ministers of said sacred religion.298

The Franciscan friars sacralized the land, performed the sacramental ritual of communal unity in the joint company of Pueblo and Spanish citizens and began the implantation of

289 Catholic hegemony through immediate education. However, Vargas’ roseate claims of the victorious return of Spanish colonial sovereignty and his perception of loving embraces from various pueblo communities “proved premature, as he discovered the next year…[despite] the Pueblos’ initial professions of friendship.”299 Vargas and the exploratory expedition returned and regrouped in El Paso del Rio del Norte to the ululation of the refugee encampment and colonial superiors of Nueva España. There, the new governor of Nuevo Mexico received the formal gratitude, pledge of fiscal and logistical support, and writ of authorization for the official re-colonization of his newly reclaimed territory from the viceroy.300 On October 4, 1693, Governor Vargas led a caravan of aspirant conquerors and colonists north to renew the colony of Nuevo Mexico. The expedition included “one hundred soldiers, seventy families, eighteen Franciscan friars, and a number of Indian allies…nine hundred head of livestock, more than two thousand horses, and one thousand mules,” twelve drawn wagons and three cannons.301 However, despite the pledges of obedience and bloodless reception from the Pueblo the previous year, when the procession entered the territories around their former Native American neighbors, “many of the Pueblos who had sworn obedience to him the year before now offered staunch resistance. It had cost the Pueblos nothing to humor Vargas on his reconnaissance in 1692, but when he returned to stay the Pueblos were less accommodating.”302 In 1693, diplomacy was insufficient to dissuade the Tewas and Tanos of Santa Fe to suffer the reestablishment of Spanish authorities or abandon the habitation of Santa Fe that the native peoples had continuously maintained since the revolution.303 Several unsuccessful attempts to parlay with the Indian residence of the former colonial capital resulted in two weeks of tense siege. Governor Vargas resolved to abolish the “lack of safety, which Your Lordship has promised us and which is referred to by the illustrious Montenegro, so that the ministers of the gospel and other innocent vassals of His Majesty, who with such great pleasure have come to reside in this land and thereby achieve the royal wishes of the crown, may not perish.”304 Citing rumors of an imminent Pueblo genocide, the Spanish commander roused his soldiers and Pueblo allies from the pueblo of Pecos, evoked the aegis of Santiago and sacked Santa Fe.305 While storming the former administrative capital, the Spanish colonists “made special

290 entreaties, however, to a New Mexican image of the Virgin Mary, Nuestra Senora de la Conquista, whose wooden statue had been spirited out of New Mexico in 1680, brought back again with the reconquerors in 1693.”306 Under the watchful gaze and auspices of their patroness, La Conquistadora, the victorious Spanish settlers charged seventy Native American soldiers with treason against colonial civil and ecclesiastical authorities and executed the Pueblo rebels.307 After the symbolically important battle and reclamation of the capitol of Nuevo Mexico, Governor Vargas used the village as a foothold for Spanish hegemony. Through a laborious sequence of war campaigns and martial engagements that raged throughout 1693 and 1694, the Spanish soldiers and friars nominally sublimated most of the pueblos of the province and reinstituted colonial habitation and life in the Spanish borderland.308 In the aftermath of the Spanish military onslaught and persistent war to subdue and conquer the Native American communities involved in the Revolution of 1680, the Pueblo landscape was transformed into the renewed colony of Nuevo Mexico and reconstructed to reflect the new social and cultural dynamics of the territory. Pueblo populations and cultures were removed, shuffled and reformed “through a series of town abandonments and population reaggregations. This process was particularly pronounced in the southern half of New Mexico where whole linguistic groups were absorbed into others.”309 The Southern Tiwa and Tewa pueblos of Alameda, Abo, Chililo, Galisteo, Gran , Isleta, Puaray, San Cristobal, San Marcos, San Lorenzo, Tajique, and Quarai disintegrated from the social pressures of population decline and Spanish cultural reconstruction. The Piro and Tompiro experienced similar fates. “Displaced Keres lineages founded in 1698. And those Tiwa who had taken refuge among the Hopi after the Pueblo Revolt returned to the Rio Grande Basin in 1740 to establish Sandia Pueblo.”310 The fragmented Zuni peoples consolidated into one. The Tiwa, Tewa, Towa, and Keres of the northern reaches of the province and the distant Hopi maintained relatively stable community settlements. However, these pueblos negotiated cultural variation and endured rapid population differentiation as they absorbed the displaced Pueblo populations of the disbanded villages.311 Pueblo cultural boundaries frayed and resolved into new configurations from the influence of subtly divergent cultural and religious practices. “Governor Vargas, envisioning a colony of sturdy farmers, had

291 begun granting smaller holdings to Spaniards and guaranteeing a minimum land base to Pueblo communities.”312 Pueblo communities reformulated their demographic composition and spatial position as a result of interaction with Spanish assertions of colonial authority including settlement placement, forced mission formulation and garrison positioning. The spatial construction of the Pueblo landscape adapted to reflect the reconfigured social reality of the renewed colony and positioned Spanish soldiers and friars within contested, negotiated and tentatively accepted locations within the new cultural divisions and identities of Native American peoples. In the newly configured colonial spaces, refashioned civil and ecclesiastical architecture expressed the augmented religious and social relationships of Nuevo Mexico. In the resurrected capital of Santa Fe, the stronghold erected by the Pueblo residence during the era of independence dominated the cityscape, rising pointedly from a perimeter of demolished, pre-revolutionary Spanish structures. The cabildo of Santa Fe described the labyrinthine construction that encased the former palace. “There are so many dwellings, which they have built on the top of the casas reales, that in took twenty soldiers and thirty Indian allies the whole blessed day until nightfall to search the fortress and the dwellings.”313 The Spanish colonists claimed and occupied the structure, purposing it for habitation and colonial administration, and immediately began remodeling the Pueblo base to conform to Spanish aesthetic and defensive sensibilities. By the end of 1694, Governor Vargas had ensconced Franciscan friars in one dozen Pueblo missions. Fray Custos Salvador Rodriguez de San Antonio had rejected Governor Vargas’ insinuation that the friars appropriate kiva spaces for Catholic sacred ritualization. According to the custodian, who recognized the tenuous strategic position of an enclosed, underground room in the event of another Native American revolt, it would be profane and sacrilegious to enact the sacraments within a structure dedicated to the “diabolical rites” of the Pueblo.314 Thus, the newly assigned friars proliferated the reconstruction activities and swiftly conscripted Pueblo laborers to commence architectural renovations upon their humble churches and dwellings.315 At Pecos in 1696, Fray Francisco de Vargas dedicated his attentions and the efforts of his congregation to enhancing the local church. Upon a visit to the pueblo, Governor Vargas recorded that “I saw that the nave of the church had been enlarged at his order in accord with the plan he

292 had given the Indians and with help from their alcalde mayor. They had increased its height for the clerestory and built a chancel for the high altar with two steps.”316 “The sacristy lacked only a roof, and they had a wall around the patio with a gate to enter the convento.”317 In the architectural motifs of the ecclesiastical expansions, the Franciscans associated the Catholic authority of their order and the saints with indigenous katsina. “The belfry of Zia Pueblos’ church, the church facades at Laguna and Santo Domingo Pueblos, and the courtyard ate at Taos Pueblo’s church all reproduce architecturally the Pueblo cloud motif so prominent on antique pottery and female ceremonial headdresses.”318 At the pueblo of Laguna, the transept was emblazoned with Pueblo cloud symbols in an attempt to symbolically link Catholicism and pre-Catholic Pueblo religious traditions.319 Within the new structures and spaces of Nuevo Mexico, the Franciscan friars and Pueblo constructed new perceptions of and relationships with each other, reconfiguring the power-laden relationships of Catholic evangelization and custodianship. When Governor Vargas staffed his expedition to re-colonize the Pueblo territories and solicited ecclesiastical volunteers to man the missions, the endeavor evoked the interest of eighteen Franciscans who embraced the call to missionary service and desired to reclaim their fallen province.320 However, in the face of Pueblo sacrileges and hostile opposition, several friars revised their enthusiasm and hesitated to deploy among questionably loyal congregations that were isolated from the strength of the Spanish military presence.321 Tentative missionaries recoiled from their indicated congregations and reported that they regularly uttered “blasphemies against God and his religion…The obscenities and other things that we are suffering, which are so contrary to the tranquility of our profession, are unmentionable.”322 When the governor and custodian requested that they venture unguarded to their missions, the “tenor of the replies from the missionaries was that they could not in conscience return to their missions without knowingly walking into the jaws of death, which would be sheer folly and could hardly be considered martyrdom in defense of the faith, for which they were prepared.”323 Despite the dubious assertions of earlier scholarship, the temperate hesitancy of Franciscans did not necessarily indicate a lack of “apostolic fervor” or diminished “zealous commitment to a Catholic ideal.”324 As the campaign throughout 1693 produces less militant inhabitants, Franciscans prepared to

293 shepherd the spiritual welfare of the Indian mission congregations. By September 22, 1694, the missionaries deemed the territory sufficiently pacified and informed Governor Vargas that they were ready to assume their positions at the conquered pueblos to the extent that their scarce numbers permitted.325 Although they were ardently committed to their roles as missionaries of the new neophyte congregations, the Franciscan friars did not extricate themselves from earlier, paternalistic conceptions of Native Americans. Even after the achievement of the Pueblo Revolution and recognition of religious motivations behind the violence, the mendicants maintained, “Indians were an inferior race of ill repute, easily given to heresy. They were ‘weak and frail’ children of low intelligence who would remain perpetually minors in need of a father’s guidance.”326 If the Franciscans expected the blood of their martyrs to fructify the evangelical harvest, their failure to encounter their communicants as equals diminished the range of religious dialogue among the pueblos. According to the devotional meditations of the Franciscans, “The friars could reach mystical marriage and union with God. Indian neophytes could be purged, illuminated, but never really enjoy perfect union; that was solely a European privilege…‘Children’ and neophytes were ill- prepared for such profound experiences.”327 When the Franciscans returned to the colonial missions, they imported perceptions and expectations of Native Americans unmodified by the 1680 rebellion. Fray Geronimo de Mendieta affirmed the Franciscan view of the Indian population. “The majority of them are not fitted for masters but for pupils, not for prelates but for subjects, and as such they are the best in the world.”328 The Pueblo were conceptualized as natural servants and obedient, humble potential converts. While the Franciscan missionaries revived pre-revolutionary cognitive models of Native Americans, the pueblo similarly revitalized the differentiated spectrum of reactions and attitudes towards Spanish colonists and friars exhibited by their ancestors. Juan of Tesuque recognized that the Pueblo of Nuevo Mexico “were of different minds” regarding the return and resettlement of the Spanish.329 Some resisted the would-be- conquerors through violent opposition. Others physically embraced the friars and former settlers upon their arrival. However, most pueblo residents begrudgingly accepted the representatives of Spanish regional commitments and settled into subtle, simmering

294 contestation or fled settlements to continue open war. The reflections of Juan of Tesuque noted that among the Spanish colonists, more than eighty percent were “sons of the land and had grown up with the natives.”330 They eagerly desired to return to the kingdom of Nuevo Mexico, their homeland and their Pueblo neighbors.331 Among the Pueblo, the majority of the population included persons of racially mixed ancestry and Native Americans who had spent their formative years in Spanish supervised missions or villages with heterogeneous demographic compositions. Fray Juan Agustin de Morfi noted that within the town governments led by Pueblo-elected representatives of the community, “even though only Indians were supposed to serve as their own petty governors, some coyotes and mulatos who were living in the pueblos had managed to get themselves appointed to the post. These men had been selected because they were highly acculturated Christians.”332 That is to say that the Pueblo of the province incrementally accepted the influence of Catholicism, Spanish culture and Spanish ethnicity into their communities to facilitate dialogue with colonial authorities. Native Americans peoples who were resettled into missions admitted the Franciscan friars for several reasons and with differentiated degrees of enthusiasm. Fear of Spanish reprisal or religious consequences should they mistreat the ecclesiastical representatives prompted the hospitable reception of many.333 Pueblo disillusionment and dissatisfaction with the native theocracies and despotic rule instituted in the absence of colonial authorities led many to reluctantly “invite” or “welcome” the return of friars.334 However, at “many pueblos the caciques ordered their people not to listen to the friars or to accept any of their gifts.”335 The religious leader of one Hopi village decried the unwelcome renewal of Franciscan presence and proclaimed, “the father wants to deceive us by bringing us gifts, and therefore let no one accept anything.”336 Former Pueblo congregants remembered the religious ministrations of the friars and frequently denounced the apparent congeniality and deceptively honorific gifts of the imposed authorities. Once insinuated into Indian missions, Franciscans experienced the increasing marginalization of their authority as Pueblo negotiated the reformulated dynamics of civil and ecclesiastical dominion in Nuevo Mexico. The town government and local election of gobernadorcillos, alguacils, mayordomos, sacristans, and fiscales established in the

295 pueblos in 1621 was reinstituted within the renewed colony.337 Though the representative officers nominally served the interests of the community, throughout the early and mid-seventeenth century, they had consistently reflected the will of the friar of the local mission.338 However, in the revised colonial system, the management of Indian town officials was placed within the direct jurisdiction of the administration of the Spanish chief constable.339 Consequently, “The role of intermediary between the pueblos and Spanish society shifted from the friars to the Indian officers. No longer would the Indians answer primarily to the friars, nor would they depend on them for election to these posts.”340 As a result, Pueblo perceived and positioned the Franciscans less as central governing dictators and more as peripheral, less political, and less efficacious religious authorities. Though no longer the unassailable lords of Pueblo daily lives, the Franciscan friars remained potent religious leaders and representatives of Catholicism among the scattered missions. Even while their civil authority waned in the renewed colonial regime, the religious encounter and exchange that their presence enabled persisted. Pueblo in the century after the impermanent revolution continued to negotiate Catholic religious cosmology and practice and situate the teachings of the friars within their own religious worlds. The influence of Catholicism may have dimmed in the decade of Pueblo independence but it did not disappear. Some Pueblo maintained the Catholicism of the prior colonial era in the absence of Franciscan authority. When Governor Diego de Vargas arrived at the rock of the Zuni, the veteran commander “stared, incredulous. There stood a well-kept Christian altar flanked by lighted tallow candles, with silver chalices, a … three images of Christ, and dozens of other religious objects and books, all carefully preserved.”341 Amidst the ruined shells of abandoned missions and in each previously visited pueblo, the expedition had encountered the befouled, shattered, and savaged remains of Catholic material artifacts even among those peoples who remembered their catechistic education. However, at Zuni the Spanish surveyors found “such a divine treasure” of objects and Christian practitioners, that the governor openly praised the largess of God.342 Though not typical of the reaction of the Pueblo, “At Zuni the natives delivered to the religious the books, as recorded in the autos of said campaign, war and conquest carried out on my expedition to the rock and province of

296 Zuni…Most of the said books had the marks of use by the religious who had owned the said books.”343 Some Native Americans in Nuevo Mexico, though a minority, embraced the religion encountered first through the friars and continued their Catholic practice during the era following the violent Pueblo Revolution. Catholicism remained an important and persistent component of Pueblo communities within the renewed colony. Historian Tisa Wenger affirms, “After the reconquest of 1692, Catholicism increasingly became part of the identity and practice of most Pueblo tribes.”344 The Native Americans within Nuevo Mexico accepted the reintroduction of the rituals and religion of the friars far more than the missionaries themselves. Indeed, the friars willingly offered performances of sacraments and religious absolution to ingratiate themselves among the indigenous population. Governor Vargas recorded the actions of the early Franciscans within the recolonized territories. The reverend father president Fray Francisco Corbera, accompanied by the revered father missionary Fray Cristobal Alonso Barroso, as a sign of said possession gave absolution to the said natives of said nations of the rocks [penoles] and the provinces from their sin of apostasy and also baptized the infants, children, and youths who had been born and the other persons who had not been baptized since they rose in revolt against our holy faith and the royal crown.345

Although the governor’s journal noted that the friars questioned the Native American neophytes regarding their prior catechistic teaching, the meager inquest occurred after the sacramental ablution. The missionaries that renewed the colony of Nuevo Mexico were still concerned with proper, orthodox understandings of indigenous congregations. However, the willingness to augment the order of the ritual elements of Christianization indicated a subtle change within the religion of the Franciscans. Friars in the pre- revolutionary colony often focused upon the transformation of physical behavior to presage Christian conversion and devotion.346 Over the century of prolonged contact, the missionaries reluctantly began to baptize infants and willing, terminal subjects.347 Friars in the renewed colony inherited that legacy of Franciscan practice and offered sacramental absolution, prior to confession and, occasionally, before baptism.348 Returning missionaries marked and effected “the submission and obedience of the said natives and nations…[by administering] the holy sacraments of baptism, marriage, and penance, saying numerous masses to them and explaining, through the tongue of the

297 interpreter Pedro Hidalgo, the Christian doctrine through different talks.”349 The Franciscan friars of the reinstituted Nuevo Mexico colony imbued sacramental observation with renewed authority and employed their performances as vehicles of Christian inculcation and obedience. Pueblo participated in Catholic rituals even amidst the contention and resistance to Franciscan authority that persisted in the renewed colony. The mendicant friars who ministered to the Pueblo after 1693 continued to affirm key elements of the Spanish Franciscan Catholicism of their pre-revolutionary predecessors. Though supplies were scarce, they still circulated devotional manuals published in España and Nueva España and presumably observed the mystical practice and devotions described therein.350 Franciscan volunteers in the new colonial era continued to keenly observe external religious practices, promoting paraliturgical religious elements among their congregations and encouraging the emulation of the life of St. Francis.351 “New Mexico’s Franciscans still dressed in blue habits. Reinstalled in Pueblo communities, the friars ministered to the mission congregations and to increasing numbers of non-Indian families who lived nearby.”352 Though assigned to individual missions, many friars tended to four or more of the surrounding pueblos and understood themselves as exemplary beacons of Catholic commitment and practice to their congregations.353 Moreover, the Franciscan community of the renewed Nuevo Mexico affirmed their solidarity within the missionary identity by demonstrating fewer examples of internal litigation, fracture and inquisitional accusations than prior generations, only three over the next six decades.354 Perhaps the most significant reformulation of the religious worlds of Franciscans occurred within their perception and subsequent interactions with pre-Catholic religious traditions. “Most of the missionaries adopted more tolerant attitudes than their predecessors toward seeming acts of traditional Pueblo religions, so long as such practice did not interfere with daily Christian instruction, worship, and work…[and reimagined] Pueblo Indian kivas not a dens of diabolical worship but instead as men’s clubhouses.”355 The Franciscan model of conversion and mission education continued to require the eradication of blatant observations of indigenous ceremonial traditions and the superimposition of parallel Catholic rituals including purificatory ablution and , fasting, and offering incense or food.356 The friars that monitored Pueblo

298 religious life in the later colony believed “that a syncretic Catholicism that incorporated native and Christian concepts and symbols, regardless of their disparate meanings, would satisfy the Indians psychological needs” and thus win Native American devotion away from non-Catholic traditions.357 By infusing their expectations of the Catholic lives of their congregations with practices paralleled in indigenous religions, the friars understood and promoted religious hybridization among their constituents as an acceptable manifestation of Christianity. Moreover, after 1693, Franciscan missionaries “actively tried to fuse the Indian notion of sacred natural with the Christian supernatural. This is particularly vivid in ecclesiastical iconography…[and] particularly pronounced in the cult of the saints. When ordinary saints were depicted, powerful animals were placed next to them…These images have no apparent European origin.”358 The swift temporal interval between the return of Franciscan supervision and the appearance of hybrid religious iconography upon mission artifacts and spaces indicate that such religious and artistic fusions were elements of Pueblo culture prior to the resettlement of Spanish colonists. The friars utilized these examples of religiously hybridized imagery intentionally, to promote the transference of Pueblo religious loyalties to Catholic parallels of indigenous religious elements, and unconsciously, as a result of cultural diffusion prompted by their sudden emersion in Pueblo communities. Contrary to the narrowed scope of Franciscan authority and the relatively scant missionary population, the friars remained prominent leaders within the religious lives of local inhabitants. However, “In the absence of significant numbers of priests, the people of New Mexico sustained their Catholicism on their own terms. Many Hispanos relied for spiritual leadership of lay cofraternities that led community worship, catechism, and the celebration of Catholic feasts days.”359 The Pueblo and Hispanic colonists incorporated supplemental religious authorities and, simultaneously, adapted their Catholicism to the needs and cultural contours of the local community. Catholic practitioners incrementally added Pueblo religious elements to their religious observations. Under the watchful gaze of colonial authorities, pueblos “gradually added Catholicism to their religious repertoire, reorienting their public ceremonial calendars around the Catholic holy days… Holy Week and Christmas also came to be celebrated with indigenous ceremonial dances. The deer dance, traditionally held to thank deer for

299 gifting their lives, now also honored the birth of the Christ child.”360 Facilitated by religious parallels, the deer dance was distanced from its indigenous religious connotations and repositioned as a celebratory ritual expression of gratitude and joy. The inhabitants of Nuevo Mexico partially dissociated practices from their original religious context and permitted them to diffuse across increasingly permeable religious boundaries. Most of the Franciscans positioned within the reformed religious dialogue of the reconstituted Spanish colony were willing to accept elements of Pueblo ritual practice as “legitimate, or at least acceptable, Indian ways to celebrate the Christian holy days.”361 While surely some “labored among the Pueblos during the eighteenth century believing, … more naively than others, that idolatry had been nipped in the bud,” several missionaries remained tormented about the possible meaning of native performances and feared the undiminished threat of the return of idolatry to the Pueblo.362 Nonetheless, Franciscan missionaries in Nuevo Mexico in dialogue with those “throughout New Spain began to define indigenous practices as custumbres. ‘Customs’ did not necessarily conflict with the Catholic ‘religion,’ and even when seen as problematic, these were legally classified as venial rather than mortal sins, with less serious repercussions.”363 Isolated in the rough and muddled landscape of the borderland province and alienated from the cultural centers of homeland, the friars were unable to fully realize their expectations of the purgation of indigenous practice and the implantation of Spanish culture.364 Consequently, the frustrated friars were encouraged by their helplessness and personal observations of their local contexts to consider the continuation of Pueblo customs as harmless, non-religious ceremonies that were easily reconciled within Catholic lives. Rather than as religious hybridization, the Franciscans identified the performance of Pueblo rites within Catholic ceremonies as a fading echo of the savagery and primitive lifestyles of the indigenous communities of Nuevo Mexico.365 Although this reclassification eased the consciences and attentions of the Franciscan missionaries, the Pueblo synthesized cosmological elements and persons from Catholicism and pre-Christian religious traditions into religious hybrids of various configurations. The Acoma recognized the wooden icon leading the procession of returning Spanish colonists as a potent embodiment of a supernatural being dedicated to the protection of a migrating people within their own sacred landscape and consequently

300 “believed that one of their Corn Mothers, Nautsiti, greatly transformed, returned during the conquest as Our Lady of the Conquest.”366 At Zuni the wooden carving of the Santo Nino de Atocha was set within the mission and conjoined within the cosmological niche of superhuman beings invoked for communal fecundity.367 Both the Catholic and pre- colonization artifacts and beings engaged through them were “regularly fed, not sacred cornmeal but bits of cheese, a European-origin food. In this case, just as the Zuni incorporated scalps, fetishes, and ceremonies of conquering and conquered groups, so too the Christian images of their Spanish conquerors came to rest on Pueblo altars.”368 Within the living religious traditions among the Pueblo, Catholic doctrinal aspects and persons mingled and merged with the populations of indigenous religious cosmologies. When Spanish colonist settled amidst the Pueblo and between the pueblos, they renewed the ongoing cultural dialogue of Nuevo Mexico but simultaneously and unintentionally reconstituted some of the less desired social dynamics of the pre- revolutionary colony. Alongside the religious acceptance and spectrum of tentative negotiations and penetrating encounters roused among Native American peoples, the renewed colony reinstituted fervent religious resistance. The Franciscan mendicants filtered back into missionary residence after a few years of fearful hesitancy. However, once the missionaries were encapsulated by Pueblo congregant, their correspondence and records frequently “referred to repeated insults heaped upon them by the Indians during religious service; the profaning of religious articles and statues; the theft of large numbers of livestock, sheep, and horses from the mission establishments; the inability to maintain any discipline among their charges and the disruption of the missions by the natives.”369 The ministering friars despaired over their consistent encounter of religious subversion and numerous examples of covert dissidence. Some friars lamented and recorded more direct opposition. In the pueblo of Picuris, the former local governor, Jeronimo Dirucaca, was charged with sorcery, idolatry, and concubinage. The arraigned Pueblo administrator allegedly entreated his Native American neighbors “not to listen to what the friar told them, but only to what they had been taught by their ancestors.”370 Within a few years of the reinaugurated missionary program, the Franciscans began to hear persistent rumors of a “false story persistently circulated by representatives of rebel Indians that the Spaniards were

301 planning to kill all the rebel and apostate Indians at the opportune time, thus inciting and arousing fear in the minds of the otherwise peaceful Indian populace.”371 Surrounded by the recently reconstructed and continually reconfigured spaces and relationships of Nuevo Mexico, Franciscan missionaries and Pueblo inhabitants recreated the cultural dynamic of mutual religious rejection, present in the original manifestation of the colony, in conjunction with the more prevalent ambivalence and incorporation. This renewed opposition included public, violent resistance through the constant wars and renewed current of rebellious dissent that characterized the later history of the Spanish borderland colony. The dissidence movement gained coherence before the Spanish migrants had settled into their new homes and manifest numerous revolts throughout the colonial occupation of the region. “The concept of revolt, however, was not new to the Pueblos. Violent uprisings, coupled with brutal suppressions by Hispanic overlords, had dotted the since the colony’s inception.”372 The large-scale Pueblo Revolt of 1696 was one prominent example of the sustained current of opposition operative in the later formulation of Nuevo Mexico. Within years of returning to their assigned missions, Franciscans began to hear rumblings of an imminent, reattempt at revolution.373 Pueblo converts and the friars’ own perceptions of bitter hostility from members of their surrounding community affirmed the vexing concerns and growing fears of the missionaries.374 On June 4, 1696, the Pueblo resistance movement produced the predicted rebellion. The resulting violence had been hastily planned and was thus less coordinated and less effective than the Revolution of 1680. Nonetheless, by the end of the day, Pueblo opposed to Spanish dominant cohabitation had slaughtered five Franciscans and twenty-one Spanish colonists, and burned or desacralized several churches and convents.375 Participant Pueblo again rejected their Franciscan assigned resettlements and abandoned their ancestral pueblo homes rather than bear continued subjugation and cultural interaction with Spanish colonial authorities.376 Against the widespread Pueblo opposition, “Only the loyal leaders at Pecos, Tesuque, San Felipe, Santa Ana, and Zia, and the warriors who followed them, remained faithful to the Spaniards.”377 However, after a six-month campaign that targeted food supplies as well as Pueblo combatants, Governor Vargas and his coalition of Pueblo allies had reincorporated all but the westernmost rebel Pueblo communities

302 within the fold of Spanish dominion. Acoma, Zuni, and Hopi continued to resist Spanish colonization. Shortly after the conclusion of the military offensive, “Acoma and Zuni soon submitted again.”378 The population and communal capital of Pueblo peoples were sufficiently decimated for the century following the aftermath of Spanish retaliatory reprisal that efficacious, cross-communal revolution became highly improbable.379 Pueblo unwilling to bow to consistent interaction with and oppression from Spanish culture or authorities or abdicate violent resistance availed themselves of the remaining option – migration and incorporation into the semi-nomadic Apaches, Utes and Navajo.380 While the scope and success of rebellions within pueblos diminished, cultural repudiation from Pueblo continued throughout the colonial era in the constant campaigns against vehemently independent Native American peoples at the margins of the missionary province.381 The revived dynamic of resistance and cultural opposition manifested among the colonial authorities of the politically dominant Spanish hegemony. By 1707, the start of the gubernatorial administration of Jose Chacon Medina Salazar y Villasenor, Spanish colonists wielded military resources to reject the practices and culture of the Pueblo. For nearly a decade afterward, throughout the subsequent governorship of Juan Ignacio Flores Mogollon, Franciscans and colonial officers diminished the cultural engagement enabled by the previous era of tentative toleration and temporarily revived “virulent campaigns to eradicate the visible form of Pueblo idolatry.” 382 Governor Chacon identified the public incorporation of Pueblo rituals into Catholic festivities as “introducing many superstitions and scandalous acts” into the purity of Christian practice.383 Moreover, colonial authorities again imagined and observed the Pueblo return to and use of “estufas [kivas] in which they invoke the devil, and in his company and with his advice and suggestion they exhort one thousand errors.”384 Although friars in the renewed colony of Nuevo Mexico were more likely to overlook or diminish the significance of non-orthodox Catholic practices, religious intolerance and overt resistance were constituent components of the culture and lives of the later colony, alongside of religious exchange and penetration. The intensity of anti-Pueblo religious campaigns and zealousness of the intermittent opposition to perceived non-Catholic religious practices, reified and

303 solidified Native American support for pre-Christian religious traditions. In part as a subversive expression of religious discontent and social alienation in response to the occasionally violent hostilities of Spanish supervisors, generations of Pueblo revived the teachings and reinforced the religious boundaries of their non-Christian religions. During periods of persecution or oppressive Franciscan rule, the peoples of the afflicted pueblos, “could not openly perform the masked katchina dances, which were condemned by the Spanish as demonic, [and so] they continued to practice them without masks or in secret in the kivas.”385 Descendents within these pueblos affirm that the indigenous religious traditions of the Pueblo survived the second phase of Spanish settlement and the long history of colonization.386 Within the preferred religious narratives of Pueblo religious communities and the scholars deferentially indebted to them, the Hopi, whose mesa-top “towns in the modern state of Arizona placed them farthest west, completely resisted the Spanish reconquest… and the Tewas they hosted never became even nominally Catholic, and their political and religious autonomy was not seriously challenged.”387 Throughout the scattered Pueblo communities, and especially among the Hopi and inconsistently ministered pueblo of Zuni, Catholicism did not become the sovereign, centrally organizing religious tradition of public ritual observations or communal life.388 According to oral and post-colonial histories, outside of the observation of Spanish religious authorities, the Pueblo continued many of their pre-Catholic traditions beneath a necessary shroud of secrecy. In order to deflect and preempt negative attention that could incite reinvigorated religious repression “they barred outsiders from their environs for most ceremonies intensified and extended older pattern of secrecy in religious matters. …Over the centuries of colonial history, secrecy acquired additional urgency as a means of resisting suppression from the outside world.”389 Within the occluded cultural underground, Pueblo practitioners incorporated Catholicism to shield their religious activities and provide cover for their non-Christian traditions.390 If initially Native American religious commitment and “fealty remained more apparent than real,” by the first decades of the eighteenth century, Pueblo congregations had established stable traditions of religious parallelism.391 Complicating the spectrum of religious practice of Nuevo Mexico, some Pueblo satisfied Catholic and non-Christian religious commitments through the simultaneous observation of the religious obligations and practices of each.392

304 Within the religious practices of these individuals and communities, the religion from the Franciscans lived beside indigenous, religious traditions in tension, in dialogue and in dynamic processes of engagement and reformation.

305 CONCLUSION

Among the pueblos of Nuevo Mexico, Franciscan friars and Pueblo Indians met, developed relationships, and brought their cultures and religious worlds into contact. Amidst the ensuing violence and settlement, the indigenous peoples and recent migrants to the region constructed a colony buttressed by components of their diverse religious contexts. While Pueblos erected missions and adapted to the presence of a new, foreign people, Franciscan missionaries penetrated local communities and developed patterns of religious interaction in their efforts towards evangelization. Both peoples utilized elements of their religious cosmologies to construct their perceptions of the other and comprehend the colonial setting. Friars and Pueblos employed prior and contemporaneously fashioned religious practices to concretize their dynamically reconfiguring religious worlds and structure their experiences of life in the arid region of the American Southwest. The augmented social and cultural landscape refashioned religious conceptions and performances and nuanced the religious interactions between missionaries and congregations. Colonial inhabitants expressed diverse responses to the religious encounters that permeated the colony. Many Pueblo communicants experienced heartfelt attraction to the new religious traditions introduced by the Franciscans and many more variously incorporated Catholic elements within their religious lives. However, a significant Native American population steeped in the litany of religious transgressions and the broken ethos of social reciprocity and inherited the emotional complex of anger and resentment that laid the foundation for religious resistance to the imposed authorities of Nuevo Mexico. The associated desire for religious change or reformation incited and sustained the simultaneous repudiation of Catholic and Spanish dominion throughout the region. The religious objectives of reformation and renunciation of colonial authorities combined with ancillary influences and incorporated pre-Hispanic and colonial performances of emotion to orient Pueblo resistance in the seventeenth century towards revolution. This complex of motivations and culturally prescribed expressions of affect entwined with systems of honor and public virtue to imbue the collective acts of the Pueblo Revolutionary period with their characteristic violence. After an era of Pueblo

306 independence and religious self-governance, Spanish soldiers and missionaries returned and resettled the territory of Nuevo Mexico. In so doing, they reconstructed with subtle variation the relationships of religious encounter and the colony of Nuevo Mexico. This renewed colony housed a similar spectrum of religious manifestations as the pre- Revolutionary incarnation. Franciscan friars and Pueblo religious practitioners embraced and rejected one another, allowed their lives to be influenced by the religious traditions of each other to varying extents and divergent ways, and cultivated sustained religious contestation that infused the historical events of the colony of Nuevo Mexico.

Religious Lives The history of the Franciscan friars that labored in the missionary province of New Mexico began in the cities and villages of the Spanish colony of Mexico. Whether from birth or cultural immersion, the friars were children and men of Nueva España and infused with the experiences of their homeland. Before the young initiates professed their membership among the Friars Minor, they experienced a range of privilege and occupational training, in part, as a result of heterogeneous ethnic and social origins. After assuming the identity of Franciscan friars, the mendicants continued to participate in multiple layers of cultural collectives and identities. They asserted themselves as Spanish, Catholic men through the expectations circumscribed by masculine scripts and understandings of honor and paternal authority. Upon heeding a call to missionary activity, they assumed the mantle of spiritual fathers and wielded love and fear to fulfill their roles as judicial authorities and teachers of mission congregations. As heirs of a reform-minded, ascetic Franciscan Catholicism, friars in Nueva España understood the missions in Nuevo Mexico as an opportunity to initiate a theocratic utopia that would reform the practice of Christianity in the world, inaugurate the return of Jesus, and transfigure into divine affirmation the travails and indigenous resistance that life among Pueblo peoples offered. When they arrived at the pueblos to the north, the Franciscans endeavored to recreate their homes and concretize their religious cosmologies in this new space. Through their religious performances and daily realization of their cultural identities, the friars affirmed their connection to Spanish Catholic traditions, concretized their

307 cosmologies and recreated their religious worlds. The religion introduced in Nuevo Mexico reflected the influence of institutional doctrine and decrees and the practice and priorities of Catholicism as observed by the inhabitants of Nueva España. In recreating their homeland among the Pueblos, friars reconstituted the tensions between Church and Crown interests and the religiously embedded authorities that framed the experience of life in the colonies of the Spanish Empire. The dialogue and tensions between these dual authoritative institutions permeate the friars’ religious practice and the culture of the colony and further bound the colonial enterprise to the Franciscan missionary endeavor. While the machinations of Spanish colonization crept towards the pueblos of the southwestern borderlands, their Native American inhabitants lived intellectually and emotionally rich lives filled with the observation of daily practices and rituals. Although the Pueblo were not a homogeneous people or unified culture, the constituent peoples shared spaces, experiences, and cosmological assertions embedded in the local landscape and architectural traditions. The Pueblo architectural structures that constituted the physical and social community reflected the sacred order of the cosmos and brought Pueblos into dialogue with the forces responsible for the continuity of life and prosperity. The affirmation of the underlying religious, spatial context as much as the physical constructions of the pueblo congealed early Puebloan identities and social boundaries. The sacred order of the universe, cemented in pueblo constructions, suffused those hierarchies of power and collective affirmations that organized life in the pueblos. A complex network of sodalities, lineages, moieties, chiefs, religious professionals and social elites performed roles and wielded authority saturated with religious significance and origin. Authoritative hierarchies of age, gender, and success in socially validated responsibilities wove religious elements into the layers of identities and identity performances of Pueblo Indians. These authoritarian and authoritative institutions diffused sacred power throughout pueblo societies and cohered the collective through the affirmation of the religious cosmology that girded that political scheme. Social industries, including agriculture, hunting and the production and use material artifacts, were inseparable from authoritative religious structures and thus the performance of Pueblo religion. Thus, the concerns and practices that fleshed out the days and nights of the Pueblo were constitutive elements of the daily experiences and religious lives of pueblo

308 communities and concretized Pueblo worldviews. Indigenous Native Americans acquiesced to the rule of shared religious authorities and affirmed their commitment to the sacred cosmology in which life was experienced. Daily observations of proper, ethical behaviors and the fulfillment of social responsibilities similarly performed Pueblo religious worlds. Religion organized and reinforced the constituent relationships and appropriate ethical norms that structured early Pueblo cultures and within which individuals and communities performed cosmologically oriented rituals and the quotidian social exchanges and activities of life. A social ethos of reciprocity governed the behavioral expectations through which pre-Hispanic Pueblos intellectually and affectively experienced their world. Puebloan ethical actions were based upon social transactions and negotiations informed by reciprocal relations. Participants in Pueblo communities were expected to observe the appropriate actions within the context of each relationship in order to perpetuate social and cosmic order. Franciscan hopes to map the region as a mission province and millennial theocracy impelled the penetration of Pueblo cosmos and the colonial appropriation of Pueblo territories. The religious motivations and activities of the friars and civil authorities of Nuevo Mexico prompted Spanish efforts to realize Pueblo submission and construct the region as a colony under the dominion of Spain and Catholic Christianity. Throughout the seventeenth century, Pueblo and Spanish peoples constructed the spaces and relationships of the colony of Nuevo Mexico as part of the dynamic process situating their colonial counterparts within their religious worlds. Within networks of conflict and cohabitation, Native Americans, Spanish settlers and their descendants simultaneously crafted and dwelt within constructions of colonial space that conveyed embedded ideas of conquest and the dominion of Christianity. Early religious interactions between Franciscan missionaries and Pueblos articulated the rejection of each group by the other. Both peoples demonstrated subtle and overt expression of religious resistance from initial encounter through sustained contact. Each group exhibited subtle hesitancy to engage the religious content of its colonial counterparts. Franciscans dehumanized and devaluated Pueblo in their observations and inflicted violence upon them in the name of mission discipline and their educational paradigm. Pueblo politely humored friars, avoided them through flight or

309 rejected their associated vision of Catholicism. When subtlety did not rid their communities of the Franciscan , Pueblo engaged in violent military opposition that simultaneously expressed Native American rejection of the fused authorities of Nuevo Mexico, Franciscan Christianity and Spanish military might. However, political and climatological conditions combined with sustained cultural contact and mission activities to produce rich religious negotiations that resulted in the confluence of Franciscan and Pueblo religious traditions in the lives of colonial residents. The peoples of Nuevo Mexico, both Native American and Franciscan, encountered a range of religious elements from diverse origins and diversely amalgamated the religious traditions of the region within a spectrum of religious variation. Amidst the social tensions and political maneuverings of mission history, the process of encounter and negotiation produced various forms of hybridization and parallelism within the religious lives of Franciscans, Spanish colonists, and Pueblos of Nuevo Mexico. Continued colonial contact with the presence and activities of Franciscan missionaries, and their accompanying practices, ideas and culture incited religious adaptation and innovation within the pueblos of Nuevo Mexico. Many Pueblos embraced or accepted the Catholicism commended by the Spanish friars when motivated by the cognitive and affective appeal of the newly introduced religious tradition or encouraged by force and the promise of better relations with colonial authorities. Others dedicated themselves to the continuation of resistance against Spanish religion and leadership of the colony and committed themselves to the performance of pre-Christian religions and the burgeoning thread of dissidence that wove through the pueblos and called the discontent and oppressed to revolution. However, a significant population of Pueblo religious practitioners incorporated new perspectives and practices from Franciscan Catholicism that did not directly contradict prior means of navigating experience and constructing life and created a spread of various hybridizations of traditional Catholicism and native religious traditions. In addition to the religious responses of conversion, rejection, and hybridization, some Pueblo participated in religious parallelism by partially compartmentalizing the religious elements of Catholic and non-Christian origin in order to practice both mission and pre-Hispanic religious forms.

