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"Social structures are geographies-overlapping,
partially integrated and messy geographies-and they have to be
not just perceived but theorized and even represented as such."
-- Nigel Thrift, "Introduction," In: New Models
of Geography, R. Peet and N. Thrift, eds. London: UnwinHyman.
P.263.
Recently, across academic disciplines, there has been growing interest in theorizing space and place, particularly with regards to notions of mobility, borders, and the relationship between locality and identity (see Feld and Basso 1996). Much of this scholarship has been inspired by Foucault's (1970, 1979, 1986) analysis of the connections between surveillance and the map, by De Certeau's (1984) treatment of space as practiced place, and the phenomenology of dwelling described in the work of Martin Heidegger (1971). But the increased attention to these issues has scholarly roots as diverse as the treatments that have been produced over the last 30 years.
In anthropology, much of the postmodern, postcolonial scholarship about space and place has explored these issues with regards to contemporary global and transnational movements of people, capital, goods and ideas, looking at phenomena such as the de- and re-territorialization of mobile populations, the globalization of economic relations, and contemporary transnational exchanges of images, representations and ideas. Latin America has been somewhat underrepresented in this scholarship, with particularly little attention given to understanding the changing (and not necessarily isomorphic) relationship between space, place, and culture within this context.
This web site has been designed to provide reference materials for students interested in pursuing issues of space and place with regards to scholarship on early Latin America. It contains a excerpt from an essay that I am developing that explores the relationship between rural and urban spaces and social hierarchies in the early colonial period; a bibliography; and images (mostly early colonial maps) that might offer some insight into pre-colonial and colonial notions of space and place. This site is a preliminary rather than definitive resource, meant to provide other students and scholars with the materials I have encountered thus far in my attempts to understand these issues. Certainly, there is a great deal of material not covered here. I encourage anyone who would like to add to these materials or who has other suggestions to let me know. It would be a great help to me and to others.
--Alicia Carmona
ac369@is9.nyu.edu
Alicia Carmona
Performance Studies Final Paper
Professor Diana Taylor
December 20, 2000
Landscapes of Struggle: The Reproduction of Physical and
Social Spaces in Colonial Mexico City
"It is an impenetrable forest filled with evil and dissolution
It is filled with innumerable lairs and other hiding places, where
vile persons shelter themselves [T]hey are storehouses of the
lazy, daring, insolent, shameless and untamed multitude who strike
fear in the rest of the inhabitants" (quoted in Haslip-Viera
1999: 8).
As one of the largest and most prosperous cities in the Americas, colonial Mexico City inspired fear, evoked awe, and awoke envy in its Spanish and Creole elite. It was located at the hub of international and interregional trade routes; it was a manufacturing center; it was the administrative, commercial and cultural center of the northern half of the Spanish empire in the Americas (Haslip-Viera 1999). Its population-estimated to have reached between 135,000 to 150,000 by the 1790s-was impressive in its size and yet intimidating in its constitution: New Spain's most racially diverse population, Mexico City was overwhelmingly not Spanish, comprised of 'Indians,' slaves from Africa, mestizos, mulattos, and other castas in general (ibid.). Structurally the city was just as complex, with an estimated 355 streets, 146 alleys, 90 plazas, 3,389 buildings, and innumerable shanties, temporary dwellings, paths and alleyways (ibid.). One great capital built on the ruins of another, its compositional and cultural complexities were mutually derived.
In this paper I will look at colonial Mexico City for some insight into the relationship between physical space and colonial cultural reproduction. I will look at the ways in which spaces were used as sites for the reproduction (explored as surrogation) of cultural forms and persons. Equally important will be exploring the ways in which the objects of this attempted reproduction-particularly the Indian, African and casta masses-used the same spaces to transform or manipulate existing cultural forms (explored as the use of tactics). Finally, by focusing on specific 'vortices of behavior,' I hope to demonstrate various ways in which this process was both carried out by elites and threatened by subjects who attempted to transgress actual physical and conceptual social spaces.
Theoretical Premises
Before commencing my description of cultural reproduction in the 'spaces' of colonial Mexico City, it will be necessary to elaborate a theory of cultural reproduction. Here I will primarily rely upon Roach's (1996) notion of surrogation: his theory of cultural production and reproduction that focuses on "the network of social relations that constitutes the social fabric"
"Into the cavities created by loss through death or other forms of departure survivors attempt to fit satisfactory alternatives. Because collective memory works selectively, imaginatively, and often perversely, surrogation rarely if ever succeeds. The process requires many trials and at least as many errors. The fit cannot be exact[The] very uncanniness of the process of surrogation, which tends to disturb the complacency of all thoughtful incumbents, may provoke many unbidden emotions, ranging from mildly incontinent sentimentalism to raging paranoia. As ambivalence deepens even the preparations of the likely successors may alienate the affections of the officeholders-all the more powerfully when social or cultural differences exacerbate generational ones. At these times, improvised narratives of authenticity and priority may congeal into full-blown myths of legitimacy and origin" (Roach 1996: 2-3).