310 Amidst the divergent understandings of moral life averred by Franciscan missionaries and Pueblo authorities, the ethical practices of practitioners mingled and produced augmented systems of public virtue. Through religious encounters and cultural transactions, the Pueblo virtue of reciprocity fused with Spanish moral models of virtue through honor within the context of public demonstrations of personal virtue. This hybridization and the parallel necessity for public performance and recognition within each ethical scheme embellished the theatrical component and promoted the emotional performances associated with public displays of virtue. In Nuevo Mexico, Pueblo and Spanish colonists negotiated and affirmed their social and ethical virtue within relations structured by the expectations of honorable behavior as demonstrated by publicly enacted feelings of shame and pride and displays of masculine violence. The resultant cultural exchange reinforced the indigenous emotionology based on the social ethos of reciprocity and heightened its emphasis upon publically affirmed virtue. Consequently, it incorporated emotional acts of violence within the realm of appropriate behaviors. The succession of Pueblo revolts that filled the history of seventeenth century Nuevo Mexico was a series of particular expressions of a social dynamic of religious resistance that permeated the colony and sought to simultaneously redress the transgressions of Pueblo and Spanish and reform the religious worlds and political circumstances of seventeenth century Pueblo. The events of the Pueblo Revolutionary period demonstrated the hybridized religious systems of emotional exchange and public virtue through the public restoration of honor and affirmation of Pueblo religious reciprocal ethics. For generations, Franciscan missionaries demeaned and discredited Native American authorities, disrespected and dishonored Pueblos throughout the province, and failed to return the expected emotional displays of gratitude, awe, fear, or love through deferential obedience or humble indebtedness. The afflicted insults and injuries of Spanish Franciscans upon Pueblo personal and collective honor invoked reciprocal reprisal and public assertions of virtue through violent, masculine disputation of submission and the forcible humiliation of transgressors. By violently and publicly expressing the cluster of emotions that included resentment, anger, frustration, and moral indignation, Pueblo revolutionaries redressed religious grievances and affirmed their

311 virtue and honor, reshaping the religious life and geography of the territories of Nuevo Mexico. Throughout the decades leading up the Pueblo Revolution, allied pueblos expressed desires for reformation through smaller scale demonstrations of religious discontentment and violent purges of Franciscan missionary occupation. The thread of Pueblo religious resistance to Catholicism aligned with mounting dissatisfaction with the dominion of colonial authorities and prevailing systems of ethical performance to cast open religious apostasy and violent repudiation of colonial authorities as increasingly viable and appealing options for many Pueblo. On August 10, 1680, the Pueblo initiated an armed revolution that repudiated Spanish colonial domination and sought to rectify the religious contexts of Native American lives. Franciscan friars and Pueblo revolutionaries conceptualized the violence and revolt as religiously significant action and understood the events within religious terms. According to Franciscan reflections, the rebellion expressed direct refutation of Christianity and their associated missionary efforts and authority. To Pueblo revolutionaries, the violent revolt provided the reciprocal emotional response to the injuries inflicted by Spanish occupation and realized a landscape free of Franciscan Catholic dominion and oppressive religious authority. Under the auspices of religiously contextualized leaders and supernatural beings, Pueblo soldiers focused upon religiously significant targets including Catholic material culture and potent authorities. Committed Pueblo coverts were able to craft the revolt as Christian reformation and a just refutation of unrighteous religious authorities as a result of impious gubernatorial behaviors, excessive Franciscan ministrations, and the powerlessness of friars to ameliorate social conditions or political fractures. Moreover, when the resulting massacre reformed religious practice and leadership, it articulated religiously buttressed behavioral norms. After two decades of Pueblo independence, Spanish colonial authorities resettled Pueblo territories and reconstructed the colony and social dynamics of Nuevo Mexico. In so doing, the colonists reconstituted the spectrum of religious interactions and variation found among pre-Revolutionary pueblos that included diverse forms of acceptance, negotiation, incorporation, and contestation. Some pueblo residents accepted the presence and influence of Spanish Catholicism and religious authorities for a variety of

312 personal motivations and to facilitate dialogue with colonial leadership. Other inhabitants of Nuevo Mexico divorced religious practices from their initial contexts and facilitated their diffusion across increasingly fluid religious boundaries. Franciscan friars infused the performance of their missionary identity and their expectations of the Catholic orthodoxy of their congregations with practices paralleled within indigenous religious traditions. Simultaneously, they minimized the significance of identifiably non- Christian rites as lingering vestiges of the primitive simplicity or uncultured traditions of Native Americans. Pueblos incorporated ritual performances and cosmological elements from Catholic and pre-Christian religious traditions within religious hybrids that expressed a range of religious commitments and priorities through innumerable configurations. Amidst contested negotiations and hybridizing encounters, Franciscan missionaries and Pueblo inhabitants recreated a dynamic of mutual religious resistance that congealed as covert subversion and public, violent resistance. Franciscan friars and Pueblo practitioners engaged in rich religious interactions and nuanced encounters within a dynamic process of perception, negotiation, resistance and reformation that produced a spectrum of religious variation among the pueblos. The history of encounter and contact between Franciscan missionaries and Pueblo peoples in colonial New Mexico elucidates the prominence of religion within the history of the Southwest and the lives of historical subjects. As friars and Indians observed and situated one another within their social schemes and understandings of the cosmos, their perceptions and cognitions were informed by religious ideals and cosmologies. As these disparate peoples constructed relationships of cultural exchange, their actions and reactions to the practices and presence of the other were often guided by religious motivations, affections and behavioral norms. The history of Franciscan missions and Pueblo religious contestation renegotiated social structures and hierarchies that were inseparable from conceptions of power and authority that were contextualized by religious cosmologies. Amidst the dynamic social tensions and cultural transactions of the colonial era, Pueblos and Spanish friars lived religious lives or lives performed within religiously framed mental and social worlds. The practice of living within religious worlds affirmed the incorporated layers of incumbent collective identities and concretized the social and perceptive reality embedded in those religious cosmologies. Religious

313 traditions shaped the social and cultural landscape of Nuevo Mexico, motivated historical actions, and guided the experiences that filled each day of the history of the colony. This work does not claim to be a comprehensive or exhaustive history of the people of colonial New Mexico. Its tentative conclusions are situational and invite continued scholarly dialogue and amendment. There are, however, several methodological concerns and investigative obstructions that continue to complicate academic inquiry within the field. As with most studies that seek to be respectful of or unearth Native American voices and views, this dissertation struggled to find adequate sources. Regrettably many of the provincial records and clerical documents before 1693 have been lost. Indeed, many of the primary documents generated in New Mexico during the seventeenth century were likely burned in the revolution that sought to purge Spanish authority and cultural influence. The remaining documents found in archives and published materials include observations and reflections that are Spanish in language and perspective. In addition to the loss of sources from intentional destruction and natural atrophy over time, scholars must sift through the intentional and unintentional biases of the authors of the extant documents and identify the filtering influence of Spanish, especially Franciscan, culture to hear the voices of the majority of the colony’s residents. In order to supplement Franciscan accounts and begin to piece together the perspectives and experience of Native American colonists, this investigation sought to incorporate the insights and methodologies from the fields of history, cultural anthropology, and material cultural analysis. However, such methods and uses of archival sources in conjunction with material culture are informed by an ethno-historical sensitivity and therefore must address all of the methodological concerns inherent in its use. Ethnography and by extension ethno-history has sought to discover and describe the encounter between two cultures. It is in part an anthropological method of field research and writing as is its historical appropriation. The objectives of ethnography include to engagement of the exotic in order to express such experiences as mundane by elucidating the patterns and relationships that structure or shape the experience. It hopes to express the insider’s perspective of religious worlds of meaning through the examination of personal interactions and constructed categories and the analysis of culture as phenomenon.

314 The cultural conditioning and situated perspectives of contemporary researchers make the experiences and perspectives of subjects even more elusive or illusive. Ethnographers shape the culture they observe by their very presence and shape their presentation of their experience with their rhetoric and cultural context. The scholar shapes the cultural subject of research by the interests, previous assumptions, and constructed categories of understanding imported into the archive or field. Anthropologists and postmodern and literary critics have recognized that ethnography is primarily an exercise in writing and thus, in part, a work of fiction.1 That is to say, the practice of ethnography is the work of constructing categories for comprehension, delineating facts or elements for inclusion or exclusion, often on the basis of power relationships and aesthetics, and fashioning texts that cannot claim to represent objective truth.2 These political relationships complicate claims of objectivity and lead critics of investigations into Native American communities to question the ethics of ethnographic practice and the ability of western anthropology to adequately or accurately represent the objects of their studies.3 However, historical writing need not be nobly objective or abjectly hopeless. Realization of the limits and complications of historical inquiry, appreciation for the need for cautious conclusions, and recognition of the resulting truths as situated within a particular cultural place and time may suffice to continue the search for the meaning among the Pueblo and Spanish residents of New Mexico.4 Ethnographers have attempted to address such criticism through the conventions of perspectival relativity and polyphonic writing to uncover the counterhegemonic voices hidden by univocality and expresses the complex layers of voices present within a culture on any given topic.5 Such an approach hopes to present a truer or less exclusionary depiction of cultures by including multiple perspectives and to mitigate the ethical dilemma of ignoring the stories of peoples and imposing the perspective bias intrinsic to Western investigation.6

Writing the History of Colonial New Mexico This work encourages scholars to continue to address these concerns and excavate the voices and perspectives of historical actors by considering reception of religion among communities and individuals.7 Recognition of contested incorporation and

315 polyvalent religious variation in the lives of historical subjects enables the inclusion of multiple voices otherwise ignored in institutional or intellectual histories. Exploration of the significance or religious reception allows scholars to analyze the role of power and contested boundaries while maintaining awareness of the fluidity of conclusions. By including Native American converts and Franciscan heterodoxy and careful noting the affectively real appeal of Catholicism and Native American religions as well as their critique and rejection, historians may expound upon archivally quiet voices and veiled facets of historical experience. To understand the affective influences upon religious negotiations and potential reception and present the experiences of subjects in such a way as to craft more relatable or fully human characters, future scholarship may consider the role of emotion within the history of Nuevo Mexico. Recent ethno-histories have tended to ignore or dismiss the emotional and religious motivations of Native Americans. Within the genre of ethnography, there have been two major categories of interpretations, each gravitating towards an opposite extreme position. On one side are those who depict Native Americans as preter-rational, always able to craft the perception that others receive of them during interactions and use it to maximize desire satisfaction. The other side depicts Indians as easily influenced primitives. Ethnographers characterize the Indian- European relationship as either Catholic priests converting easily susceptible natives or, more recently, as Indians manipulating conversion encounters to rationally attempt to satisfy their economic or political needs.8 Historians of Native Americans in New Mexico have seldom attempted to synthesize these views or include the importance of psycho-emotional drives on behavior. However, such scholarly trajectories produce historical characters of little interest or appeal and deny Native American peoples the capacity to react fully to religious stimuli. In an effort to adequately identify and analyze the affective motivations and religious worlds that suffused colonial New Mexico, subsequent academic inquiries are invited to consider and expound upon internal experiences and individual variations. There are multivalent meaning makings at work in communities, individuals, and the production of documents or artifacts. Consequently, the search for collective social understandings and religious cosmologies may minimize the importance of individual

316 variation or disbelief. While this analysis understands the acceptance and resistance of Catholicism and the emotional scripts and emotion of the Pueblo Revolutionary era as, at least partially, collective actions and experiences stemming from collective identities, greater inclusion of personal religious diversities and private experiences would amplify occluded voices and nuance the history of religious interaction in the borderland province. To advance the prominence of individuals living and moving through life within historical narratives, religious scholars may focus not upon the encounter of monolithic religions, cultures or peoples but upon a colony of individuals who encountered diverse components from several religious source traditions and lived a spectrum of religiously varied lives. Unfortunately, the sources necessary to fully realize such investigations have yet to surface and such investigations remain exceedingly difficult. However, it might be possible to acknowledge the presence of individuals and personally varied religious lives by diminishing academic commitments to static cultural or religious categories and positioning the diverse interpretations and expressions of religion within a shared range. In so doing, scholars may perceive and explore the religion dynamically constructed from the contact of religious traditions at play in a given location, the contact religion of a place. As historians begin to consider the religious contact and manifestation of a particular place or space, their accounts shall inevitably incorporate and further parse the influence of space and spatial organizations within the religious history of North America. Indeed, one of the most promising trends in historiography of Native American religious traditions is the increased attentiveness to spatial awareness and the role of space on religion that hints at the ability to synthesize a mode of contemporary scholarship oriented towards analyzing the complex, multi-layered interaction of Native Americans and European Christians with an ideology that may bear a closer resonance with traditional Native American worldviews. The key divergence among these ideological frameworks, as proposed by Vine Deloria, Jr. and popularized in subsequent ethno-historical hybrids, is the focus of Native Americans upon nature and space as opposed to the European dependence of history and time.9 An increasing number of monographs attempt to incorporate spatial concerns by orienting their work around sacred sites, the geographical boundaries that frame a local context, or the manner in

317 which ritual pageantry altered spatial understandings of the existing landscape to reflect a colonial visions and religious commitments.10 Moreover, the rise of spatial analysis avers the importance of region within history and facilitates the incorporation of the history of Nuevo Mexico within the genre of religious histories of the American Southwest. The history of America and the history of the southwestern region is ever the history of its people. Few scholarly trends promise to illuminate the concrete reality and experiences of historical peoples as well as material cultural analysis. Although this narrative sought to engage the material worlds and practices of New Mexican colonists, archival paucity and archaeological gaps call out for a concerted history of New Mexico through its material culture. Examination of the preserved material objects of Pueblo religious traditions and seventeenth Franciscan Christianity and the ways in which religious groups touched, held, looked at and interacted with these material artifacts would enrich scholarly understandings of the daily religious lives of colonists in New Mexico.11 As objects of reproduction, religious artifacts were an industry and material object that recreated the society and cosmos in which they were crafted. Through careful exposition and interpretation of the physical objects and practices through which peoples of the past experienced their lives, academic discourse may illuminate the historical religious realities of its subjects. This dissertation aims to orient scholarship to these new avenues for historical inquiry and direct academic attention to new topics of potential dialogue. It does not fully encapsulate the experiences of the residents of New Mexico. Rather, it seeks to test the utility of several theoretical approaches in an effort to explore the relationships and structures of meaning that framed the historical actions of Franciscan missionaries and Pueblo peoples. While this study neither defines nor expresses the complete history of interactions between these two groups, it entreats subsequent historians to incorporate any of its worthwhile methods or interpretations to push the boundaries of scholarly consensus and expound upon the religious lives of friars and Pueblos. Hopefully, such future scholarship would present Franciscans and Indians as recognizable and relatable humans situated in a world and context of continually negotiated social and cultural boundaries within religious cosmologies that penetrated the mental and physical activities of religious encounter and daily life. Ultimately, this narrative recommends to scholars

318 the simple conclusion that religion was important and inseparable from the history and lives of the Native Americans and Franciscan friars who dwelt among the pueblos.

319 NOTES

Introduction

1 However, the recent anthology of Martin Austin Nesvig, et al aptly provided and encouraged advancement of similar scholarship upon colonial Mexico. Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, ed. Marin Austin Nesvig (Albuquerque: , 2006). 2 Herbert E. Bolton, The Spanish Borderlands: A Chronicle of Old Florida and the Southwest, 1542­1706 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1921). 3 France V. Scholes, Church and State in New Mexico, 1610‐1650 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1937); John L. Kessell, Kiva, Cross and Crown: The Pecos Indians and New Mexico, 1540­1840 (, D.C.: , 1979); Caroll Riley, The Kachina and the Cross: Indians and Spaniards in the Early Southwest (Salt Lake City: University of Utah, 2003). 4 France V. Scholes, Troublous Times in New Mexico, 1659­1670 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1942); Harry C. James, Pages from Hopi History (Tucson: University of Arizona, 1974). 5 See for example the publications of Robert H. Jackson, Andrew L. Knaut and John L. Kessell; Robert H. Jackson, From Savages to Subjects: Missions in the History of the American Southwest (Armonk, New York: M. E. Sharpe, 2000); Andrew L. Knaut, The Pueblo Revolt of 1680, Conquest and Resistance in Seventeenth­Century New Mexico (Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1995). 6 William B. Taylor, Magistrates of the Sacred: Priests and Parishioners in Eighteenth­ Century Mexico (Stanford: Stanford University, 1996); Christopher Vecsey, On the Padres’ Trail (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 1996). 7 Such narratives are notably exemplified by the histories of E. Charles Adams, Ramon Gutierrez, and Christopher Vecsey. E. Charles Adams, The Origin and Development of the Katsina Cult (Tucson, University of Arizona, 1991); Ramon A. Gutierrez, When Jesus Came, the Corn Mothers Went Away: Marriage, Sexuality, and Power in New Mexico, 1500­1846 (Stanford: Stanford University, 1991). 8 Elsie C. Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion (Chicago: , 1939). 9 Edward P. Dozier, The Pueblo Indians of North America (Prospect Heights, Illinois: Waveland, 1983); Alfonso Ortiz, The Tewa World: Space, Time, Being & Becoming in a Pueblo Society (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1969). 10 James F. Brooks, Captives & Cousins: Slavery, Kinship, and Community in the Southwest Borderlands (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 2002); David Roberts, The Pueblo Revolt: The Secret Rebellion that Drove the Spaniards Out of the Southwest (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004). 11 Sam D. Gill, Native American Religious Action: A Performance Approach to Religion (Columbia: University of South Carolina, 1987) and Sam D. Gill, Native American Religions: An Introduction, Second Edition (Toronto: Wadsworth, 2005). 12 Stedman Upham, Kent G. Lightfoot, and Roberta A. Jewett, eds., The Sociopolitical Structure of Prehistoric Southwestern Societies (Boulder, Co: Westview, 1989). 320

13 Stedman Upham’s essay in the above text provides one of the most cogent examples of such a critical academic position. However, more recent anthropological scholarship upon religion continues the scholarly thread. Christine S. Vanpool, Todd L. Vanpool, and David A. Phillips, Jr., eds., Religion in the Prehispanic Southwest (Lanham, MD: AltaMira, 2006). 14 Similar portrayals and conclusions color the academic investigations of Dozier, Riley, Gutierrez, and Vecsey. Recent publications echo these earlier depictions but with nobly more subtlety and nuance. Despite her laudable integration of religion within the history of Pueblo peoples, in We Have a Religion, Tisa Wenger similarly replicates these earlier deficiencies within her treatment of seventeenth century Pueblos by denying that Catholicism had any affective or religious appeal to the Native Americans of Nuevo Mexico. She does note that Catholicism became increasingly relevant to the communal identities and practices of many pueblos after recolonization. However, such Catholic incorporation is consistently depicted as a consequence of forced accommodation, an intentional strategy of compensation to Spanish cultural pressures or a veil for the continuation of indigenous traditions. Accordingly, native Pueblo religious traditions resisted interaction and exchange with Christianity and persisted within the occluded practices of Pueblo peoples. Although Hispanos are identified as Catholics within the scholarly narrative, Pueblos as late as the early twentieth century are denied the ability to embrace Catholicism and only claim a Catholic identity when it makes sense for them to do so as a strategy for the preservation of indigenous traditions. Tisa Wenger, We Have a Religion: The 1920s Pueblo Indian Dance Controversy and American Religious Freedom (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 2009). 15 For the former see the spiritual conquest school discussed below. For the latter consider the depiction provided in the ethnographically influence works and advancements of anthropology of the late twentieth century. Exemplary recent publications include David J. Weber, The Spanish Frontier in North America (New Haven: Yale University, 1992) and Robert W. Preucel, Loa P. Traxler, and Michael V. Wilcox, “‘Now the God of the Spaniards Is Dead’: Ethnogenesis and Community Formation in the Aftermath of the Pueblo Revolt of 1680,” ed. Sarah H. Schlanger, Transitions and Technologies: Themes in (Boulder: University of Colorado, 2002). 16 John Upton Terrell, Pueblos, Gods and Spaniards (New York: Dial Press, 1973). 17 Although numerous histories affirm this perspective, the edited works of George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey significantly continue to influence contemporary scholarship. See George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, eds., The Rediscovery of New Mexico, 1580­1594: The Explorations of Chamuscado, Espejo, Castano de Sosa, Morlete, and Leyva de Bonilla and Humana (Albuquerque, University of New Mexico, 1966); Frederick Webb Hodge, George P. Hammond, and Agapito Rey, eds., Fray Alonso de Benavides Revised Memorial of 1634: with Numerous Supplementary Documents Elaborately Annotated (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1945). 18 See the works of Ramon Gutierrez, Edward P. Dozier, and J. Manuel Espinosa respectively. J. Manuel Espinosa, The Pueblo Indian Revolt of 1696 and the

321

Franciscan Missions in New Mexico: Letters of the Missionaries and related Documents (Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1988). 19 Robert Ricard, La “Conquete Spirituelle”du Mexique. Essai sur l’apostolat et les methods missionaries des orders mendiants en Nouvelle­Espagne de 1523­24 a 1572 (: Institut d’Ethnologie, 1933). 20 For a well written example see Edward Spicer, Cycles of Conquest: The Impact of Spain, Mexico and the on the Indians of the Southwest, 1533 – 1795 (Tucson: University of Arizona, 1962). 21 Knaut, Pueblo Revolt of 1680. 22 John L. Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico (Norman: University of Oklahoma, 2008).

Chapter One: Behind the Grey Robe

1 The translation of the Requerimiento is guided by S. James Anaya, Indigenous Peoples in International Law (New York: University, 2004), 36; The Book of Privileges Issued to Christopher Columbus by King Fernando and Queen Isabel, 1492­ 1502 (Berkeley: University of California, 1996); David E. Stannard, American Holocaust: The Conquest of the New World (New York: Oxford University, 1993). 2 The battle cry of the Spanish soldiers translates as “St. James! Spain! Close on them!” Castaneda’s History of the Expedition: Narrative of the Expedition to Cibola, Undertaken in 1540…written by Pedro de Castaneda of Naxera, trans. and ed. George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 1540­ 1542 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1940), 208. 3 Coronado Narratives, 10, 167. 4 “The third feature intrinsic to practice is a fundamental ‘misrecognition’ of what it is doing, a misrecognition of its limits and constraints, and of the relationship between its ends and its means.” Catherine Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice (New York: Oxford University, 1992), 82. 5 Durkheim lays a foundation for recognition of ritual as a medium that concretizes religious worldviews, “Rites are ways of acting that are born only in the midst of assembled groups and whose purpose is to evoke, maintain, or recreate certain mental states of those groups.” Emile Durkheim, trans. Karen E. Fields, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life (New York: Free, 1995), 9; Religion may “promote social solidarity…particularly in a fairly homogeneous group with general recognition of key symbols, where a sense of unity can be achieved through consent to the forms.” Bell, 216; Thomas Tweed elaborated that the heart of a religious worldview lies in its’ ability to orient practitioners in space and time. “Religious women and men are continually in the process of mapping a symbolic landscape and constructing a symbolic dwelling in which they might have their own space and find their own place.” Thomas Tweed, Our Lady of Exile: Diasporic Religion at a Cuban Catholic Shrine in Miami (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 93. 6 David Roberts, The Pueblo Revolt: The Secret Rebellion that Drove the Spaniards out of the Southwest (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2004).

322

7 For more on the relation between religion and authority with analysis of the role of charisma and the need for an ordered cosmos see Max Weber, The Sociology of Religion (Boston: Beacon, 1993), xli, 2‐3, 10, 192. 8 These tensions in institutional authority evoke the missionaries perceptions of Catholicism as a continually contested historical tradition. “Religious women and men make meaning and negotiate power as they appeal to contested historical traditions of storytelling, object making, and ritual performance in order to make homes (dwelling) and cross boundaries (crossing). “ That is to say that religions inherently involve crafting ones place in the world and moving through space by engaging the multifaceted interpretations of authoritative historical traditions. Thomas Tweed, Crossing and Dwelling: A Theory of Religion (Cambridge: Press, 2006), 74. 9 Taylor, 13 10 For a more detailed analysis of gender in the expansion of Iberian Catholicism, the relationship of familial authority and masculinity among Mediterranean culture gender norms as well as the shape a parental masculinity in Nueva España consider Boxer, Mary and Misogyny: Women in Iberian Expansion Overseas, 1415­1815 (: Duckworth, 1975); J. Peristiany, Honor and Shame: The Values of Mediterranean Society (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1965); Ann Pescatello, ed. Female and Male in America: Essays (Pittsburg: University of Pittsburg,1973). 11 See note I 12 Ibid. 13 Book of Privileges, 93‐95. 14 Book of Privileges, 106. 15 Christopher Vecsey, On the Padres’ Trail (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 1996), 17. 16 Taylor, 13 17 Ibid. 18Taylor, 12. 19 Ibid. 20Taylor, 70. 21 Murray, 73. 22 Murray, 68. 23 Ibid, 69. 24 James F. Brooks, Captives and Cousins: Slavery, Kinship, and Community in the Southwest Borderlands (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 2002). 25 The Spanish homeland or motherland refers to geography both real and imagined. As Tweed states “religions…position the religious in longer time frames and wider social spaces. Homemaking…extends to the boundaries of the territory that group members allocentrically imagine as their space, but since the homeland is an imagined territory inhabited by an imagined community, a space and group continually figured and refigured in contact with others, its borders shift over time and across cultures. Tweed, Crossing and Dwelling, 110.

323

26 That is to say that the following paragraphs and sections seek to explore the historical events, cultural circumstances and influences that effect the habitus shared by early colonial Franciscan missionaries of New Spain. This perspective embraces Bourdieu’s basic use of habitus as “the basic stock of knowledge that people carry around in their heads as a result of living in particular cultures or subcultures.” Such durable dispositions are acquired through experiences and social interactions in certain backgrounds and circumstances. Michael Ingratieff, “ and the Narcissism of Minor Differences,” Theorizing Nationalism, ed. Ronald Beinar, (New York: State University of New York, 1999), 97. 27 Brian Larkin avers that “Spaniards had a deeply imbued sense of the liturgy that is usually absent from discussions of popular religion that tend to argue that Spaniards were more interested in unofficial celebrations of religion that in a religion that was guided by formal structures of the church.” Martin Austin Nesvig, “Introduction,” ed. Martin Austin Nesvig, Local Religion in Colonial Mexico (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2006), xxv. 28 Carlos Eire summarized the importance of this Council upon the practice of Mexican Catholicism. “The epochal changes effected by the Council of Trent gave Catholicism a greater uniformity that it had ever enjoyed before, a more précis definition of its beliefs and rituals, and a deeper awareness of the boundaries between religion and superstition, and between itself and all ‘others,’ be they heretics, sorcerers, witches, magicians, or necromancers.” Carlos M. N. Eire, “The Concept of Popular Religion,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, 11. 29 Hubert Jedin, trans., Dom Ernest Graf O.S.B., A History of the Council of Trent (New York: Thomas Nelson and Sons, 1961), vol. 2, 9. 30 Taylor, 49 31 Trent, vol 2., 457. 32 Trent, vol.2, 469. These noteworthy humanistic theologians, philosophers, and sympathetic clergy included Coriolano Marirano, the Bishop of San Marco, Galeazzo Florimonte, Bishop of Aquino, Florimonte, Cervini, Massarelli, Jean du Conseil, Hervet, Pierre Danes, among other council members and envoys who were open to but not well versed in the scholarship. Trent, 470‐473. 33 Trent, vol 2., 122; Moreno de los Arcos, “Humanismo”; Franciscans within Mexico continued to embrace and read humanistic writers, most notably Erasmus, with great enthusiasm in during their early conventual education and clerical formulation. Eire, “The Concept of Popular Religion,” 11. 34 Trent, vol. 2, 470‐471. 35 AGN – 61, 616, 1, 14 and Biblioteca Nacional, Fondo Franciscano, Vol 110.2717. The influence of Protestant Biblicism and its renewed emphasis upon the early scripture may have influenced the behavior or the perception of behaviors that, along with Spanish fears of sleeper sympathizers with the recently vanquished Turks, led to the frequent accusations of Judaism in the New World. For examples see AGN –61, 312, 57, 300‐316; 61, 583, 3, 121.

324

36 Taylor, 547; These ideas are in marked contrast to Sarrailh’s sharp distinction between Enlightenment thought and conservative Catholic ideology as presented in Rees Jones’, Reformas del despotismo. 37 Gibson, Spain in America, 23; Taylor evokes the past scholarship of Castañeda that revealed the numerous students that expressed interest in the carrera literaria over the carrer eclesiastica in Taylor, 571; Lanning posits a diffuse and influential if less stringent Enlightenment among the clergy in his works Lanning, “Church and the Enlightenment.” and “Enlightenment in Relation to the Church”; Cardozo Galue, Michoacan. 38 “Because the laity and clergy were symbiotically linked and shared the same myths, rituals, and symbols, the religious life of the laity was never distinct from or totally independent of the clergy, or vice verso.” That is to say, the clergy of Nueva España were not distinct from the laity but negotiated related, overlapped and cross‐influenced religious worlds. Eire, “The Concept of Popular Religion,” 21. 39 For richer detail on the incredible variation within historical liturgical practices see Osvaldo Pardo, The Origins of Mexican Catholicism: Nahua Rituals and Christian Sacraments in Sixteeenth Century Mexioco, (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 2004); James Lockhart, The Nahuas After the Conquest: A Social and Cultural History of the Indians of Central Mexico, Sixteenth Through Eighteenth Centuries (Stanford: Stanford University, 1996). 40 “While Euro‐Americans in their religions tended to separate material from spiritual things and to exalt the spiritual, Native Americans expressed in many ways their sense of the sacredness of matter. Hence, the distinction between a natural and a supernatural realm…is forced and strained when applied to Native Americans.” Catherine L. Albanese, America: Religions and Religion, Third Edition (Belmont, CA; Wadsworth, 1999), 27. For a more intense discussion of the conception and influence of Native American perceptions of nature, exaine Catherine L. Albanese, Nature Religion in America: From the Algonkian Indians to the New Age (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1990); For greater analysis and exploration of the terms sacred and profane see Mircea Eliade, trans. Willard R. Trask, The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion (San Diego: Harvest, 1957); Scholarship that has posited such a false dichotomy between popular practice and the religion of Franciscans includes Paul Horgan, The Centuries of Santa Fe, (Dutton Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1994), The Heroic Triad: Essays in the Social Energies of Three Southwestern Cultures (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1994); Robert Richard, The Spiritual Conquest of Mexico: Essays on the Apostolate and Evangelizing Methods of the Mendicant Orders in New Spain, 1523­ 1572 (Berkeley: University of California, 1982); France Scholes; David Roberts, The Pueblo Revolt: The Secret Rebellion That Drove the Spaniards Out of the Southwest, (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004); 41 AGN –61, 473, 33, 559‐615; 61, 312, 57, 300‐316 42 Taylor, 48‐9. 43 Richard, 277‐278.

325

44 William A. Christian, Jr., Local Religion in Sixteenth Century Spain (Princeton: Princeton University, 1989). 45 For more on Mesoamerican rituals of love, divination and fertility see Linda Schele, The Blood of Kings: Dynasty and Ritual in Maya Art (New York: George Braziller, 1986), 143, 43‐44, 124‐126; Susan Toby Evans, Ancient Mexico & Central America: Archaeology and Culture History (New York: Thames & Hudson, 2004), 403‐405, 132, 343‐344. 46 Taylor, 50‐51; For the imminent threat posed to Franciscan efforts by the forces of the devil see the witchcraft accusations in AGN – 61, 366, 41, 50. 47 For more on the presence of dualism in the Catholic worldview, examine this excerpt from Taylor on the dualism embedded in the writing of one of the more important authors of devotional texts studied in Franciscan seminaries, . “This sense of the sacred and the cosmos as indistinguishable form nature and daily life contrasts with the more dichotomized Christian conception of nature and the divine, heaven and earth. Compare, for example this passage from The Confessions of St. Augustine, pp 177‐178: “I asked the earth and it answered me, ‘I am not He’; and whatsoever are in it confessed the same. I asked the sea and the deeps, and the living creeping things and they answered, ‘We are not thy God, seek above us.’…And I replied unto all the things, which encompass the door of my flesh: ‘Ye have told me of my God, that ye are not He; tell me something of Him.’ And they cried out with a loud voice, ‘He made us.’ (Taylor, 550)” For native Oaxacan and Yucatan ritual preparations and practices for handling sacred powers see Evans, 210‐211, 451, 525 and , Landa’s Relación de las Cosas de Yucatan: A Translation, ed. Algred M. Tozzer (New York: Kraus Reprint, 1966), 118‐119 48 Taylor, 297; Antonio Rubial Garcia, “ of Devotion: The Appropriation and Use of Saints in New Spain,” trans. Martin Austin Nesvig, Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, 37‐59. 49 According to Colleen McDannell, “Throughout the debates over the use of images in Christian communities, whether in the eighth century or sixteenth or twentiety, some have eagerly accepted the scrambling of the spiritual and the natural, divine and human, sacred and profane.” She asserts that Catholicism maintains an “understanding of the frequent fusion of the sacred and the profane.” Colleen McDannell, Material Christianity: Religion and Popular Culture in America (New Haven: Yale University, 1995), 6. 50 It is worth noting that “Material culture in itself has no intrinsic meaning of its own…[However] Religious prints have an impact on Christians not merely because they promote personal relationships wit Jesus or because the eyes direct the viewer to God the Father…[but] because they are associated with significant” events and feelings in the lives of practitioners. McDannell, 3 and 30. 51 Taylor, 297. 52 For discussions of similar dynamics and processes see Robert Orsi, Between Heaven and Earth: The Religious Worlds People make and the Scholars Who Study Them (Princeton: Princeton University, 2006) and James M. O’Toole, Habits of

326

Devotion: Catholic Religious Practice in Twentieth­Century America (Ithaca: Cornell, 2004). 53 However, this does not imply that friars discouraged the use of images in private devotions. Friars understood that widespread use of Catholic images would prompt the replacement of worship of local gods with the veneration of Catholic figures. Nesvig, “The ‘Indian Question;’” David Tavarez, “Autonomy, Honor, and the Ancestors: Native Local Religion in Seventeenth‐Century Oaxaca,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico; Christian, “Catholicisms,” 260. Indeed friars protested if seculars or colonists interfered with local communities use of images or veneration of saintly artifacts. AGN – 61, 312, 57, 300‐316; 61, 437, 33, 559‐615. 54 Garcia, 37, 54; William B. Taylor, “Between Nativitas and Mexico City: An Eighteenth‐Century Pastor’s Local Religion,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, 91‐ 92; Taylor, 297. 55 Taylor, 257,260. 56 Recent scholarships attempt to more fully engage the cult of saints and images in Spain in comparison to its manifestation in New Spain is indebted to the ground breaking work of Mary Lee Nolan & Sidney Nolan, Christian Pilgrimage in Modern Western Europe (Chapel Hill: UNC, 1989). 57 Taylor, 311; Such sites were also important in the preexisting indigenous traditions of Central America by at least the Early Formative Period. The Initial Olmecs and their predecessors associated water with life and all things sacred. Hilltops and cave springs (and later dry caves) became early sacred sites and centers for ritual. This tendency passed through a sequence of indigenous cultures to the Maya and Aztec communities that populated the Spanish colonial landscape. Evans, 129‐131, 135. 58 Taylor, 669. 59 Garcia, 50, 59. 60 Taylor, 669. 61 Garcia, 41; Taylor, 19; Coronado Narratives, 208. 62 Christian, Local Religion, 93. 63 Taylor, 670‐671, 64 Francisco Lopez de Gomara, Historia de la conquista de Mexico. (Mexico City: Editorial Pedro Robredo, 1943), vol. 1, 92‐93. 65 Bernal Diaz del Castillo, Historia verdadera de la conquista de la Nueva Espana, (Madrid: Gonzalo Fernandez de Oviedo, 1982), 63‐64 in Taylor, 671. 66 Rafael Heliodoro Valle, Mitologia de Santiago en America: tesis , esis para el examen de Maestro en Ciencias Históricas, en la Facultad de Filosofía y Letras de la Universidad Autónoma de México, (México City, 1946), 15. 67 Ibid; Emilio Choy Ma, “De Santiago Matamoros a Santiago Mata‐indios,” in Choy Ma, Antropologia e Historia (Lima: 1979), 421‐37. 68 The church in Queretaro was dedicated to Santiago in rememberance for his intervention in the battle between the Otomos and Chichimecs in 1531 as described in Antonio de Alcedo, Diccionario geografico historico de las occidentals of Americas, (Madrid: Benito Cano, 1786‐1789), vol 3, 265; Taylor, 672 based upon

327

lists of names presented in Ernesto Villicana Lemoine, “Visita, congregacion y mapa de Amecameca de 1599,” Boletin del Archivo General de la Nacion, 2nd series, vol 2, (Mexico City; Archivo General de la Nacion, 1961), 36‐37. 69 Taylor, 297. See also Sakari Sariola, Power and Resistance: The Colonial Heritage of Latin America (Ithaca: Cornell, 1972). 70 Elizabeth W. Weismann, Mexico in Sculpture, 1521­1821 (Cambridge: Harvard, 1950); Mary, the Saints, Images and relics in Nuevo Mexico express the full dimension of polyvocality that is to be expected from the divergent cultures, genders, ethnicities, economic, educational groups that contribute to colonial culture in Mexico. This polyphony in symbols and religious interpretations is present even among later generalization of Franciscan religion and interpretations and is abbreviated only for simplicity and space. Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography, ed. James Clifford and George E. Marcus (Berkeley: University of California, 1986). 71 For a differentiation of the role of the Immaculate Conception and images of Mary in Mexican Franciscan practice as opposed to Dominican missionary efforts in Oaxaca and see John Reumann “Mary,” The Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade (New York: MacMillan, 1987), vol. 9, 251. 72 For similar assertions and argumentation see Taylor, 277‐278; Nolan & Nolan, 200; Taylor, 277‐278; Taylor, “The Virgin of Guadalupe in New Spain,” American Ethnologist 14:I (Hoboken: American Anthropological Association, Feb. 1987); Robert C. Padden, The Hummingbird and the Hawk: Conquest and Sovereignty in the Valley of Mexico, 1503­1541 (Columbus: Ohio State, 1967), 144. 73 Taylor, 19. 74 Concilios provinciales primero, y segundo, celebrados en la muy noble, y muy leal ciudad de Mexico presidiendo el Illmo. y Rmo. Sr. Alonso de Montúfar en los años de 1555 y 1565, (Mexico City, n.p., 1769), 68‐69. 75 Most notably in Mexico these variant forms include “Our Lady of Mercy, Our Lady of the Rosary, Our Lady of the Remedies, the crowned , and the Madonna and child, and especially in forms recalling the joyful and sorrowful events that connected her life to Christ: Our Lady of the Annunciation, Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, Our Lady of the Purification, Our Lady of the Sorrows, and Our Lady of the Assumption.” Taylor, 278. 76 Taylor, 278; AGN – 61, 435, 23, 42‐45; The importance of and variant ways of approaching or understanding the figure of Mary may be seen in the gathered lists of sermon Topics of Jesuits in Nuevo Mexico in Fondo Franciscano, Sermons de Jesuitas, 1659‐1814. 77 Taylor, “The Virgin of Guadalupe in New Spain,” 11. 78 Padden, 144. 79 Padden, Ch 8‐9. 80 Christian, Jr., Local Religion, 4, 12‐14. 81 Taylor, 279‐280. 82 William A. Christian, Jr., Apparitions in Late Medieval and Renaissance Spain, (Princeton: Princeton, 1981); Christian, Local Religion, 4, 213‐215.

328

83 Padden, Hummingbird, 99. 84 For an elaboration upon this idea, take for example Taylor’s discussion of the Virgin Mary’s association with pulque production and presentation as the Mother of Maguey. “Mary, especially Guadalupe, came to be associated in central Mexico with pulque, the milky fermented juice of the maguey plant. In some colonial Indian villages, there were fields of maguey named for her, and in the late eighteenth century, the Virgin of Guadalupe was sometimes called the Mother of Maguey.” Taylor, 291. 85 Christian, Local Religion, 23‐46, 92; Larkin, 189‐208. 86 Itá y Parra expressed similar ideas in the 1747 work El Círculo de Amor. Jacques Lafaye, and Guadalupe: The Formation of Mexican National Consciousness, 1531­1813, (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1987), 288. 87 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 98. 88 William Christian Jr., “Catholicisms,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, ed. Martin Austin Nesvig, (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2006), 264. 89 John Moorman, A History of the Franciscan Order From its Origins to the Year 1517, (Oxford: Clarendon, 1968), 4. 90 Gutierrez, 68. 91 Ibid. 92 John Corrigan, “Saints and Pilgrims on Land and Water: French and Spanish Missionizing Strategies in Colonial North America,” Saints and Their Cults in the Atlantic World, ed. by Margaret Cormack (Columbia: University of South Carolina, 2007), 1. 93 Moorman, 3; Pius Joseph Barth, Franciscan Education and the Social Order in Spanish North America, 1502­1821 (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1945.), 373. 94 Corrigan, 1. 95 Moorman, 123. 96 Ibid. 97 FranciscanScholars, 4. 98 Although officially all Franciscan missionaries volunteered for the opportunity, inter‐institutional pressure to fill the need in a region, a multi‐tiered evaluation process, and the ideal priestly virtue of disinterest complicated the choice and selection of candidates for missionary duty. 99 Norris, 156‐7. 100 Gutierrez, 67. 101 Ibid. 102 “Letter Containing Twenty–five Points to Remember,” The Works of Bonaventure, ed. and trans. Jose de Vinck (Paterson, N.J.: Franciscan Press, 1960), vol. 3, 255. 103 Donald Weinstein and Rudolph Bell, Saints and Society: Two Worlds of Western Civilization, 1000­1700 (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1982), 84 as cited and discussed in Gutierrez, 67, 358. 104 Gutierrez, 69. Gutierrez continues, “This idea that humanity could know God through nature greatly facilitated the incorporation of the Pueblo pantheon of animal deities into Christian ritual and accounts for most of the pastoral symbolism

329

one finds in Franciscan missionary iconography.” Although there was an undercurrent of thought within the Franciscan worldview that recognized the imminent and permeating presence of God, such rhetoric must complicate the Mexican Catholic view of a dualistic universe rather that discount it entirely. Similarly the pastoral symbolism in early Franciscan missionary culture might be more readily connected the traditional Franciscan understanding of the missionary priest as a shepherd of a flock rather that unique sacrilization of Nature. 105 Ibid. 106 Moorman, 140. 107 Moorman, 150. 108 Moorman, 153. 109 Ibid. 110 The definition of what exactly learned understanding entailed varied throughout the colonial period and by region. For example, it could include a theologically rigorous understanding of the sacraments and enthusiasm for studies or a more modest affirmation that the sacraments are important and understanding, achieved through education, was a necessary component of Christian practice. AGN – Inquisition Documents – 616, 1, 14; 666, 5, 45; 142, 59, 12. 111 Moorman, 140. 112 Fondo Franciscano Vol. 99; AGN – 61, 435, 23, 42‐45. 113 Moorman, 141; The hesitance and resistance of Friars to engage in agricultural activities to make a living, may be seen within the correspondence among those missionaries sent to New Mexico. See for example 31.1.262.126. However, it should be noted that Friars did not find it in conflict with their central duties to supplement their income through mercantile trade. See for example Archives of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe 1697, No 4.; 1701, No.2. 114 Moorman, 141; For the importance of schools and education examine 100.2.28.16; For the importance and presence of books, examine the inventories in AASF ‐ 1697, No. 3; 1712, No. 7‐12 and the many proclamations of prohibition of texts as heresy including AGN – General Documents – 43.3.‐.7 and the investigations of the books of the El Paso mission in AASF – 1681, No. 1. 115 Moorman, 141. 116 This value and practice will frequently surface as Franciscans struggle against the encroachment of Jesuits, secular priests and governors into the missionary relationship and process that they struggled to establish in New Mexico. 117 Moorman, 262. 118 Ibid. 119 James of Milan, Stimulus Amoris (London: R & T Washbourne, n.d.), 67‐76; Moorman, 262‐3. 120 Corrigan, 2. 121 Ibid. 122Ibid. For more on the relationship between Joachim of Fiore and medieval see Marjorie Reeves, Joachim of Fiore and the Prophetic Future: A

330

Medieval Study in Historical Thinking (Stroud, U.K.: Sutton, 1999); Stephen E. Wessley, Joachim of Fiore and Monastic Reform (New York: Peter Lang, 1990). 123 Norris, 160. 124 Corrigan, 2 125 Norris, 160. 126 Christopher Vecsey, On the Padres’ Trail (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 1996). 127 This meant that “Franciscans in the pre‐1680 era consequently often had the luxury of working in pairs, in contrast to their eighteenth century brothers who, except for Santa Fe and, infrequently, Taos and Zuni, had to perform their duties alone.” Norris, 263. Indeed many in the later Revolutionary Era were required to serve several missions simultaneously. Archives of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe 1718, No. 1. 128 Sons of the Province 129 Ralph Emerson Twitchell, The Spanish Archives of New Mexico (New York: Arno Press, 1976), vol. 1, 26. 130 Jim Norris, “The Franciscans in New Mexico, 1692‐1754: Toward a new Assessment,” The Americas, vol. 51, no. 2 (October 1994), 153 drawing from Fray Francisco Morales, Ethnic and Social Backgrounds of the Franciscan Friars on Seventeenth Mexico (Washington, D.C.: Academy of American Franciscan History, 1973), 54‐55. 131 Norris, 152‐3; Martin Austin Nesvig, “The ‘Indian Question’ and the Case of Tlatelolco,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, 62‐65. 132 This trend will only increase throughout the eighteenth century. See for example the statistical data provided by Fondo Franciscano vol. 134, 3840, f. 229‐243. 133 These terms and categories place the emphasis upon an individual’s place of birth and do not explicitly correlate with ethnic or racial backgrounds. This should not be taken as evidence of Spanish ambivalence on the subject of imagined racial purity, but rather that “although preoccupations with purity of blood had become profound by the time of Spanish colonialism in the Americas, the pragmatics of creating a stable colonial society required that this issue be subordinated on the new frontiers.” Brooks, 25. 134 Morales, 55. 135Morales, 73; Although Latin American “contemporaries from the upper ranks of the church frequently commented (often bitterly) that the lower, local clergy, less educated and frequently less orthodox than bishops, cardinals, and , tended to retain a good deal of local ‘superstition’ and religious custom.” Nesvig, “Introduction, Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, xxiv. 136 Norris, 153. 137 Norris, 154. 138Ibid. 139 As Norris elaborates “It should be emphasized that even some families identified as artisan had parents with titles of Don and Doña…No New Mexican friar of this era, however, was identified with a family from the ranks of the higher nobility.” Ibid.

331

140 AGN – 31.1.262.126 141 Charles W. Hackett, ed. and trans., Historical Documents Relating to New Mexico, Nueva Vizcaya, and Approaches Thereto, 1773 (Washington D.C., 1937), vol 3, “Opinion of Santa Fe Cabildo, February 14, 1639,” 62, 67. Such accusation gain credence given the frequent and similar accusation against Franciscans, and the patentes, such as that issued by Fray Juan Alvarez on August 14, 1697, reminding Franciscans not to engage in secular industries to supplement their income and expecially not to engage in the sale of livestock. AASF – 1697, No 4. 142 Taylor, 149. 143 This translation and explanation of the Opinion of the Santa Fe Cabildo was informed and prompted by that of Ramon Gutierrez. Gutierrez, 115. 144 Gutierrez expounds, asserting that, “Every society prescribes the scope of behavior appropriate for gender. Colonial [Mexico and] New Mexico society was no different.” Gutierrez, 212‐213. 145 Marcel Mauss, The Gift: The Form and Reason for Exchange in Archaic Societies, trans. W. D. Hall (1909; London, 1990) as cited in Brooks,9. 146 Gutierrez, 208‐209. 147 Gutierrez, 214. 148 Gutierrez, 212‐213. 149 Gutierrez, 215. 150 Emotions may often be linked to individual and collective responses to socially conditioned and shaped perceptions of value. For colonial New Spain, the experience and performance of emotion is frequently linked to expectations of behavior tied to each collectivity of society, here men. For a more structured and explicit assertion between regarding the tie between feeling, behavior and cognitive evaluation processes see Martha C. Nussbaum, Upheavals of Thought: The Intelligence of Emotions (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 2001), 4‐6. 151 AGN – 61, 1606, No. 368, 357. 152 This also demonstrates the correlation between penises and the origin of honor and by extension penis size and authority. For a fuller discussion of this association examine Gutierrez, 210. 153 Gutierrez, 214‐215. 154 Ibid. 155 Brooks, 26. 156 Gutierrez, 214‐215. 157 Brooks, 9. 158 This understanding of the relation between trade, exchange and power is indebted to but not synonymous with the works of James F. Brooks, Catherine Bell, and Jean Comaroff. Most notably it is based upon Brooks assertion that colonial Spanish trade is “not a matter of marketplace bargaining, but and exercise of power between ‘others’ enacted by mutualistic and competitive bestowal of gifts.” Brooks, 7. See also Bell, 199‐200; Jean Comaroff, Body of Power: Spirit of Resistance: The Culture and History of a South African People (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1985), 261; , On Religion (New York: Shocken, 1974), 70.

332

159 Christian, “Catholicisms,” 259‐260 160 However, Norris noted “Criollos tended to take up the habit at an even earlier age, 18.5 years (Norris, 157).” Those friars who were born in the colonial territories entered the order more than a year earlier than their Iberia‐born counterparts. While there are a variety of factors that contribute to this difference, the statistical variation may be attributed to the lack of occupational mobility and opportunities in colonial Mexican urban centers with dense labor pools and inherited occupations. 161 Sixteen was the youngest age at which a Franciscan could officially make a profession of faith and enter the order. These figures are based upon a sample size of forty‐six individuals from the later seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. Similar demographic analysis has been attempted regarding the earlier New Mexican Franciscans has not revealed contrary data. These figures are based upon Norris, 156. 162 For examples of such hagiographical depictions see Fray Alonso de Benavides’ original narrative in Fray Alonso de Benavides’ Revised Memorial of 1634, eds. and trans. Frederick Webb Hodge, George P. Hammond, and Agapito Rey (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1945); Paul Horgan, Lamy of Santa Fe: His Life and Times (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1975); Robert Ricard, The Spiritual Conquest of Mexico. The strict division between Franciscan experiences and the lives of the larger body of the Spanish colonial population of Nuevo Mexico is affirmed in the narratives of France V. Scholes, Church and State in New Mexico, 1610­1650 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1937); Margaret T. Hodgen, Early Anthropology in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 1964). 163 Norris, 156. 164 The Custody of Tampico was the other principal missionary territory of the Santo Evangelio region. 165 According to tentative evidence of John L. Kessell’s investigation of seventeenth century friars at the Pecos missions, the sixteen missionaries analyzed, that might imply a general trend for New Mexican Franciscans of the era, spent an average of 2.5 years each there. By contrast, of the thirty‐seven friars between 1692‐1754 whose careers may be successfully reconstructed, spent an average of 2.6 years at each mission that they were assigned to. Norris, 157; John L. Kessell, Kiva, Cross and Crown: The Pecos Indians and New Mexico, 1540­1840 (Washington: National Park Service, 1979), 499. 166 For a more complete discussion of the Franciscan experience and evangelical conditions of eighteenth‐century Guatemala, including the length of Franciscan assignments see Adriann C. Van Oss, Catholic Colonialism: The Parish of Guatemala (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1986), 171. 167 Norris, 156. 168 Ayeta to the Viceroy, El Paso, September 11, 1680, Charles Wilson Hackett, Revolt of the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico and Otermin’s Attempted Reconquest, 1680­1682, 1: 161. 169 Norris, 158‐159.

333

170 “While the yearly rosters of Santo Evangelio are not complete, the gaps are no more than three years. Some friars might have slipped notice by this documentary deficiency, but not many. Nor do New Mexico's eighteenth‐century friars appear on the extant rosters of other Franciscan provinces in New Spain, although their records are even more scanty.” Ibid. 171 Taylor, 151. 172 Palafox y Mendoza, pastoral letter, 1653, Brown University, Rockefeller Library, Medina Collection, FHA, exp 1, ch 9‐16 as cited and translated by Taylor, 151. 173 Andres Miguel Perez de Velasco, El ayudante de cura instruido en el porte a que le obliga su dignidad en los deberes a que le estrecha su empleo y en la fructuosa practica de su ministerio (Puebla, 1766), 15. 174 AGN – 24, 75, exp 4, fol 248; Tierras 2774, exp 10, fol 7r; Taylor 152 citing and discussing AGN – 61, 1326 exp 6, fol 102. 175 AGN – 24, 39, exp 2, fol 66v‐67v 176 Alonso de la Pena Montenegro, Itinerario par parachos de indios, en que se tartan las materias mas particulares tocantes a ellos, parra su Buena administracion (Madrid: 1668), 2‐1‐8 and 2‐5‐8. 177 Taylor, 163 178 Taylor, 163. 179 Moorman, 110. 180 Corrigan, 2. 181 Taylor, 158. 182 Itinerario, 3‐3‐13. 183Itinerario, 3‐14‐16. 184 Itinerario, 1‐1‐2, 3‐4‐16 in Taylor, 601. 185 Taylor, 152. 186 Ibid; Pardo, Origins of Mexican Catholicism, 50‐51. 187 Taylor, 83. 188 In 1708, the bishop of Guadalajara “wrote a scathing report to the Council of the Indies calling for complete secularization. Citing as thought it ludicrous to have a large number of unplaced diocesan priests when 41 of his 76 parish units were still being run by the Franciscans.” Taylor, 84. 189 Taylor, 164. 190Ibid. 191 Ibid. Taylor continued to note that in regulated, well‐staffed, non‐missionary parishes “there were other masses during the week: those offered for the renovation of the Host on Thursdays, those said out of a particular devotion of the priest himself (e.g. for souls in Purgatory on Mondays or for the Holy Sepulcher on Fridays), and those sponsored by individual and corporate endowments for a departed soul or a particular saint or mystery.” 192 Taylor, 165. 193 Itinerario, 3‐14‐16 in Taylor, 158, 604. 194 The informal judicial powers wielded by local curas and friars were seldom recorded or articulated through writing. The lack of a written record evidences the

334

centrality of this authority to the practice of the priesthood, as priests or missionaries did not require their written decree. Unfortunately, most evidence for its existence is by necessity incidental and revealed in records over disputes in related matters. Taylor discusses the paucity of authority documentation on Taylor, 158. 195 Six pesos were exacted to pay for the medical ministrations provided by the cura’s personal scribe and six pesos were awarded to the victim as reparations. AGN – 24, 195, 6. 196 “The clergy regarded marriage, sex and the family as its special province; but troubles in the family inevitably covered more than sexual misconduct.” Ibid. Although this theme is revived and explored in greater detail in later chapters, for a more complete analysis of the relationship of New Mexican Franciscans to issues of marriage and sexuality the pinnacle work remains Gutierrez, When Jesus Came, the Corn Mothers Went Away. 197 AGN – 24, 179, 13, 408R. 198 Taylor, 152 199 Recopilación, 1‐6‐46 200 Trent, vol. 3, 379‐385. 201 Itinerario 2‐8‐9, 1‐4‐prologue; It should be noted that the minimum doctrine required to be taught included the per signum, pater noster, ave maria, credo, salve regina, ten commandments, articles of faith, sacraments and church commandments as per Juan de Torquemada, Monarquia indiana (1615), vol. 3, 111. 202 Taylor, 161; Itinerario 2‐8; AASF 1695, No 21. The setting of the cemetery did more than remind students of their own mortality and the relevance of the fate of the soul, it reminded friars of the mortal responsibility that their education success or failure bore. Yearly education of children in the morose setting may well explain the paucity of source documents with any joyful references to youth or children. 203 Examples of frequent letters of admonition and correction for New Mexican friars who have overstepped their authority or assumed greater privileges without requesting permission are quite numerous and include Spanish Archives of New Mexico, Series II, Roll 1, frame 210, page 1; AASF 1701, No 2; 1701, No 1; 1709, No 3; 1717, No 1. Also note the grants of authorities traditionally reserved for parish priests in Fondo Franciscano vol. 125, Decretos Pontificos, 1521‐1760), f 3618, A‐C; AASF 1715, no. 2. 204 Concilios mexicanos primero, y segundo, celebrados en la muy noble, y muy leal ciudad de Mexico (1769), 125. 205 Taylor, 160‐161. 206 Corrigan, 2. 207 Taylor, 170 208 Ibid, 209 Taylor, 171 210 Gutierrez, 70; Lino G. Canedo, “Fray Lorenzo de Bienvenida, O. F. M., and the Origins of the Franciscan Order in Yucatan: A Reconsideration of the Problem on the Basis of Unpublished Documents,” The Americas, Vol. 8, No. 4 (Apr., 1952), 494.

335

211 AGN –257, 157A 212 Taylor, 170‐1 213 Otto Maas, Saint Francis Solano: Apostle of Argentina and Peru (Patterson: St. Anthony’s, 1942), 1. 214 Gutierrez, 41. 215 Marion Habig, “The Franciscan Provinces of Spanish North America,” The Americas, Vol. 1, No. 1(July 1944), 94. The other missionaries accompanying the friar “included the Vicar Apostolic Bernard Boil…, two Jeronymites, …and two [other Franciscans who were likely] the French or Belgian lay brothers, John Deledeule and John Tisim or Cosin. It is probable that the former Father Guardian of La Ribida, Juan Pirez de Marchena, also went along with this first group of missionaries.” Ibid. 216 Norris, 160. 217 Moorman, 382. 218Ibid. 219 Norris, 160; See also Jim Norris, After “The Year Eighty”: The Demise of Franciscan Power in Spanish New Mexico (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2000) 220 Gutierrez, 66. 221 Ibid. 222 Gutierrez, 66. Eire begins to propose a culture of Inquisition in colonial Mexico in which friars constantly suspect those around them of heathenry or grow ambivalent to such moral claims, and where accusations and excommunications were common. Eire, Popular Religion, 7, 11; For the Franciscan friars’ preoccupation with frequent observation and critique of local congregations and fellow Franciscans and the role such activities played in the continuing negotiation of Franciscan identities see chapter three of this text. 223 Though many sources of scholarship reference these three primary impulses for exploration and colonization, Russell’s proposal of a fourth “G”, gender, as an equally important influence and motivation for colonial evangelism is not implicitly denied by its lack of inclusion here. Letty M. Russell, God, Gold, Glory and Gender: A Post­ colonial View of Mission, (Edinburgh: International Review of Mission, 2004) 224 Vecsey, 16 225 Habig, 89. 226 Vecsey, 17. 227Ibid. 228 Vecsey, 16, 229 Knaut, 17. 230 Estevanico was a black slave also referred to by the name Esteban de Dorantes. Report of Fray Marcos de Niza, Coronado Expedition, 65. 231 Gutierrez, 42. 232 Fanny Bandelier, trans., The Journey of Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca (New York: Allerton, 1904) 133‐141. See also John F. Bannon, The Spanish Borderlands Frontier, 1513­1821 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1974). 233 Gutierrez, 42. 234 Ibid.

336

235 Percy M. Baldwin, ed. and trans., “Fray Marcos’ Relacion,” New Mexico Historical Review I (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1928), 218‐219 and Letter of Coronado to Viceroy Mendoza, March 8, 1539, Coronado Expedition, 42‐44 236 Gutierrez, 42 and Coronado Expedition, 9‐11. 237 The city was known as Hawikuh to the native Zuñi who dwelt there. “The place name Cíbola is likely a Spanish corruption of Shíwona (Land of the Zuñi) or Ashíwi, the Zuni word for themselves.” Pedro de Castañeda of Nájera, ed. John Miller Morris, Relacíon de la Jornada de Cíbola (Chicago: Lakeside, 2002), 15. 238 Letter of Coronado to Mendoza, August 3, 1541, Coronado Expedition, 170. 239 Vecsey, 123. 240 As cited in Allison Bird, Heart of the Dragonfly: Historical Development of the Cross Necklaces of the Pueblo and Navajo Peoples (Albuquerque: Avanju, 1992), 2 as cited in Vecsey, 124. 241 Coronado Expedition, 174 242 Castañeda’s History of the Expedition, Coronado Expedition, 263,272; Gutierrez, 45. 243 Coleccion de Documentos Ineditos relativos al Descubrimiento, Conquista y Organizacion de las antiguas posesiones Espanolas de America y Oceania (Madrid, 1871), vol. 16, 143‐187. 244 Ibid. 245 Gutierrez, 46. 246 Moorman, 143. 247 Ibid. 248 “In 1678, the bishop of Guadalajara sequestered two Franciscan doctrinas that he claimed were poorly administered…At stages from then until the 1790’s even as the number of Guadalaara parishes increased to more than 100, the Franciscans were reduced to only two doctrinas.” Taylor, 84. 249 Gutierrez, 46; See Fondo Franciscaon – vol. 125, f 3622 for the breve of Clement X regarding the recognition of Franciscans of Peru and New Spain who not wish to live the convent life. Other friars did opt to found convents such as those friars of San Diego who retreated to found an order of religious of the order of St. Francis in the winter of 1662. AGN – 100, 22, 142, 194. 250 Ibid. 251 “The friars…recognized that any successful entry into New Mexico depended upon military protection and financial backing that only the region’s wealthy entrepreneur’s could provide. The latter…realized that any commercial venture…would have to be cloaked in the guise of…assisting the Franciscans.” Knaut, 25. 252 Knaut, 27 253 Ibid. 254 Gutierrez, 46‐7. 255 George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, eds. and trans., Don Juan de Onate: Colonizer of New Mexico, 1580­1594, (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1953), 4‐9.

337

256 Henry Warner Bowden, “Spanish Missions, Cultural Conflict and the Pueblo Revolt of 1680,” Church History, Vol. 44, No. 2. (June, 1975), 219. 257 Ibid. 258 Gutierrez, 46. 259 See Bowden, 219 for the founding of the capitol cities of Nuevo Mexico and the subsequent expectation for colonial growth.

Chapter Two: Beyond the Kiva

1 The inclusion of the local landscape is an active attempt to incorporate important elements of Pueblo historical experience, cosmology and the religious world in which Puebloans dwelt. Cultural histories are indebted to the founders of the Annalese School of history for recognizing culture as the way in which a people experience life and considering the role of geography in the shaping of a people’s performance of life. Marc Bloch, The Historian’s Craft (New York: Vintage, 1964); Lucien Febvre, “Philippe II et la Franche Comté,” Science de l’histoire, (Flammarion, 1970). 2 In the absence of historical records of common Pueblo names, I have selected Onala from Luxan’s list of cacique names among the Aguato. Diego Perez de Luxan, “Diego Perez de Luxan’s Account of the Antonio de Espejo Expedition into New Mexico, 1582,” George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, eds. and trans., The Rediscovery of New Mexico, 1580­1594: The Explorations of Chamuscado, Espejo, Castano de Sosa, Morlete, and Leyna de Bonilla and Humana (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1966), 194. 3 Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, “Letter of Coronado to Mendoza, August 3, 1540,” trans. and ed. George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 1540­1542 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1940), 166‐167. 4 Castaneda, “History of the Expedition,” Coronado, “Letter of Coronado to Mendoza,” Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 168‐170; Lopez de Cardenas, “Testimony of Lopez de Cardenas,” trans. and ed. George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 1540­1542 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1940), 349. 5 Here I refer to the Spanish explorers’ pageanted display of strength while riding upon their horses and accompanying their approach with gunfire. 6 Lopez de Cardenas, “Testimony of Lopez de Cardenas,” Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 208 7 Coronado self‐consciously notes the presence and effect of his “gilded and glittering” armor upon Native Americans in Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, “Coronado to Mendoza,” Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 169 8 Lopez de Cardenas, “Testimony of Lopez de Cardenas,” Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 208 9 Anaya, Indigenous Peoples in International Law, 36; The Book of Privileges Issued to Christopher Columbus by King Fernando and Queen Isabel, 1492­1502; Stannard, American Holocaust: The Conquest of the New World.

338

10 The erection of the cross within a pile of stones is described in Fray Marcos de Niza, “Report of Fray Marcos de Niza,” trans. and ed. George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 1540­1542 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1940), 79, 11 Gutierrez, 44. 12 As Coronado was wounded during the attack and unconscious during the surrender Lopez de Cardenas, “Testimony of Lopez de Cardenas,” Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 208. 13 Lopez de Cardenas, “Testimony of Lopez de Cardenas,” Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 209, 222. 14 This is an admitted imagined recreation of the Zuni encounter with the Coronado Expedition and does not assert to present an objective depiction of historical fact. Rather it seeks to follow in direction of Daniel K. Richter’s call to historical recreations within scholarship to “imagine how [a community] might have made sense of the newcomers…[without] direct record…to appreciate the conditions in which [they] lived, to reconstruct something of the way in which [the] people might have understood the world, [and] to try to hear Native voices when they emerge from the surviving documents.” Daniel K. Richter, Facing East From Indian Country: A Native History of Early America (Cambridge: Harvard University, 2001), 9. For the importance of evocative narratives as opposed to strict presentations of objective fact see Stephen A. Tyler, “Post‐Modern Ethnography: From Document of the Occult to Occult Document,” Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography, eds. James Clifford and George E. Marcus (Berkeley: University of California, 1986), 122‐ 140. 15 Clifford Geertz proposes such interconnectivity between the worlds people inhabit and their view of the world in his discussion of worldviews, which he defines world as “a people’s picture of the way things, in sheer actuality are, their concept of nature, of self, of society.” Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures (New York: Basic Books, 1973), 421‐22). See also Durkheim, 8. 16 For more on the need to study Pueblo historical action and social circumstance within the context of cosmology and religious actions see Alphonso Ortiz who notes “The more intellectual aspects of Tewa culture – …the ideas, rules and principles, as these are reflected in mythology, world view, and ritual are more than epiphenomenal to social relations. Rather…they serve not only to reflect these social relations but to give them direction and continuity as well.” Alphonso Ortiz, The Tewa World: Space, Time, Being and Becoming in a Pueblo Society (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1969), 4. Ortiz is referenced within this chapter, as he often is elsewhere, as a perceptive participant in the religious world that he describes. His sufficient status as a partial insider in the Tewa religious system is invaluable and is utilized whenever his ahistorical observations may be first observed within the archaeological record of the Pueblo. 17 Although many more complicated and modern theories of culture have been proposed by recent scholarship, cultural studies remains indebted to the view of

339

Weber and Geertz and their conceptualization of culture as the webs of significance in which mankind is suspended. Geertz, 5; Weber, 1, 10. 18 In other words, these early contact religious practices and tenants are suggested by filtering the descriptions of the Pueblo recorded in Spanish Catholic archival sources through interpretations of the material cultural record that have been guided by insights gleaned from more contemporary ethnographies. Material art enables individuals to ”use images and visual media in the private construction of religious worldview and belief…[and] have performed powerful roles in articulating ethnic and creedal difference in the American cultural landscape.” The Visual Culture of American Religions, ed. David Morgan and Sally M. Promey (Berkeley: University of California, 2001), 20. That is to say that material artifacts and images participated in the crafting of the religious worlds of Pueblo individuals and communities. Thus they contain an echo of Pueblo craftsmanship and culture through which we may complicate archival sources tainted with Spanish cultural‐ centrism. For more on the role of more abstract structures determining material and economic realities, consider Marshal Sahlins, The Islands of History (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1985). 19 Sam D. Gill, Native American Religions: An Introduction (Toronto: Wadsworth, 2005), 61, 106. 20 Robert W. Preucel, Loa P. Traxler, and Michael V. Wilcox, “Now the God of the Spaniards is Dead,” Traditions, Transitions, and Technologies: Themes in Southwest Archaeology, Sarah Schlanger, ed. (Boulder: University Press of Colorodo, 2002), 88‐ 89. 21 Carroll L. Riley, The Kachina and the Cross: Indians and Spaniards in the Early Southwest, Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1999, 15. 22 Gutierrez, When Jesus Came, xxv. 23 To address and respect this incredible diversity, this analysis will focus primarily upon the Hopi, as an exemplary Pueblo culture for which there is significant documentation for in the form of material culture. 24 The quest to discover the historical reality at the heart of the Puebloan experience must first identify what peoples are circumscribed by that name, a task that necessitates the identification of the tributary prehistoric antecedents of colonial Pueblo society. Archaeological data evidences of the Southwest region as early as 10,000 BCE by ancestral communities inhabited a notably less arid landscape, rich with now extinct forms of life. By the third century BCE, time and significant climactic changes prompted the florescence of three historically related, regional adaptations: the Mogollon, the and the Anasazi. Each stemmed from the Desert Archaic Culture but grew to fill an ecological niche particular to its geographic region. The peoples named Pueblo by later Spanish colonists were the descendants and inheritors of centuries of interaction among these cultural forms. The thrived among the pine‐laden mountains of what is currently southwestern New Mexico and southeastern Arizona. Along the banks of the rivers and streams of southern Arizona, the Hohokam peoples spread a series of settlements. The modern‐day domain of the Four Corner region ensconced

340

the emerging Anasazi culture. The Four Corners Region is where the modern states of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah abut. Gutierrez, xx‐xxi; Dozier, 31. 25 Gutierrez, xxi. Special thanks must be given to Ramon Gutierrez who is referenced frequently in this chapter. His all too brief discussion on Pueblo religion and organization remains a staple in Pueblo historiography not only for his innovative insights but for the clarity, brevity and coherent writing style he employed in synthesizing the foundational scholarship of the region. 26 The Anasazi developed a stable and complex society that observed intensive irrigation practices, including stream diversion and floodwater control. Such techniques generated staple surpluses that fueled population growth and enabled labor specialization among its participants. David Stewart, Anasazi America (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2000); Marie H. Wormington, Prehistoric Indians of the Southwest (Denver: University of Colorado, 1975), 27‐160; J. C., Kelley, “Factors Involved in the Abandonment of Certain Peripheral Southwestern Settlements,” American Anthropologist 54, (1952) 156‐187; D. W. Schwartz, ”Climate Change and Culture History in the Grand Canyon Region,” American Antiquity 22 (1957), 372‐377. 27 Gutierrez, xxi; See also Polly Schaafsma’s discussion of petroglyphic serpents in Polly Schaafsma, Indian Rock Art of the Southwest (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1980); Frank Waters, Book of the Hopi (New York: Penguin, 1963); 28 Hawley Ellis, “Where Did the Pueblo People Come From?,” El Palacio (Albuquerque: New Mexico Department of Cultural Affairs, Autumn 1967). 29 Ibid; Bertha Dutton, “Prehistoric Migrations into the Galisteo Basin, New Mexico,” 36 Congreso Internacional de Americanistas (: 1966), Vol.1, 287‐300; See also Indians of the Southwest, ed. Bertha Dutton (Santa Fe: Southwestern Association on Indian Affairs, 1963); Fred Wendorf, “A Reconstruction of Northern Rio Grande Prehistory,” American Anthropologist (1954) vol. 56, 200‐227; Fred Wendorf and Erik Reed, “An Alternative Reconstruction of Northern Rio Grande Prehistory” El Palacio (1955) vol. 62, 131‐173. 30 Dozier, 124. 31 Gutierrez, xxvii. 32 Gutierrez, xxviii. Although much of the numerical difference may be attributed to cultural misunderstandings, confusion, the agenda of the Spanish Franciscans and military officers with recorded the figures, and depopulation from disease or forced resettlement, it is a sufficient shift in population, organization and identity to warrant caution and complicate traditional understandings of Pueblo village/clan identities and organizations. 33 Fred Eggan, “Introduction,” in Alphonso Ortiz, The Tewa World: Space, Time, Being and Becoming in a Pueblo Society (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1969), xv. 34 Such variation negates attempts to generate universal Puebloan principles or compose a definitive Puebloan history that does not without adequate respect for the particularistic nature of data from any one Puebloan culture. Ortiz, xv. 35 Dozier, 129.

341

36 Kelly Hays‐ Gilpin, “Icons and Ethnicity: Hopi Painted Pottery and Murals,” Religion in the Prehispanic Southwest, ed. Christine S. Vanpool, Todd L. Vanpool, and David A. Phillips, Jr. (Lanham: Altamira, 2006), 78. 37 Ibid referencing T. J. Ferguson, “Academic, Legal, and Political Contexts of Social Identity and Cultural Affiliation Research in the Southwest,” Paper presented at the Southwest Symposium (Tucson: 2002). 38 For the correlation between space and Native American religious worldviews see Vine Deloria, Jr., God is Red: A Native View of Religion (Golden, Colorodo: Fulcrum, 2003); Tracy Leavelle, “Geographies of Encounter: Religion and Contested Spaces in Colonial North America,” American Quarterly 56 (December 2004): 913‐43. 39 Dozier, 127. 40 Dozier, 38. 41 Arthur H. Rohn and William M. Ferguson, Puebloan Ruins of the Southwest (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2006), 6. 42 Ibid.; Frank W. Eddy, “Archaeological Investigations at Chimney Rock Mesa: 1970‐ 1972,” Memoirs of the Colorado Archaeological Society (Boulder: Colorado Archaeological Society, 1977), no. 1. 43 Rohn and Ferguson, 19. 44 Neil M. Judd, The Architecture of Pueblo Bonita, Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections (Washington, D.C.: Press, 1964), vol. 147, no.1. 45 Rohn and Ferguson, 22. 46 J. O. Brew, “Hopi Prehistory and History to 1850,” Handbook of North American Indians, Southwest, ed. William C. Sturtevant (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1979), vol. 9; George Kubler, The Religious Architecture of New Mexico (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1978). 47 Much of the historical evidence of this section was derived from the photographic evidence and archeological data accumulated and presented by Rohn and Ferguson, 38. However, any fault in the interpretation of the data or correlation to Pueblo culture and identity lies with the author. 48 Rohn and Ferguson, 36‐37. 49 Rina Swentzell, “Pueblo Space Form, and Mythology,” Pueblo Style and Regional Architecture, ed. N. C. Markovich, W. F. E. Preiser, and F. G. Sturm (New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1990), 27; Samantha M. Ruscavage‐Barz and Elizabeth A. Bagwell, in Religion in the Prehispanic Southwest, 93. 50 Michael Jackson explores the necessity of embodying beliefs in order to make them real and cultures’ internalizations of the world around them. Michael Jackson, Paths Towards a Clearing: Radical Empiricism and Ethnographic Inquiry (Indianapolis: Indiana University, 1989), 101, 187. 51 Gutierrez, 21. 52 Ortiz, 24. Ortiz continues and provides the modern benchmark for applications of the theory of axis mundi upon Pueblo religion and the incorporation of post‐contact notions of the Earth mother within Pueblo cosmology. 53 Ortiz, 23. 54 Ibid.

342

55 , “The World of the Keresan Pueblo Indians,” Primitive views of the world, ed. Stanley Diamond (New York: , 1964). 56 Adolph F. Bandelier, “Final report of investigations among the Inians of the southwestern United States, carried on mainly in the years from 1880‐1885,” Papers of the Archaeological Institute of America, American Series (Cambridge, 1890), I: 304‐305; , “The Ceremonial Calendar of the Tewa of Arizona,” American Anthropologist 28 (1926), 209‐229; Elsie Clews Parsons, “The Social Organization of the Tewa of New Mexico,” Memoirs of the American Anthropological Association, (Menasha, Wisc.: 1929), No. 36. 57 Dozier, 126. 58 Dozier, 126. 59 Gutierrez, 21‐22. 60 Ibid. 61 Leslie White, The Acoma Indians (Washington, D.C.: Rio Grande Press 1932), 132. 62 Rina Swentzell, “Pueblo Space, Form, and Mythology,” 27. 63 Samantha M. Ruscavage‐Barz and Elizabeth A. Bagwell, in Religion in the Prehispanic Southwest, 94. 64 Ibid. 65 Gutierrez, 22. Ortiz describes the specific mountains that form the outermost geographic tetrad for the Tewa. “The World of the Tewa is bounded by four sacred mountains…Approximately sixty miles to the north of San Juan is Tse Shu Pin (Hazy or Shimmering Mountain), Tsikomo (Obsidian Covered Mountain) is about fifteen miles to the west; Oku Pin (Turtle Mountain ) is about eighty miles to the south, and Ku Sehn Pin (Stone Man Mountain) is about twenty miles to the east…The point in naming and locating them is to give proof of their objective existence and give some indication of the conceptual range of the Tewa World.” Ortiz, 19. 66 Ortiz, 21 in Ruscavage‐Barz and Bagwell, in Prehispanic Southwest, 94. 67 Hernan Gallegos, “Gallegos’ Relation of the Chamuscado‐Rodriguez Expedition,” George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, eds. and trans., The Rediscovery of New Mexico, 1580­1594: The Explorations of Chamuscado, Espejo, Castano de Sosa, Morlete, and Leyna de Bonilla and Humana (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1966), 85. 68 Diego Perez de Luxan, “Diego Perez de Luxan’s Account of the Antonio de Espejo Expedition into New Mexico,” The Rediscovery of New Mexico, 193‐194; Benavides’ Memorial of 1634, 43. 69 Tony Anella, “Learning from the Pueblos,” Pueblo Style and Regional Architecture, N. C. Markovich, W. F. E. Preiser, and F. G. Sturm (New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1900), 39 in Ruscavage‐Barz and Bagwell, in Prehispanic Southwest, 95. 70 For more on the frequency and nature of warfare in the Prehistoric Southwest and the role territorial delineation and disputation played as a motivational factor see Steven A. LeBlanc, Prehistoric Warfare in the American Southwest (Salt Lake City: University of Utah, 1999); Steven A. LeBlanc, Constant Battles: Why We Fight (New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 2004); Lawrence H. Keeley, War Before Civilization: The Myth of the Peaceful Savage (New York: Oxford, 1996).

343

71 For more on the role of masculinity in the cosmos and the related associations between masculinity, violence and the world outside of pueblo boundaries see Gutierrez, 3‐36 and the discussion of gender norms in the fourth section of this chapter. 72 Gutierrez, 21. Gutierrez aptly continues, “The male conceptualization of space outlined here comes from Pueblo origin myths. Bear in mind that such myths are products of the male imagination. They are sacred knowledge that men transmitted to other men and as such were profoundly political narratives. By outlining the organization of society in mythic times, detailing who helped whom emerge when and where, men asserted their spatial claims, their rights, and their precedence in their relationships both with women and with members of other households and clans.” 73 Gutierrez, 21‐22. 74 Diego Perez de Luxan, “Diego Perez de Luxan’s Account of the Antonio de Espejo Expedition into New Mexico,” The Rediscovery of New Mexico 193‐194. 75 Robert H. Jackson, From Savages to Subjects: Missions in the History of the American Southwest (Armonk, New York: M. E. Sharpe, 2000), 69‐70. 76 Bronislow Malinowski, Argonauts of the Western Pacific (Long Grove, Illinois: Waveland, 1984); Marcel Mauss, The Gift: The Form and Reason for Exchange in Archaic Societies (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2000) 77 Feeling rules are here reference the cultural norms and expectations that shape emotional performances. They are those “cultural codes [that] govern the emotional lives of persons as they interact in various social settings.” John Corrigan, “Introduction,” Religion and Emotion: Approaches and Interpretations, ed. John Corrigan (New York: Oxford, 2004), 24; Arlie R. Hochschild, The Managed Heart: Commercialization of Human Feelings (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983); Peter N. Stearns with Carol Z. Stearns, “Emotionology: Clarifying the History of Emotions and Emotional Standards,” American Historical Review 90 (October 1985): 813‐836. 78 For additional scholarship that roots economics, religion and social relationships in reciprocal exchanges see Florence Hawley Ellis, “A Reconstruction of the Basic Jemez Pattern of Social Organization, with Comparisons to Other Tanoan Social Structures,” University of New Mexico Publications in Anthropology, No. 11 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1964); Claude Levi‐Strauss, “Reciprocity and Hierarchy,” American Anthropologist (1944), vol. 46, 266‐68; Alfonso Ortiz, “Dual Organization as an Operational Concept in the Pueblo Southwest,” Ethnology (1965), vol. 4, 389‐396. 79 Although emotion is collectively scripted to varying degrees and thus performed when experienced, such does not deny individuals to creatively augment or even deny the performance of an emotion or the emotion of a performance as suggested by a societies feeling rules. The rules can be bent or broken but express a socially accepted and validated way to experience and express any given emotion. 80 The notion of dependence that I refer to here should not be confused with the Christian piety‐infused notions of an experience of absolute dependence that is

344

central to religious life as implied in Friedrich Schleiermacher’s On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despisers and continued in ’s The Idea of the Holy. By the language of indebtedness I mean the use of Pueblo linguistic appellations for familial relation or social status that have embedded within them norms of appropriate social respect and deference. See John P. Harrington, “A Brief Description of the Tewa Language,” American Anthropologist (1910), vol. 24, 101‐ 107; John P. Harrington, “Tewa Relationship Terms,” American Anthropologist (1912), vol. 14, 472‐498; Fred Eggan, Social Organization of the Western Pueblos. 81 Gutierrez, When Jesus Came, 7. 82 Fred Eggan, “The Hopi Cosmology or World‐View,” Kachinas in the Pueblo World, ed. Polly Schaafsma, Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1994, 7. 83 Gutierrez, When Jesus Came, 3. 84 Ibid, 7; Kachinas in the Pueblo World, 11. 85 Kachinas in the Pueblo World, 10. 86 Hamilton A. Tyler, Pueblo Gods and Myths, Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1964, 136. 87 Kelly Ann Hays, “Kachina Depictions On Prehistoric Pueblo Pottery,” Kachinas in the Pueblo World, ed. Polly Schaafsma, Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1994, 49. 88 Emmanuel Levinas, Otherwise Than Being or Beyond Essence (Pittsburg: Duquesne University, 1998). 89 Colleen McDannell, Material Christianity: Religion and Popular Culture in America, New Haven: Yale University, 1995, 2‐3. 90 Following the lead of Michel Foucault, an increasing number of historians and literary critics have begun to recognize the centrality of the body as the “primary mediator of religious experience.”90 Following that trend, and encouraged by ethnographer Elaine Scarry’s work on the body and the making of worlds, it has been hypothesized that “to the extent that a particular…[religious] group promotes emotion and feeling as a means to approach the divine, its members will appeal to the senses to activate those special responses.”90 If the body is important to the development and practice of religion then dress is similarly important to understanding the religious landscape of the Pueblo religious practitioner. Ritual dress is more than artifact and object. On one hand it expresses the distinctions between ritual practitioner and those not engaged in the ritual, expressing the identity and social situation of those who where it. On the other hand, due to its association as a means to the end of interaction with the realm of the sacred, ritual garments operate as a boundary between sacred space and profane reality.90 That is to say “garments locate the body within the realm of the sacred.”90 With the capacity to translocate the body, the central object of experienced religion, garments transfer to the body of wearer characteristics often associated with the sacred, supernatural realm. Here I refer to the association of authority and power of the supernatural realm that is transferred to the ritual practitioners who must be domesticated or made mundane after the ceremony, a fact that shall be discussed later. Colleen McDannell, Material Christianity, 14, 220; Thanks to the contributions

345

of Bourdieu and Catherine Bell, the means here utilized by the Pueblo may be recognized as an end in itself for the purposes of religious studies and this paper. Catherine Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, New York: Oxford University, 1992, 82‐ 83. 91 Barton Wright, Hopi Material Culture: Artifacts Gathered by H. R. Voth in the Fred Harvey Collection, Flagstaff, Arizona: Northland Press, 1979, 35. 92 Ibid., 14. 93 Katsinas were those supernatural beings, often considered ancestors, which manifested efficacious sovereignty over the forces of rain and fecundity if properly engaged and petitioned. 94 The emotional bonds of obligation that contextualized sexuality here refers to the exchange of love, physical sexuality and indebted labor to his mother‐in‐law’s household that Pueblo males trade for the love, sexual intercourse, and household management reciprocated by Pueblo brides. 95 Armin Geertz, Hopi Indian Altar Iconography (Leiden, E. J. Brill, 1986), 45. 96 Barton Wright, Hopi Material Culture, 99. 97 Indeed such use of the heads alone to represent spiritual beings can be found on the pottery and cave paintings left behind by the Anasazi culture, the ancestor to the Pueblo cultures, and can be dated to as early as 600 C.E. Michael P. Marshall, John R. Stein, Richard W. Loose, and Judith E. Novotny, Anasazi Communities of the San Juan Basin (Santa Fe: New Mexico Historic Preservation Bureau, 1979). 98 Virginia More Roediger, Ceremonial Costumes of the Pueblo Indians: Their Evolution, Fabrication, and Significance in the Prayer Drama, Berkeley: University of California, 1991,158 99 Louis A. Hieb, “The Meaning of Katsina: Toward a Cultural Definition of ‘Person’ in Hopi Religion,” Kachinas in the Pueblo World, ed. Polly Schaafsma, Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1994, 28‐9. 100 The cardinal direction of North was associated and reference with blue‐green. East was tied to the color white while the south was depicted by red. The West was evoked by yellow colored objects and depictions. Ortiz, 18‐19. See also Gertrude P. Kurath, “Plaza Circuits of Tewa Indian Dances,” El Palacio (1958), vol. 65, 16‐26. 101 Discovering Past Behavior: Experiments in the Archaeology of the American Southwest, ed. Paul Grebinger (London: Gordon and Breach Science, 1978), 10.1 102 Anne I. Woosley, “Foreword,” Embedded Symmetries: Natural and Cultural, ed. Dorothy K. Washburn (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2004), ix 103 M. C. Corballis and C. E. Roldan, “On the Perception of Symmetrical and Repeated Patterns,” Perception & Psychophysics (Chicago: Psychonomic Society, 1974), vol. 16, 136‐142; D. K. Washburn, “Perceptual Anthropology: The Cultural Salience of Symmetry,” American Anthropologist, (1999) vol. 101, 547‐562; G. Witherspoon and G. Peterson, Dynamic Symmetry and Holistic Asymmetry in Navajo and Western Art and Cosmology (New York: Peter Lang, 1995). 104 Dorothy K. Washburn, “The Genesis of Realistic and Patterned Representations,” Embedded Symmetries: Natural and Cultural, ed. Dorothy K. Washburn (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2004), 54.

346

105 Dorothy K. Washburn, “Introduction: Embedded Symmetries,” Embedded Symmetries: Natural and Cultural, ed. Dorothy K. Washburn (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2004), 4. 106 Ibid., 1. 107 For a more detailed discussion of the meaning of pattern and the relation between symbol and meaning see Washburn, “The Genesis of Realistic and Patterned Representations,” 47 and Michael Kubovy and Strother, “The Perception of Band Patterns: Going Beyond Geometry,” Embedded Symmetries: Natural and Cultural, ed. Dorothy K. Washburn (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2004), 19. Contemporary studies of design are indebted to the work of N. David, J. Sterner, and K. Gavua who presented a cogent case that ornamentation and design styles were consistently more meaningful than merely decorative. N. David, J. Sterner, and K. Gavua, “Why Pots are Decorated,” Current Anthropology (1988), vol. 29, 365‐389. 108 Dorothy K. Washburn, “Introduction: Embedded Symmetries,” 4 109 Roediger, Ceremonial Costumes of the Pueblo Indians, 169. 110 Ibid. 111 For a more detailed analysis of the link between religion, emotion and aesthetics see Steven Feld, Sound and Sentiment: Birds, Weeping Poetics, and Song in Kaluli Expression, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 1990. According to Feld, “Symbolic modalities are culturally constituted by performance codes that both actively communicate deeply felt sentiments and reconfirm mythic principles (14).” That is to say that a culture’s tradition of symbols is constructed of socially scripted performances of emotion that confirms something essential about the world order. 112 VanPool, et al, “The Casas Grandes and Salado Phenomena,” 238; Sundstrom, Storied Stone, 160‐173; Dorothy K. Washburn, “A Symmetry Classification of Pueblo Ceramic Designs,” Discovering Past Behavior: Experiments in the Archaeology of the American Southwest, ed. Paul Grebinger (London: Gordon and Breach Science, 1978), 101‐123; K. M. Chapman, Pueblo Pottery Designs (New York: Dover, 1995). 113 Alfonso Ortiz, “Dual Organization as an Operational Concept in the Pueblo Southwest,” Ethnology (Pittsburg: University of Pittsburg, 1965), vol. 4, 389. 114 Eggan in Ortiz, xii‐xiv. 115 Ortiz, 9‐10. 116 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 83; Durkheim, Elementary Forms of Religious Life, 9; Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti­Structure (New York: Aldine de Gruyter, 1995), ix, 167‐203. 117 Karl Marx and Friedrich Engles, On Religion (New York: Schocken, 1964); Arnold Van Gennep, Rites of Passage, trans. Monika B. Vizedom and Gabrielle L. Caffee (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1960), 190‐192. 118 Ortiz, 137. 119 Gutierrez, When Jesus Came, xviii. 120 Dozier, 151. 121 Ibid.

347

122 Fred Eggan, Social Organization of the western Pueblos (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1950); Leslie White, “The World of the Keresan Pueblo Indians,” Primitive Views of the World, ed. Stanley Diamond (New York: Columbia University, 1964). 123 John P. Harrington, “Tewa Relationship Terms,” American Anthropologist (1912), vol. 14, 472‐98; Fred Eggan, Social Anthropology of the North American Tribes (Chicago, University of Chicago, 1955). 124 Gutierrez, 10‐11. 125 Ibid. 126 John D. Loftin, Religion and Hopi Life, vol. ii of Religion in North America, ed. Catherine L Albanese and Stephen J. Stein, Bloomington & Indianapolis: Indiana Universtity Press, 2003 127 Ibid., 26. 128 Gutierrez, When Jesus Came, 19. 129 Ibid. 130 Benavides’ Revised Memorial of 1634, 43. 131 In Chapter Three we will explore the connections between emotionology, reciprocity and public virtue within Pueblo cultures especially as they contact and interact with colonial Spanish concepts of virtue, honor and masculinity. 132 Hays‐Gilpin, “Icons and Ethnicity,” 74. 133 Sam D. Gill, Native American Religions, 98‐99; Emory Sekaquaptewa, “Hopi Indian Ceremonies,” Seeing With a Native Eye, ed. Walter H. Capps (New York: Harper and Row, 1976); Don Talayesva, Sun Chief: The Autobiography of a Hopi Indian (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1942), 184. 134 David J. Weber, The Spanish Frontier in North America (New Haven: Yale University, 1992), 302‐304. 135 Dozier, 129. 136 Leslie A. White, The Pueblo of Santa Ana, New Mexico (Menasha, Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin, 1942), 187. 137 Gutierrez, 22 echoing the findings of Elsie Clews Parsons, Hopi and Zuni Ceremonialism (Menasha, Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin, 1933), 53 138 Gutierrez, 22 based upon Albert H. Schroeder, “Rio Grande Ethnohistory,” New Perspectives on the Pueblos, ed. Alfonso Ortiz (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1972), 41‐70. 139 Gutierrez, 24‐25. 140 Todd Lee Howell, Leadership at the Ancestral Zuni Village of Hawikku, PhD Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, , 1994. 141 Ware, “Descent Group and Sodality: Alternative Pueblo Social Histories,” Traditions, Transitions, and Technologies: Themes in Southwest Archaeology, Sarah Schlanger, ed. (Boulder: University Press of Colorodo, 2002), 94. 142 E. Charles Adams, The Origin and Development of the Pueblo Katsina Cult (Tucson: University of Arizona, 1991), 13. 143 Although gender provided a relevant bifurcation of society as well, 144 Ortiz, 157, n. 6. 145 Ibid.

348

146 Gutierrez, 23. 147 Hernando de Alarcon, “Report of Alarcon’s Expedition,” Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 135 as referenced on Gutierrez, 23. He continues and notes that, “Associated with the sky’s greatest deity, the cacique regulated life’s rhythms and assured happiness, prosperity, and long life. Appropriately, the Zuni town chief was called Sun Speaker (Pekwin), and the Hopi chief, Sun Watcher (Tawawunitaka).” 148 Dozier, 129. The elite, socio‐religious sodality that ruled the village among the Tewa would be the Made People that Ortiz referenced. In this case the Inside Chief would be considered a part of the Towa e. However, the religious rituals associated with the performance of his job and the transcendence of secularity provided by his supernatural ancestry questions how starkly delineated these two categories were traditionally. 149 Albert H. Schroeder and Dan S. Matson, A Colony on the Move: Catano de Sosa’s Journal, 1590­1591; Fredrick W. Hodge, George P. Hammond, and Agapito Rey, eds. and trans. Fray Alonso de Benavides’ Revised Memorial of 1634 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1945), 171‐172. 150 Dozier, 129. 151 “Native Americans thought of a world to which they were bound by ties of kinship…The world, in short, was a huge extended family network, with the Indians existing as younger and humbler brothers and sisters among their more venerable relations.” Catherine L. Albanese, America Religions and Religion, Third Edition (Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 1999), 26‐27. 152 Richard B. Woodbury, “Chaos to Order: A. V. Kidder at Pecos,” Pecos Ruins, ed. David Grant Noble (Santa Fe: School of American Research, 1981). 153 Gutierrez, 24‐25. 154 The Inside Chiefs aligned the rhythm of life in the pueblos to sacred time. By observing “the summer and winter solstices, the vernal and autumnal equinoxes, and all the dates for planting, harvest, initiations, and rain and curing rites,” daily experience of the flow of time were made to religious ideals obtained through astronomical observation. “At appropriate points in the lunar year, the cacique entered the town’s main kiva, and by ritually recreating the primordial time of emergence when humans and gods were one, and when all a town’s clans, kivas, and esoteric societies were in harmony, he temporarily obliterated local enmities and tensions.”154 By reenacting the primordial emergence and adapting temporal conceptions to a celestial template, Inside Chiefs recreated that primal moment and renewed time for the present, vivifying creation with an influx of the vital, sacred powers that ordered creation. Norman Hammond, Ancient Maya Civilization (New Brunswick: Rutgers University, 1982); John Montgomery, How to Read Maya Hieroglyphs (New York: Hippocrene Books, 2002), 201; J. Eric S. Thompson, Maya Hieroglyphic Writing: An Introduction, Carnegie Institution of Washington Publication 589 (Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Institution of Washington, 1950); Gutierrez 23‐24. 155 Gutierrez, 25. 156 White, The Acoma Indians, 45‐46; Elsie Clews Parson, Pueblo Indian Religion (Lincoln: University of Nebraska, 1996), vol. 2, 604.

349

157 Wren Youth 158 Mockingbird Youth 159 Hamilton A. Tyler, Pueblo Gods and Myths (Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma, 1964), 213. 160 Ibid. 161 Gutierrez, 25. 162 Gutierrez, 25‐26. 163 Gutierrez, 25‐26; This theme was discussed previously by Karl A. Wittfogel and Esther S. Goldfrank, “Some aspects of Pueblo Mythology and Society,” Journal of American Folklore (1943), vol. 56, 17‐30. 164 Michael Walzer, Just and Unjust Wars: A Moral Argument with Historical Illustrations (New York: Basic Books, 2000), 41. See also John Kelsay, Arguing the Just War in (Cambridge: Harvard, 2007); Elaine Scarry, The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World (New York: Oxford, 1985), 61‐62. 165 The act of war itself is here recognized as, at least in part, a religious practice or behavior contextualized and shaped by religious ideals. 166 As Ramon Gutierrez aptly notes “The cacique’s frequent promotion of communal peace through ritual was necessary because fragmentation constantly threatened to tear society asunder. Generations of anthropologists have long interpreted the Pueblo ideology of harmony and equilibrium as statements of fact rather than as a denial of man’s greatest fear.” (24‐25). 167 Gutierrez, xxii citing Marshall Sahlins, Tribesmen (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1968) vi‐viii; Smith, “Segmentary Lineages,” 120‐33; Mischa Titiev, Old Oraibi: A Study of the Hopi Indians of the Third Mesa (Cambridge: Harvard University, 1944), 68. 168 Dozier, 135. 169 Ibid. 170 Dozier, 136‐137. 171 Dozier, 137. 172 Eggan, Social Organization, 303. 173 Dozier, 140‐141. “At Hopi, Hano, and Laguna ceremonial associatins are clan ‘owned’ and manage. At Zuni, they are under the control of a group of priests; some of the priests are associated with clans…At Hopi, Hano, and Laguna lineage and clan organization are more involved in the social and ceremonial affairs of the respective villages than in the other Western Pueblos.” 174 Dozier, 135‐136. 175 Elsie Clews Parsons, “Tewa Kin, Clan, and Moiety,” American Anthropologist 26 (1924), 333‐339. 176 “The cult is most complex among the Western Pueblos and secondarily among the Rio Grande Keresans [but] less important among the Tewa…the Tiwa pueblos.” Dozier, 155‐156 177 Dozier, 141. 178 Ibid.

350

179 Leslie A. White, The Pueblo of Sia, New Mexico, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 184 (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1962), 236. 180 Dozier, 141. 181 Kurath, “Plaza Circuits of Tewa Indian Dances,” 16‐26. 182 Dozier, 140‐141. 183 Leslie A. White, “The Pueblo of Santa Ana, New Mexico,” Memoirs of the American Anthropological Association (Washington, D.C: American Anthropological Association, 1942), 138‐142. The notable exception to this general rule is the Keresans pueblo of Santa Ana where Katsina cults resemble more comprehensive medicine societies and umbrella religious sodalities. Membership there is similarly based upon the similar requirements of vow, dedication or trespass. 184 Dozier, 175. 185 Dozier, 140‐141. 186 Dozier, 154‐155. 187 Leslie A. White, “The Pueblo of Santa Domingo, New Mexico,” Memoirs of the American Anthropological Association (Washington, D.C: American Anthropological Association, 1935), 63. 188 Charles Lange, Cochiti: A New Mexico Pueblo Past and Present (Austin: University of Texas, 1959), 257. 189 Dozier, 154‐155. 190 Dozier, 152. 191 White, The Pueblo of Santa Ana, 124, fn. 62. Healing is here construed broadly to include any practice that seeks to transform a human or society from an unfavorable condition to a desired state. Michael P. Guéno, Troubled Waters, Master’s Thesis (Florida State University, 2005). 192 It should be noted that clown associations, while persistent elements within the Pueblo world, did not develop simultaneously in all pueblos. “The clown associations of the Tanoans may have been borrowed from the Keresans along with the Katcina cult. The clowns among the Tewa are particularly similar to Keresan clowns, both in appearance and function.” (Dozier, 171) Clown associations developed over generations and likely receive greater attention among contemporary pueblos after generations of interaction and foreign exoticization. 193 Elsie Clews Parsons and Ralph Beals, “The Sacred Clowns of the Pueblo and Mayo‐Yaqui Indians,” American Anthropologist (1934), vol. 36, 491‐514; Dozier, 154‐155. 194 Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, 787, 684, 473, 54. 195 Mary Douglas, Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo (Baltimore: Penguin, 1966), 188‐210; Sam D. Gill, Native American Religions, 54. 196 Dozier, 157‐158. 197 Earlier scholarship on Pueblos discovered little differentiation in wealth or social division into recognized classes. Although certainly there were Pueblo members with varying degrees of authority and privilege and private, material goods of greater and lesser quality, these two categories did not perfectly correspond. Those individuals in positions of authority did accumulate more gifting goods and thus

351

more wealth but lived in similar domiciles and did not possess great amounts of European trade goods of conspicuous consumption. For more on conspicuous consumption explore Thorstein Veblen, Theory of the Leisure Class: An Economic Study in the Evolution of Institutions (New York: Macmillan, 1899). 198 Dozier, 129. 199 Indeed, nineteenth and twentieth century historians often asserted that there was little political differentiation and virtually no differences in wealth among the Pueblo or many other Native Americans. Morgan, Lewis Henry. League of the Haudenosaunee, or Iroquois (New York : Dodd, Mead, 1901); John A. O’Brien, The American Martyrs: The Story of the Eight Jesuit Martyrs of North America (New York: Appleton‐Century‐Crofts, 1953); Francis Parkman, The Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1963); David Roberts, “The Pueblo Revolt: The Secret Rebellion That Drove the Spaniards Out of the Southwest (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004). 200 Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, “Coronado to Mendoza,” Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 174. 201 Diego Perez de Luxan, “Diego Perez de Luxan’s Account of the Antonio de Espejo Expedition into New Mexico,” The Rediscovery of New Mexico, 193‐194. 202 Gutierrez, 12‐13 203Ibid. 204 Ibid. 205 Hernando de Alvarado and Fray Juan de Padilla, “Discovery of Tiguex by Alvarado and Padilla: Account of What Hernando de Alvarado and Fray Juan de Padilla Discovered While in Search of the South Sea,” trans. and ed. George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 1540­1542 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1940), 183. See also Pedro de Castaneda’s observation of the Hopi recorded that year which noted that they heeded the leadership of and were governed “by an assembly of the oldest men (215).” 206 Ortiz, 17‐18. 207 Ortiz, 35. 208 Ortiz, 36. 209 Steadman Upham, “East Meets West: Hierarchy & Elites in Pueblo Society,” The Sociopolitical Structure of Prehistoric Southwestern Societies, eds. Steadman Upham, K. G. Lightfoot, R. A. Jewett (Boulder: Westview, 1987), 86‐87. 210 Dozier, 129. 211 Gutierrez, 14. 212 A pan for baking bread 213 Gallegos, “Relation of the Chamuscado‐Rodriguez Expedition,” 101‐102. 214 Even supernatural beings were sexual and, among them, bisexuality, exhibited by the Kawasaitaka katsina among the Hopi and Awonawilona in Zuni pueblos, was tolerated and revered. 215 Gutierrez, 17. 216 Southwestern Native Americans sang erotic hymns, incorporated sex within rituals, engaged in public sex and “named landmarks “Clitoris Spring,” “Girl’s Breast

352

Point,” “Buttocks‐Vagina,” and “Shove Penis,” demonstrating the inherent sexuality that infused the Pueblo world.216 At Acoma, religious stories reveal the origin of their people occurred when the serpentine water spirit, Pishuni, penetrated Nautsiti’s body as rain.216 Similar sexualized symbolism including rain, lightning, seeds and corn dominated the graphic representation on ceramics and in petroglyphic carvings. Gutierrez, 17; Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, 428‐431; Sally J. Cole, Legacy on Stone: Rock Art of the Colorodo Plateau and Four Corners Region (Boulder: Johnson Books, 1990); Polly Schaafsma, Indian Rock Art of the Southwest (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1980); Robert H. Lister and Florence C. Lister, Those Who Came Before (Tucson: University of Arizona, 1983). 217 Gutierrez, 17. 218 Gutierrez, 17. 219 Gutierrez, 19‐20. 220 Eleanor B. Adams and Fray Angelico Chavez, eds. and trans., The Missions of New Mexico, 1776: A Description of Fray Atanasio Dominguez (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1975), 257. 221 Elsie Clews Parsons, The Scalp Ceremonial of Zuni (Menasha, WI.: American Anthropological Association, 1924). 222 Gutierrez, 22‐23. 223 Marcos de Niza, “Report of Fray Marcos de Niza,” Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 78; Gallegos, “Relationo of Chamuscado‐Rodriguez Expedition,” Rediscovery of New Mexico, 85; Antonio de Espejo, “Report of Antonio de Espeo,” Rediscovery of New Mexico, 227. 224 Gutierrez, 19. 225 To restate and frame this relationship with a sexualized context, the pueblo may be associated with and understood as female. The exterior, surrounding countryside persistently threatened the masculine, penetration and disruption of the peaceful order of the pueblo. 226 Gutierrez, 26. Gutierrez continues, “I want to emphasize the word gradually here, because knowledge was power, and as such it was in the interests of the warrior father to dispense his knowledge slowly. By so doing he maintained a large following and acquired numerous gifts with which he could indebt others and gather the means to stage large raids.” Although this gradual indoctrination is well documented and was doubtlessly prolonged on occasion, it seems unlikely that a War Chief would be willing to repeatedly enter battle with several partially‐trained warriors at his side. 227 Gutierrez, 27‐28. 228 Ibid. 229 Gutierrez, 10‐11. 230 Gallegos, “Relation of the Chamuscado‐Rodriguez Expedition,” 102. 231 According to the 1610 observations of Gaspar Perez de Villagra “The men have as many wives as they can support.” Although successful seniors were usually described as practitioners of polygamy, the practice was reserved for those who could meet the material and financial obligations to larger immediate and multiple

353

extended families. Consequently, the practice of polygamy was more prevalent in the imaginations and records of Spanish colonists than historical reality. The majority of Pueblo observed serial monogamy. Joseph Brondate wrote that in such unions, Native Americans “live together as long as they want to, and when the woman takes a notion, she looks for another husband and the man for another wife.” Gutierrez, 27‐28; Gaspar Perez de Villagra, History of New Mexico, 143; Joseph Brondate, “Declaration of Joseph Brondate, 1601,” Don Juan de Onate: Colonizer of New Mexico, 1595­1628, eds. and trans. George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1953), 627. 232 Terrell, Pueblos, Gods and Spaniards, xvi. 233 Jonathan Z. Smith, Imagining Religion: From Babylon to Jonestown, (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1982); Lived Religion in America: Towards a History of Practice, David D. Hall (Princeton: Princeton University, 1997). Among peoples without a world or ethnolinguistic equivalent for the western concept of religion, seeking to impose such an arbitrary truncation and categorization upon the ideas and actions of such a people is problematic at best. If there was no recognized distinction between religious practices and non‐religious actions and all actions were equally contextualized by a religious worldview and tied to such traditionally religious elements as myth, scholars do not need to force such a dialectic upon historical sources. Thus to more accurately reflect the religious lives of the Pueblo, historical accounts may include the spectrum of beliefs and practices that defined Pueblo lives and allow that to stand as Pueblo religious experience. 234 Sam D. Gill, Native American Religions, 84‐85. 235 Ortiz, 16. 236 Ortiz, 16. The themes resonate too precisely with a Catholic cosmology suffused with guilt and sin as the result of the Fall as well as the later Tewa/Native American self‐understanding that theirs is role of suffering in the world. This post‐contact aspect is further evidenced by Ortiz’s assertion that “The term also embodies the sacred‐profane distinction because what occurred in the lake, prior to emergence is sacred. What has been occurring since is profane, because illness, death, and evil were introduced only after emergence (Ortiz, 16).” This does not coincide with other Puebloan conceptions that tend to convey a worldview that does not neatly or starkly segregate the cosmos along the lines of supernatural and natural, sacred and profane, good and evil. As a counter‐example of Pueblo perceptions see Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion, trans. Willard R. Trask (San Diego: Harcourt, 1987). 237 This connotation of seh t’a implies that humanity has lost its innocence and parallels the Catholic doctrine of the Fall too neatly to have been a pre‐historical Puebloan religious concept. However, for its use here as a means to contextualize and categorize the religiously influenced nature of mundane industry, daily activity and physical existence, I trust the contemporaneousness of Ortiz’s evidence and subsequent conclusions may be forgiven. 238 The products of Pueblo agriculture were fairly consistent within historical eras. Prehistoric Puebloan predecessors, the Basket Maker III people, began the

354 southwestern domestication of maize, beans, squash, cotton and tobacco. Rohn and Ferguson, 9. 239 “Without doubt, both the idea for growing crops and the domesticated plants themselves originated in central Mexico at a much earlier date. Although archaeologists have found dried remains of some of these plants in cave deposits in western New Mexico dating as early as 3000‐2500 B.C.E., we have no hard evidence these plants had been cultivated on the Colorado Plateau prior to the beginnings of Basket Maker II.” (Rohn and Ferguson, 25). 240 Benavides, Benavides’ Memorial of 1634, 39; Coronado, “Coronado to Mendoza,” 177. 241 Dozier, 127‐128. 242 H. E. Bolton, “The Espejo Expedition, 1582‐1583,” Spanish Exploration in the Southwest, 1542­1706, ed. H. E. Bolton (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1916), 177‐179; Schroeder and Matson, A Colony on the Move, 117‐120. 243 To compensate for the geographic disadvantage and atmospheric conditions, western Pueblos planted parallel crops in two or three different fields with different soil types and in differentiated terrains. “Alluvial fans, flood plains, and flat sandy areas are preferred. By planting in all of these areas, it is hoped that despite of inclement weather, one of the plots will produce a harvestable crop.” Dozier, 127‐ 128. 244 Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, “Coronado to Mendoza,” Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 171. 245 Rohn and Ferguson, 25. 246 , The Material Culture of Pueblo Bonito, Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, vol. 124 (Washington, D. C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1954). However, Rohn and Ferguson discovered that “…dog hair did very rarely see use in Basket Maker woven sashes (Rohn and Ferguson, 25).” Such woven artifacts appear infrequently in the archaeological record implying that such practices likely indicated a commemorative function rather than regional, material shortages. 247 Hernando de Alvarado and Fray Juan de Padilla, “Discovery of Tiguex by Alvarado and Padilla,” 183. The sheep, cattle, wheat, melons, arboreal fruits, and chili peppers prevalent in modern Pueblo society and cuisine were introduced during colonial Spanish interactions. Dozier, 127‐128 248 Rohn and Ferguson, 26. Perhaps of more interest than “what they did eat is what they did not eat. Like their historic Pueblo descendants, the Puebloans did not” consume fish, reptiles, amphibians, land birds, or predatory animals, neither mammals nor birds (Ibid). Although modern scholars are left with little insufficient data to accurately parse the motivations for such a restricted diet among peoples surrounded by sparse animal populations, cultural taboos from religiously crafted ethics are the most theoretically culpable impulses. For more on such cultural taboos and dietary regulation see Weber, Sociology of Religion, 38‐39; Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion, 14; Rene Girard, Violence and the Sacred, ed. Patrick Gregory (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 1977), 312;

355

Regina Schwartz, The Curse of Cain: The Violent Legacy of Monotheism (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1997), 3‐5, 17. 249 Gutierrez, 30. 250 Dozier, 171. 251 Gutierrez, 31. 252 According to the narrative of Ramon Gutierrez, the prey animal was then wrestled to the ground and “suffocated so that its breath and spirit would be reborn as more game, and because only the skins of suffocated animals could be used as hunt costumes.” (Ibid) However, the Pueblo symbolic association of hunters and hunting with the arrow and arrowhead questions the frequency of the strangulation method. The lack of excess ritually prepared hunt costumes in the archaeological record supports this skepticism and posits that hunting was most likely done from a distance with tools despite the cosmological context promoting strangulation. Hamilton A. Tyler, Pueblo Animals and Myths (Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma, 1975); John Witthoft, “The American Indian as hunter,” Pennsylvania Game News, vol. 24, nos 2, 3, 4. 253 Rohn and Ferguson, 9. 254 Rohn and Ferguson, 22. 255 Cabildo of Santa Fe, Spanish Archives of New Mexico, Series II, January, 1701, Roll 3, frame 687, 78a; Father Vargas, AASF, 1678­1900, Loose Documents, Missions, 1680­ 1850, Guadalupe del Paso: 1691, Sec. 1‐A, No. 5; Vice Custos Tagle, AASF, 1678­1900, Loose Documents, Missions, 1680­1850, San Ildefonso: 1705, Sec. 1‐A, No. 3; For the association of the sacred with the organizing principle of the material universe and not with spiritual or supernatural beings see Ortiz, 16‐17. 256 For the association of these trade goods with ritual performances see Lyndon L. Hargrave, “Mexican Macaws: Comparative Osteology and Survey of Remains from the Southwest,” Anthropological Papers of the University of Arizona, no. 20 (Tucson, University of Arizona, 1970); Frank Anderson, “The Pueblo Kachina Cult: A Historical Reconstruction,” Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, 11:404; J. Charles Kelley, “Mesoamerica and the Southwestern United States,” Handbook of Middle American Indians, Volume Four, Archaeological Frontiers and External Connections, eds. Gordon Elkholm and (Austin: University of Texas, 1966); Elsie Clews Parsons, “Some Aztec and Pueblo Parallels,” American Anthropologist. 257 Rohn and Ferguson, 27‐29. 258 Rohn and Ferguson, 27‐29. 259 Antonio de Espejo, “Report of Antonio de Espejo,” The Rediscovery of New Mexico, 1580­1594: The Explorations of Chamuscado, Espejo, Castano de Sosa, Morlete, and Leyna de Bonilla and Humana, eds. and trans. George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1966), 219‐220. 260 Rohn and Ferguson, 27‐29. 261 Compare for example the archaeological narrative of Rohn and Ferguson and the historical description of Antonio de Espejo or Hernan Gallegos. Antonio de Espejo, “Report of Antonio de Espejo,” 219; Gallegos, “Relation of the Chamuscado‐ Rodriguez Expedition,” 85‐86. De Espejo also documented significant usage of

356

buffalo hides and chamois skin shirts in 1582 that contradict the archaeological trend towards greater cotton dependency. If accurate, his observations propose a heightened significance for hunting among the early pueblos to supply the leather demand and a greater reliance upon deer and buffalo in Pueblo culture. 262 Tyler, Pueblo Gods and Myths, 103‐107; Ortiz, 14‐15. 263 “The women have cotton skirts, often embroidered with colored thread…[and] arrange their hair neatly and prettily, winding it with care around moulds at each side of the head. They do not wear any head covering (De Espejo, “Report of Antonio de Espejo,” 219).” 264 Such ornamentations were also noted and confiscated by Coronado, “Coronado to Mendoza,” 171, 174; Alarcon, “Report of Alarcon’s Expedition,” 142. 265 Rohn and Ferguson, 29. 266 This assertion contradicts Kanter’s declaration that the proliferation of the use of turquoise necessitated the transition of “of turquoise from purely ritual contexts towards a greater focus on ornaments (Ibid).” These to roles are not mutually exclusive. For more on the polyvocality, ambivalence and parallel semiotics embodied in art and jewelry see E. Wesley Jernigan, Jewelry of the Prehistoric Southwest (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1978); Salley M. Promey, “Pictorial Ambivalence and American Protestantism,” Crossroads: Art and Religion in American Life, ed. Glenn Wallach and Alberta Arthurs (New York: New Press, 2001); Schele and Miller, Blood of Kings, 68‐105. 267 John Kantner, “Religious Behavior in the Post‐Chaco Years,” Religion in the Prehispanic Southwest, ed. Christine S. Vanpool, Todd L. Vanpool, and David A. Phillips, Jr. (Lanham: Altamira, 2006), 37. 268 Hays‐Gilpin, “Icons and Ethnicity,” 78. 269 “Based on a cladistic analysis of horned serpent imagery, the archaeological evidence does not reflect a single uniform cult.” David A. Phillips Jr., Christine S. Vanpool, and Todd L. Vanpool, “The Horned Serpent Tradition in the North American Southwest,” 19. Indeed, cultural appellations and attributed artifacts are often disputed within Pueblo cultures. See for example the discussion of Hopi claims of ownership of the art and artifacts at Awat’ovi in Hays‐Gilpin, “Icons and Ethnicity,” 74. “A few elders from Second Mesa and Third mesas tell us the murals are not Hopi but Eastern Pueblo. Some, from First mesa, say they are Hopi but anything at Awat’ovi belongs to an episode in Hopi history that is over and done with and shouldn’t be investigated (Ishii 2001: 147). This suggests more ‘ownership’ of Awat’ovi’s past on First mesa than on Second and Third mesas, even though descendants of Awat’ovi survivors live in most Hopi villages today.” This issue was explicitly explored by Christine S. VanPool, Todd L. Van Pool, David A. Phillips, Jr., and Marcel Harmon, “The Changing Faces of Horned/Plumed Serpents in the Greater North American South west,” presented at Sixty‐forth annual meeting of the Society of American Archaeology (Chicago, 1999); Complicating any interpretation of publicly used or displayed items is the question of vocality in the art, or whose voice and interpretation is manifest in the crafted product, the individual, cultural collective or authoritative leadership. For a more detailed

357

investigation and explication of these issues and difficulties see Talal Asad, “The Concept of Cultural Translation in British Anthropology,” Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography, eds. James Clifford and George E. Marcus (Berkeley: University of California, 1986), 141‐164. Edward Linenthal, Preserving Memory: The Struggle to Create America’s Holocaust Museum, 2nd Edition (New York: Columbia University, 2001); McDannell, Material Christianity, 34‐36; Linea Sundstrom, Indian Rock Art in the Black Hills Country (Norman: University of Oklahoma, 2004), 27‐31. 270 David A. Phillips Jr., Christine S. Vanpool, and Todd L. Vanpool, “The Horned Serpent Tradition in the North American Southwest,” Religion in the Prehispanic Southwest, ed. Christine S. Vanpool, Todd L. Vanpool, and David A. Phillips, Jr. (Lanham: Altamira, 2006), 20. See also Miguel Covarrubias, Indian Art of Mexico and Central America (New York: Knopf, 1957); James D. Farmer, “Goggle Eyes and Crested Serpens of Barrier Canyon: Early Mesoamerican Iconography and the American Southwest,” The Road to Aztlan: Art from a Mythic Homeland, ed. Virginia M. Fields and Victor Zamudio‐Taylor (: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2001), 123‐137; Marc Thompson, “The Evolution and Dissemination of Mimbres Iconography,” Kachinas in the Pueblo World, Polly Schaafsma (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1994), 93‐105; Malcolm Webb, “Functional and Historical Parallelisms between Mesoamerican and Mississippian Cultures,” The Southeastern Ceremonial Complex: Artifacts and Analysis, ed. Patricia Galloway (Lincoln: University of Nebraska, 1989), 279‐293. While some theories of cultural iconographical diffusion may echo Covarrubias’s earlier proposition of a diffuse and pervasive American ‘basement’ culture, exchanges of symbolic association did not necessarily maintain coherency within the associations or proceed as unbroken, comprehensive iconographic systems. It should not be assumed that the assertion of cultural diffusion affirms these earlier works or echoes their assertion that such iconographic systems were in place in the Southwest before the regional florescences around 1000 C.E. 271 David A. Phillips Jr., Christine S. Vanpool, and Todd L. Vanpool, 19; Christine S. Vanpool, and Todd L. Vanpool, and David A. Phillips Jr., “The Casas Grandes and Salado Phenomena: Evidence for a Religious Schism in the Greater Southwest,” Religion in the Prehispanic Southwest, ed. Christine S. Vanpool, Todd L. Vanpool, and David A. Phillips, Jr. (Lanham: Altamira, 2006), 28‐29. 272 Jane H. Hill, “The Flower World of Old Uto‐Aztecan,” Journal of Anthropological Research (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1992), vol. 48, 117‐144; Jane H. Hill and Kelley A. Hays‐Gilpin, “The Flower World in Material Culture: An Iconographic Complex in the Southwest and Mesoamerica,” Journal of Anthropological Research (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1999), vol. 55, 1‐ 37. 273 For the interpretation of triangles as simplified and streamlined symbolic reference to birds and butterflies and the forces of life and life inducing water associated with these animals see , Mimbres Art and Archaeology:

358

A Reprint of Three Essays Authored by Jesse Walter Fewkes and Published by the Smithsonian Institution between 1914 and 1924 (Albuquerque: Avanyu, 1989), 81. 274 “A remarkably similar, and similarly tangled, web of associations appear in Mesoamerican iconography as well as those of other Pueblos. Obviously Pueblo and Mesoamerican are historically related.” Hays‐Gilpin, “Icons and Ethnicity,” 68. For more detail discussion of the cultural similarities, religious diffusion and historical interaction between the Puebloan Southwest and Mesoamerica, see E. Charles Adams, Origins and Development of the Katsina Cult; The MesoAmerican Southwest: Readings in Archaeology, Ethnography and Ethnology, eds. Basil C. Hendricks, J. Charles Kelley, Carroll L. Riley (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University, 1974); Polly Schaafsma, “Quetzalcoatl and the Horned and Feathered Serpent of the Southwest,” The Road to Aztlan: Art from a Mythic Homeland, ed. Virginia M. Fields and Victor Zamudio‐Taylor (Los Angeles: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2001), 138‐149. For more on the similar symbolic associations of blood and water, war and emotion for Mesoamerican and Pueblo cultures see future publications by this author. 275 Coronado affirmed this observation in 1540. “So far as I can find out, these Indians worship the water because they say that it makes the maize grow and sustains their life, and that the only other reason they know is that their ancestors did so Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, “Coronado to Mendoza,” Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 175. 276 Ortiz, 31. 277 Ortiz, 59. 278 Benavides, Benavides’ Memorial of 1634, 43; Ortiz provides the traditional address of the xayeh during such a ceremony. “Give me wisdom and lead me to the place where the child of man, child of woman is you, male spirits, female spirits who watch over my home. I have placed before you the food of tradition. Make my heart right and guide my thoughts. Take me to where the child of the spirits is (Ortiz, 31).” 279 Ortiz, 31. During the aforementioned naming ceremony, Ortiz notes that the officiating naming mother would grasp one lightning stone in each hand and rub them briskly together towards the north, west, south, east, up and down to induce rainfall. This then would be activating the latent katsina association and power within the object and directed at the points from which rain and prosperity originate. 280 For the relationship between mineral objects and remembrances of emergence see Jane M. Young, Signs from the Ancestors: Zuni Cultural Symbolism and Perceptions of Rock Art (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1988). 281 To understand who the Pueblo were is to understand their lives including the mundane experiences of their rigorous existence. For a more complex inclusion of the influences of physical forms upon prehistorical and colonial Native American history see Joyce E. Chaplin, Subject Matter: Technology, the Body, and Science on the Anglo­American Frontier, 1500­1676 (Cambridge: Harvard University, 2001).

359

282 Rohn and Ferguson, 24. “Many researchers have attributed this artificial head flattening to the replacement of more flexible with‐backed Basket Maker cradles by wooden cradle boards with wooden pillows in Pueblo I.” 283 Rohn and Ferguson, 24. 284 Ibid. 285 Rohn and Ferguson, 6. “While exceptions to each of these characteristics may be found in any one site, the cluster of traits occurs only in Puebloan culture and nowhere else (Ibid).” See also Dozier, 36.

Chapter Three: Becoming Neighbors

1 The festival of San Juan or San Juan Bautiste was typically been observed within the colonial Spanish Catholic Church on Midsummer Day, June 24, or the nearest Sunday to that date. The date of Onate’s entrance into the first of the Pueblo nations was recorded as the eve of this date according to Fray Alonso Benavides’ Revised Memorial. It should be noted here that the following is an attempt at a literary reimagining of the initial encounter between the Pueblo and the Franciscan friars that led the colonial settlement of New Mexico under the Onate expedition. This narrative does not profess to encapsulate objective truth but merely present an imaginative paraphrase of Benavides’ later remembrance that seeks to incorporate limited recreation of possible historical perspectives of the attending friars and Pueblos. The perspectives and views of both Pueblo and friars of each other as well as the events depicted here shall be presented and discussed in the subsequent chapter. Except as noted by footnotes below, the following narrative recreation takes as its primary source the translation published in Fredrick W. Hodge, George P. Hammond, and Agapito Rey, eds. and trans., Fray Alonso de Benavides’ Revised Memorial of 1634 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1945), especially pages 55‐59. Such a source frames the chapter and it to maintain its focus upon the religious worlds of friars and Native Americans while keeping fixed in the foreground of the analysis a constant awareness that any insights flow through the accounts and records of Spanish friars. 2 The term adelantado seldom reference a particular position by indicated the person who held the primary or highest authority of a territory or organization. The phrase used here of “One previous evening…” does not actually refer to a specific time or event. The friars apparently timed the entrance into Piro territory to coincide with the rain and initiate their association with rain‐manipulating Native American religious professionals. However, it is unknown and unnoted when such an idea was formulated or how it was implemented. Given Benavides’ repeated reference to Fray Cristobal de Salazar as educated and “a very good theologian” and his origin in the heterogeneous provinces of Nueva España, it is possible that he proposed or was aware of such indigenous religious connotations. 3 Hodge, Hammond, and Rey note that Salazar was Onate’s cousin. Benavides, 246, note 68.

360

4 Although Benavides later narrates that these events occurred in a “church,” it is unlikely that the friars would have recognized it as such at the time. Given the context of the late summer downpour, the exorcism was performed indoors in structure commandeered from the inhabitants of the Piro pueblo. It is referred to as a makeshift church, for the friars would have noted the lack of Catholic sacra to christen the space. Even had such a ritual been performed in a space with the expected degree of gravitas for a church or even the remains of a previously erected mission chapel, it would not have been recognized as a Catholic space without the sacra and associated rituals to purify and sacralize the space. The creation of colonial and Catholic space is discussed in greater detail below. 5 This statement acknowledges the possibility that the subsiding of the storm may not have occurred “to the amazement of the Indians as well as the Spaniards (Benavides, 57)” as Benavides purported. Although such timing may have conformed to Spanish Catholic criterion for potential miracles, the Pueblo who dwelt in the region for generations were possibly aware of the length of especially violent rainstorms that sometimes followed droughts in the arid climate. For other stories regarding violent rainstorms following droughts see Frank G. Applegate, Indians Stories from the Pueblos (Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott, 1929), 45‐48. If Salazar had the insight or reflexivity to consider such possibilities, no record of statements or actions based upon such doubts exist within the limited documents from the era. 6 This is the Tewa pueblo of Ohkay Owingeh. Benavides, 233, 245. 7 Again, such periods of extended drought and intense rainfall were characteristic of the region’s climate in mid to late summer throughout the late sixteenth century. 8 According to Benavides’ the expedition “went through the pueblo of Pueray, where they saw painted in a passageway the martyrdom of the blessed Father, Fray Francisco Lopez. They thought it good policy, however, not to take notice of it then so as not to excite those whom they had come to convert and pacify.” Benavides, 58. That is to say that the friars and the army were cautious about soliciting a similar death and saw wisdom in ignoring the mural and maintaining polite discourse until the army passed through their pueblo. 9 The term macana is also Benavides’ and likely refers to a stone maul, or semi‐ spherical stone attached to a wooden handle. However, the term derived from the Aztec maquahuitl, a wooden club or handle in which obsidian shards were inset. Benavides, 244. 10 The soldiers took the food that they desired from the inhabitants of Ohkay while they took their leisure among the pueblo. Although the Spanish often spoke of the willingness with which many Pueblos offered gifts of food, there are also many accounts of soldiers or friars taking what they desired certain that such goods were legally and rightfully usable for the agents of the Spanish Empire. Such perceptions and interactions are detailed below. The repast referenced here is not included in any primary source. However, the summer rainstorms of the American Southwest sometimes appear during the early afternoon and inhabitants of Nueva España enjoyed their largest meal during the middle of the day. It is possible that after a

361

long morning of interacting with the natives of the pueblo, the colleagues who shared the trail for the last year might have sat down early with each other in anticipation of a meal far more satisfying than they were accustomed to during transit. 11 The baptism of the first Pueblo of the region represented the initiation of a continued enterprise and the commencement of colonial life among Christianized Indians. Such a symbol would have been highly anticipated by settlers, soldiers and friars alike. Benavides also notes that the in the intervening years since the previous expeditions to the region, the “baptism of this kingdom [was] sought for so many years.” Benavides, 59. 12 For more on the process of adoption and the importance of incorporation into the community to effect behavioral change see below and Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, I, 6, 11, 30, 62; Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, II, 606‐656, 902, 946; Ortiz, The Tewa World, 37‐51; Brooks, 170‐171; Gutierrez, 241‐245. 13 John L. Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico (Norman: University of Oklahoma, 2008), 5 14 Ibid. 15 Hubert H. Bancroft, History of Arizona and New Mexico (San Francisco: History Company, 1889), 133‐134; Hammond, "Onate and the Founding of New Mexico," pp. 98‐99; and Edward H. Spicer, "Political Incorporation and Cultural Change in New Spain: A Study in Spanish‐Indian Relations,' in Attitudes of Colonial Powers Toward the American Indian, eds. H. Peekham and C. Gibson (Salt Lake City: University of Utah, 1969), 124. 16 Henry Warner Bowden, “Spanish Missions, Cultural Conflict and the Pueblo Revolt of 1680,” Church History, vol. 44, No. 2 (June 1975), 219. See also Edward H. Spicer, Cycles of Conquest: The Impact of Spain, Mexico and the United Slates on the Indians of the Southwest, 1533­1960 (Tucson: University of Arizona, 1962), 153‐155; Edward P. Dozier, "Rio Grande Pueblos," in E. H. Spicer, ed., Perspectives on American Indian Culture Change (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1961), 99‐136; Albert H. Schroeder, "Rio Grande Ethnohistory," in A. Ortiz, ed., New Perspectives on the Pueblos, 48. 17 Bowden, 219‐220. 18 Bowden, 220; France V. Scholes, "Church and State in New Mexico, 1610‐1680,” New Mexico Historical Review 11 ‐ 12 (January 1936 ‐ 1937); France V. Scholes "Troublous Times in New Mexico, 1659‐1670," New Mexico Historical Review 12 – 16 (April 1937 ‐ July 1941). 19 The details and even sequence of events in the early history of the Nuevo Mexico colony and Franciscan missionary activities, including the foundation of missions, are frequently absent or contradictory among the few extant documents from the era. As a result the attempt to reconstruct a basic narrative of major experiences and constrain the record into the stream of a historical narrative is a work creative synthesis. For more on the fuzziness of events and the difficulties encountered in the historical evidence of the period see Ortiz, 61. 20 Kessell, 19. These events are recorded, albeit typically with less empathy for or concerned reflection upon Native American experiences, in Coronado Expedition,

362

217‐220, 222‐223, 233‐245, 330‐336; Spanish Archives of New Mexico, Series II, Roll 1, Frame 33‐60; Roll 1, Frame 261‐276; Roll 3, Frame 1106‐1112. Especially note the testimony of Cardenas, Coronado Narratives, 352‐358. 21 Knaut, 29. 22 For more details of the pressing demands foisted upon the Pueblo and the acquisition of supplies regardless of the willingness of the Pueblos, especially during the war to subjugate the Tiguex people, see Coronado Expedition, 223‐230, 253, 330‐ 336; Herbert E. Bolton, Coronado, Knight of Pueblos and Plains (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1949); Richard Flint, ed. Great Cruelties Have Been Reported: The 1544 Investigation of the Coronado Expedition (Dallas: Southern Methodist University, 2002), 161‐188; Richard Flint and Shirley Cushing Flint, eds., Documents of the Coronado Expedition, 1539­1542 (Dallas: Southern Methodist University, 2005) 398, 675. 23 Knaut, 29. 24 Knaut, 29. 25 Coronado Expedition, 329 and 347. 26 Castaneda, Coronado Expedition, 219‐220. 27 Coronado Expedition, 22; Rediscovery, 11, 95‐99, 270‐275; George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, eds. and trans., Expedition into New Mexico Made by Antonio de Espejo, 1582­1583, As Revealed in the Journal of Diego Perez de Luxan, a Member of the Party (Los Angeles, Quivira Society, 1929), 116. 28 Benavides, 63. 29 Roberts, 75‐76. 30 Kessell, 31. 31 For more on the Franciscan perceptions of Nuevo Mexico as more than a missionary province and as an opportunity to inaugurate a utopian, theocratic enterprise see Gutierrez, 46. 32 Vecsey, 125. 33 Ibid. 34 Bowden, 219. See also France V. Scholes and Lansing B. Bloom, “Friar Personnel and Mission Chronology, 1598‐1629,“ New Mexico Historical Review 19 (October 1944), 329‐330; Frank D. Reeve, History of New Mexico (New York: Lewis Historical Publishing Company, 1961), 1: 137‐139; Lansing B. Bloom, "Fray Estevan de Perea's Relacion," New Mexico Historical Review 8 (July 1933), 221‐222. 35 Onate, vol. 1, 323; John L. Kessell, Kiva, Cross and Crown: The Pecos Indians and New Mexico, 1540­1840 (Washington, D.C.: National Park Service, U.S. Department of the Interior, 1979), 78‐79. 36 Vecsey, 125. 37 Bowden, 219. Onate, I, 30‐31; II, 701‐739, 980‐983. 38 “In 1608, King Philip III accepted the solution that New Mexico should be maintained as a missionary field at royal expense.” The Pueblo Indian Revolt of 1698 and the Franciscan Missions in New Mexico: Letters of the Missionaries and Related Documents, trans. and ed. J. Manuel Expinosa (Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1988), 9.

363

39 Onate, I, 323‐324. 40 Ibid. I, 354. 41 Ibid., I, 355. 42 Vecsey, 125‐126. 43 Onate, II, 1111; See also Onate, 608‐618, 678. 44 Onate, II, 1067‐1068. 45 Vecsey, 126‐127. 46 Bowden, 218. 47 Ibid., 221. Bowden echoes the earlier assertion of Lansing B. Bloom that “The religious motive was one of the chief factors – if not the deciding factor – which impelled the Spaniards to the course which they followed in New Mexico, at least to the end of the seventeenth century.” Lansing B. Bloom, “Spain’s Investment in New Mexico under the Hapsburgs,” The Americas, I (1944), 9‐10. 48 Kessell, 5. 49 The colony of Nuevo Mexico has been described by later historians as “an island in a sea of barbarism.” Max L. Moorhead, The Presidio: Bastion of the Spanish Borderlands (Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1975). 50 However, the manner in which the diverse migrants understood that possession surely differed. Despite the variety promulgated by individual experiences and identities, the Franciscans and soldiers disagreed upon the primary power responsible for the claim upon the land. When “the adelantado thought it fitting to take legal possession of the harbor…he gallantly waded into the water up to his waist, slashing the water with his sword and declaring: ‘I take possession of this sea and harbor in the name of the king of Spain our Lord.’” Unwilling to be upstaged our allow crown authorities to stake primary claim over the missionary territory, “the blessed Fray Juan de San Buenaventura rose when he saw this action and…holding a crucifix in his hands and robed in his habit, he waded into the water up to his waist, making the sign of the cross into the water and declaring in a loud voice: ‘Possession in the name of God, out Lord…’” Benavides 61‐62. 51 Kessell, 5. 52 Rediscovery, 87 53 Benavides, 37 54 Rediscovery, 83 55 Ortiz, 61. 56 Twitchell 1912, I: 333 57 Ortiz, 61. 58 Benavides, 62. 59 Robert H. Jackson introduced the phrase fortress convent in reference to these seventeenth century erections. It is important however to note that “in the eighteenth century following the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 the scale of construction was smaller because of decline in the size of the indigenous populations.” Jackson, 29. 60 Jackson, 29. 61 Ibid., 31.

364

62 Gutierrez, 58. 63 However, it must be noted that the erection of crosses remained the primary means by which friars lay claim to a territory and took spiritual possession of the land. “The said Padre Velasco…planted crosses everywhere, whereby he left the natives much attached to our holy Catholic faith.” Benavides, 163. 64 Benavides, 173. 65 Gutierrez, 59. 66 Ibid. 67 The 1689 inventory of the of “La Conquistadora” notes with reverence those quality goods of imported origin associated with the religious brotherhood. New Mexico Special Record Center and Archives, Special Collections, Collection 1960‐007, Fray Angelico Chavez collection of New Mexico historical document, Box 1, Folder 4. See also Archives of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe, 1678­1900, Loose Documents, Missions, 1680­1850, Archive Section 1‐A, 1694, 2; AASF 1712, 7. 68 AASF, 1696, 2. 69 First Hearing of Nicolas de Aguilar, Mexico, April 12, 1663 in Charles Wilson Hackett, Historical Documents Relating to New Mexico, Nueva Vizcaya, and Approaches Thereto, to 1773. (Carnegie Institution of Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Institution, 1937), vol. 3, 139. 70 Ibid. 71 Ross Gordon Montgomery, Watson Smith, and John Otis Brew, Franciscan Awatovi: The Excavation and Conjectural Reconstruction of a 17th­Century Spanish Mission Establishment at a Hopi Indian Town in Northeastern Arizona (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard, 1949), 191‐196 in Gutierrez, 60. 72 Gutierrez, 60. For a more in depth analysis of the practice of mapping colonial authority upon native spaces, explore Tracy Leavelle’s discussion of colonial space and conquest in Tracy Leavelle, “Geographies of Encounter: Religion and Contested Spaces in Colonial North America,” American Quarterly 56 (December 2004): 913‐ 43; Tracy Leavelle, “‘We Will Make It Our Own Place’: Agriculture and Adaptation at the Grand Ronde Reservation, 1856‐1887” in American Indian Quarterly 22 (Fall 1998): 433‐56. 73 Gutierrez, 61. 74 Taylor, 98. See also Taylor 99, 124. 75 “The intrinsic characteristic of sin lent the impetus to equate the Indian identity with evil. Indians were accordingly perceived as evil though rarely consciously. Sin was so essential to the perceived Indian identity that the distinctions between the two were easily blurred…Effectually this served to blur the distinction between the Indian and the sin by locating primeval sin within Indian heredity. Sin became embodied in Native American society and physical anatomy giving a quasi‐racial status to the antagonistic orientation.” Michael P. Guéno, “Baptism and Humanity: Native American‐Jesuit Relationships in New France,” Master’s Thesis (Tallahassee: Florida State University, 2004). 76 Taylor, 173.

365

77 Spanish men became Franciscans and allowed their previous identities to be subsumed into a more comprehensive identity as God’s missionaries to the savages. Though inspired by religious texts and traditional interpretations of their moral mandate to evangelize, the missionary identity was primarily understood inversely relative to European understanding of Indians as savage infidels. The crafting of this distinction attributes the foil of each chief virtue of the missionary identity to the understood Indian identity. Whereas missionaries were faithful, virtuous, and civilized; Indians were heretical, violent, and primitive. Historian of religion, Sudhir Kakar, noted that, in cases where identity constructions are rigid, “the self‐assertion of ‘We are,’ with its potential for confrontation with the ‘We are’ of other groups, is inherently a carrier of aggression, together with the consequent fears of persecution, and is thus always attended by a sense of risk and potential for violence.” Kakar further concluded “The psychological processes initiated by an awareness of ‘We are,’ I suggest, also provide an explanation for the experimental findings of cognitive psychologists that the mere perception of two different groups is sufficient to trigger a positive evaluation of one’s own group and a negative stereotyping of the other.” The existence of two identities or group is naturally succeeded by a devaluation or repulsion from one another. Such out groups function as a pre‐selected “reservoirs” upon which negative characteristics and perceptions may be projected (Kakar, 189). The Franciscan identity community, bolstered by religious texts and officially circumscribed from other groups by a ritual oath of inclusion, was rigidly defined. This rigidity was expressed in the definition of the Franciscan missionary identity against or in opposition to other religious groups, rather than by inclusive criteria alone. Thus, the act of constructing the missionary identity was itself an act of violence towards and alienation of Native Americans. According to Schwartz, “Violence is the very construction of the Other… [or, in other words,] acts of identity formation are themselves acts of violence (Schwartz, 5).” Sudhir Kakar, The Colors of Violence: Cultural Identities, Religion, and Conflict (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1996); Regina M. Schwartz, The Curse of Cain: The Violent Legacy of Monotheism (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1997). 78 Rediscovery, 185. 79 Benavides, 37. 80 Rediscovery, 85‐86. 81 Coronado Expeditions, 271. 82 Taylor, 173. 83 AGN – 24.65.6.190-207; 43.3.1.13; 61.89.33.2; 61.293.55.378. 84 Taylor, 173. 85 Rediscovery, 194. 86 Benavides, 69. 87 Ibid. 88 Benavides, 70. 89 Taylor, 175 90 Benavides, 68.

366

91 See the writings of Hugo de Omerick in Mexican Manuscripts, Bancroft Library; University of California, Berkeley, 113 in Taylor, 175. 92 Coronado Expedition, 238; See also Onate, I, 315, Coronado Expedition, 188. 93 Coronado Expedition, 238; SANM 1749, roll 9, frame 279. 94 SANM II, 1714, roll 4, frame 207. 95 Francisco de Cardenas y Espejo, Joachin Francisco Pacheco, Louis Torres de Mendoza, Coleccion de Documentos Ineditos relativos al Descubrimiento, Conquista y Organizacion de las antiguas posesiones Espanolas de America y Oceania (Madrid: n.p., 1871), vol. 16, 142‐187; Onate, 4‐5. 96 Taylor, 175 97 Taylor, 174. 98 Coronado Narratives, 247 99 Archivo General de Indias, (Sevilla) Mex. 2538, January 26, 1784; Mexican Manuscripts, Bancroft Library; University of California, Berkeley, 113. 100 Taylor, 175‐176. 101 Although, the formation of the missionaries’ collective identity necessitated the projection of the moral delinquencies that were antithetical to its own virtues upon the Indians, Franciscans did not exile Indians to a category of unredeemable savages or disregard them as hopelessly malevolent. Although, laziness, wickedness, idolatry and other such moral failings or sins were intrinsic to the European understanding of Indians, the friars interacted with the Pueblo in a more nuanced relationship. The sins were literally the essence of the Native American identity, as it was perceived by European missionaries, but they were also the foundation of the colony’s economy, the justification for Franciscan presence in the province, the reason that the Friars could claim to be missionaries at all, and a class of beings heir to a body of law an perhaps some natural, non‐Christian virtue. 102 Taylor, 177. For the land grants bestowed upon corporate Indian peoples, see SANM 1715, roll 6, frame 1136, 1338; SANM II, 1718, roll 5, frame 765. 103 AGN – 100.1.148.141. 104 For more on the random enslavement of Pueblo by colonists and viceroys see SANM, 1748, roll 3, frame 894; SANM II, n.d., roll 4, frame 151; SANM II, 1708, roll 4, frame 149; SANM II, 1710, roll 4, frame 217. For an example of the leniency bestowed upon murders of Indians see, the 1683 trial of Gutierrez Francisco for the death of Janos Indian. SANM 16. See also SANM II, 1715, roll 5, frame 220. 105 See for example the rights granted to Indian communities and congregations in the Decretos Pontificos. Biblioteca Nacional, Fondo Franciscano, Vol. 125, 2618. 106 Taylor, 177. 107 Knaut, 139. 108 Ibid. 109 Taylor, 87. 110 Ibid. 111 See or example the importance and privilege granted the genealogy of Fray Esteban de Perea in the 1630 Inquisition proceedings in 61.268.5.3 112 AGN – 61. Tom. 372.

367

113 Inquisitional Proceedings against Governor Penalosa as cited in France V. Scholes, Troublous Times in New Mexico, 1659­1670 (Albuquerque: Historical Society of New Mexico Publications in History, 1942), 228. 114 Knaut, 140. 115 Knaut, 140‐141. 116 Local Religion, 12. 117 The , flexibility and playful creativity exemplified in the religious encounters of such non‐clerical settlers does not mean to imply by its absence the lack of such elements within Franciscan religious practice. “Because the laity and clergy were symbiotically linked and shared the same myths, rituals, and symbols, the religious life of the laity was never distinct from or totally independent of the clergy, or vice versa.” Local Religion, 21. That is to say, that the religious lives of friars and soldiers were never as distinct or delineated as they may have been organized here for structural purposes. 118 Alarcon’s Expedition, Coronado Expedition, 133. 119 Alarcon’s Expedition, Coronado Expedition, 135. 120 Archives of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe, 1692, 4; 1694, 1; 1697, 13. AGN – 61.598.12, 61.598.14. 121 J. Manuel Espinosa noted the tension between such ecclesiastical and secular authorities and attributed such conflicts to contrary understandings of the primacy of the missionary endeavor. Ultimately the missionary task was officially noted as the cause for the Spanish colony’s existence and throughout “the century, from 1609 onwards, New Mexico became primarily a mission area.” Espinosa, Pueblo Indian Revolt, 9. 122 Benavides, 173. 123 “Much like the royal officials called upon to arbitrate disputes between secular and clerical authorities in seventeenth‐century New Mexico, twentieth‐century historians have poured over hundreds of surviving decrees, denunciations, and depositions in an effort to determine which side, church or state, spoke most truthfully in its accusations against the other.” Knaut, 55. The tendency to discuss at length the division between ecclesiastical and governmental administrators began in the vitriolic primary sources penned by incensed friars and governors as each accused the other of crimes, abuses, mismanagement and heretical behavior in an attempt to eliminate the perceived obstruction to discharge of their duty. See AASF, 1692, 4; 1694, 1; 1697, 13; 1712, 2. AGN – 61.598.12, 61.598.14. Also note the tone imprinted in the journals of Governor Vargas in SANM II, 1694, roll 2, frame 1‐440. This trend continued in early hagiographies that lauded the courageous missionaries, often framed as martyrs, and laid the onus of the colony’s failed or diminished conversion efforts at the feet of heartless or cruel military officials. France V. Scholes codified this historical rift within Southwest historiography by presenting a favorable view of Franciscans and criticizing Spanish governors’ uncivilized ineptitude. This historiographical tradition resounded through the subsequent work of Edward Dozier, John Upton Terrell, Ramon Gutierrez, Andrew Knaut and David Roberts. The antagonism between Spanish governors and friars

368

became the core of Caroll Riley’s 1999 account of New Mexico, The Katchina and the Cross: Indians and Spaniards in the Early Southwest. Only recently, in John Kessell’s 2008 revisiting of New Mexican history, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, have historians noted the historical tension but begun to recognize and incorporate the cohesion, solidarity and cooperative actions between the two factions within their crafted histories. 124 By the late eighteenth century, the anti‐Franciscan sentiment of governmental figures became more emboldened and blatant. In 1794, Franciscans alleged that Governor Don declared to Don Antonio Ruiz “these Masses which the friars of New Mexico celebrate are worth as much as those my horse might say: Do you believe that Jesus Christ descends into the hands of those priests…if these friars live in concubinage…?” AGN – Inquisicion, 1042, 1‐37. 125 Knaut, 88. 126 SANM II, 1708, roll 4, frame 122. 127 Knaut, 89‐90. 128 “The resulting clashes quickly evolved into disputes over the limitations of civil and ecclesiastic authority within the province.” Knaut, 89‐90. This should not imply however that friars and secular officials were constant enemies. The patentes of Custos Lopez Tello repeated the royal decree upon all friars in America that decried the abuse of seeking refuge among secular officials in order to avoid proper punishment from their authorized superiors. However even such documents were swift to use the opportunity to remind civil officials of the limits of their power in the internal affairs of religious. AASF, 1712, 2. 129 Onate, I, 335. 130 Kessell, 22 131 Coronado Expedition, 216. 132 Coronado Expedition, 412; Onate, I, 320. 133 Knaut, 92. See for example the competition for land grants of territories once held by the Pueblo: SANM, 746; Ralph Emerson Twitchell, The Spanish Archives of New Mexico (New York: Arno Press, 1976), 451‐483. 134 “Violence erupted between the supporters of church and state officials during the administrations of Pedro de Peralta (1610‐14) and Luis de Rosa (1638‐41).” Knaut, 92. 135 Knaut, 142 136 Benavides, 101. 137 Onate, I, 323. 138 Nueva Vizcaya was the closest inhabited province to the south of Nuevo Mexico. 139 Kessell, 33. 140 Knaut, 143 141 Viceregal Decree concerning the Contract, April 13, 1631, in France V. Scholes, “The Supply Service of the New Mexican Missions in the Seventeenth Century,” New Mexico Historical Review 10 (April 1935), 101. 142 Knaut, 144. See for example the Testimony of Petronilla de Zamora, March 25, 1631, AGN – Inquisicion, Tom. 372.

369

143 AGN – Inquisicion, Tom. 512. 144 AASF – 1717, 2. 145 Lynne B. Jorde, “Precipitation Cycles and Cultural Buffering in the Southwest,” For Theory Building in Archaeology: Essas on Faunal Remains, Aquatic Resources, Spatial Analysis, and Systemic Modeling, ed. Lewis Binford (New York: Academic, 1977), 385‐396. 146 Knaut, 61. 147 “Every month the Spaniards go out by order of the governor to all the pueblos to procure maize. The soldiers go in groups of two or three and come back with the maize for their own sustenance. The Indians part with it with much feeling and weeping and give it up of necessity rather than of their own accord, as the soldiers themselves told this witness.” Onate, II, 653. 148 Onate, II, 653. 149 See for example the abandonment of San Cristobal after the Tanos Pueblo migrated from the settlement to mingle among the northern Tiguas and Apaches. AASF – 1696, 2. 150 Knaut, 64. 151 Shared assets and cooperative exchanges ensured the existence if not the wealth of the Spanish and initiated “active competition with the native peoples [that] quickened the endless reshaping of the Pueblo world.” Kessell, 24. 152 Kessell, 53 153 Ibid. For a parallel detailing of the role of charisma, understanding and emotion appeal upon strengthening therapeutic relationship and effecting changes in mental states see Jerome D. Frank and Julia B. Frank, Persuasion and Healing: A Comparative Study of Psychotherapy, Third Edition (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 1993), 44‐50. See also Max Weber, The Sociology of Religion 154 Friars asserted the primacy of the evangelical mandate, wielding the powers of the Inquisition and threat of excommunication to ensure their limited autonomy from administrators of crown authority. “To all this the two friars replied that they would not leave the land, for they had been sent to preach the holy gospel and intended to stay even against the will of his Grace and the others, and that they were not to be subjected to physical force, under pain of excommunication.” Rediscovery, 126. 155 Such contact persisted in the forms of letters and circulated decrees that were often signed and amended before passed on to the friar of next pueblo. Few friars labored with multiple assistants. Most encountered their fellows during their frequent travels of the region and trips to Santa Fe. Interaction among friars became even more frequent after the construction of the mission convento of San Marcos in 1638. Over all of these interactions hung the pall of memory of those missionaries who had labored in the region before them. For the establishment of the convento, see Hackett, Historical Documents, vol. 3, 327‐338. 156 Benavides, 45, 100‐101. 157 Benavides, 45. 158 Ibid., 36.

370

159 Ibid., 125, 90. 160 Ibid., 95. 161 Benavides, 69. Of note is relative lack of interest in and religious duties performed for the Spanish colonist of the province. Though similarly charged with satisfying the spiritual and sacramental needs of their Catholic constituencies, such obligations did not play a dominant role in friar’s self‐conceptions or the performance of their duties, as they understood them. Indeed, There was little to no mention of the needs of Spanish colonists even in documents to the pontiff. 162 Benavides, 49. 163 Ibid., 77. 164 AASF, 1694, 3. Here the bones of a friar who died in Nuevo Mexico, Fray Juan de Jesus, are authenticated by Governor Vargas and affirmed by chaplains Alpuente, Obregon and Carbonel. 165 Benavides, 52. 166 See the reluctance for martyrdom expressed by Fray Francisco Corvera to Custos Fray Francisco de Vargas in December of 1695 in AASF, 1695, 3. 167 AASF, 1698, 1; 1683, 1; SANM, Roll 21, Miscellaneous Documents, 1 (Martin Gardesky – SRC Special Collections); SANM, Roll 21, Miscellaneous Documents, 32. 168 AASF, 1695, 2; 1697, 4; 1701, 3. 169 AGN – 24.168.2.64‐74; 61.366.41.50; 61.388.22.‐; 61.582.2.212; 61.583.3.121; 61.593F.1.261; 61.666.5.45; 61.312.57. 300‐316. 170 AGN – 61.598.8; 61.598.12. 171 AASF, 1712, 2. 172 AASF, 1692, 4. 173 AASF, 1686, 1. In 1697, Custos Fray Juan Alvarez repeated these instructions. Friars were still engaged in revealing each other’s faults to seculars. AASF, 1697, 3. 174 AASF, Loose Documents, Missions, 1680‐1850; Archive Sec 1‐A, 1710, 2 175 “Memorial to the Propaganda Fide Regarding the Request of Dominicans to Enter New Mexico, February 3, 1631,” Benavides, 132 176 “Decrees of the Sacred Congregation, 1631, Regarding Dominican Request to Enter New Mexico, and Miracles Performed Therein,” Benavides, 133 177 AASF, 1707, 1. Fray Antonio Victorino remarked to the friars of Nuevo Mexico that it was their duty to “avoid scandal” in the management “of the few goods” of which the missions had use. 178 AASF, 1701, 2. Such orders were likely also motivated by the scandalous accounts of Franciscan activities narrated by colonial governors. In 1641, Governor Rosas recorded “During the time I have been in these provinces [the Franciscans] have extracted seventy‐five two‐and‐a‐half‐ton wagons of goods, which from a land so poor amounts to more than extracting millions from Potosi.” Cited in Kessell, Kiva, Cross and Crown, 164‐165. 179 AASF, 1704, 1. 180 Fray Geronimo de Mendieta, Historia Eclesiastica Indiana (Madrid: Salvador Chavez Hayhoe, 1945), lib. 4, cap. 21, 92‐93.

371

181 Gaspar Perez de Villagra, Historia de la Nueva Mexico, trans. Gilberto Espinosa (Chicago: Rio Grande, 1962), 140; Benavides, 57‐58. 182 Historia de la Nueva Mexico, 147. 183 Ibid., 148. 184 Gutierrez, 55‐56. 185 Benavides, 76‐77, 300. 186 Gutierrez, 56‐57. 187 Fray Agustin de Vetancurt, Teatro Mexicano: Descripcion breve de los sucessos exemplars de la Nueva España en el Nuevo Mundo (Madrid, 1961), vol. 4, 174‐175. 188 Coronado Expedition, 214 189 Benavides, 70. 190 Gutierrez, 45. He is citing from Rediscovery, 77, 168. Although the interpretation and presentation remain his own. 191 However, assertions that Pueblo believed the beasts to be intelligent monsters or anything other than unusual animals, stems primarily from scholarly exoticization of Native Americans and less from historical experiences. 192 Coronado Expedition, 160. 193 Coronado Expedition, 137. 194 Gutierrez, 163. 195 Gutierrez, 163. 196 Gutierrez, 163. 197 For examples of Franciscans as soldiers in God’s army, able to wield the power able to effect prosperity in various endeavors including military conquest and defense see AGN – 61, 435, 23, 42‐45; Christian, 59‐62, 92‐93; Local Religion, 133‐ 134; Taylor, “The Virgin of Guadalupe in New Spain,” 11; Gutierrez, 85‐86, 99‐100. Concilios provinciales primero, y segundo, celebrados en la muy noble, y muy leal ciudad de Mexico presidiendo el Illmo. y Rmo. Sr. Alonso de Montúfar en los años de 1555 y 1565, 68‐69; Padden, 144; 198 The friars’ professed meteorological influence has been noted above. The missionaries observed communal rituals that gathered pueblo community members together in times of crisis or offered reconciliation with the supernatural forces that infused their world and influenced daily activities. Such ceremonies include mass and baptism, both of which set a person or community in a more harmonious relationship with those forces or that force that the friars maintained were the most influential. 199 AGN – Real Cedulas: 2, 28, 16; 1BI, 285, 484; AGN – Inquisicion, 437, 33, 559‐615. SANM II, 1697, roll 3, frame 164‐196; AASF, 1692, 4. Also note the strategic requests for Franciscan presence among the pueblos by the Pueblo in Benavides’ recollection. The friars’ habitation of a pueblo implied their efforts to maintain the purity of their mission congregation and thus an authoritative directive to ensure that the potentially violent soldiers stayed in their garrisons outside of the missions. 200 Gutierrez, 33. 201 Hill, “Hermaphrodite and Transvestite in Navaho Culture”; Tyler, Pueblo Gods and Myths, 81; PIR 566‐567, 644. Gutierrez also references the presence of bestiality,

372 fellatio and phallic clowning in twentieth century affidavits collected in the National Anthropological Archives (Gutierrez, 350). 202 Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, 428‐431; Schaafsma, 58. 203 Gutierrez, 76. 204 “Declarations of the Indians of Taos, October 30, 1638,” AGN – Inquisicion, tom. 338‐342, fol. 441‐442. Franciscan missionaries exerted their authoritative primacy and masculine superiority upon Pueblo men through other, sexually charged techniques. Fray Nicolas did not lay hand upon the genitals of Francisco Quaelone or the Native American referred to in Spanish documents as ‘El Mulato’ (due to his coloring). However, for their subversion and insubordination, the pair was buggered as emasculating, public humiliation and punishment. However, although such harsh ministrations displayed the social force wield by Franciscans, the act itself lacked the connotations of feminized submissions within Pueblo culture that the Spanish missionaries intended to convey. See also SANM, roll 8, frame 133‐145; Benavides, 36. 205 Benavides, 78. 206 Gutierrez, 57 207 Friars vehemently asserted their dominance over pueblo affairs and maintained their absolute jurisdiction over the management of missions and Native Americans. Fray Isidro Ordonez preached in 1612 “Let no one argue with vain words that I do not have the same power and authority that the Pope in Rome has…Believe that I can arrest, cast into irons, and punish as seems fit to me any person without any exception who is not obedient to the commandments of the Church and to mine.” France V. Scholes, “Church and State in New Mexico,” New Mexico Historical Review 11 (1936), 39. 208 Gutierrez, 58. 209 Biblioteca Nacional de la Anthropologia and Historia, Fondo Franciscano,: Francisco Morales and Dorothy Tank, Inventario del Fondo Franciscano del Museo de Anthropologia e Historia de Mexico, vol. 106, frame 2547; AGN – Real Cedulas (duplicados), vol. 1BI, exp. 285, foj. 484 and vol. 2, exp. 28, foj. 16. 210 Robert H. Lowie, “Oral Tradition and History,” American Anthropologist, New Series, vol. 17, no. 3. (July ‐ Sept., 1915), 183. 211 Lowie, 184. 212 Emil Pooley, 1967 Interview, Duke Oral History Project, (Marriott Library, University of Utah) Number 73. 213 Lowie, 184‐185. 214 Ibid., 185. 215 Ibid., 185. 216 Kessell, 59‐60 217 Gutierrez, 22. 218 Gutierrez, 21. 219 Dozier, 47. 220 Gutierrez, 59.

373

221 Rediscovery, 186. See also T. Motolinia, History of the Indians of New Spain (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1950) 243‐153, 275‐278. 222 Jackson, 31, 223 Gutierrez, 77 224 Benavides, 218‐219 225 Gutierrez, 77. 226 Ibid. 227 Indeed, the colonists who entered Nuevo Mexico alongside Coronado all appeared to be well‐armed soldiers. After months on the trail, the outfit arrived in pueblo territory, bearing weapons, covered in the grime of travel and with the same glint of hunger and hope in their eyes. Some of these migrants were simple craftsmen but more were like Juan de Paradinas, who was a respectable tailor by trade but also a good soldier, earning posts for his military competency. Historical Documents, I, 45‐47. Gutierrez sagaciously reflects upon the Pueblo conception of members of the Spanish colonial military as ideal warriors. “After all, the soldiers carried the forces of nature that gave warriors their power – lightning, thunder, and fire in the form of guns.” Gutierrez, 57. 228 According to Fray Antonio Margill de Jesus, the Franciscan missionary success were attributable to “the fear and respect which the Indians have for the Spaniards.” Cited in Charles R. Boxer, The Church Militant and Iberian Expansion, 1440­1770 (Baltimore, 1978), 74. See also Benavides, 23‐24. 229 Benavides, 218. 230 Onate, 459. 231 “The Spaniards…expand and add to their lands more than was given to them. They force the Indians, by evil treatment and by losses to their cattle, to abandon their lands and to leave their possessions to the Spaniards.” Benavides, 172. 232 “Declaration of Marcelo de Espinosa,” Onate, 643. 233 Gutierrez, 58. 234 George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, “The Rodriguez Expedition to New Mexico, 1581‐1582,” New Mexico Historical Review 2 (1927), 345. 235 Ibid. See also Gutierrez, 58. 236 Gill, Native American Religions, 67‐68. 237 The Pueblos’ willingness to conceptualize of Spanish soldiers and settlers in more morally complex ways is rendered evident in the divergent treatment of friars and soldiers during violent periods within the age of Pueblo Revolutions. The simple moral dichotomy of friars as good and safe and soldiers as bad and dangerous demeans the intellectual capacity of the Pueblo and ignores the complexity of their relationships during actions revolutionary resistance. 238 Kessell, 14‐15. 239 John Kessell elaborates upon a similar point. Women’s “roles were just as invisible to outsiders. Because Franciscans looking through their patriarchal lenses saw only male idolaters, for the most part influential Pueblo women, members of women’s ritual organizations, even female kachina dancers and shamans, escaped their gaze.” Kessell, 14.

374

240 Kessell, 15.

Chapter Four: Between Conversion and Revolt

1 Frederick Webb Hodge, George P. Hammond, and Agapito Rey, Fray Alonso de Benavides’ Revised Memorial of 1634: With Numerous Supplementary Documents Elaborately Annotated, Coronado Cuarto Centennial Publications, 1540‐1940, vol. 4 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1945), 74 (Hereafter cited as Benavides). Fray Benavides noted for his ecclesiastical audience that this batch of personnel and re‐provisions were supplied by the piety and financial grant of the king, “who spent on them more than 160,000 escudos for all that was necessary for the foundation of the churches of those conversions…As a result those churches are adorned and tidy, and the Indians are very friendly toward us.” (Benavides, 74) 2 Benavides, 74; Fray Estevan de Perea, “True Report of the Great Conversion Which Has Been Effected in New Mexico. Sent By Father Fray Estevan de Perea, Custodian of the Provinces of New Mexico, to the Very Reverend Father, Fray Francisco de Apodaga, Commisary General of All New Spain, of the Order of St. Francis, Giving Him an Account of Those Conversions and Treating Particularly of the Expedition Sent to Those Parts,” Benavides, 214‐215. 3 Fray Alonso de Benavides, “Memorial to , Pope Urban VIII, Our Lord, Relating to the Conversion of New Mexico Made During the Most Happy Period of His Administration of the Pontificate and Presented to His Holiness by Father Fray Alonso de Benavides, of the Order of Our Father, Saint Francis, Custodian of the Said Conversions, on February 12, 1634,” Benavides, 74‐75 4 Fray Estevan de Perea, “True Report of the Great Conversion,” Benavides, 213. 5 Ibid, 220. 6 Fray Alonso de Benavides, “Memorial,” Benavides, 74 7 Fray Estevan de Perea, “True Report of the Great Conversion,” Benavides, 213. 8 Ibid, 214‐215. 9 Fray Estevan de Perea, “True Report of the Great Conversion,” Benavides, 214‐215. A definitor was an official upon the standing committee known as the definitorio that assisted the provincial with the administration of a missionary province. In 1623 during the election of Fray Alonso de Benavides as Custodian of New Mexico, the definitors of the province included Fray Francisco de Rojas, Fray Antonio Pardo, Fray Roque de Figueredo, and Fray Luis Benitez. Fray Alonso de Votetar, “Election of Benavides as Custodian of New Mexico. Mexico, October 19, 1623,” Benavides, 108. 10 Fray Roque de Figueredo was noted to be “…a learned and serious friar, very highly thought of and esteemed in the city of Mexico.” (Benavides, 291). Elsewhere he was lauded. He possessed a great many accomplishments, the principal and most necessary of them being to minister to those Indians and instruct them in the divine cult; he was proficient in the ecclesiastical chant, harmony, and plain music as well, expert in the playing of instruments for the choir, such as the organ, bassoon, and cornet. For years he had had good practice in preaching in the Mexican and

375

Matalzingo languages. He was a clear thinker and learned easily any language, even the most difficult, … a person held in special love and respect by it, was destined and endowed by God for this conversion through suffering…” (Benavides, 214). His affirmation of the millennial vision of the Spiritual Franciscans may be inferred by the millennial overtones of his first speech made to the Zuni. 11 This tenuous inference is drawn from the curious timing of the appointment of Fray Alonso de Benavides as custodian of New Mexico and Figueredo’s commencement as a missionary in the same territory. In 1623, Fray Roque was a definitor in the plenary assembly in Mexico that elected Benavides to the custodianship of the missionary province. Six years later, Figueredo traveled to New Mexico among the territory’s missionary reinforcements lead by Perea. 12 Fray Estevan de Perea, “True Report of the Great Conversion,” Benavides, 214‐ 215. 13 Ibid, 215‐216. The parenthetical comment was within the original, cited translation and within the original text. 14 Ibid, 215‐216. 15 Fray Estevan de Perea, “True Report of the Great Conversion,” Benavides, 214‐ 215. 16 He later developed and occupied a visitas of Hawikuh at the Kechipawan mission. See Benavides, 291‐292 and Hodge, History of Hawikuh. His linguistic ability may be inferred from Benavides’ particular observation that the friars of the mission studied and learned the language in a short time, the frequent references to Fray Roque’s own linguistic proficiency, and the possibility that Roque would have desired to have understood the importance of language in the missionary field (Benavides, 75). 17 Ibid, 215‐216. 18 Benavides, 74‐75 19 Benavides, 246, 291; Hodge, History of Hawikuh, 82, 89, 125‐126 20 Onate, vol. 1, 466. 21 Benavides, 73‐74. “…they especially worship fire, which they have venerated from the beginning in an estufa with great ceremonies, feeding it so that it will always contain glowing coals amid the ashes, convinced that the world will only last as long as the fire burns. Another amazing idolatry is that of snakes…” 22 Ibid, 215 23 Ibid, 220 24 Fray Estevan de Perea, “True Report of the Great Conversion,” Benavides, 214‐ 215. He learned the languages of the peoples to whom he preached and was recognized as a natural linguist. “For years he had had good practice in preaching in the Mexican and Matalzingo languages. He was a clear thinker and learned easily any language, even the most difficult (Ibid.)” For his willingness and ability to learn the native ways of his sheltering communities note his calm and reasoned reaction to the arrival of neighboring chieftains to his chamber in the middle of the night in comparison to the frantic behavior of Father Fray Francisco de Porras. (Benavides, 218‐220)

376

25 Fray Estevan de Perea, “True Report of the Great Conversion,” Benavides, 215. Fray Roque had the experience and ability to “minister to those Indians [of Mexico] and instruct them in the divine cult… For years he had had good practice in preaching...(Ibid.)” The description provided by Benavides of the practice of eternal flame tending does not correspond with any Zuni practice among the contemporary community or archaeological record but does resemble a possible practice frequently attributed to the Pecos. For the primary description see Benavides, 72. For a more complete discussion see Curtis, North American Indian, xvii, 20‐21. Such mistakes and conflations were not uncommon in the friar’s notable memorial. However the description provided by Perea reveals a closer analytical eye and keen, early academic attention to and desire to understand Native American religious practices. “All the people of this colony cling closely to their superstitious idolatry. They have their temples with idols of stone and wood, the latter profusely painted, where no one but their priests may enter, and those only by a trap door which the temples have on the roof. They also have gods of the woods, rivers, grainfields, and of their houses, as is told of the Egyptians, and they assign to each one its particular protection…” (Benavides, 214). 26 Benavides, 215 27 Gutierrez, 65. 28 Fray Francisco de Letrado, who also was a member of Perea’s band and who had been Christianizing the Jumano, was assigned to the Zuni province, where, at Hawikuh, he was murdered by the Indians, February 22, 1632. 29 “Account of the Conversion of New Mexico Presented to the Sacred Congregation of the Propagation of the Faith by Order of His Holiness, Pope Urban VIII, Our Lord, By Father Alonso de Benavides, of the Order of Saint Francis, Minister of Those Conversions, April 2, 1634”, Benavides, 165. 30 Among those things not mentioned or explained. How did he relate to the Indians? What set him apart from the missionaries martyred about him? When Fray Martin de Arvide discussed with Fray Roque that “in a few days he would win the palm of martyrdom” could it have been Roque’s integration into his own pueblo community that provided the intelligence and foreknowledge (Benavides, 80)? When Fray Francisco de Porras took refuge with him from Indian retribution, why was Fray Roque not afraid when Native Americans entered his domicile (Benavides, 220)? A tentative answer to these questions may be advanced if one allows that he was willing to understand the subjects/objects of his missionary efforts, as he was apparently willing to understand their language. 31 For more on the occluded discourses in which hegemony has often been resisted see James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University, 1992); Sherry B. Ortner, High Religion: A Cultural and Political History of Sherpa (Princeton: Princeton University, 1989), 196‐ 197; Richter, Facing East From Indian Country, 171‐173; Hayden White, Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 1986). 32 Jean Comaroff, Body of Power, Spirit of Resistance: The Culture and History of a South African People (Chicago, University of Chicago, 1985), 261.

377

33 Bonaventure, The Journey of the Mind to God, trans. Philotheus Boehner, O.F.M., ed. Stephen F. Brown (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1993), 6‐7. 34 Scarry, The Body in Pain, 27, 53. 35 Onate, vol. 1, 354. 36 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 34 37 Perez de Villagra, Historia, 180‐182. 38 Ibid. 39 Onate, vol. 1, 354. 40 Rohn and Ferguson, Puebloan Ruins of the Southwest, 46‐47, 310‐311, 41 Rediscovery, 107 42 Coronado Narratives, 288. 43 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 35. 44 Onate, vol. 1, 431 45 Ibid. 46 Onate, vol. 1, 434 47 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 35 48 Perez de Villagra, Historia, 212 49 Ibid, 205. The orgy of violence depicted in Villagra’s second‐hand account of the events at Acoma evoked scenes of tragic catharsis found in classic epics. The events that unfolded at Acoma between early December of 1598 and January 25, 1599 captivated the poet‐knight and provided the fodder for over a third of his epic narrative of the conquest of Nuevo Mexico, Historia de la Nueva Mexico. He detailed characters and elaborated the plot, creating dialogue and fantastic scenes of inspirational glory (Kessell, 37‐38). The later depositions of the few initial survivors supported Villagra’s literary recreation. However, the intentional parallels to classical histories, the nobility articulated in Spanish sacrifices and the abandon that characterized the bloodshed elevated the history to the genre of epic literature. As Spanish veterans fell in agonizing deaths across the mesa, Villagra recounted that a wounded servant, himself a mulatto, took up the dagger of a fallen soldier and nobly attacked his Acoma foe, until “Now tripping over their own entrails; One to the other, both raging; Fell each in the others arms, dying (Perez de Villagra, Historia, 206).” The account transcended detail and accuracy to reflect, instead, the desires and expectations that laden the hearts of Spanish colonists during the events. It revealed that Spanish colonists sought to instill meaning upon the deaths of the soldiers and make sense of the violence using the familiar narratives of classic heroism. One of the Spanish survivors hoped to make sense of the revolt by tying the actions of the Pueblo to historically malcontent bloodlines by recalling the “Acomas cursing them in Nahuatl, a distant echo of the Mexican Indians who had deserted the Coronado expedition a lifetime earlier (Kessell, 35).” Villagra’s intentional parallels of classic tragedies imply that the Spanish inhabitants of the colony also expected that resolution would ensue and equilibrium would be restored after their reciprocal response to this violence ended the tragic cycle. 50 Onate, vol. 1, 354. 51 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 36.

378

52 Ibid. 53 Onate, vol. 1, 456 54 Knaut, 43 55 Onate, vol. 1, 457 56 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 36. 57 Onate, vol. 1, 458 58 Ibid. It may be noted that in this moment of supposed deference, Onate demonstrates a patronizing respect that affirms the superiority and centrality of gubernatorial rule in Nuevo Mexico. By embracing and encouraging the fear of the Pueblo, he also manifested his long‐suffering, masculine virtue that eschewed the need for the affection of rivals but engaged their emotive submission. 59 Onate, vol. 1, 458 60 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 37. 61 Ibid. 62 Perez de Villagra, Historia, 242. 63 Onate, vol. 1, 470. 64 Knaut, 45 65 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 39. Obviously, the narrative of San Pablo and his role as missionary model for the Franciscan friars played a significant role in this adoption and the subsequent prominence of the saint. 66 Flint and Flint, Documents of the Coronado Expedition, 398. 67 Onate, vol. 1, 470. 68 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 38. 69 Perez de Villagra, Historia, 242. 70 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 40. 71 Though most of these captive youths are not seen again within extant documents from the era, “Years later, Captain Villagra testified that he had accompanied sixty to seventy of these girls to Mexico City, where they were distributed among convents (Kessell, 40).” 72 Onate, vol. 1, 478. There is no evidence given of the role or reality of the participation of these Hopi within the battle at Acoma. Spanish unfamiliarity with cultural differences between the Pueblo and often of the cultural and political divisions of the pueblos imply the dubiousness of the identification of these two Native American captives as Hopi and therefore worthy of a different sentence from the Acoma prisoners. Such identification and appellation of the two Indians as Hopi likely stemmed from their notably less violent actions at Acoma and the desire for mercy or Spanish desires for living, circulating examples of Spanish reprisal even if they were selected arbitrarily from the lot. 73 Additionally, “The throng of Acoma slaves, whom the governor distributed among his men, surely strained housing at San Juan Bautista.” (Kessell, 41) The sudden surge in population density within the pueblo implies something of the poverty of conditions endured by the enslaved Acoma. The new slaves were distributed to military servicemen who were financially ill prepared and domestically ill‐suited to

379 house and provide for their new servants. Within the uncertain but certainly unpleasant conditions of their new residences, the Acoma observed rapid urban expansion, the erection of new colonial structures and reconfigurations of the colonial space of San Juan. What messages these hastily erected spaces conveyed and what new views of Native Americans and Spaniards might have arisen within the close proximity of the pueblo await future scholarship. 74 Onate, vol. 1, 478. 75 Onate, vol. 2, 615. 76 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 41‐42. 77 Ibid. 78 For the expectations that Franciscans expected of intellectually able parishioners see Taylor, Magistrates of the Sacred, 169. 79 Benavides, 69. 80 Benavides, 72. 81 Ibid, 214. 82 Kessell, 54. 83 Coronado Expedition, 184 84 Benavides, 43 85 AGN – , Caciques e Indios 58, tomo 2, folio 1‐37, (1595). 86 “In the Service of God, I Order These Temples of Idolatrous Worship Razed to the Ground”: Extirpation of Idolatry and the Search for the Sanctuario Grande of Iguaque (Colombia, 1595), trans. J. Michael Francis, Colonial Lives: Documents on Latin American History, 1550­1850, eds. Richard Boyer and Geoffrey Spurling (New York: Oxford, 2000), 39‐40. 87 Ibid, 50. 88 Vecsey, On the Padres ‘ Trail, 125. 89 Benavides, 44 90 For explications of similar alleged heresies in Nueva España and the permeation of diabolic influence within their observation, see Jacqueline Holler, “The Spiritual and Physical Ecstasies of a Sixteenth‐Century Beata: Marina de San Miguel Confesses Before the Mexican Inquisition (Mexico, 1598),” Colonial Lives: Documents on Latin American History, 1550­1850, eds. Richard Boyer and Geoffrey Spurling (New York: Oxford, 2000), 88‐91. 91 Vecsey, 132 92 Benavides, 40. 93 Ibid, 42. 94 Rediscovery, 100. Gallegos provides a more detailed description of this snake handling ceremony on the subsequent pages. 95 The possibility and frequency of such demonic realizations enflamed the Franciscans’ missionary and millennial furor. Perhaps more important to the continuation of the missions, such visitations reinforced the importance of the Nuevo Mexico missions within Christian cosmology and among other ecclesiastical projects. Such references are notably sparse from internal, intra‐missionary documents. Accounts of demonic influence more often appear in reference to and

380

correspondence promoting the need for continued or increased missionary presence within the province. See for example Benavides’ entreaty of the king “…if his Majesty will authorize us to return as settlers to undertake the salvation of the many souls enslaved by the devil in those regions…” (Benavides, 35). 96 Benavides, 35 97 Benavides, 40 98 Ibid, 42. 99 Bruce G. Trigger, The Children of Aataentsic: A History of the Huron People to 1660 (Montreal: McGill‐Queen’s University, 1987), 503 as per Michael P. Guéno, “Baptism and Humanity: Native American‐Jesuit Relationships in New France,” MA Thesis, Florida State University, 2004. 100 Benavides, 92. 101 Ibid, 93. 102 Fray Alonso de Benavides, “Tanto Que Se Saco, May 15, 1631: This Much Was Extracted From a Letter That the Reverent Father, Fray Alonso de Benavides, Former Custodian for New Mexico, Sent to the Friars of he Holy Custodia of the Conversion of Saint Paul in the Said Kingdom. Madrid, 1631,” Benavides, 140. 103 Ibid. 104 Fray Alonso de Benavides, “Letter of Benavides to the Inquisitor. Cuernavace, September 24, 1621,” Benavides, 107. 105 Tisa Wenger, We Have a Religion: The 1920s Pueblo Indian Dance Controversy and American Religious Freedom (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 2009), 24. 106 SANM II, roll 4, frame 739; roll 4, frame 1102; roll 5, frame 986. AASF – 1717, no. 2. 107 Carlos M. N. Eire, “The Concept of Popular Religion,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, 12. 108 Christian, Local Religion, 258. 109 “Nos los Inquisidores contra la heretica prauedad y apostasia en la Ciudad y Reyno de Toledo, Obispados de Auila y Segouis, de los Puertos aca, por Autoridad Apostolica,” Copilacion delas Instructiones del Officio dela sancta Inquisicion (Granada, 1537), Biblioteca Nacional Madrid, R/15114 as per Christian, 258. 110 Christian, Local Religion, 258 111 Vecsey, On the Padres’ Trail, 130. The powers of and role of the Inquisition will become more relevant and thus will be discussed within the context of the growing rift and political tension between Franciscan and colonial administrators in the following Chapter of this manuscript. 112 Knaut, Pueblo Revolt of 1680, 85. 113 “Declaration of Diego Garcia, March 14, 1632” in France V. Scholes, “The First Decade of the Inquisition in New Mexico,” New Mexico Historical Review 10 (1935), 240‐241. 114 John L. Kessell, Kiva, Cross and Crown: The Pecos Indians and New Mexico, 1540­ 1840 (Washington, D.C.: National Park Service, 1979), 173‐174. 115 AGN – HIST 25. 5. 82‐90. 116 Gutierrez, 195.

381

117 Vecsey, 130‐131. 118 Taylor, Magistrates of the Sacred, 468. 119 Enrique D. Dussel, Historia general de la iglesia en America Latina: Medio milenio de coloniaje y liberacion, 1492­1992 (Salamanca, Spain: Mundo Negro‐Esquila Misional, 1981), vol 1, 569‐570. 120 Vecsey, 129. 121 Martin Austin Nesvig, “Introduction,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, xx‐xxi; Antonio Rubial Garcia, “Icons of Devotion,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, 37‐41; Robson, Franciscans in the , 91‐92. 122 The limited extant correspondence between Franciscans in North America and throughout Nueva España indicate a high degree of awareness of the linguistic gulf that separated them from their congregations and a dialectic questioning intended to push the boundary of what was permissible to communicate in the vernacular language. See for example SANM, vol. II, roll 22, frame 14; AGN – 61.339.12.12, 61.320.1.1‐214, 61.335.18.1. Robson, Franciscans in the Middle Ages, 56. 123 Mendieta, Historia Eclesiastica Indiana, lib. 4, cap. 21, 92‐93. 124 Gutierrez, 56. 125 Ibid, 55. 126 Ibid. 127 Onate, vol. 1, 139‐140; Alfred W. Crosby, The : Biological and Cultural Consequences of 1492 (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1972), 88. 128 Gutierrez, 93, 129 Onate, vol. 2, 643‐657. 130 Gutierrez, 81‐82. Paraliturgical, in this document, is used to reference those aspects of Catholic practice that may compliment, contradict or coincide with but typically lie outside of the formal elements of ecclesiastically sanctioned liturgy. 131 Dozier, Pueblo Indians of North America, 200. 132 Enrique D. Dussel, A History of the Church in Latin America: Colonialism to Liberation, 1492­1979 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982), 64‐70; Robson, The Franciscans in the Middle Ages, 38‐39, 52. Taylor, Magistrates of the Sacred, 49‐50; AGN – 61. 308.25c.1, 61.309.4.24. See also the defense of the sanctity and divine authority of ecclesiastical rituals in AGN – 61.319.8.208‐213 and the emphasis of divine images in AGN – 61.312.57.300‐316, 61.437.33.559‐615 133 Gutierrez, 81‐82. 134 Gutierrez, 93, 135 Robson, Franciscans in the Middle Ages, 52, 58‐62. 136 SANM II 13, 143; AASF – 1717, no. 2; 1697, no 4; AGN – Inquisicion: 553.75.2, 582.2.212, 583.3.121, 598.8.‐. 137 AGN – Acervo 49 (1773), caja 127; AGN – CRS 68, exp. 3, 219r; Itinerario 3.1.3, 3.1.5; Manual breve y forma de administrar…1638 (John Carter Brown Library, Rockefeller Library, Brown University), 638 in Taylor 608 138 Gutierrez, 82. Gutierrez does not recognize the relevancy of the Franciscans emphasis of works and practice as a continuation historically primary Catholic

382

orthodoxy or as adherence and affirmation of the ideals and edicts of post‐ Tridentine Catholicism. 139 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 17. 140 Benavides, 74. See also Benavides, 66‐67, 73‐75, 136, 235. 141 Benavides, 78. 142 Ibid, 42 143 Rediscovery, 220 144 Coronado Narratives, 143. 145 Rediscovery, 226. 146 Coronado Narratives, 141 147 Benavides, 46 148 Coronado Narratives, 138. 149 Benavides, 40, 42‐44, 49‐58. Also note the conspicuous lack of attention given to native leadership within the narrative accounts of Gallegos’ Relation of the Chamuscado­Rodriguez Expedition. Clothing, manners, dance styles, diet and indigenous fauna were described in detail. The actions of the Native Americans encountered were described as collective actions performed by a group or pueblo and not directed or led by any ruling force. Rediscovery, 78‐92. 150 Benavides, 44. The figure labeled as town crier could have referred to any number of administrative/ritual assistants of the Inside Chief, a prominent religious professional or even a precursor to the later clown societies. Such an authority, if it referenced a genuine, respected position within the described pueblo community, was likely more complex, religiously contextualized and integral to the larger social structure. 151 For more on the relation between gender and authority see Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality (New York: Random House, 1990) and Raymond Williams, and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University, 1977). 152 Benavides, 44 153 Ibid. 154 AGN – 61.385.15.17, 61.388.22.‐. See also Spurling, “Under Investigation,” Colonial Lives, 125‐128. 155 “Testimony of Gines de Herrera Horta,” Onate, vol. 2, 647 156 Ibid., 644‐645. 157 Coronado Narratives, 171 in Gutierrez, 18. 158 Gutierrez, 18. 159 Benavides, 43‐44 160 Gutierrez, 18. 161 Ibid, 50‐51. 162 Ibid, 51. 163 “Fray Joseph Manuel de Equia y Leronbe to Viceroy, 1734,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp. 854, 253‐254. 164 “Testimony of Fray Francisco Zamora, 1601,” Onate, 675‐676. 165 AGN – Inquisicion, exp. 854, 253‐254. 166 Roberts, Pueblo Revolt, 232‐233; Jackson, From Savages to Subjects, 70.

383

167 Gutierrez, 50‐51. 168 Villagra, History of New Mexico, 141. 169 Geoffrey Spurling, “Under Investigation for the Abominable Sin: Damian de Morales Stands Accused of Attempting to Seduce Anton de Tierra de Congo (Charcas, 1611),” Colonial Lives: Documents on Latin American History, 1550­1850, eds. Richard Boyer and Geoffrey Spurling (New York: Oxford, 2000), 112. 170 Ibid. 171 Gutierrez, 34. 172 Castaneda in Coronado Narratives, 248. 173 “Naufrahios de Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca,” quoted in Jonathan Katz, Gay American History: Lesbians and Gay Men in the U. S. A. (New York: Crowell, 1976), 285. 174 Gutierrez, 35. 175 Sherry Ortner posits and similar cultural schemas as “preorganized schemes of action, symbolic programs for the staging and playing out of standard social interactions in a particular culture…[or] organized schemas for enacting (cultural typical) relations and situations.” Ortner continues to demonstrate that these structuring elements of a culture are more apt and able to be generalized and transferred across social and cultural boundaries. Ortner, High Religion, 60. 176 Ibid, 177. 177 James F. Brooks, Captives and Cousins: Slavery, Kinship and Community in the Southwest Borderlands (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 2002), 8‐9, 16‐19. 178 Gutierrez, 179. 179 Coronado Narratives, 177 180 Coronado Narratives, 183. It should also be noted that inverse exchanges were also occasionally a measure of masculine, paternalistic pride. Within his account of interaction with the chieftains at Quicama, Hernando de Alarcon simultaneously illuminated his own paltry gifts while describing the condescending respect that he lavished upon the Native American leader. “I embraced him and gave him a fine reception, showing him all kinds of attentions…This chieftain turned to his people and asked them to note my courtesy, that I of my own free will had come among strange people, that they could see how well I acted and with what affection I treated him. They should, therefore, acknowledge me as their lord…Then I gave him some trinkets and seeds that I carried, and also some Spanish chickens, which he accepted with the utmost pleasure…and he went away very happy.” By drawing attention to the gifts he was able to give, free from coercion, Alarcon affirmed his paternal strength and masculine honor. Coronado Narratives, 151‐152. 181 See also Rediscovery, 176‐182, 197. 182 Ortiz, Tewa World, 81‐82; Elsie Clews Parsons, The Pueblo of Jemez (New Haven: Yale University, 1925), 58; William Whitman, The Pueblo Indians of San Ildefonso (New York: Columbia University, 1947), 118. 183 Gutierrez, 178. 184 France V. Scholes, Troublous Times in New Mexico, 1659­1670 (Albuquerque: Historical Society of New Mexico, 1942), 7, 308; Historical Documents Relating to

384

New Mexico, Nueva Vizcaya, and Approaches Thereto, to 1773, ed. Charles Wilson Hackett, trans. Adolph F. A. and Fanny R. Bandelier (Washington, D.C: Carnegie Institution, 1937), vol. 3, 217, 270, 272, 334. 185 AGN – Inq. 1146, exp. 1, 33v; Hist, 578A, 1793; Rediscovery, 86. 186 Archivo General de Indias, (Sevilla) Mex. 2538, January 26, 1784; Mexican Manuscripts, Bancroft Library; University of California, Berkeley, 113. 187 SANM – 8, 995‐1020; 9: 172‐178. 188 Gutierrez, 183. 189 Ibid, 60‐61. 190 Ibid, 177. 191 Benavides, 53. 192 In order to fulfill their Christian obligation, Pueblo were expected to observe the “two fundamentals – the sacraments and respectful obedience – [which] entailed fulfilling an array of secondary obligations and displaying appropriate religious ardor (Taylor, Magistrates of the Sacred, 168).” 193 Sabine MacCormack, “Change and Continuity in Late Antiquity: the Ceremony of Adventus,” Historia 21 (1971). 721‐752. 194 AGN – Inquisicion, tomo 356. 195 France V. Scholes, “Church and State in New Mexico, 1610‐1650,” New Mexico Historical Review 11 (1936), 146, 166, 168‐169. 196 Benavides, 23, 67. See also Kessell, 62‐63; Alden C. Hayes, The Four Churches of Pecos (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1974), xii‐xiv. 197 Roberts, Pueblo Revolt, 104. 198 Gutierrez, 59. 199 France V. Scholes and Eleanor B. Adams, “Inventories of Church Furnishings in Some of the New Mexico Missions, 1672,” in Dargan Historical Essays, eds., William M. Dabney and Josiah C. Russell (Albuquerque: 1952), 34. 200 Taylor, 164‐165; Garcia, “Icons of Devotion,“ Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, 48; Eric Hinderaker, Elusive Empires: Constructing Colonialism in the Ohio Valley, 1637­ 1800 (New York: Cambridge University, 1997), 1‐3, 48‐65 201 Benavides, 53. 202 Ibid. 203 Gutierrez, 59‐60. 204 Adolph F. Bandelier, Final Report of Investigations among the Indians of the Southwestern United States, Papers of the Archaeological Institute of America – American Series (Cambridge, Mass: Archaeological Institute of America, 1890), vol. 1, citing Real Cedula Dirigida al Padre Costodio Estevan Perea [MS], 1620). It must be noted that the actual year of royal decree has been lost to time and the destruction of the administrative records of colonial New Mexico that surrounded the Pueblo Revolt of 1680. For alternate dates and more on the difficulty of dating events in colonial history see Elsie C. Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1939), vol. 1, 147; Charles Wilson Hackett and C. C. Shelby, Revolt of the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico and Otermin’s Attempted Reconquest,

385

1680­1682, Coronado Historical Series, (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1942). 205 Ortiz, 61‐62 206 Elsie C. Parsons, The Social Organization of the Tewa, The Memoirs of the American Anthropological Association, No. 36 (Menascha, Wisc.: American Anthropological Association, 1929), 102. See also Edward P. Dozier, “The Pueblos of the South‐,” Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 90 (London: Royal Anthropological Institute, 1960), 146‐160. 207 Ortiz, 157, n. 6. 208 Ortiz, 158. 209 Ibid. 210 Gutierrez, 81. 211 Ortiz, 155, n. 2. 212 Ibid. 213 Gutierrez, 81. 214 Ortiz, 155, n. 3. 215 Ibid. 216 Ibid. 217 Gutierrez, 81. 218 Ibid. 219 Benavides, 36 220 For more on the dynamic relationship between resistance, violence and masculinity in American religious history, see Elliott J. Gorn The Manly Art: Bare­ Knuckle Prizefighting in America (Ithaca, NY: Cornell, 1986) and Amy L. Koehlinger (2008, November), “‘The Continually Wounded Heart of Christ’: Religion and Violence in American Catholic Boxing.” Paper presented at American Academy of Religion, Chicago, Illinois. 221 Gutierrez, 76. 222 AASF – 1695, no. 11; 1727, no. 12. 223 Hays‐Gilpin, “Icons and Ethnicity,” 74. 224 Ortiz, 9. 225 Henry Warner Bowden, “Spanish Missions, Cultural Conflict and the Pueblo Revolt of 1680,” Church History, vol. 44, no. 2. (June, 1975), 225. 226 “On the Indian parishioners’ side, the responsibilities were little changed from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries: fist, to fulfill the Easter duty, attend mass on Sundays and other holy days, and seal birth with baptism, family with marriage, and impending death with extreme unction; and second, to observe a ‘reverential fear’ of the cura – to respect and hear him and ideally to love him… (Taylor, Magistrates of the Sacred, 168)” 227 Dozier, Pueblo Indians of North America, 151, 200. 228 Bowden, “Spanish Missions, Cultural Conflict and the Pueblo Revolt of 1680,” 225. 229 Ibid.

386

230 Michael Robson, The Franciscans in the Middle Ages (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2006), 96‐97. 231 Robson, Franciscans in the Middle Ages, 50‐53. For the clerical utilization of the doctrines of judgment, condemnation and suffering in hell to spur Native American conversion see Christopher Vecsey, The Paths of Kateri’s Kin (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 1997), 15‐17; Gregory Evans Dowd, A Spirited Resistance: The North American Indian Struggle for Unity, 1745­1815 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 1992), 33. 232 Bowden, “Spanish Missions, Cultural Conflict and the Pueblo Revolt of 1680,” 225. 233 Gutierrez, 179. 234 Ibid. 235 The movements of the public ceremonies may well have been invested with a veiled subtext of non‐Catholic religious meaning. 236 Francisco A. Lomeli, Victor A. Sorell, and Genaro M. Padilla, Nuevomexicano Cultural Legacy: Forms, Agencies, and Discourse (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2002), 4‐7; Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality, 133‐140. 237 Coronado Narratives, 152. 238 For similar fusions and contextualizations of honor, emotion, and ethical practice, see Lila Abu‐Lughod, Veiled Sentiments: Honor and Poetry in a Bedouin Society (Berkeley: University of California, 1999) and Ortner, High Religion, 198. 239 Gutierrez, 207‐208. 240 For the appropriateness of displays of shame and violence in response to impugned honor or emasculation among a contemporaneous Spanish colonial society, see David Tavarez, “Autonomy, Honor, and the Ancestors: Native Local Religion in Seventeenth‐Century Oaxaca,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, ed. Martin Austin Nesvig (Albuquerque, University of New Mexico, 2006), 132‐136; AGN – 31.1.3.1‐3. 241 Catherine Bell, Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions (New York: Oxford, 2009), 138‐145, 153, 173‐175; Roy A. Rappaport, Ecology, Meaning, and Religion (Richmond, CA: North Atlantic, 1979). 242 Helene Basu, “Hierarchy and Emotion,” Embodying Charisma: Modernity, Locality, and the Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults (New York: Routledge, 1998)122‐126, 132‐136; Abu‐Lughod, Veiled Sentiments, 95‐99. 243 Gutierrez, 211. 244 SANM, roll 15, 617. 245 Gutierrez, 211. 246 Lyman Johnson and Sonya Lipsett‐Rivera, eds., The Faces of Honor: Sex, Shame, and Violence in Colonial Latin America (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1998), 23. 247 Gutierrez, 61. 248 Gutierrez, 83.

387

249 Vine Deloria, God is Red: A Native View of Religion (Golden, Colorado: Fulcrum Publishing, 2003), 65‐66; Peter Nabokov, A Forest of Time: American Indian Ways of History (New York: Cambridge University, 2002), 38‐47. 250 For a more complete description and more detailed examples, see the original works of seventeenth century Spanish playwright Pedro Calderon de la Barca in Pedro Calderon de la Barca, Auto Sacramentales (Editorial Ebro, 1949). 251 Gutierrez, 83. 252 Onate, vol. 1, 309‐310. 253 Gutierrez, 61. For more on the implantation of Catholicism into the landscape by correlating locations with the names of Saints see Fray Angelico Chavez, “Saint’s Names in New Mexico Geography,” El Palacio 56 (1946), 323‐335. 254 For further examples of such naming schemes, see Fray Angelico Chavez, “New Mexico Religious Place‐Names Other than Those of Saints,” El Palacio 57 (1950), 23‐ 26. 255 Gutierrez, 84. 256 Arthur L. Campa, Spanish Religious Folktheatre in the Southwest, (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1943), vol. 2, 8. See also Arthur L. Campa, Spanish Folk­ Poetry in New Mexico, (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1946). 257 Gutierrez, 85. 258 Ibid. 259 The War Twins of the Pueblo controlled lightning and thunders and were often depicted as comets. They were ideal warriors. The Catholic narrative of Jesus included the announcement of his birth by a star and displays of climatological prowess by quieting storms. Colonists in Nuevo Mexico attributed Jesus the authority to direct Spanish soldiers and leadership of the Spanish war host and celestial hosts of angels. According to the Franciscan didactic theology, Jesus was expected to lead the activities and dispensation of punitive consequences on the Day of Final Judgment. Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, 181, 213, 251, 966; Matthew 2:2; 8:26 (NRSV) ‐ The New Oxford Annotated , Third Edition, ed. Michael D. Coogan (New York: Oxford University, 2001); Bonaventure, Journey of the Mind to God, 14‐ 15; “Casteneda’s History of the Expedition,” Coronado Narratives, 208‐209; Robson, Franciscans in the Middle Ages, 88‐91 260 Hamilton A. Tyler, Pueblo Gods and Myths (Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma, 1964) 213; Matthew W. Stirling, Origin Myth of Acoma and Other Records (Washington, D.C.: U. S. Bureau of Ethnology, 1942), 97. 261 Leslie A. White, The Acoma Indians (Washington, D.C.: U. S. Bureau of Ethnology, 1932, 45‐46. 262 Dozier, 69. See also Wendell C. Bennett and Robert M. Zingg, The Tarahumara, University of Chicago Publications in Anthropology (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1935), 297‐303. 263 The clowns are alternately called Chapio, Khapio, and/or Tsabiyo (Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, vol. 2, 1005, note 1).

388

264 Dozier, 69. Dozier continues and clarifies “The masks do, however, resemble the Chapaiyeka masks of the Mayo‐Yaqui ceremonies and other masked clowns associated with festivals a Easter time in many towns and villages in Mexico.” 265 This hybridity is demonstrated within the storage of religious artfacts among contemporary Pueblos “This is also the reason why the Indians still keep the dance costumes for such Spanish dance dramas as ‘Los Matachines,’ ‘Los Moros y los Cristianos,’ and ‘Las Posadas’ in their kivas alongside their katsina masks and outfits.” (Gutierrez, 165) 266 See Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, vol. 2, 852. 267 Dozier, 69. 268 Parsons, Pueblo Indian Religion, vol. 2, 1005‐1007. However, Dozier affirms Parsons’ assumption because he notes, “it fits the Pueblos’ passionate desire to deflect attention away from their own rich mythology and ceremonialism.” However, such a declaration implies duplicity in historical Pueblo religion and possibly ignorance among its contemporary observers. Perhaps more troubling is the underlying assumption of Dozier’s analysis that contemporary performances of Pueblo religion are not reflective of Pueblo mythology and rituals. He does note in connection to his excellent explication of pueblo dance that those “connected with Montezuma are, unlike Katsina ceremonies…open to public observation. They appear to be well integrated into Rio Grande Pueblo ceremonialism and, hence, were likely introduced during the early years of contact.” (Dozier, 69). 269 Fray Angelico Chavez, “Pohe‐yemo’s Representative and the Pueblo Revolt of 1680,” New Mexico Historical Review 42 (1967), 86. 270 Gutierrez, 93. 271 Garcia Antonio Rubial Garcia, “Icons of Devotion: The Appropriation and Use of Saints in New Spain,” ed. and trans. Martin Austin Nesvig, Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, (Albuquerque, University of New Mexico, 2006), 44. 272 Vecsey, 132. 273 Garcia, “Icons of Devotion,” 45‐47. 274 Ortiz, 156. 275 Benavides, 74 276 Benavides, 99‐100. 277 William Christian, Jr., “Catholicisms,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, 260. 278 Gutierrez, 62. 279 John Bossy, “The Mass as a Social Institution, 1200‐1700,” Past and Present 100 (1983), 33‐34; 280 Gutierrez, 62. For Gutierrez, this rite reenacted a mythic murder and sacrifice that stabilized inter‐communal relationships and repressed passions. “Together with the priest they prayed for a successful sacrifice: a sacrifice that represented the discord of mutual murder, its preclusion, and the peace that ritual murder made possible.” For more on the theory of ritual sacrifice to absolve social tensions and vent social pressures see Rene Girard, trans. Patrick Gregory, Violence and the Sacred (Baltimore, Johns Hopkins, 1972). 281 Durkheim, Elementary Forms of Religious Life, 385‐387; Embodying Charisma, 38.

389

282 Benavides, 83. 283 Ibid. 284 Edward P. Dozier in Edward H. Spicer, “Spanish‐Indian Acculturation in the Southwest,” with comments by Florence Hawley Ellis and Edward P. Dozier, American Anthropologist 56 (1954), 681. 285 Declaration of Pedro de la Cruz, September 14, 1632 as quoted in France V. Scholes, “The First Decade of the Inquisition in New Mexico,” New Mexico Historical Review 10 (1935), 240‐241. For a more detailed exploration of the social context of the observations of Pedro de la Cruz reference France V. Scholes, “Civil Government and Society in New Mexico in the Seventeenth Century,” New Mexico Historical Review 10 (1935), 71‐111. 286 Ortiz, 147 287 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 14. 288 Vecsey, On the Padres’ Trail, 180. 289 Spicer, Cycles of Conquest, 507. See also Edward H. Spicer, Perspectives in American Indian Cultural Change (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1972). 290 Vecsey, 181; Spicer, Cycles of Conquest, 508. 291 Benavides, 99. 292 Dozier, Pueblo Indians of North America, 68‐70. 293 Knaut, 54. 294 Gutierrez, 80. See also Hinderaker, Elusive Empires, 65 for a more thorough analysis of the implication of colonial goods imposed and interjected within Native American Religious worlds. 295 For the connection between affective motivation and cosmological reorientation see Helene Basu, “Hierarchy and Emotion,” 132‐133, 153‐155; Jurgen Wasim Frembgen, “The Majzub Mama Ji Sarkar: ‘A friend of God moves from one house to another’,” Embodying Charisma, 153‐156. 296 Vecsey, On the Padres’ Trail, 131. 297 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 53. 298 Benavides, 70. 299 Knaut, 73. 300 Benavides, 176. 301 Ibid, 66. 302 Gutierrez, 56. 303 Benavides, 68. 304 Ibid, 66. 305 Ibid, 72. 306 Knaut, 73‐74. 307 Knaut, 77. 308 Ibid. 309 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniard,s and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 64.

390

Chapter Five: Beneath the Bloodshed

1 ”Declaration of the Indian Juan, December 18, 1681,”Revolt of the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico and Otermin’s attempted Reconquest, 1680­1682,” ed. Charles Wilson Hackett, trans. Charmion C. Shelby (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1942), vol. 2, 246 (Hereafter, cited as Revolt and Reconquest) 2 Ralph Emerson Twitchell, “Answer presented by the lieutenant‐general, Alonzo Garcia in his own behalf,” The Spanish Archives of New Mexico (New York: Arno, 1976), vol. 1, 25 3 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 20. 4 “Answer presented by the lieutenant‐general, Alonzo Garcia in his own behalf,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 26 5 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 15 6 Ibid, 25 7 Ibid, 15, 25. The bodies were of “the Sargento Mayor, Andres de Peralta, alcalde and war‐captain of said pueblo; Alferez Estevan Barcea, Nicolas Lopez, Jose de Guadarrama and his wife (Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 25).” 8 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 15 9 Ibid, 16 10 Ibid, 16 11 Ibid, 25 12 Ibid, 18 13 Ibid, 18 14 Ibid, 18 15 Ibid, 19 and “Petition of Fray Salvador de San Antonio to Governor Vargas, Santa Fe, March 20, 1694,” The Pueblo Indian Revolt of 1696 and the Franciscan Missions in New Mexico: Letters of the Missionaries and Related Documents, trans. and ed., J. Manuel Espinosa (Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1991), 76, 78. (Hereafter cited as Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions). 16 Auto and Declaration of Maestre de Campo Francisco Gomez, Santa Fe, August 13, 1680 quoted in Charles Wilson Hackett, Revolt of the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico and Otermin’s Attempted Reconquest, 1680­1682, trans. Charmion C. Shelby, Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1949. 17 Most notably Ramon Gutierrez linked religion and the explosive emotion behind the revolution’s violence. However, he shied away from any claim that religion could have motivated such actions, preferring to attribute the root to sexuality and the negotiation of power and the importance of traditional authority hierarchies. While this is not incorrect, religion is not as neatly segregated from these other categories as he implies. This perspective aligns with the summary of Catherine Lutz as summarized and presented by E. Hardman, “Emotions are assumed here to be the primary source of human motivations. If emotions are simultaneously viewed as cultural concepts, they become important as statements about, and motivations for the enactment of cultural values…[and thus] a critical nexus for understanding the individual’s creation of and participation in, social

391

institutions.” Charlotte E. Hardman, “Emotions and Ancestors: Understanding Experiences of Lohorung Rai in Nepal,” ed. John Corrigan, Religion and Emotion: Approaches and Interpretations (New York: Oxford University, 2004), 339‐340. 18 It should be noted here that such a division between religious and secular would have been erroneous to fifteenth or sixteenth century Pueblo. The mundane world and its activities interpenetrated the sacred realms and the lives of the katsinas that dwelt there. 19 David J. Weber, The Spanish Frontier in North America (New Haven: Yale University, 1992), 119. 20 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 119. Weber provided the example that the “Pueblo at Taos served their padre corn tortillas laced with urine and mice meat.” 21 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 118 22 Gutierrez, 113 23 Ibid. The number of pueblos within New Mexico remained stable for approximately the following 40 years. 24 “Petition of Fray Juan de Prada, September 26, 1638,” Historical Documents Relating to New Mexico, Nueva Vizcaya, and Approaches Thereto, 1773, ed. and trans. Charles W. Hackett, (Washington, D.C: Carnegie Institute, 1937), vol. 3, 108 (Hereafter cited as Historical Documents). 25 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 118. 26 Gutierrez, 113 27 Ibid. 28 Weber, Spanish Frontier 113. 29 Roberts, Pueblo Revolt, 26. 30 Gutierrez, 114 31 Ibid. 32 Ibid. 33 Scholes, Church and State, 94‐95. 34 Gutierrez, 114; Scholes, Church and State, 95. 35 Scholes, Troublous Times, 11‐12 36 Scholes, Church and State 242‐248 37 Ibid., 94‐95. 38 Gutierrez, 114. 39 Ibid. 40 “Santa Fe Cabildo to Viceroy, February 14, 1639,” Historical Documents, 71 41 Gutierrez, 114 42 “Santa Fe Cabildo to Viceroy, February 14, 1639,” Historical Documents, 71 43 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 115 44 Ibid, 45 “Viceroy Antonio de Mendoza to the king, Jacona, April 17, 1540,” Coronado Expedition, 161. 46 Osvaldo F. Pardo, The Origins of Mexican Catholicism: Nahua Rituals and Christian Sacraments in Sixteenth­Century Mexico (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 2006);

392

William B. Taylor, “Between Nativitas and Mexico City: An Eighteenth‐Century Pastor’s Local Religion,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, 91‐118. 47 Knaut, 90. The least prominent of these administrative bodies in Nuevo Mexico and among the subsequent scholarship was arguably the Santa Cruzada. As a representative of the tribunal of the Santa Cruzada, after it was “established in New Mexico in 1633, the chosen Franciscan could also investigate improprieties in the sale of indulgences in the name of the church.” (Ibid) 48 Benavides, 69. 49 Taylor, Magistrates of the Sacred, 169‐171; Colonial Lives, 36 n1, 176 n18; Christian, Local Religion, 25, 154. 50 Knaut, 90. 51 Colonial Lives, 78. 52 Kessell, Kiva, Cross and Crown, 214. Bernal’s alienation could also have been the result of the colonists’ disrespect and general dislike of him. He often relied upon the advise of and used recourse to his superiors in Nueva España to deal with the obstacles of his missionary experience. After complaining about the lack of respect from the colonists and requesting advice on his current quandary, the “response from the Holy Office stung: no local agent had authority to arrest anyone without specific orders from Mexico City. Moreover, the colonists disrespect for New Mexico’s Franciscans was no concern of the Inquisition.” (Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 107) 53 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 107 54 Fray Angelico Chavez, Origins of New Mexico Families: A Genealogy of the Spanish Colonial Period, (Santa Fe: Museum of New Mexico, 1992), 58. 55 Gutierrez, 115; “Santa Fe Cabildo to Viceroy, February 14, 1639,” Historical Documents, 71; “Opinion of Santa Fe Cabildo, February 14, 1639,” Historical Documents, 60‐68 56 Gutierrez, 115 57 France V. Scholes, Church and State in New Mexico, 1610­1650 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1937), 328 58 Letter of Fray Juan de Salas to Francisca Provincial, September 29, 1643 in Scholes, Church and State, 94. 59 Gutierrez, 115; Opinion of Santa Fe Cabildo, February 14, 1639, Historical Documents, 62 60 Opinion of Santa Fe Cabildo, February 14, 1639, Historical Documents, 67 61 Ibid. 62 Neither Franciscans nor governors were abject villains. If there was some truth to the charges advanced by the cabildo and colonial governors against the Franciscan friars, it was also true that, “Governor Rosas and his supporters were hardly the innocent lambs they wanted the viceroy to think they were.” (Kessell, 68) Gutierrez avers, “The Franciscans’ pleas to the viceroy asking that Governor Rosas be censured for impinging on their legal rights were well founded. Rosas had violated ecclesiastical immunities by arresting Pecos’s minister.” (Gutierrez, 116) Governor Rosas willingly violated ecclesiastical privileges by investigating Pueblo allegations

393

against Fray Nicolas Hidalgo while he was at Taos. However, the governor’s inquiry was instigated by the desperate appeals of the Native American population. Though he surely had personal and professional motivations, had he ignored the possible abuses, he would not be cast in any better light. Despite the impossibility of fully excavating the true motivations and self‐understandings of the governor or the friars, it is less reactionary and more reasonable to recognized in both parties the potential for selfish motivations in combination with humanitarian concern and heartfelt conviction, perhaps uncertain, that their own actions were ethical and just. 63 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 68. 64 “Letter of Fray Juan de Salas to Franciscan Provincial, September 29, 1643,” Scholes, Church and State, 94 65 Scholes, Church and State, 306. 66 Gutierrez, 115‐116 67 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 68. 68 Gutierrez, 116 69 Scholes, Church and State, 323. 70 Ibid. 71 Gutierrez, 116 72 Traditionally, leadership and authority among the Pueblo had been justified and contextualized by and inseparable from religion and religious power. Thus justification to replace the religious leadership of the friars simultaneously and inextricably motivated the desire to replace the military and non‐ecclesiastical leadership that dominated Pueblo communities. 73 Gutierrez, 113 74 Scholes, Church and State, 337‐347. 75 Ibid. 76 Scholes, Church and State, 85. 77 Gutierrez, 117 78 Within pre‐Catholic Pueblo cosmologies, corn was the medium between Pueblo daily life and the controlling forces of the cosmos. It connected the fields of the community to the clouds of the katsinas. It was generated by the fusion of the masculine rain with the feminine soil (Gutierrez, 29). It was produced at the benignity of the various, influencing supernatural beings and, as a staple product maintained the lives and health of the community. The crop itself was a gift from the Sun through the Corn Mothers to Mankind and its cultivation a daily expression of gratitude to the gifting powers. Through an association with these relationships that was strengthened by his contention with the Franciscan friars and burial in a cornfield, the governor became an emblem of encouragement that reinforced Pueblo commitments to the restoration of pre‐Franciscan religiosity. 79 Gutierrez, 117 80 Ibid. 81 Forbes, Apache, Navajo, and Spaniard, 232. 82 Gutierrez, 118‐119. The missionaries distance themselves from Spanish settlers geographically and emotionally. During the standoff with Rosas, nearly half of the

394 colonial population of Spanish Catholics was abandoned to life without sacramental intervention. The Franciscans that entered Nuevo Mexico quickly disbursed throughout the colony, tended to Indians congregations. The friars carried on correspondence that detailed their consuming commitment to the conversion and inculcation of Christianity among the Pueblo. However, little documentation references or evidences their sacramental availability to the Spanish settlers who were often left without regular access to clerical mediation of divine grace. 83 AGN – Inquisicion, vol. 587, exp 1, f 281; AGN – Inquisicion, vol. 593f, exp 1, f 261. 84 Gutierrez, 119 85 “Testimony of Fray Joseph de Espeleta, March 2, 1660,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp. 587, f 1‐3 86 Ibid; Scholes, Troublous Times, 22. 87 “Testimony of Fray Juan Ramirez, May 14, 1660,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp. 587, f 10; “Testimony of Fray Joseph de Espeleta, March 2, 1660,” exp. 587, f 2; 88 Gutierrez, 119 89 “Declaration of Fray Nicolas de Chavez, September 18, 1660,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp 587, f 37. 90 “Declaration of Fray Nicolas de Freitas, January 24, 1661,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp 587, f 84. 91 “Fray Miguel de Sacristan, June 16, 1660,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp 587, f 22. 92 “Declaration of Diego Trujillo, September 22, 1661,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp 593, 56. 93 Gutierrez, 120. 94 “Declaration of Fray Nicolas de Freitas, January 24, 1661,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp 587, f 84. 95 Benavides, 51; “Santa Fe, Bernalillo. Declaration of Friars on Impending Revolt in the Pueblos,” AASF, 1695, No 9. 96 Gutierrez, 120 97 “Letter of Fray Salvador Guerra, November 20, 1660,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp 587, f 106. 98 Gutierrez, 121 99 “Mendizabal Reply to Charges, June 1663,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp 573, f 238. 100 “Letter of Fray Salvador Guerra, November 20, 1660,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp 587, f 106; “Fray Alonso de Posadas, 1661,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp 587, f 162. For a description of one variation of such dances, explore “Testimony of Nicolas de Freitas, January 21, 1661,” Historical Documents, vol 3, 157. 101 “Mendizabal Reply to Charges, June 1663,” AGN – Inquisicion, exp 573, f 230. 102 Gutierrez, 117 103 “Petition of Fray Juan de Prada, 1638,” Historical Documents, 106‐114. 104 Gutierrez, 117. 105 Jack D. Forbes, Apache, Navajo, and Spaniard (Norman, Ok: University of Oklahoma, 1960), 139‐140. 106 Ibid. The Spanish colonial region of Nueva Vizcaya incorporated modern day Chihuahua and Durango.

395

107 Gutierrez, 118 108 “Declaration of Diego Lopez, December 22, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, 299. 109 “Declaration of Juan Dominguez de Mendoza, December 20 1681, Revolt and Reconquest, 266. 110 Ibid. 111 “Declaration of Pedro Naranjo, December 19, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, 245‐ 246. 112 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 113; Scholes, Troublous Times, 11‐12. 113 “Hearing of May 11, 1663,” Historical Documents, vol. 3, 141. 114 Louis J. Luzbetak, “If Junipero Serra Were Alive: Missiological‐Anthropological Theory Today,” The Americas 41 (April 1985), 514; Francis F. Guest, “An Inquiry into the Role of the Discipline in the California Mission Life,” SCQ (Spring 1979), 1‐68. 115 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 113. 116 Ibid. Of course, Weber exposited, the soldiers continued to “administer corporal punishment to natives who failed to live up to the canons of their newly adopted faith or who continued religious practices that Spaniards found loathsome.” 117 That is to say that by reuniting the dialectical authorities of the region and solidifying Spanish social cohesion and identity, the Pueblo fused the diminished respect for and separate offenses of each faction. This act of unification created a sympathetic resonance in Pueblo cultural memory with earlier historical episodes and recognized injustices committed by groups of Spanish people or foreign invaders that were undifferentiated and homogenized within Native American perceptions. 118 Revolt and Reconquest, 299‐300. 119 Knaut, 166. 120 See for example Knaut, 166; Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 106; Scholes, Church and State, 58 121 Revolt and Reconquest, 299‐300 122 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 106 123 “Declaration of Diego Lopez Samrano, December 22, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 300. 124 Ibid. 125 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 105‐106 126 “Declaration of Diego Lopez Samrano, December 22, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 300. 127 Ibid. 128 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 106 129 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 17 130 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 106 131 “Declaration of Diego Lopez Samrano, December 22, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 300. 132 Kessell, Kiva, Cross and Crown, 216 133 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 108‐109

396

134 James E. Ivey, “‘The Greatest Misfortune of All’: Famine in the Province of New Mexico, 1667‐1672,” Journal of the Southwest 36 (Spring 1994), 96 note 20; Kessell, Kiva, Cross and Crown, 216 note 67 135 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 109 136 Fray Augustin de Vetancurt, Teatro Mexicano: Descripcion breve de los sucesos ejemplares de la Nueva Expana en el Nuevo Mundo (Madrid: n.p., 1961). 137 Hamilton A. Tyler, Pueblo Animals and Myths (Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma, 1975); John Witthoft, “The American Indian as hunter,” Pennsylvania Game News, vol. 24, no. 2, 3, 4. 138 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 109 139 “Petition of Fray Francisco de Ayeta, Mexico, May 10, 1679,” Historical Documents, vol. 3, 302. 140 Knaut, 159. 141 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 109 142 “The Valverde Inspection, Horta Testimony, July 30, 1601,” Onate Expedition, vol. 2, 656. 143 Benavides, 41. 144 The dating of the origin of a Pueblo identity is uncertain and contentious at best. Although Adams, Gutierrez, Knaut, Kessell and Adams recognize the concentration and invigoration of a cross‐communal Pueblo identity in the later revolt of 1680, most are hesitant to explicitly posit its origin within the climactic event. Todd Lee Howell recognizes that cross clan and village identity was continued to consolidate after the 1680 rebellion and continued during later centuries as a result of U.S. encroachment on the region. Todd Lee Howell, Leadership at the Ancestral Zuni Village of Hawikku, PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, Arizona State University (2000), 22. The Pueblo, then, participated in a long process of identity formation and reformation that contained waxing and waning levels of cross communal solidarity and incorporated various degree of opposition situation relative to the colonial powers in the region. 145 Ware, “Descent Group and Sodality: Alternative Pueblo Social Histories,” Traditions, Transitions, and Technologies: Themes in Southwest Archaeology, Sarah Schlanger, ed. (Boulder: University Press of Colorado, 2002), 73. 146 Knaut, 164. 147 Given the racial hybridization and prior history of cultural exchange, any division between Pueblo and Spanish was more of a social construction than historical reality. This division has been perpetuated by historical accounts of the era that employ such appellation to facilitate clarity and simplicity in their narratives. Moreover, the continued use of such labels in scholarly dialogue serves as a means to respect the achievements and honor the sacrifices of the ancestors of contemporary Pueblo descendents. 148 For a similar Apache‐Pueblo identification, examine the Jemez‐Navajo relationship between 1670 and 1700. “As a result of this contact a close relationship developed between them and the Indians who had been resettled in the Jemez congregaciones. The Navajo assisted the Jemez Indians during the Pueblo Revolt,

397

and together they formed one of the last strongholds of resistance during the reconquest (Gutierrez, 147).” 149 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 109 150 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 21 151 E. Charles Adams, The Origin and Development of the Pueblo Katsina Cult (Tucson, University of Arizona, 1991), 157‐158 152 “Declaration of Luis de Quintana and Diego Lopez, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 289‐290. 153 Ibid, 300. 154 Gutierrez, 131 155 “Declaration of Diego Lopez, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol 2, 301. 156 “Declaration of Luis de Quintana and Diego Lopez, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 289‐290. 157 Knaut, 164. 158 Ibid. 159 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 134. 160 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 106. 161 Ibid, 107. Kessell continues and notes “At the same time, downriver at Santa Ana, a robust and promising Keresan lad whom the friars had baptized Bartolome de Ojeda learned to speak, read, and write Spanish while training as a war captain. These two, along with other elders‐in‐the‐making, kept alive the memory of Esteban Clemente’s sacrifice. And they waited.” 162 Gutierrez, 131 163 “Declaration of Pedro Naranjo of the Queres Nation, December 19, 1681, Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 246. 164 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 134. 165 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 17‐20. 166 “Declaration of Diego Lopez Samrano, December 22, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 300. 167 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 134. 168 Dozier, Pueblo Indians of North America, 56; David R. Wilcox, “Changing Perspectives on the Protohistoric Puelos, A.D. 1450‐1700,” Protohistoric Period in the North American Southwest, 382‐385. 169 “Declaration of Pedro Naranjo of the Queres Nation, December 19, 1681, Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 246. 170 Knaut, 170. 171 Scholes, Troublous Times, 153; Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards and the Kingdom on New Mexico, 117 172 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 135. 173 “Opinion of Cabildo, September 14, 1680,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 1, 120 174 Gutierrez, 133. 175 “Otermin Autos, October 9, 1680,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol 1, 194‐195; SANM II, roll 1, frame 802‐811.

398

176 “Auto for Passing Muster, Reviewing Arms and Horses and Other Things, La Salineta, September 29 and October 2, 1680,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol 1, 134‐153, 156‐159. However, Knaut notes, “it is likely that Otermin’s figure of 401 settlers killed in the Pueblo uprising was incorrect. In the La Salineta muster, only 53 persons listed specifically as members of Hispanic families were declared dead or missing along with 95 casualties made up of an unspecified mix of Hispanic dependents and Indian servants…it is likely that more Hispanics survived to partake in the La Salineta muster than either Otermin or later historians calculate.” (Knaut, 134) 177 Gutierrez, 133. 178 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 135. 179 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 1, 13. 180 “Otermin to Fray Francisco de Ayeta, September 8, 1680,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 1, 98‐100. 181 Ibid. For a detailed analysis and explanation of such numerical discrepancies, consider Knaut’s discussion of the scholarly debate over Otermin’s and Garcia’s casualty and survivor reports and the subsequent Nueba Vizcaya muster (Knaut, 216‐217). See also Historical Documents, vol 3, 327‐328 and Espinosa, Crusaders of the Rio Grande, 16, 19. 182 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 135. 183 Revolt and Reconquest, 59. 184 Ibid, 58 185 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 135. 186 Later scholarly reflection suggests that the conservative estimate of 2500 to 3000 Hispanic colonists in the region prior to the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 may be “markedly inflated. Of the 1946 persons counted by Otermin at La Salineta, 837 were listed specifically as Indian servants, refugees from the Piro pueblos, or ‘Mexican Indians,’ along with their depends residing in New Mexico…And although a majority of the 211 adult males counted as Hispanics were recorded as married,” the Spanish records include no information of the ethnic background or names of the spouses of these Hispanic men (Knaut, 134). Given the prolific racial hybridization of the population of Nuevo Mexico, even if the 211 males were actually of Spanish descent, man of their spouses likely were not. 187 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 135. 188 Steven Parish, “The Sacred Mind: Newar Cultural Representations of Mental Life and the Production of Moral Consciousness,” Religion and Emotion, 339‐340; Catherine Lutz, “Parental Goals, Ethnopsychology, and the Development of Emotional Meaning,” Ethos 11, 4 (1983), 246‐261; A. I. Hallowell, Culture and Experience (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 1955), 100‐106; Catherine Lutz and G. White, “The Anthropology of Emotions,” Annual Review of Anthropology 15 (1986), 405‐436. 189 Gutierrez, 134 190 Eliade, Sacred and Profane, 167‐170, 202; Parsons, Pueblo Religion, 924, 932; McDannell, Material Christianity, 2‐5; Morgan, Sacred Gaze, 55‐56

399

191 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 122‐123. 192 Fray Ysidro Sarinana y Cuenca, The Franciscan Martyrs of 1680: Funerary Orations over the Twenty­one Franciscans Killed by the Pueblo Indians, August, 10, 1680 (Santa Fe: New Mexican Printing, 1906); Roberts, Pueblo Revolt, 130‐152; 193 For more on the interaction with corpses and the demonstration of respect in Native American societies see Gill, Native American Religion, 64‐86; Albanese, Nature Religion in America, 20‐21; Gutierrez, 30‐31; Dozier, Pueblo Indians, 131. 194 Gutierrez, 134 195 J. Manuel Espinosa, Crusaders of the Rio Grande: The Story of Don Diego de Vargas and the Reconquest and Refounding of New Mexico (Chicago: Institute of Jesuit History, 1942), 19‐20. 196 Gutierrez, 21; Claire Farago, “Transforming Images: New Mexican Santos between Theory and History,” Visual Culture of American Religions, eds. David Morgan and Sally M. Promey (Berkeley: University of California, 2001), 204‐207; McDannell, Material Christianity, 3‐4; Morgan, Sacred Gaze, 56‐58; Deloria, God is Red, 61‐77; Eliade, Sacred and Profane, 51‐53. 197 Gutierrez, 139. 198 “Declaration of Juan, a Tigua Indian, December 27, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 346. 199 Hubert H. Bancroft, History of Arizona and New Mexico, 1530­1888 (San Francisco: History Company, 1889), 185. 200 Gutierrez, 139. 201 Knaut, 168. 202 “Declaration of Pedro Naranjo of the Queres Nation, San Felipe, December 19, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 246. 203 Ibid. 204 Ibid, 248. This comparison of deific substance may evoke a contrast between cottonwood, which was less susceptible to mildew and rot and traditionally used in the construction of Pueblo tihu and katsina artifacts, and the various hardwoods used by Spanish Franciscans and artisans in their religious material culture. 205 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 135. 206 “Declaration of Pedro Narano, a Queres Indian, December 19, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 248. 207 “Testimony of Pedro Naranjo, El Paso, December 19, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 247 208 Ibid. 209 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 135. See also Vecsey, On the Padres’ Trail, 136 210 “Testimony of Pedro Naranjo, El Paso, December 19, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 247 211 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 16‐19 212 Vecsey, On the Padres’ Trail, 136 213 Jackson, From Savages to Subjects, 69‐70; Ortiz, Tewa World, 62‐72. 214 Vecsey, On the Padres’ Trail, 135; Henry Warner Bowden, “Spanish Missions, Cultural Conflict and the Pueblo Revolt of 1680,” Church History 44 (1975), 222.

400

215 David Roberts, The Pueblo Revolt: The Secret Rebellion That Drove the Spaniards Out of the Southwest, New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004. 216 Dozier, Pueblo Indians of North America, 76‐78. Bowden, “Spanish Missions, Cultural Conflict and the Pueblo Revolt of 1680,” 225. 217 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 119. Weber expounds, “Among the Pueblos, where sexuality and sanctity were closely linked, the affront to their dignity must have been especially deep.” 218 Benavides, 99‐100 219 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 119. 220 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 20 221 Wenger, We Have A Religion, 21‐25. 222 John P. Harrington, “Tewa Relationship Terms,” American Anthropologist (1912), vol. 14, 472‐98; Fred Eggan, Social Anthropology of the North American Tribes; Gutierrez, 10‐11 223 William A. Christian, Jr. “Provoked Religious Weeping in Early Modern Spain,” Religion and Emotion, 45‐46. 224 That is to say that the performance of proper emotional responses within the context of specific relations and the public recognition of displays of virtue merged with the public performance of restitutions of impugned honor. The similarity in the ethical systems combined with the prolonged cultural engagement of the Pueblo and Spanish colonists hybridized ethnic categories and religious cosmologies and likely the cultural behavioral schema from each people. Lomeli, Sorell, and Padilla, Nuevomexicano Cultural Legacy, 4‐7; Abu‐Lughod, Veiled Sentiments and Ortner, High Religion, 198. 225 David Tavarez, “Autonomy, Honor, and the Ancestors: Native Local Religion in Seventeenth‐Century Oaxaca,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, 132‐136; AGN – 31.1.3.1‐3. 226 Ibid; Gutierrez, 207‐208. 227 Catherine Lutz recognizes that “the process of coming to understand the emotional lives of people in different cultures…is not primarily to fathom ‘what they are feeling inside,’…[but] to translate emotional communications from one idiom, context , language, or sociohistorical mode of understanding into another (Lutz, Unnatural Emotions, 8).” The experiences and mental life of historical Pueblo were shaped by their distinct cultural context and thus local, cultural specific and distanced from modern analysis. However, several of the cultural and conceptual categories used by Pueblo in the extant historical record correspond approximately “to what is designated by such English psychological terms as desire, memory, thought, emotion, shame, intention, and resolution. The social and cultural meaning of the states and processes that correspond are not precisely the same as in English, but there is at least a family resemblance.” Parish, “The Sacred Mind,” Religion and Emotion, 173. 228 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 20. 229 Ibid, 18; Pedro Namboa, “Declaration of One of the Rebellious Christian Indians Who Was Captured on the Road, El Alamillo, September 6, 1680, Revolt and

401

Reconquest, vol. 1, 61; Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts; Richter, Facing East From Indian Country, 171‐173; White, Tropics of Discourse; Comaroff, Body of Power, Spirit of Resistance, 261. 230 Rappaport, Ecology, Meaning, and Religion; Gutierrez, 211; Basu, “Hierarchy and Emotion,” Embodying Charisma, 122‐126. 231 Theodore D. Kemper, “Social Models in the Explanation of Emotions,” eds. Michael Lewis and Jeannette M. Haviland‐Jones, Handbook of Emotions, Second Edition (New York: Guilford, 2000), 55. 232 The actions of the historical Pueblo, including the Pueblo Revolt of 1680, were framed and motivated by Pueblo religious cosmologies and structured emotional performances that mutually and inextricably contextualized the specifically religious as well as the less religious spheres of human activity. For the role of experiences of emotions to create moral orientations or realize a morally virtuous person see Parish, Religion and Emotion, 159, 177‐179. 233 John Upton Terrell, Pueblos, Gods and Spaniards, New York: Dial Press, 1973, xvii. 234 Ibid, 286; Archaeologies of the Pueblo Revolt: Identity, Meaning and Renewal in the Pueblo World, ed. Robert W. Preucel, Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2002, 78. 235 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 119. 236 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 20 237 Gutierrez, 136. 238 Ibid. 239 The assertion of Caroll Riley that Catholicism held little influence over Pueblo because their own cosmology and ethical systems were “more emotionally satisfying” is inconclusive and demeaning to the cultural sophistication and diversity of the colonial Pueblo cultures. Moreover, such argumentation dehumanizes Pueblo historical subjects by denying the possibility of experiences of the affective appeal of a divergent religious system upon a population. Caroll Riley, Kachina and the Cross, 108. 240 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 119 241 “Declaration of Pedro Naranjo, a Queres Indian, December 19, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 248. 242 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 17 243 “Declaration of Juan Lorenzo, a Queres Indian, December 20, 1681,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 251. 244 Gutierrez, 136 245 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 135 246 For more on the historical interaction between Native American nativism, religion and cultural resistance see Gregory Evans Dowd, A Spirited Resistance: The North American Indian Struggle for Unity, 1745­1815 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 1992). 247 Although this analysis focuses upon a few of the religious motivations of the Pueblo Revolution, it does argue or imply that these were the sole impetuses of the coordinated offensive or that such motivations can be fully isolated from the host of

402 other influences upon the era. Religious resistance combined with emerging nativist sentiment and various economic considerations, political aspirations and individual, personal desires to produce the historical events of the seventeenth century. 248 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 136. 249 Ibid. 250 “Declaration of Captain Andres Hurtado, Santa Fe, September 1661,” Historical Documents, vol. 3, 186‐187. 251 “Otermin to fray Francisco de Ayeta, September 8, 1680,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 1, 102. 252 “Paso del Rio del Norte, October 20, 1680,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 1, 206. 253 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 136. 254 “Auto of Don Antonio de Otermin,” Twitchell, Spanish Archives, vol. 1, 17 255 “Martin de Solis Miranda, Mexico, June 25, 1682,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 402. 256 James B. Defouri, The Martyrs of New Mexico: A Brief Account of the Lives and Deaths of the Earliest Missionaries in the Territory (Las Vegas, NM: n.p., 1893), 53‐58. 257 Gutierrez, 131 258 “Petition of Fray Francisco de Ayeta, May 10, 1679,” Historical Documents, 298. 259 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 136. 260 Ibid, 120. 261 Benavides, 50. 262 Benavides, 51. 263 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 130. 264 Ibid, 67. 265 Daniel T. Reff, “The ‘Predicament of Culture’ and Spanish Missionary Accounts of the Tepehuan and Pueblo Revolts,” Ethnohistory 41 (Winter 1995), 63‐90. 266 Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 38; See also Fray Silvestre Velez de Escalante, “Extracto de Noticias…,” AGN –Historia, tomo 2. 267 Ibid. 268 Dozier, Pueblo Indians of North America, 87. 269 Gutierrez, 65. 270 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 137. See also Forbes, Apache, Navajo, and Spaniard, 237‐238. 271 “Paso del Rio del Norte, October 20, 1680,” Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 1, 206. 272 W. H. Timmons, El Paso: A Borderlands History (El Paso: Texas Western, 1990), 18. 273 Ibid. 274 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 137. 275 Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 72. 276 Forbes, Apache, Navajo, and Spaniard, 202; Ernest J. Burrus, “A Tragic Interlude in the Reconquest of New Mexico,” Manuscripta 29 (November 1985), 156. 277 Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 181‐182. 278 Ibid, 184.

403

279 Ibid, 186‐220 280 Ibid. 281 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 133. 282 Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 227. 283 Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 2, 398‐403. 284 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 135. 285 Ibid., 131. 286 Chavez, Origins, 25‐26; Vina Walz, “History of the El Paso Area, 1680‐1692,” PhD dissertation, University of New Mexico, 1951. 287 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 137 288 Ibid. 289 Espinosa, Crusaders of the Rio Grande, 40, 46‐48; Forbes, Apache, Navajo, and Spaniard, 236‐237. 290 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 139. See also J. Manuel Espinosa, “The Legend of Sierra Azul,” New Mexico Historical Review 9 (April 1934), 113‐158. 291 “Vargas to Mariana Villalba, Tlalpujaha, March 22, 1686,” John L. Kessell, Remote Beyond Compare: Letters of don Diego de Vargas to His Family from New Spain and New Mexico, 1675­1706 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1989), 130‐131. 292 Ibid. 293 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 137. 294 “Governor Vargas Grants Possession of Religious Authority at Santa Fe to the Franciscans, Santa Fe, September 14, 1692,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 63. 295 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 138. 296 Translated from photograph of inscription provided by Rohn and Ferguson, Puebloan Ruins, 264. 297 Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 39 298 “Governor Vargas Grants Repossession of Religious Authority Over the Missions of Acoma, Zuni, and Moqui to the Franciscans, Site of Donana, December 18, 1692,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 67 299 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 139. 300 Leonard, ed and trans, The Mercurio Volante of Don Carlos de Siguenza y Gongora: An Account of the First Expedition of Don Diego de Vargas into New Mexico in 1692 (Los Angeles: Quivira Society, 1932), 88 301 Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 41. 302 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 139. 303 Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 42. 304 Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, “Letter of Fray Salvador de San Antonio to Governor Vargas, Encampment at the Foot of the Mountains Near Santa Fe, December 18, 1693,” 71‐72. 305 “Vargas’ Journal, December 29 and 30, 1693,” AGN – Historia, tomo 38; Espinosa, Crusaders of the Rio Grande, 151‐162

404

306 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 139. Weber continues and aptly notes “this icon, popularly known as La Conquistadora, continues to be venerated in Santa Fe for aid rendered to Vargas and also serves as a powerful civil and ethnic symbol.” 307 Fray Angelico Chavez, Our Lady of the Conquest (Santa Fe: Historical Society of New Mexico, 1948), 21‐28 308 “Fray Miguel Trizio to Vargas, Bernalillo, April 17, 1696,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 226. 309 Gutierrez, 157 310 Ibid. 311 Dozier, Pueblo Indians of North American, 86‐88. 312 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 173; John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, Meredith D. Dodge, and Larry D. Miller, eds., Settling of Accounts: The Journals of don Diego de Vargas, New Mexico, 1700­1704 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2002), 251‐266. 313 John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge, eds., To the Royal Crown Restored: The Journals of don Diego de Vargas, New Mexico, 1692­1694 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1995), 563. 314 John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge, eds., Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of don Diego de Vargas, New Mexico, 1694­1697, (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1998), vol. 1, 68‐69. 315 Kessell, Hendricks, and Dodge, To the Royal Crown, 495‐519. 316 Kessell, Hendricks, and Dodge, Blood on the Boulders, vol. 2, 1082. 317 Kessell, Pueblo, Spaniards and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 170. 318 Gutierrez, 163 319 George Kubler, Religious Architecture of New Mexico (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1972), plates 169 and 190. 320 The number of eighteen Franciscans reflects the actual number of friars who accompanied the Vargas expedition of 1693. However, the letter requesting Franciscan volunteers for the New Mexican missions circulated throughout New Spain and solicited more volunteers. For example of the multitude that volunteered of the College of Santa Cruz de Queretaro, only eight were selected. (Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 41) 321 “Letter of Fray Salvador de San Antonio to Governor Vargas, Encampment at the Foot of the Mountains Near Santa Fe, December 18, 1693,” and “Auto of Governor Vargas, Military Camp Outside Santa Fe, December 18, 1693,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 71‐73 322 “Petition of Fray Salvador de San Antonio to Governor Vargas, Santa Fe, March 20, 1694,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 78. 323 Gutierrez, 157. 324 Norris, “Franciscans in New Mexico,” 163; Scholes, “Church and State,” 20‐31; Scholes, Troublous Times, 20; Kessell, Kiva, Cross, and Crown, 78‐90. 325 “Extracts from Governor Vargas’s Journal on the Reestablisment of the missions, September 18‐October 7 and November 1 – December 21, 1694,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 91‐113.

405

326 Gutierrez, 166 327 Ibid. 328 Fray Geronimo de Mendieta, Historia Eclesiastica Indiana (Mexico City: Antigua , 1945) book 4, 103‐104. 329 Revolt and Reconquest, vol. 1, 94. 330 Ibid. 331 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 131. 332 Gutierrez, 158 333 Roberts, Pueblo Revolt, 206‐210. 334 “Extracts from Governor Vargas’s Journal on the Reestablisment of the missions,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 91‐113; Dozier, Pueblo Indians of North America, 61; Knaut, 175; Weber, Spanish Frontier, 115. 335 Gutierrez, 157 336 Eleanor B. Adams and Fray Angelico Chavez, eds. and trans., The Missions of New Mexico, 1776: A Description by Fray Atanasio Dominguez (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1975) , 284. 337 Ortiz, The Tewa World, 69. 338 Dozier, Pueblo Indians of North America, 67‐68. See also the cosigners and names attached to the Inquisitional accusations of the Franciscan friars wielded against the Governors of eighteenth century Nuevo Mexico. 339 Marc Simmons, trans and ed., Father Juan Agustin de Morfi’s Account of Disorders in New Mexico, 1778, (Isleta Pueblo: Historical Society of New Mexico, 1977), 28. 340 Gutierrez, 158. Gutierrez posits, “the group that emerged as the most powerful in the selection of these officials were the caciques and the medicine men who controlled the ‘traditional’ or native religious (political) order.” Thus the Franciscan friars were positioned within a more competitive market of religious authority figures and community leaders appealing to the constituent religious consumers within each Pueblo. Farago, “Transforming Images,” Visual Culture of American Religions, 207‐208 341 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 145 342 “Governor Vargas Grants Repossession of Religious Authority at Santa Fe to the Franciscans, Santa Fe, September 14, 1692,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 65. 343 “Governor Vargas Grants Repossession of Religious Authority of the Missions of Acoma, Zuni, and Moqui to the Franciscans, Site of Donana, December 18, 1692,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 67. 344 Wenger, We Have a Religion, 25 345 “Governor Vargas Grants Repossession of Religious Authority…to the Franciscans, Site of Donana, December 18, 1692,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 67. 346 Dussel, A History of the Church in Latin America: Colonialism to Liberation, 64‐70; Robson, The Franciscans in the Middle Ages, 38‐39, 52; Gutierrez, 81‐82; Taylor, Magistrates of the Sacred, 49‐50; AGN – 61. 308.25c.1, 61.309.4.24. 347 Benavides, 62‐64.

406

348 “Governor Vargas Grants Repossession of Religious Authority…to the Franciscans,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 67 349 “Auto of Governor Vargas, Santa Fe, March 31, 1694,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 84. 350 AASF – Loose Documents, 1681, No. 1; 1694, No. 2; 1712, No. 7; 1712, No.s 9‐12; Taylor, Magistrates of the Sacred, 266‐268; Taylor “Between Nativitas and Mexico City,” Local Religion in Colonial Mexico, 92. 351 AGN – Inquisicion, vol 209, exp 4, f 24;vol 320, exp 1, f 1‐214; vol 437, exp 33, f 559‐615; Examine also the topics promoted in the sermons as per Fondo Franciscano, “Sermons, 1659‐1814.” 352 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 174. 353 Gutierrez, 100‐101 354 Norris, “Franciscans of New Mexico,” 164. 355 Kessell, Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico, 174. 356 Gutierrez, 165 357 Ibid. 358 Gutierrez, 165‐166. Gutierrez relies upon the scholarship of Father Thomas J. Steele and repeats that “When God the Father was depicted, [in] eighteenth‐century New Mexican religious art, the held a power symbol in his left hand – lightening or arrows, and occasionally a heart.’ Lightning and arrows were the Pueblo weapons for war; the heart of anything was the source of its life and breath… God the Father holding a heart symbolized his control over men.” Regarding the cult of saints, he posits as example, “St. James rode atop a horse crushing the head of a serpent, oxen pulled the plow of St. Isidro, and St. Francis was surrounded by birds and beasts. The evangelists were represented not as four men, but as an eagle, a lion, an owl, and a bird (angel).” Gutierrez addresses possible criticism by reflecting, “Of course one could argue that these were ancient Christian motifs that were particularly pronounced in Franciscan mystical thought. Why, then, … is San Procopio leading a New Mexican deer up a mystical ladder? Why is Our Lady of Guadalupe crushing the head of a native turkey that holds arrows in its claws?” 359 Wenger, We Have a Religion, 29. 360 Ibid, 25 361 Ibid, 27‐28. Parenthesis omitted from quote. 362 Gutierrez, 165. This notion contrasts with the original intent of Gutierrez who asserts that friars were largely oblivious to the presence of non‐Catholic religion in their host communities and ignorant of the meaning of native dances. However, the concerns voiced in internal correspondence and constant questioning of the role of indigenous paraliturgies in mass belays any such conclusion. AGN – Inquisicion, vol 209, exp 4, f 24;vol 320, exp 1, f 1‐214; vol 437, exp 33, f 559‐615. 363 Wenger, We Have a Religion, 27. 364 Jackson, From Savages to Subjects, 92‐94, 111; Adams, Pueblo Katsina Cult, 3. 365 Vecsey, On the Padres’ Trail, 143; Wenger, We Have a Religion, 28; Kessell, Kiva, Cross, and Crown, 318.

407

366 The quote is from Gutierrez, 163. However, although he omitted any contextualization and incorporation of the statuary into Pueblo cosmology. For the role of guardian supernatural beings and the nomadic peoples of the pre‐Hispanic, New Mexican region see Phillips, Vanpool and Vanpool, “Horned Serpent Tradition,” Religion in the Prehispanic Southwest, 17‐21; Adams and Lamotta, “New Perspectives on an Ancient Religion,” Religion in the Prehispanic Southwest 53‐55; Parsons, Pueblo Religions, 46, 1070; Elsie Clews Parsons “Nativity Myth at Laguna and Zuni,” Journal of American Folk­Lore 31 (1918), 256‐263. 367 Santo Nino de Atocha translates approximately to the Christ Child of Our Lady of Atocha. See also Ruth F. Kirk, “Little Santu of Cibola,” New Mexico Magazine 18 (1940), 16‐17, 35‐38; Claire Farago, “Transforming Images,” Visual Culture of American Religions, 193‐203. 368 Gutierrez, 164. See also Ruth F. Kirk, “Introduction to Zuni Fetishism,” El Palacio 50 (1943), 146‐159. 369 Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 49‐50. 370 SANM, vol. 1, reel 4, 841. 371 Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 49‐50. 372 Knaut, 164. 373 “Fray Diego Zeinos, Pecos Mission to Vargas, October 27, 1695,” SANM II, roll 2, frame 455; “Letter to Vargas advising of Pueblo Uprising, June 1696,” SANM II, roll 2, frame 525; “Indians of Laguna, Acoma, and Zuni interrogated as to unrest, March 4, 1702,” SANM II, roll 3, frame 748. 374 Documents, 27‐47, Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 158‐186; “Juan de Urribarri, Zuni, to governor regarding the alleged unrest and conspiracy of the Indians of Zuni and Acoma, March 8, 1702,” SANM II, roll 3, frame 760; 375 “Fray Miguel Trizio to Vargas, Bernalillo, April 17, 1696,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 226. “The missionaries who lost their lives were Fray Francisco Corbera, Fray Jose Arbizu, Fray Antonio Carbonel, Fray Francisco de Jesus Maria, and Fray Antonio Moreno. (Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 50)” 376 “Fray Miguel Trizio to Vargas, Bernalillo, April 17, 1696,” Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 226; Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 50‐57; Oakah L. Jones, Jr., Pueblo Warriors and Spanish Conquest (Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1966), 57‐60. 377 Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 50. 378 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 140; Indian Revolt and Franciscan Missions, 50‐57. 379 Marc Simmons, “History of Pueblo‐Spanish Relations to 1821,” Handbook of North American Indians (Washington: Smithsonian Institute, 1979), vol. 9, 185‐187. 380 Forbes, Apache, Navajo, and Spaniard, 236‐237; E. Charles Adams, “The View from the Hopi Mesas,” The Protohistoric Period in the North American Southwest: A.D. 1450­1700, ed. David R. Wilcox and W. Bruce Masse (Tempe: Arizona State University Anthropological Research Papers, 1981), 325‐326. 381 For example see the documents in the Spanish Archives of New Mexico pertaining to the Moqui and Apache campaigns. SANM II roll 5, frame 114; roll 5, frame 572; roll 5, frame 589; roll 5, frame 686; roll 5, frame 916; roll 5, frame 1088.

408

382 Gutierrez, 164. The administration of Juan Ignacio Flores Mogollon extended from 1712 to 15. 383 “Chacon to Viceroy, January 26, 1710, AGN – Provincias Internas, exp 36, f 3. 384 Ibid. 385 Wenger, We Have a Religion, 25. 386 Harold Courlander, Hopi Voices: Recollections, Traditions, and Narratives of the Hopi Indians (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1982); Harry C. James, Pages from Hopi History (Tempe: University of Arizona, 1974). 387 Wenger, We Have a Religion, 25‐27. 388 Ibid, 27 389 Wenger, We Have a Religion, 27. In modern Pueblo society, the practice of occlusion or secrecy is vigorously maintained. Religiously specialized societies guard, proliferate and regulate access to the esoteric knowledge, practices and material culture necessary to correctly perform valid Pueblo rituals. The initiates of each society “are the only ones with rightful knowledge of the ceremonies owned by that society… Tony Lujan of Taos told anthropologist Elsie Clews Parsons in 1922 that he would never reveal sensitive information about Taos because ‘our ways would lose their power, if known.’ (Ibid).” Roberts notes “Secrecy. Of all the traits that stamp Puebloan culture, secrecy is the hallmark. And no wonder…the Puebloans developed secrecy as a defense against Spanish oppression (Roberts, Pueblo Revolt, 152).” He continues in his analysis to reflect upon the intrusion o the anthropologist and historian upon these traditions of secrecy (Ibid, 153‐156). For an insightful reflection upon the difficulty and implications of the academic study of secrets see Paul Christopher Johnson, Secrets, Gossip, and Gods: The Transformation of Brazilian Candomble (New York: Oxford University, 2002), 7‐10. 390 Wenger, We Have a Religion, 25. 391 Weber, Spanish Frontier, 139 392 Gutierrez, 164

Conclusion

1 James Clifford, “Introduction: Partial Truths,” Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography, eds. James Clifford and George E. Marcus (Berkeley: University of California, 1986). 2 By selecting the elements of the story and the arrangement, ethnographers utilize literary processes from metaphor to narrative to rhetoric to express experiences and convince readers of an interpretation. Critics of ethnography question any conclusions that claim absolute or objective truth and are founded on a creative process. 3 Accordingly, ethnography has been accused of participating in colonialism and exploitation of its subjects. Similarly, though it is not its expressed intent, this project could be seen as the arm of cultural colonialism veiled in the guise of western academic notions of history and social science.

409

4 Robert A. Orsi, Between Heaven and Earth: The Religious Worlds People Make and the Scholars Who Study Them (Princeton: Princeton University, 2006). 5 Julie Ingersoll recently criticized several ethnographies that assert the empowerment of submission and articulated a recent call for polyphonic writing in ethnographies of women in religion. Julie Ingersoll, "Against Univocality: Rereading Ethnographies of Conservative Protestant Women," Personal Knowledge and Beyond: Reshaping the Ethnography of Religion, eds. James Spickard, J. Shawn Landres, and Meredith McGuire (New York: New York University, 2002). 6 Clifford notes James Walker’s attempt at polyphonic writing that presents over thirty voices of and approaches to Lakota belief and ritual. Stephen Tyler similarly suggests polyphony as a solution to ethnographic ethical criticism and obstacles. 7 Tweed, Crossing and Dwelling. 8 These histories attribute the motivating factor of Native American relationships with colonizers to either Catholicism’s cognitive appeal or the potential socio‐ economic benefits. James Axtell, Kenneth Morrison, Robert Conkling, and John Webster Grant generally ally themselves with the former perspective. Arthur Ray, Donald Freeman, George Hunt, Harold Innis, Robert Hefner, and Bruce Trigger fall within the later category. 9 Deloria, God is Red: a Native View of Religion, 61. “American Indians hold their lands—places—as having the highest possible meaning, and all their statements are made with this reference point in mind.” 10 Tracy Leavelle “Geographies of Encounter: Religion and Contested Spaces in Colonial North America,” American Quarterly 56 (December 2004), 913‐43. According to Leavelle, spatial awareness may be so revealing within contemporary scholarship exactly because the colonial era was characterized by the construction of spaces and boundaries. 11 Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 12. The analysis of ritual and community by Bourdieu and Catherine Bell imply that the means or ritual and artifacts utilized by the Pueblo and Franciscan religious practitioners may be recognized and examined as an end in itself for the purposes of religious studies.

410 BIBLIOGRAPHY

Archival Sources Archives of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe, 1678-1900. Loose Documents Collection. Archives of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe, Santa Fe. Archivo General de Indias, Sevilla. Mexican Manuscripts, Bancroft Library. University of California, Berkeley, California Archivo General de la Nacion de Mexico. Mexico City, Mexico. Decretetos Pontificos, 1521-1760. Biblioteca Nacional de la Anthropologia e Historia. Mexico City, Mexico. Documents of the Spanish Period of New Mexico. Spanish Documents. New Mexico Collection. Brigham Young University. Fondo Franciscano. Biblioteca Nacional de la Anthropologia e Historia. Mexico City, Mexico. Manual breve y forma de administrar…1638. John Carter Brown Library. Rockefeller Library. Brown University. Mexican Manuscripts. Bancroft Library. University of California, Berkeley. New Mexico Historical Documents. Fray Angelico Chavez Collection. New Mexico State Record Center and Archive, Santa Fe Spanish Archives of New Mexico, Series I and II. New Mexico State Record Center and Archive, Santa Fe. Martin Gardesky Collection of Historical Documents. New Mexico State Record Center and Archive, Santa Fe.

Published Materials Abu-Lughod, Lila. Veiled Sentiments: Honor and Poetry in a Bedouin Society. Berkeley: University of California, 1999. Adams, Charles E. The Origin and Development of the Pueblo Katsina Cult. Tucson: University of Arizona, 1991. Adams, Eleanor B. and Fray Angelico Chavez, eds. and trans. The Missions of New Mexico, 1776: A Description of Fray Atanasio Dominguez. Albuquerque:

411 University of New Mexico, 1975. Albanese, Catherine L.. America: Religions and Religion, Third Edition. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 1999. ------. Nature Religion in America: From the Algonkian Indians to the New Age. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1990. Alcedo, Antonio de. Diccionario geografico historico de las Indias occidentals of Americas. 4 Vols. Madrid: Benito Cano, 1786-1789. Anaya, S. James, Indigenous Peoples in International Law. New York: Oxford University, 2004. Anderson, Frank. “The Pueblo Kachina Cult: A Historical Reconstruction,” Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, 11:404. Anella, Tony. “Learning from the Pueblos,” Pueblo Style and Regional Architecture, Eds. N. C. Markovich, W. F. E. Preiser, and F. G. Sturm. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1900. Applegate, Frank G. Indians Stories from the Pueblos. Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott, 1929. Axtell, James. The Invasion Within: The Contest of Cultures in Colonial North America. New York: Oxford University Press, 1985. Baldwin, Percy M. ed. and trans., “Fray Marcos’ Relacion,” New Mexico Historical Review I. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1928. Bancroft, Hubert H. History of Arizona and New Mexico. San Francisco: History Company, 1889. Bandelier, Adolph F. “Final report of investigations among the Indians of the Southwestern United States, carried on mainly in the years from 1880-1885,” Papers of the Archaeological Institute of America, American Series. Cambridge, 1890. Bandelier, Fanny, trans. The Journey of Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca. New York: Allerton, 1904. Bannon, John F. The Spanish Borderlands Frontier, 1513-1821. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1974. Barca, Pedro Calderon de la. Auto Sacramentales. Editorial Ebro, 1949.

412 Barner-Barry, Carol and Robert Rosenwein. Psychological Perspectives on Politics. Prospect Heights, Illinois: Waveland Press, 1985. Barth, Pius Joseph. Franciscan Education and the Social Order in Spanish North America, 1502-1821. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1945. Basso, Keith H., and Henry A Selby. Meaning in Anthropology. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1976. Basu, Helene. “Hierarchy and Emotion,” Embodying Charisma: Modernity, Locality, and the Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults. New York: Routledge, 1998. Bell, Catherine. Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions. New York: Oxford, 2009. ------. Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice. New York: Oxford University Press, 1992. Bennett, Wendell C. and Robert M. Zingg. The Tarahumara. University of Chicago Publications in Anthropology. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1935. Binford, Lewis, ed. For Theory Building in Archaeology: Essas on Faunal Remains, Aquatic Resources, Spatial Analysis, and Systemic Modeling. New York: Academic, 1977. Bird, Allison. Heart of the Dragonfly: Historical Development of the Cross Necklaces of the Pueblo and Navajo Peoples. Albuquerque: Avanju, 1992. Bitterli, Urs. Cultures in Conflict: Encounters between European and non-European Cultures 1492-1800. Ritchie Robertson, trans. Cambridge: Polity, 1989. Blackburn, Carole. Harvest of Souls: the Jesuit missions and colonialism in North America, 1632-1650. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2000. Bloch, Marc. The Historian’s Craft. New York: Vintage, 1964. Bloom, Lansing B. Bloom. "Fray Estevan de Perea's Relacion," New Mexico Historical Review 8 (July 1933). ------. “Spain’s Investment in New Mexico under the Hapsburgs,” The Americas, I, 1944. Boaz, Franz, and George Hunt. Kwakiutl Texts. Leiden, Netherlands: Jesup North Pacific Expedition, 1905. Bolton, Herbert, E. Coronado, Knight of Pueblos and Plains. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1949.

413 ------. The Spanish Borderlands: A Chronicle of Old Florida and the Southwest, 1542- 1706. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1921. ------, ed and trans. Spanish Exploration in the Southwest, 1542-1706. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1916. Bonaventure. The Journey of the Mind to God. Trans. Philotheus Boehner, O.F.M. Ed., Stephen F. Brown. Indianapolis: Hackett, 1993. ------. “Letter Containing Twenty–five Points to Remember,” The Works of Bonaventure, ed. and trans. Jose de Vinck. Vol. 3. Paterson, N.J.: Franciscan Press, 1960. Bourdieu, Pierre. Outline of a Theory of Practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1977. Bossy, John. “The Mass as a Social Institution, 1200-1700.” Past and Present 100 (1983), 33-34. Bowden, Henry Warner. American Indians and Christian Missions: Studies in Cultural Conflict. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1981. ------. “Spanish Missions, Cultural Conflict and the Pueblo Revolt of 1680.” Church History, Vol. 44, No. 2. June, 1975, 217-228. Boxer, Charles R. The Church Militant and Iberian Expansion, 1440-1770. Baltimore, 1978. ------. Mary and Misogyny: Women in Iberian Expansion Overseas, 1415-1815. London: Duckworth, 1975. Boyer, Richard and Geoffrey Spurling. Colonial Lives: Documents on Latin American History, 1550-1850. New York: Oxford, 2000. Brew, J. O. “Hopi Prehistory and History to 1850,” Handbook of North American Indians, Southwest, ed. William C. Sturtevant. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1979. Brooks, James F., Captives and Cousins: Slavery, Kinship, and Community in the Southwest Borderlands. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 2002. Burke, Peter. Eyewitnessing: The Use of Images as Historical Evidence. Ithaca: Cornell University, 2001. Burrus, Ernest J. “A Tragic Interlude in the Reconquest of New Mexico,” Manuscripta

414 29 (November 1985). Calloway, Colin G. First Peoples: A Documentary Survey of American Indian History. Third Edition. Boston: Bedford/St.Martin’s, 2008. Campa, Arthur L. Spanish Folk-Poetry in New Mexico. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1946. ------. Spanish Religious Folktheatre in the Southwest. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1943. Campbell, T. J. Pioneer Priests of North America 1642-1710. New York: Fordham University, 1908. Canedo, Lino G. “Fray Lorenzo de Bienvenida, O. F. M., and the Origins of the Franciscan Order in Yucatan: A Reconsideration of the Problem on the Basis of Unpublished Documents,” The Americas, Vol. 8, No. 4. April, 1952. 493-510. Cardenas y Espejo, Francisco de, Joachin Francisco Pacheco, Louis Torres de Mendoza. Coleccion de Documentos Ineditos relativos al Descubrimiento, Conquista y Organizacion de las antiguas posesiones Espanolas de America y Oceania, 16 Vol. Madrid: n.p., 1871. Castañeda of Nájera, Pedro de. Relacíon de la Jornada de Cíbola. Ed. John Miller Morris. Chicago: Lakeside, 2002. Castillo, Bernal Diaz del. Historia verdadera de la conquista de la Nueva Espana. Madrid: Gonzalo Fernandez de Oviedo, 1982. Chaplin, Joyce E. Subject Matter: Technology, the Body, and Science on the Anglo- American Frontier, 1500-1676. Cambridge: Harvard University, 2001. Chapman, K. M. Pueblo Pottery Designs. New York: Dover, 1995. Chavez, Fray Angelico. Origins of New Mexico Families: A Genealogy of the Spanish Colonial Period. (Santa Fe: Museum of New Mexico, 1992. ------. Our Lady of the Conquest. Santa Fe: Historical Society of New Mexico, 1948 ------. “New Mexico Religious Place-Names Other than Those of Saints.” El Palacio 57 (1950), 23-26. ------. “Pohe-yemo’s Representative and the Pueblo Revolt of 1680.” New Mexico Historical Review 42 (1967). ------. “Saint’s Names in New Mexico Geography.” El Palacio 56 (1946), 323-335.

415 Christian, William A., Jr. Apparitions in Late Medieval and Renaissance Spain, Princeton: Princeton, 1981. ------. Local Religion in Sixteenth Century Spain. Princeton: Princeton University, 1989. Clark, Stuart. Thinking With Demons: The Idea of Witchcraft in Early Modern Europe. New York: Oxford University, 1997. Clements, William. Native American Verbal Art: Texts and Contexts. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1996. Clifford, James and George E. Marcus, eds. Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography. Berkeley: University of California, 1986. Clifton, James A. The Invented Indian: Cultural Fictions and Government Policies. New Brunswick: Transaction Publishers, 1990. Cole, Sally J. Legacy on Stone: Rock Art of the Colorodo Plateau and Four Corners Region. Boulder: Johnson Books, 1990. Collins, John James. Native American Religions: A Geographical Survey. Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 1991. Comaroff, Jean. Body of Power: Spirit of Resistance: The Culture and History of a South African People. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1985. Concilios provinciales primero, y segundo, celebrados en la muy noble, y muy leal ciudad de Mexico presidiendo el Illmo. y Rmo. Sr. Alonso de Montúfar en los años de 1555 y 1565. Mexico City: n.p., 1769. Coogan, Michael D., ed. The New Oxford Annotated Bible, Third Edition. New York: Oxford University, 2001. Corballis, M. C. and C. E. Roldan, “On the Perception of Symmetrical and Repeated Patterns,” Perception & Psychophysics. Chicago: Psychonomic Society, 1974. vol. 16, 136-142. Corrigan, John. Business of the Heart: Religion and Emotion in the Nineteenth Century. Berkeley: University of California, 2002. ------. Emotion and Religion: A Critical Assessment and Annotated Bibliography. Westport, Conn: Greenwood Press, 2000. ------. “‘Habits from the Heart’: The American Enlightenment and Religious Ideas

416 about Emotion and Habit.” The Journal of Religion 73, no. 2 (April 1993): 183. ------, ed. The Oxford Handbook of Religion and Emotion. New York: Oxford University, 2008. ------, ed. Religion and Emotion: Approaches and Interpretations. New York: Oxford, 2000. ------. “Saints and Pilgrims on Land and Water: French and Spanish Missionizing Strategies in Colonial North America,” Saints and Their Cults in the Atlantic World, ed. Margaret Cormack. Columbia: University of South Carolina, 2007. Courlander, Harold. Hopi Voices: Recollections, Traditions, and Narratives of the Hopi Indians. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1982. Covarrubias, Miguel. Indian Art of Mexico and Central America. New York: Knopf, 1957. Crosby, Alfred W. The Columbian Exchange: Biological and Cultural Consequences of 1492. Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1972. Cushner, Nichoas P. Why Have You Come Here: The Jesuits and the First Evangelization of Native America. New York: Oxford University, 2006. Dabney, William M., and Josiah C. Russell, eds. Dargan Historical Essays. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1952. David, N., J. Sterner, and K. Gavua, “Why Pots are Decorated,” Current Anthropology (1988), vol. 29, 365-389. Defouri, James B. The Martyrs of New Mexico: A Brief Account of the Lives and Deaths of the Earliest Missionaries in the Territory. Las Vegas, NM: n.p., 1893. Deloria, Philip J. Playing Indian. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998. Deloria, Vine, Jr., God is Red: A Native View of Religion. Golden, Colorodo: Fulcrum, 2003. Douglas, Mary. How Institutions Think. Syracuse: Syracuse University, 1986. ------. Natural Symbols: Explorations in Cosmology. New York: Pantheon, 1982. ------. Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo. Baltimore: Penguin, 1966. Dowd, Gregory Evans. A Spirited Resistance: The North American Indian Struggle for Unity, 1745-1815. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 1992.

417 Dozier, Edward P. The Pueblo Indians of North America. Prospect Heights, Illinois: Waveland, 1983. ------. “The Pueblos of the South-western United States,” Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 90. London: Royal Anthropological Institute, 1960. Duberman, Martin, ed. “Documents in Hopi Indian Sexuality: Imperialism, Culture, and Resistance.” Radical History Review 20 (1979): 81-124. Durkheim, Emile. Elementary Forms of Religious Life. Trans., Karen E. Fields. New York: Free, 1995. Dussell, Enrique D. Historia general de la iglesia en America Latina: Medio milenio de coloniaje y liberacion, 1492-1992. Salamanca, Spain: Mundo Negro-Esquila Misional, 1981. ------. A History of the Church in Latin America: Colonialism to Liberation, 1492-1979. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982. Dutton, Bertha. “Prehistoric Migrations into the Galisteo Basin, New Mexico,” 36 Congreso Internacional de Americanistas (Seville: 1966), Vol.1, 287-300. ------. The Heroic Triad: Essays in the Social Energies of Three Southwestern Cultures. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1994. ------, ed. Indians of the Southwest. Santa Fe: Southwestern Association on Indian Affairs, 1963. Durkheim, Emile, trans. Karen E. Fields, The Elementary Forms of Religious Life (New York: Free, 1995. Eddy, Frank W. “Archaeological Investigations at Chimney Rock Mesa: 1970-1972,” Memoirs of the Colorado Archaeological Society. Boulder: Colorado Archaeological Society, 1977. Eggan, Fred. Social Anthropology of the North American Tribes. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1955. ------. Social Organization of the Western Pueblos. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1950. ------. “The Hopi Cosmology or World-View,” Kachinas in the Pueblo World, Ed. Polly Schaafsma. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1994. Eire, Carlos. Waiting for Snow in Havana: Confessions of a Cuban Boy. New York:

418 Simon & Schuster, 2003. Eliade, Mircea. The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion. Trans. Willard R. Trask. San Diego: Harvest, 1987. ------, ed. The Encyclopedia of Religion. 16 Vol. New York: MacMillan, 1987 Espinosa, J. Manuel. Crusaders of the Rio Grande: The Story of Don Diego de Vargas and the Reconquest and Refounding of New Mexico. Chicago: Institute of Jesuit History, 1942. ------. “The Legend of Sierra Azul.” New Mexico Historical Review 9 (April 1934), 113- 158. ------. trans. and ed. The Pueblo Indian Revolt of 1696 and the Franciscan Missions in New Mexico: Letters of the Missionaries and Related Documents. Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1988. Evans, Susan Toby. Ancient Mexico & Central America: Archaeology and Culture History. New York: Thames & Hudson, 2004. Farmer, James D. “Goggle Eyes and Crested Serpens of Barrier Canyon: Early Mesoamerican Iconography and the American Southwest,” The Road to Aztlan: Art from a Mythic Homeland. Eds. Virginia M. Fields and Victor Zamudio-Taylor. Los Angeles: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2001. Febvre, Lucien. “Philippe II et la Franche Comté,” Science de l’histoire. Flammarion, 1970. Feld, Steven. Sound and Sentiment: Birds, Weeping Poetics, and Song in Kaluli Expression, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 1990 Ferguson, T. J. “Academic, Legal, and Political Contexts of Social Identity and Cultural Affiliation Research in the Southwest,” Paper presented at the Southwest Symposium. Tucson: 2002. Fewkes, Jesse Walter. Mimbres Art and Archaeology: A Reprint of Three Essays Authored by Jesse Walter Fewkes and Published by the Smithsonian Institution between 1914 and 1924. Albuquerque: Avanyu, 1989. Fixico, Donald L. The American Indian Mind in a Linear World: American Indian Studies and Traditional Knowledge. New York: Routledge, 2003. Flint, Richard, ed. Great Cruelties Have Been Reported: The 1544 Investigation of the

419 Coronado Expedition. Dallas: Southern Methodist University, 2002. ------, and Shirley Cushing Flint, eds., Documents of the Coronado Expedition, 1539-1542. Dallas: Southern Methodist University, 2005. Florence Hawley Ellis, “A Reconstruction of the Basic Jemez Pattern of Social Organization, with Comparisons to Other Tanoan Social Structures,” University of New Mexico Publications in Anthropology, No. 11. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1964. ------. “Where Did the Pueblo People Come From?,” El Palacio. Albuquerque: New Mexico Department of Cultural Affairs, Autumn 1967. Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality. New York: Random House, 1990. ------. The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences. New York: Vintage Books, 1970. Forbes, Jack D. Forbes. Apache, Navajo, and Spaniard. Norman, Ok: University of Oklahoma, 1960. Franchot, Jenny. Roads to Rome: the antebellum Protestant encounter with Catholicism. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994. Franciscan Order. Cartilla y doctrina espiritual para la crianza y educacion de los novicios que toman el habito en la orden de N. P. S. Francisco: En la qual brevemente se les ensena lo que deben hacer conforme a la doctrina de N. Serafico Doctor San Buenaventura, y a lo que se usa, y practica en la Santa Provincia del Santo Evangelico. Mexico City, 1775. ------. Instruccion y doctrina de novicios, Sacada de la de San Buenaventura. Mexico City, 1738. Frank, Jerome D. and Julia B. Frank. Persuasion and Healing: A Comparative Study of Psychotherapy, Third Edition. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 1993. Freeman, Donald. The Pacific: Seas in History. New York: Routledge, 2009. French, Laurence. Psychocultural Change and the American Indian: An Ethnohistorical Analysis. New York: Garland Publishing, 1987. Galue, Cardozo. Michoacan en el Siglo de las Luces. Mexico City: El Colegio de Mexico, 1973. Galgano, Robert C. Feast of Souls: Indians and Spaniards in the Seventeenth-Century

420 Missions of Florida and New Mexico, 1500-1846. Stanford: Stanford University, 2005. Geertz, Armin W. Hopi Indian Altar Iconography. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1986. ------. The Invention of Prophecy: Continuiy and Meaning in Hopi Indian Religion. Berkeley: University of California, 1994. Geertz, Clifford. The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays. New York: Basic Books, 1973. Gibson, Charles. Spain in America. New York: Harper & Row, 1956. Gill, Sam D. Native American Religions: An Introduction. Toronto: Wadsworth, 2005. ------. Native American Religious Action: A Performance Approach to Religion. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1987. ------. Sacred Words: A Study of Navajo Religion and Prayer. Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1981. Girard, Rene. Violence and the Sacred. Trans., Patrick Gregory. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977. Gomara, Francisco Lopez de. Historia de la conquista de Mexico. Mexico City: Editorial Pedro Robredo, 1943. Gorn, Elliott J. The Manly Art: Bare-Knuckle Prizefighting in America. Ithaca, NY: Cornell, 1986. Grant, John Webster. Moon of Wintertime: Missionaries and the Indians of Canada in Encounter since 1534. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984. Gray, Edward G. New World Babel: Languages and Nations in Early America. Princeton: Princeton University, 1999. Grebinger, Paul, ed. Discovering Past Behavior: Experiments in the Archaeology of the American Southwest. London: Gordon and Breach Science, 1978. Griffiths, Nicholas and Fernando Cervantes, ed. Spiritual Encounters: Interactions between Christianity and native religions in colonial America. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1999. Guéno, Michael P. “Baptism and Humanity: Native American-Jesuit Relationships in New France.” Master’s Thesis. Tallahassee: Florida State University, 2004 Guest, Francis F. “An Inquiry into the Role of the Discipline in the California Mission

421 Life.” SCQ (Spring 1979), 1-68. Gutierrez, Ramon A. When Jesus Came, the Corn Mothers Went Away: Marriage, Sexuality, and Power in New Mexico, 1500-1846. Stanford: Stanford University, 1991. Habig, Marion A. “The Franciscan Provinces of Spanish North America,” The Americas, Vol. 1, No. 1. July, 1944, 88-96. Hackett, Charles Wilson, ed. Historical Documents Relating to New Mexico, Nueva Vizcaya, and Approaches Thereto, to 1773, Trans. Adolph F. A. and Fanny R. Bandelier. 3 Vol. Washington, D.C: Carnegie Institution, 1937. ------, and Charmion C. Shelby. Revolt of the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico and Otermin’s Attempted Reconquest, 1680-1682. Coronado Historical Series. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1942. Hall, David D. Lived Religion in America: Towards a History of Practice. Princeton: Princeton University, 1997. ------. Worlds of Wonder, Days of Judgment: Popular Religious Belief in Early New . Cambridge: Harvard Universtiy, 1989. Hallowell, A. I. Culture and Experience. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 1955. Hammond, George P. and Agapito Rey, eds. and trans., Don Juan de Onate: Colonizer of New Mexico, 1580-1594. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1953. ------. Expedition into New Mexico Made by Antonio de Espejo, 1582-1583, As Revealed in the Journal of Diego Perez de Luxan, a Member of the Party. Los Angeles, Quivira Society, 1929. ------. Narratives of the Coronado Expedition, 1540-1542. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1940. ------. The Rediscovery of New Mexico, 1580-1594: The Explorations of Chamuscado. Espejo, Castano de Sosa, Morlete, and Leyna de Bonilla and Humana. Coronado Historical Series III. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1966. ------. “The Rodriguez Expedition to New Mexico, 1581-1582.” New Mexico Historical Review 2 (1927). Hammond, Norman. Ancient Maya Civilization. New Brunswick: Rutgers University,

422 1982. Hargrave, Lyndon L. “Mexican Macaws: Comparative Osteology and Survey of Remains from the Southwest,” Anthropological Papers of the University of Arizona, no. 20. Tucson, University of Arizona, 1970. Harre, Rom, and W. Gerrod Parrot, eds. The Emotions: Social, Cultural, and Biological Dimensions. London: Sage, 1996. Harrington, John P. “A Brief Description of the Tewa Language,” American Anthropologist (1910), vol. 24, 101-107. ------. “Tewa Relationship Terms,” American Anthropologist (1912), vol. 14, 472 498. Hawley, Florence. “Beyond Taos.” New Mexico 19 (1941): 14-39. Hayes, Alden C. The Four Churches of Pecos. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1974. Hays, Kelly Ann. “Kachina Depictions On Prehistoric Pueblo Pottery,” Kachinas in the Pueblo World, Ed. Polly Schaafsma, Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1994. Hays-Gilpin, Kelly. “Icons and Ethnicity: Hopi Painted Pottery and Murals,” Religion in the Prehispanic Southwest, Eds. Christine S. Vanpool, Todd L. Vanpool, and David A. Phillips, Jr. Lanham: Altamira, 2006. Hefner, Robert, ed. Conversion to Christianity: Historical and Anthropological Perspectives on a Great Transformation. Berkley: University of California Press, 1993. Hendricks, Bail C., J. Charles Kelley, and Carroll L. Riley The MesoAmerican Southwest: Readings in Archaeology, Ethnography and Ethnology. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University, 1974. Hieb, Louis A. “The Meaning of Katsina: Toward a Cultural Definition of ‘Person’ in Hopi Religion,” Kachinas in the Pueblo World, Ed. Polly Schaafsma. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1994. Hill, W. W. “Hermaphrodite and Transvestite in Navaho Culture.” American Anthropologist 37 (1935): 273-279. Hill, Jane H. “The Flower World of Old Uto-Aztecan,” Journal of Anthropological

423 Research. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1992. Vol. 48, 117-144. Hill, Jane H. and Kelley A. Hays-Gilpin, “The Flower World in Material Culture: An Iconographic Complex in the Southwest and Mesoamerica,” Journal of Anthropological Research. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1999. Vol. 55, 1-37. Hinderaker, Eric. Elusive Empires: Constructing Colonialism in the Ohio Valley, 1673- 1800. Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1997. Hochschild, Arlie R. The Managed Heart: Commercialization of Human Feelings. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983. Hochwalt, Frederick G. “A Well-Documented Study: Franciscan Education and the Social Order in Spanish North America (1502-1821) by Pius Joseph Barth,” The Journal of Higher Education, Vol. 18, No. 1. January, 1947, 54-55. Hodge, Frederick Webb, George P. Hammond, and Agapito Rey. Fray Alonso de Benavides’ Revised Memorial of 1634: With Numerous Supplementary Documents Elaborately Annotated. Coronado Cuarto Centennial Publications, 1540-1940. 4 Vol. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1945. ------. History of Hawikuh, New Mexico, One of the So-Called Cities of Cibola. Los Angeles: Southwest Museum, 1937. Hodgen,, Margaret T. Early Anthropology in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 1964. Horgan, Paul. The Centuries of Santa Fe. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1994. ------. Lamy of Santa Fe: His Life and Times. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1975. Howell, Todd Lee. Leadership at the Ancestral Zuni Village of Hawikku, Ph.D. Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, Arizona State University, 1994. Hultkrantz, Ake. Shamanic Healing and Ritual Drama: Health and Medicine in Native North American Religious Traditions. New York: Crossroad, 1992. ------. The Study of American Indian Religions. Christopher Vecsey, ed. New York: Crossroads Publishing & Scholars Press, 1983. Ingratieff, Michael. “Nationalism and the Narcissism of Minor Differences,”

424 Theorizing Nationalism, ed. Ronald Beinar, New York: State University of New York, 1999. Innis, Harold. The Fur Trade in Canada: An Introduction to Canadian Economic History. Revised Edition. Toronto: University of Toronto, 1956, Iverson, Peter. Dine: A History of the Navajos. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2002. Ivey, James E. “‘The Greatest Misfortune of All’: Famine in the Province of New Mexico, 1667-1672.” Journal of the Southwest 36 (Spring 1994). Jackson, Michael. Paths Towards a Clearing: Radical Empiricism and Ethnographic Inquiry. Indianapolis: Indiana University, 1989. Jackson, Robert H. From Savages to Subjects: Missions in the History of the American Southwest. Armonk, New York: M. E. Sharpe, 2000. James of Milan. Stimulus Amoris. London: R & T Washbourne, 1907. James, Harry C. Pages from Hopi History. Tempe: University of Arizona, 1974. Jedin, Hubert, A History of the Council of Trent. Trans., Dom Ernest Graf O.S.B. New York: Thomas Nelson and Sons, 1961, vol. 2. ------. Crisis and Closure of the Council of Trent: A Retrospective View from the . Trans., N. D. Smith. London: Sheed & Ward, 1967. Jenkins, Myra Ellen. “Spanish Land Grants in the Tewa Area.” New Mexican Historical Review 47 (1972): 113-150. Jernigan, E. Wesley. Jewelry of the Prehistoric Southwest. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1978. Johnson, Harold B., Jr. From Reconquest to Empire: The Iberian Background to Latin American History. New York: Knopf, 1970. Johnson, Lyman and Sonya Lipsett-Rivera, eds. The Faces of Honor: Sex, Shame, and Violence in Colonial Latin America. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1998. Johnson, Paul Christopher. Secrets, Gossip, and Gods: The Transformation of Brazilian Candomble. New York: Oxford University, 2002. Jones, Oakah L., Jr. Pueblo Warriors and Spanish Conquest. Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1966.

425 Judd, Neil M., The Architecture of Pueblo Bonita, Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1964., vol. 147, no.1 ------. The Material Culture of Pueblo Bonito, Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections, vol. 124. Washington, D. C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1954. Kakar, Sudhir. The Colors of Violence: Cultural Identities, Religion, and Conflict Chicago: University of Chicago, 1996. Katz, Jonathan. Gay American History: Lesbians and Gay Men in the U. S. A. New York: Crowell, 1976. Keeley, Lawrence H. War Before Civilization: The Myth of the Peaceful Savage. New York: Oxford, 1996. Kelley, J. Charles. “Factors Involved in the Abandonment of Certain Peripheral Southwestern Settlements,” American Anthropologist 54, (1952), 156-187. ------. “Mesoamerica and the Southwestern United States,” Handbook of Middle American Indians, Volume Four, Archaeological Frontiers and External Connections, Eds. Gordon Elkholm and Gordon Willey. Austin: University of Texas, 1966. Kelsay, John. Arguing the Just War in Islam. Cambridge: Harvard, 2007. Kennedy, J.H. Jesuit and Savage in New France. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1950. Kessell, John L. Kiva, Cross and Crown: The Pecos Indians and New Mexico, 1540 1840. Washington: National Park Service, 1979. ------. Pueblos, Spaniards, and the Kingdom of New Mexico. Norman: University of Oklahoma, 2008. ------. Remote Beyond Compare: Letters of don Diego de Vargas to His Family from New Spain and New Mexico, 1675-1706. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1989. Kessell, John L, Rick Hendricks, Meredith D. Dodge, and Larry D. Miller, eds. Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of don Diego de Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-1697. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1998. ------. Settling of Accounts: The Journals of don Diego de Vargas, New Mexico, 1700-

426 1704. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2002. ------. To the Royal Crown Restored: The Journals of don Diego de Vargas, New Mexico, 1692-1694 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1995 Kinsley, David. Health, Healing, and Religion: A Cross-Cultural Perspective. Upper Saddle River, New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1996. Kirk, Ruth F. “Introduction to Zuni Fetishism,” El Palacio 50 (1943), 146-159. ------. “Little Santu of Cibola.” New Mexico Magazine 18 (1940). Klein, Kerwin Lee. Frontiers of Historical Imagination: Narrating the European Conquest of Native America, 1890-1990. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997. Knaut, Andrew L. The Pueblo Revolt of 1680: Conquest and Resistance in Seventeenth- Century New Mexico. Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1995 Koehlinger, Amy L. “‘The Continually Wounded Heart of Christ’: Religion and Violence in American Catholic Boxing.” Paper presented at American Academy of Religion Chicago, Illinois: November 2008. ------. The New : Racial Justice and Religious Reform in the 1960s. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University, 2007. Konetzke, Richard. Coleccion de Documentos para la Historia de la Formacion Social de Hispanoamerica, 1493-1810. Madrid, 1956-1962. ------. “La Formacion de la nobleza en Indias.” Estudios Americanos 10 (1951): 329- 357. Kubler, George. The Religious Architecture of New Mexico. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1978. Kurath, Gertrude P. “Plaza Circuits of Tewa Indian Dances,” El Palacio (1958), vol. 65, 16-26. Laderman, Carol, and Marina Roseman, eds. The Performance of Healing. New York: Routledge, 1996. Lafaye, Jacques. Quetzalcoatl and Guadalupe: The Formation of Mexican National Consciousness, 1531-1813. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1987. Landa, Diego de, Landa’s Relación de las Cosas de Yucatan: A Translation. Ed. Alfred M. Tozzer. New York: Kraus Reprint, 1966.

427 Lange, Charles. Cochiti: A New Mexico Pueblo Past and Present. Austin: University of Texas, 1959. Lanning, John T. “Church and the Enlightenment in the Universities.” The Americas. Vol. 15 (1956): 331-350. ------. “Enlightenment in Relation to the Church.” The Americas. Vol. 14 (1958): 489- 496. Leavelle, Tracy. “Geographies of Encounter: Religion and Contested Spaces in Colonial North America.” American Quarterly 56 (December 2004): 913-43. ------. “‘We Will Make It Our Own Place’: Agriculture and Adaptation at the Grand Ronde Reservation, 1856-1887.” American Indian Quarterly 22 (Fall 1998): 433-56. LeBlanc, Steven A. Constant Battles: Why We Fight. New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 2004. ------. Prehistoric Warfare in the American Southwest (Salt Lake City: University of Utah, 1999. Lemoine, Ernesto Villicana. “Visita, congregacion y mapa de Amecameca de 1599.” Boletin del Archivo General de la Nacion, 2nd series, vol 2. Mexico City; Archivo General de la Nacion, 1961. Leonard, Irving Albert, ed. and trans. The Mercurio Volante of Don Carlos de Siguenza y Gongora: An Account of the First Expedition of Don Diego de Vargas into New Mexico in 1692. Los Angeles: Quivira Society, 1932. Levinas, Emmanuel. Otherwise Than Being or Beyond Essence. Pittsburg: Duquesne University, 1998. Levi-Strauss, Claude. “Reciprocity and Hierarchy,” American Anthropologist (1944). Vol. 46, 266-68. Lewis, Michael and Jeannette M. Haviland-Jones, eds. Handbook of Emotions, Second Edition. New York: Guilford, 2000. Linenthal, Edward. Preserving Memory: The Struggle to Create America’s Holocaust Museum, 2nd Edition. New York: Columbia University, 2001. Lister, Robert H. and Florence C. Lister, Those Who Came Before. Tucson: University of Arizona, 1983.

428 Lockhart, James. The Nahuas After the Conquest: A Social and Cultural History of the Indians of Central Mexico, Sixteenth Through Eighteenth Centuries. Stanford: Stanford University, 1996. Loftin, John D. Religion and Hopi Life, vol. ii of Religion in North America. Ed. Catherine L Albanese and Stephen J. Stein. Bloomington & Indianapolis: Indiana Universtity Press, 2003. Lomeli, Francisco A., Victor A. Sorell, and Genaro M. Padilla. Nuevomexicano Cultural Legacy: Forms, Agencies, and Discourse. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2002. Lowie, Robert H. “Oral Tradition and History,” American Anthropologist, New Series, Vol. 17, No. 3. (July - Sept., 1915). Lutz, Catherine. “Parental Goals, Ethnopsychology, and the Development of Emotional Meaning.” Ethos 11, 4 (1983), 246-261. Lutz, Catherine and G. White. “The Anthropology of Emotions.” Annual Review of Anthropology 15 (1986), 405-436. Luzbetak, Louis J. “If Junipero Serra Were Alive: Missiological-Anthropological Theory Today.” The Americas 41 (April 1985), 514. Ma, Emilio Choy. “De Santiago Matamoros a Santiago Mata-indios,” Antropologia e Historia. Lima: 1979. Maas, Otto. Saint Francis Solano: Apostle of Argentina and Peru. Patterson: St. Anthony’s, 1942. MacCormack, Sabine. “Change and Continuity in Late Antiquity: the Ceremony of Adventus,” Historia 21 (1971). Malinowski, Bronislow. Argonauts of the Western Pacific. Long Grove, Illinois: Waveland, 1984. Marshall, Michael P., John R. Stein, Richard W. Loose, and Judith E. Novotny, Anasazi Communities of the San Juan Basin. Santa Fe: New Mexico Historic Preservation Bureau, 1979. Martin. Joel W. The Land Looks After Us: A History of Native American Religion. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Marx, Karl and Friedrich Engles, On Religion. New York: Schocken, 1964.

429 Mauss, Marcel. The Gift: The Form and Reason for Exchange in Archaic Societies, Trans., W. D. Hall. 1909; London, 1990. McCauley, Robert N. and E. Thomas Lawson. Bringing Ritual to Mind: Psychological Foundations of Cultural Forms. Cambridge: Cambridge University, 2002. McDannell, Colleen. Material Christianity: Religion and Popular Culture in America. New Haven: Yale University, 1995. Mendieta, Fray Geronimo de. Historia Eclesiastica Indiana. Madrid: Salvador Chavez Hayhoe, 1945. Merrell, James H. The Indians’ New World: Catawbas and their Neighbors from European Contact Through the Era of Removal. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1991. Moorhead, Max L. The Presidio: Bastion of the Spanish Borderlands. Norman: University of Oklahoma, 1975. Moorman, John. A History of the Franciscan Order From its Origins to the Year 1517. Oxford: Clarendon, 1968. Montenegro, Alonso de la Pena. Itinerario par parachos de indios, en que se tartan las materias mas particulares tocantes a ellos, parra su Buena administracion. Madrid: 1668. Montgomery, John. How to Read Maya Hieroglyphs. New York: Hippocrene Books, 2002. Montgomery, Ross Gordon, Watson Smith, and John Otis Brew. Franciscan Awatovi: The Excavation and Conjectural Reconstruction of a 17th-Century Spanish Mission Establishment at a Hopi Indian Town in Northeastern Arizona. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard, 1949. Morales, Fray Francisco. Ethnic and Social Backgrounds of the Franciscan Friars on Seventeenth Mexico. Washington, D.C.: Academy of American Franciscan History, 1973. Morales, Fray Francisco and Dorothy Tanck de Estrada. Inventario del Fondo Franciscano del Museo de Anthropologia e Historia de Mexico. Washington, D.C., Academy of American Franciscan History, 1978. Morgan, David. Protestants and Pictures: Religion, Visual Culture, and the Age of

430 American Mass Production. New York: Oxford University, 1999. ------. The Sacred Gaze: Religious Visual Culture in Theory and Practice. Berkeley: University of California, 2005. ------. Visual Piety: A History and Theory of Popular Religious Images. Berkeley: University of California, 1998. Morgan, David and Sally M. Promey, eds. The Visual Culture of American Religions. Berkeley: University of California, 2001. Morgan, Lewis Henry. League of the Haudenosaunee, or Iroquois. New York : Dodd, Mead, 1901. Morrison, Kenneth M. The Solidarity of Kin: Ethnohistory, Religious Studies and the Algonkian-French Religious Encounter. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2002. ------. “Baptism and Alliance: The Symbolic Mediations of Religious Syncretism.” Ethnohistory 37, 1990. Motolinia, T. History of the Indians of New Spain. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1950. Nabhan-Warren, Kristy. The Virgin of El Bario: Marian Apparitions, Catholic Evangelizing, and Mexican American Activism. New York: New York University, 2005. Nabokov, Peter. A Forest of Time: American Indian Ways of History. New York: Cambridge University, 2002. Nader, Helen, and Luciano Formisano. The Book of Privileges Issued to Christopher Columbus by King Fernando and Queen Isabel, 1492-1502. Berkeley: University of California, 1996. Nesvig, Martin Austin, ed. Local Religion in Colonial Mexico. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2006. Niezen, Ronald. Spirit Wars: Native North American religions in the age of nation building. Berkeley, University of California Press, 2000. Nolan, Mary Lee and Sidney Nolan, Christian Pilgrimage in Modern Western Europe. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 1989. Norris, Jim. After “The Year Eighty”: The Demise of Franciscan Power in Spanish New

431 Mexico. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2000. ------. “The Franciscans in New Mexico, 1692-1754: Toward a New Assessment,” The Americas, vol. 51, no. 2. October 1994, 151-171. Nussbaum, Martha C. “Emotions a Judgments of Value: A Philosophical Dialogue.” Comparative Criticism 20 (1998). 33-62. ------. The Therapy of Desire: Theory and Practice in Hellenistic Ethics. Princeton: Princeton University, 1994. ------. Upheavals of Thought: The Intelligence of Emotions. Cambridge: Cambridge University, 2001. Obeyesekere, Gananath. The Apotheosis of Captain Cook: European Mythmaking in the Pacific. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992. O’Brien, John A. The American Martyrs: The Story of the Eight Jesuit Martyrs of North America. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1953. O’Toole, James M., ed. Habits of Devotion: Catholic Religious Practice in Twentieth- Century America. Ithaca: Cornell, 2004. Orsi, Robert Anthony. Between Heaven and Earth: The Religious Worlds People make and the Scholars Who Study Them. Princeton: Princeton University, 2006. ------. The Madonna of 115th Street: Faith and Community in Italian Harlem, 1880- 1950. New Haven: Yale University, 1985. Ortiz, Alphonso. “Dual Organization as an Operational Concept in the Pueblo Southwest,” Ethnology (1965), vol. 4, 389-396. ------, ed. New Perspectives on the Pueblos. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1972. ------. The Tewa World: Space, Time, Being and Becoming in a Pueblo Society. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1969 Ortner, Sherry B. High Religion: A Cultural and Political History of Sherpa Buddhism Princeton: Princeton University, 1989. Otto, Rudolf. The Idea of the Holy: An Inquiry into the non-rational factor in the idea of the divine and its relation to the rational. Trans., John W. Harvey. New York: Oxford University, 1978. Padden, Robert C. The Hummingbird and the Hawk: Conquest and Sovereignty in the

432 Valley of Mexico, 1503-1541. Columbus: Ohio State, 1967. Pardo, Osvaldo. The Origins of Mexican Catholicism: Nahua Rituals and Christian Sacraments in Sixteeenth Century Mexioco. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 2004. Parkman, Francis. The Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century. Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1963. Parsons, Elsie Clews. Hopi and Zuni Ceremonialism. Menasha, Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin, 1933. ------. “Nativity Myth at Laguna and Zuni.” Journal of American Folk-Lore 31 (1918), 256-263. ------. Pueblo Indian Religion. 2 Vol. Lincoln: University of Nebraska, 1996. ------. The Pueblo of Jemez. New Haven: Yale University, 1925. ------. The Scalp Ceremonial of Zuni. Menasha, WI.: American Anthropological Association, 1924. ------. The Social Organization of the Tewa of New Mexico, The Memoirs of the American Anthropological Association, No. 36. Menascha, Wisc.: American Anthropological Association, 1929. ------. “Tewa Kin, Clan, and Moiety,” American Anthropologist 26 (1924), 333-339. ------. “The Ceremonial Calendar of the Tewa of Arizona,” American Anthropologist 28 (1926), 209-229. Parsons, Elsie Clews and Ralph Beals, “The Sacred Clowns of the Pueblo and Mayo- Yaqui Indians,” American Anthropologist (1934), vol. 36, 491-514. Pasquier, Michael. Fathers on the Frontier: French Missionaries and the Roman Catholic Priesthood in the United States, 1789-1870. New York: Oxford, 2010. Pearlstone, Zena. Katsina: Commodified and Appropriated Images of Hopi Supernaturals. Los Angeles: University of California, 2001. Peekham, H. and C. Gibson, eds. Attitudes of Colonial Powers Toward the American Indian. Salt Lake City: University of Utah, 1969. Peristiany, J. Honor and Shame: The Values of Mediterranean Society. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1965. Pescatello, Ann, ed. Female and Male in Latin America: Essays Pittsburg: University

433 of Pittsburg, 1973. Pomedli, Michael M. Ethnophilosophical and Ethnolinguistic Perspectives on the Huron Indian Soul. Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 1991. Pooley, Emil. 1967 Interview, Duke Oral History Project. Marriott Library, University of Utah, Number 73. Porterfield, Amanda. Healing in the History of Christianity. New York: Oxford University, 2005. ------. The Transformation of American Religion: The Story of a Late-Twentieth- Century Awakening. New York: Oxford, 2001. Preucel, Robert W. Archaeologies of the Pueblo Revolt: Identity, Meaning and Renewal in the Pueblo World. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2002. ------, Loa P. Traxler, and Michael V. Wilcox, “Now the God of the Spaniards is Dead,” Traditions, Transitions, and Technologies: Themes in Southwest Archaeology, Sarah Schlanger, ed. Boulder: University Press of Colorodo, 2002. Promey, Salley M. “Pictorial Ambivalence and American Protestantism,” Crossroads: Art and Religion in American Life. Ed. Glenn Wallach and Alberta Arthurs. New York: New Press, 2001. Rappaport, Roy A. Ecology, Meaning, and Religion. Richmond, CA: North Atlantic, 1979. Ray, Arthur J. Indians in the Fur Trade. Toronto: University of Toronto, 1998. Recopilacion de leyes de los reynos de las Indias. 4 Vol. 1681. Madrid: Editorial Cultural Hispanica, 1973. Rees Jones, Ricardo. El despotismo ilustrado y los intendentes de la Nueva España. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico, 1979. Reeve, Frank D. History of New Mexico. Vol. 1. New York: Lewis Historical Publishing Company, 1961. Reeves, Marjorie. Joachim of Fiore and the Prophetic Future: A Medieval Study in Historical Thinking. Stroud, U.K.: Sutton, 1999. Reff, Daniel T. “The ‘Predicament of Culture’ and Spanish Missionary Accounts of the Tepehuan and Pueblo Revolts.” Ethnohistory 41 (Winter 1995), 63-90.

434 Ricard, Robert. La “Conquete Spirituelle”du Mexique. Essai sur l’apostolat et les methods missionaries des orders mendiants en Nouvelle-Espagne de 1523-24 a 1572. Paris: Institut d’Ethnologie, 1933. Richard, Robert. The Spiritual Conquest of Mexico: Essays on the Apostolate and Evangelizing Methods of the Mendicant Orders in New Spain, 1523-1572. Berkeley: University of California, 1982. Richter, Daniel K. Facing East from Indian Country: A Native History of Early America. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001. Riley, Carroll. The Kachina and the Cross: Indians and Spaniards in the Early Southwest. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1999. Roberts, David, The Pueblo Revolt: The Secret Rebellion that Drove the Spaniards out of the Southwest. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2004. Robson, Michael. The Franciscans in the Middle Ages. Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2006. Roediger, Virginia More. Ceremonial Costumes of the Pueblo Indians: Their Evolution, Fabrication, and Significance in the Prayer Drama. Berkeley: University of California, 1991. Rohn, Arthur H. and William M. Ferguson, Puebloan Ruins of the Southwest. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2006. Rushforth, Scott, and Steadman Upham. A Hopi Social History. Austin: University of Texas, 1992. Russell, Letty M. God, Gold, Glory and Gender: A Post-colonial View of Mission. Edinburgh: International Review of Mission, 2004. Sahlins, Marshal. The Islands of History. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1985. ------. Tribesmen. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1968. Sarinana y Cuenca, Fray Ysidro. The Franciscan Martyrs of 1680: Funerary Orations over the Twenty-one Franciscans Killed by the Pueblo Indians, August, 10, 1680. Santa Fe: New Mexican Printing, 1906. Sariola, Sakari. Power and Resistance: The Colonial Heritage of Latin America. Ithaca: Cornell, 1972. Scarry, Elaine. The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World. New York:

435 Oxford, 1985. Schaafsma, Polly. Indian Rock Art of the Southwest. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1980. ------, ed. Kachinas in the Pueblo World. Salt Lake City: University of Utah, 2000. ------. “Quetzalcoatl and the Horned and Feathered Serpent of the Southwest,” The Road to Aztlan: Art from a Mythic Homeland, Ed. Virginia M. Fields and Victor Zamudio-Taylor. Los Angeles: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2001. Schele, Linda. The Blood of Kings: Dynasty and Ritual in Maya Art. New York: George Braziller, 1986. Schlanger, Sarah, ed. Traditions, Transitions, and Technologies: Themes in Southwest Archaeology. Boulder: University Press of Colorado, 2002. Schleiermacher, Friedrich. On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despiser. Cambridge Texts in the History of Philosophy. Trans., Richard Crouter. New York: Cambridge University, 1996. Scholes, France V. Church and State in New Mexico, 1610-1650. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1937. ------. "Church and State in New Mexico, 1610-1680,” New Mexico Historical Review 11 - 12 (January 1936 - 1937). ------. “Civil Government and Society in New Mexico in the Seventeenth Century.” New Mexico Historical Review 10 (1935), 71-111. ------. “The First Decade of the Inquisition in New Mexico,” New Mexico Historical Review 10 (1935), 240-241. ------. “Franciscan Missionary Scholars in Colonia Central America.” The Americas, Vol. 8, No. 4. April, 1952, 391-416. ------. “The Supply Service of the New Mexican Missions in the Seventeenth Century,” New Mexico Historical Review 10 (April 1935). ------. "Troublous Times in New Mexico, 1659-1670," New Mexico Historical Review 12 – 16 (April 1937 - July 1941). ------. Troublous Times in New Mexico, 1659-1670. Albuquerque: Historical Society of New Mexico Publications in History, 1942. Scholes, France V. and Lansing B. Bloom, “Friar Personnel and Mission Chronology,

436 1598-1629,“ New Mexico Historical Review 19 (October 1944). Schroeder, Albert H. “Rio Grande Ethnohistory,” New Perspectives on the Pueblos, Ed. Alfonso Ortiz. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1972. ------. and Dan S. Matson, eds. and trans. A Colony on the Move: Caspar Catano de Sosa’s Journal, 1590-1591. Salt Lake City: School of American Research, 1965. Schwartz, D. W. ”Climate Change and Culture History in the Grand Canyon Region,” American Antiquity 22 (1957), 372-377. Schwartz, Regina. The Curse of Cain: The Violent Legacy of Monotheism. Chicago: University of Chicago, 19909. Scott, James C. Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts. New Haven: Yale University, 1992. Sells, Michael A. The Bridge Betrayed: Religion and Genocide in Bosnia. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996. Sekaquaptewa, Emory. “Hopi Indian Ceremonies,” Seeing With a Native Eye. Ed. Walter H. Capps. New York: Harper and Row, 1976. Shweder, Richard A., and Robert A. LeVine. Culture Theory: Essays on Mind, Self, and Emotion. Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1984. Simmons, Marc, ed. and trans. Father Juan Agustin de Morfi’s Account of Disorders in New Mexico, 1778. Isleta Pueblo: Historical Society of New Mexico, 1977. ------. “History of Pueblo-Spanish Relations to 1821,” Handbook of North American Indians. Washington: Smithsonian Institute, 1979. Slotkin, Richard. Regeneration Through Violence: the Mythology of the American Frontier, 1600-1860. Norman: University of Oklahoma, 2000. Smith, Jonathan Z. Imagining Religion: From Babylon to Jonestown. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1982. Spicer, Edward H. Cycles of Conquest: The Impact of Spain, Mexico and the United Slates on the Indians of the Southwest, 1533-1960. Tucson: University of Arizona, 1962. ------, ed. Perspectives on American Indian Culture Change. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1961. ------. “Spanish-Indian Acculturation in the Southwest,” with comments by Florence

437 Hawley Ellis and Edward P. Dozier. American Anthropologist 56 (1954), 681. Spickard, James, J. Shawn Landres, and Meredith McGuire, eds. Personal Knowledge and Beyond: Reshaping the Ethnography of Religion. New York: New York University, 2002. Stannard, David E., American Holocaust: The Conquest of the New World. New York: Oxford University, 1993. Stearns, Peter N. and Carol Z. Stearns, “Emotionology: Clarifying the History of Emotions and Emotional Standards,” American Historical Review 90. October 1985, 813-836. Stewart, David. Anasazi America. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2000. Stirling, Matthew W. Origin Myth of Acoma and Other Records. Washington, D.C.: U. S. Bureau of Ethnology, 1942. Sullivan, Lawrence, ed. Native Religions and Cultures of North America: Anthropology of the Sacred. New York: Continuum, 2000. Sundstrom, Linea. Indian Rock Art in the Black Hills Country. Norman: University of Oklahoma, 2004. Swartz, Regina M. The Curse of Cain: The Violent Legacy of Monotheism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997. Swentzell, Rina. “Pueblo Space Form, and Mythology,” Pueblo Style and Regional Architecture, ed. N. C. Markovich, W. F. E. Preiser, and F. G. Sturm. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1990. Talayesva, Don. Sun Chief: The Autobiography of a Hopi Indian. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1942. Taylor, Mark C. Disfiguring: Art, Architecture, Religion. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1992. Taylor, William B. Magistrates of the Sacred: Priests and Parishioners in Eighteenth- Century Mexico. Stanford: Stanford University, 1996. ------. “The Virgin of Guadalupe in New Spain,” American Ethnologist 14:I. Hoboken: American Anthropological Association. Febuary, 1987. Terrell, John Upton. Pueblos, Gods and Spaniards. New York: Dial Press, 1973. Thompson, Eric S. Maya Hieroglyphic Writing: An Introduction, Carnegie Institution

438 of Washington Publication 589. Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Institution of Washington, 1950. Thompson, Marc. “The Evolution and Dissemination of Mimbres Iconography,” Kachinas in the Pueblo World. Ed., Polly Schaafsma. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1994. Tillich, Paul. Dynamics of Faith. New York: Harper & Row, 1957. Timmons, W. H. El Paso: A Borderlands History. El Paso: Texas Western, 1990. Titiev, Mischa. Old Oraibi: A Study of the Hopi Indians of the Third Mesa. Cambridge: Harvard University, 1944. Torquemada, Juan de. Monarquia indiana (1615). Facsimile of 1723 Edition. 3 Vols. 1943-1944. Trigger, Bruce G. The Children of Aataentsic: A History of the Huron People to 1660. Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1987. Turner, Victor. The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure. New York: Aldine de Gruyter, 1995. Twitchell, Ralph Emerson. The Spanish Archives of New Mexico. 2 Vols. New York: Arno Press, 1976. Tyler, Hamilton A. Pueblo Animals and Myths. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma, 1975. ------. Pueblo Gods and Myths. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma, 1964. Tyler, Stephen A. “Post-Modern Ethnography: From Document of the Occult to Occult Document.” Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography, eds. James Clifford and George E. Marcus. Berkeley: University of California, 1986. Tweed, Thomas. Crossing and Dwelling: A Theory of Religion. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006. ------. Our Lady of Exile: Diasporic Religion at a Cuban Catholic Shrine in Miami. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997. Upham, Steadman, K. G. Lightfoot, and R. A. Jewett, eds. The Sociopolitical Structure of Prehistoric Southwestern Societies. Boulder: Westview, 1987. Valle, Rafael Heliodoro. Mitologia de Santiago en America: tesis , esis para el examen

439 de Maestro en Ciencias Históricas, en la Facultad de Filosofía y Letras de la Universidad Autónoma de México, México City: n.p., 1946. Vanpool, Christine S., Todd L. Vanpool, and David A. Phillips Jr., eds. Religion in the Prehispanic Southwest. New York: AltaMira: 2006. Van Gennep, Arnold. Rites of Passage, Trans. Monika B. Vizedom and Gabrielle L. Caffee. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1960. Van Oss, Adriann. Catholic Colonialism: The Parish of Guatemala. Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1986. Veblen, Thorstein. Theory of the Leisure Class: An Economic Study in the Evolution of Institutions. New York: Macmillan, 1899. Vecsey, Christopher. The Paths of Kateri’s Kin. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 1997. ------. On the Padres’ Trail. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 1996. ------, ed. Religion in Native North America. , Idaho: University of Idaho Press, 1990. Velasco, Andres Miguel Perez de. El ayudante de cura instruido en el porte a que le obliga su dignidad en los deberes a que le estrecha su empleo y en la fructuosa practica de su ministerio. Puebla: n.p., 1766. Vetancurt, Fray Agustin de. Teatro Mexicano: Descripcion breve de los sucessos exemplars de la Nueva España en el Nuevo Mundo. Madrid, 1961. 4 Vol. Villagra, Gaspar Perez de. Historia de la Nueva Mexico. Trans., Gilberto Espinosa. Chicago: Rio Grande, 1962. Walker, John A., and Sarah Chaplin. Visual Culture: An Introduction. Manchester: Manchester University, 1997. Walz, Vina. “History of the El Paso Area, 1680-1692.” PhD Dissertation. University of New Mexico, 1951. Walzer, Michael. Just and Unjust Wars: A Moral Argument with Historical Illustrations. New York: Basic Books, 2000. Washburn, Dorothy K. “A Symmetry Classification of Pueblo Ceramic Designs,” Discovering Past Behavior: Experiments in the Archaeology of the American Southwest, Ed. Paul Grebinger. London: Gordon and Breach Science, 1978.

440 ------, ed. Embedded Symmetries: Natural and Cultural. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 2004. ------, “Perceptual Anthropology: The Cultural Salience of Symmetry,” American Anthropologist, (1999) vol. 101, 547-562. Waters, Frank. Book of the Hopi. New York: Penguin, 1963. Webb, Malcolm. “Functional and Historical Parallelisms between Mesoamerican and Mississippian Cultures,” The Southeastern Ceremonial Complex: Artifacts and Analysis. Ed. Patricia Galloway. Lincoln: University of Nebraska, 1989. Weber, David J. The Spanish Frontier in North America. New Haven: Yale University, 1992. Weber, Max, The Sociology of Religion. Boston: Beacon, 1993. Weinstein, Donald and Rudolph Bell, Saints and Society: Two Worlds of Western Civilization, 1000-1700. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1982. Weismann, Elizabeth W. Mexico in Sculpture, 1521-1821. Cambridge: Harvard, 1950. Wendorf, Fred. “A Reconstruction of Northern Rio Grande Prehistory,” American Anthropologist (1954) vol. 56, 200-227. Wendorf, Fred and Erik Reed, “An Alternative Reconstruction of Northern Rio Grande Prehistory” El Palacio (1955) vol. 62, 131-173. Wenger, Tisa. We Have a Religion: The 1920s Pueblo Indian Dance Controversy and American Religious Freedom. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 2009. Werbner, Pnina, and Helene Basu. Embodying Charisma: Modernity, Locality and the Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults. New York: Routledge, 1998. Wessley, Stephen E. Joachim of Fiore and Monastic Reform. New York: Peter Lang, 1990. White, Hayden. Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University, 1986. White, Leslie A. The Acoma Indians. Washington, D.C.: U. S. Bureau of Ethnology, 1932. ------. “The Pueblo of Santa Ana, New Mexico,” Memoirs of the American Anthropological Association. Washington, D.C: American Anthropological Association, 1942, 138-142.

441 ------. “The Pueblo of Santa Domingo, New Mexico,” Memoirs of the American Anthropological Association. Washington, D.C: American Anthropological Association, 1935, 63. ------. The Pueblo of Sia, New Mexico, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 184. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1962. ------. “The World of the Keresan Pueblo Indians,” Primitive Views of the World, Ed. Stanley Diamond. New York: Columbia University, 1964. White, Richard. The Middle Ground: Indians, Empires, and Republics in the Great Lakes Region, 1650-1815. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991. Whitehouse, Harvey. Modes of Religiosity: A Cognitive Theory of Religious Transmission. Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira, 2004 Whitehouse, Harvey, and James Laidlaw, eds. Religion, Anthropology, and Cognitive Science. Durham, North Carolina: Carolina Academic, 2007. Whitman, William. The Pueblo Indians of San Ildefonso. New York: Columbia University, 1947. Wiget, Andrew O. “Truth and the Hopi: An Historiographic Study of Documented Oral Tradition concerning the Coming of the Spanish.” Ethnohistory, Vol. 29, No. 3. Summer, 1982, 181-199. Wicox, David R. and W. Bruce Masse, eds. The Protohistoric Period in the North American Southwest: A.D. 1450-1700. Tempe: Arizona State University Anthropological Research Papers, 1981. Williams, Raymond. Marxism and Literature. Oxford: Oxford University, 1977. Witherspoon, G. and G. Peterson, Dynamic Symmetry and Holistic Asymmetry in Navajo and Western Art and Cosmology. New York: Peter Lang, 1995. Witthoft, John. “The American Indian as Hunter.” Pennsylvania Game News. Vol. 24, No. 2, 3, 4. Wittfogel, Karl A. and Esther S. Goldfrank, “Some aspects of Pueblo Mythology and Society,” Journal of American Folklore (1943), vol. 56, 17-30. Witthoft, John. “The American Indian as Hunter,” Pennsylvania Game News, vol. 24, nos 2, 3, 4 Woodbury, Richard B. “Chaos to Order: A. V. Kidder at Pecos,” Pecos Ruins. Ed. David

442 Grant Noble. Santa Fe: School of American Research, 1981. Wormington, Marie H. Prehistoric Indians of the Southwest. Denver: University of Colorado, 1975. Wright, Barton. Hopi Material Culture: Artifacts Gathered by H. R. Voth in the Fred Harvey Collection. Flagstaff, Arizona: Northland Press, 1979. Young, Jane M. Signs from the Ancestors: Zuni Cultural Symbolism and Perceptions of Rock Art. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1988.

443 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

Michael P. Gueno was born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana on October 30, 1981. He attended Louisiana State University where he was awarded a B.A. in Political Science and Philosophy, with a concentration in Religious Studies. He continued his education in the American Religious History track of the Religion Department at Florida State University. He has served as an instructor in the Religion Departments of FSU and LSU.

444