While surrogation is a process that draws upon the (faulty)
collective memory, it also invokes forgetting. "Selective
memory requires public enactments of forgetting, either to blur
out the obvious discontinuities, misalliances, and ruptures or,
more desperately, to exaggerate them in order to mystify a previous
Golden Age, now lapsed" (Roach 1996: 3).
Roach does not suggest that surrogation is a "universal,
transhistorical" structure or model, only that it is useful
"within a specific though very extensive historic and material
continuum" represented by his conceptualization of a circum-Atlantic
world (Roach 1996: 4). This concept insists upon the "centrality
of the diasporic and genocidal histories of Africa and the Americas,
North and South, in the creation of the culture of modernity"
(ibid.). The peoples of circum-Atlantic societies invent themselves
through "performing their pasts in the presence of others"-performances
of who they are and are not, of both identity and difference (Roach
1996: 5-6). Finally, while the forgetting that accompanies surrogation
has led to the erasure of indigenous populations and unspeakable
violence, "circum-Atlantic memory retains its consequences,"
recasting forgetting as "memory imperfectly deferred"
(Roach 1996: 4).
For the Mexico City example I will deploy, I would like to add to Roach's conceptualization of surrogation de Certeau's notion of tactics, which I feel puts greater emphasis on agentive transgression and the manipulation of dominant (hegemonic but not uncontested) values and cultural forms. In other words, in addition to characterizing cultural reproduction as a process of fitting alternatives, selective memory and strategic forgetting-processes or activities which are perhaps more easily attributed to the dominant than to the dominated-I feel it would be useful to stress that it can also be characterized as a process in which the dominated find ways of using or manipulating cultural products imposed by a dominant other:
"For instance, the ambiguity that subverted from within the Spanish colonizers' 'success' in imposing their own culture on the indigenous Indians is well known. The Indians often made of rituals, representations, and laws imposed upon them something quite different from what their conquerors had in mind; they subverted them not by rejecting them or altering them, but by using them with respect to ends and references foreign to the system they had no choice but to accept. They were other within the very colonization that outwardly assimilated them; their use of the dominant social order deflected its power, which they lacked the means to challenge; they escaped it without leaving it" (de Certeau 1984: xii).
Selectively drawing upon the work of de Certeau, therefore, I will make reference to "tactics:"
"[Calculated actions] determined by the absence of a proper locusThe space of a tactic is the space of the otherIt does not have the options of planning general strategy and viewing the adversary as a whole within a district [sic], visible, and objectifiable space. It operates in isolated actions, blow by blow. It takes advantages of 'opportunities' and depends upon them In short, a tactic is the art of the weak" (de Certeau 1984: 37).
The notion of a tactic contrasts with that of a strategy, which
"is organized by the postulation of power," allowing
the powerful to capitalize acquired advantages, prepare future
expansions, and elaborate systems and totalizing discourses (de
Certeau 1984: 38).
Building upon both Roach and De Certeau, I will further focus on "key points of articulation between human behavior and the built environment" in colonial Mexico City (Roach 1996: 13). To do this, I will also employ as a lens Roach's conceptualization of 'vortices of behavior,' where architectural innovation and social organization intersect. These places or sites of memory function
"to canalize specified needs, desires, and habits in order to reproduce them where the gravitational pull of social necessity brings audiences together and produces performers (candidates for surrogation) from their midst a kind of spatially induced carnival, a center of cultural self-invention through the restoration of behavior. Into such maelstroms, the magnetic forces of commerce and pleasure suck the willing and the unwilling alike" (Roach 1996: 28).
While such vortices seem like ideal sites for the performance
of transgression, Roach suggests that they are in fact more likely
to house the staging of the official: "a place in which everyday
practices and attitudes may be legitimated reinforced, celebrated,
or intensified" (Roach 1996: 28). When this happens, powerful
"condensational events" occur, events of such impact
that their memory survives "the transformation or relocation
of the spaces in which they first flourished" (ibid.).
I will further attempt to apply Roach's notion of 'vortices' to specifically delimited geographical spaces within colonial Mexico City. On one hand, the larger configuration of the cityscape itself is important as "a totalizing and almost mythical landmark for socioeconomic and political strategies" (de Certeau 1984: 95). The city, representing "the language of power," is also "prey to contradictory movements that counterbalance and combine themselves outside the reach of panoptic power" (ibid.). I will argue that the social and geographical configuration of the city is important for understanding how specific spaces function as vortices of behavior.
The Spaces of Colonial Mexico City
In the various accounts of Spanish conquest and settlement
in the Americas, it becomes apparent that the founding of towns
and cities was an integral part of the business of empire. Christopher
Columbus' attempts to administer Spanish settlements as fortified
trading posts (feitorias) in the Portuguese and Genoese
tradition of exploration prompted his Spanish settlers to rebel.
Their instincts, in the manner of Spanish conquest, were to "concentrate
first on [the] settlement and thorough rule" of the new world
they had discovered (Lockhart and Schwartz 1983: 62). In founding
the municipality of Veracruz soon after landing on the Gulf coast
of Mexico, Hernan Cortés created an institution that could
legitimize his independent leadership of the conquest of Tenochtitlan,
giving what was essentially an act of insubordination at least
a semblance of legality. After the conquest, Fraser tells us,
Spanish settlers began establishing grid-plan towns even before
the crown had formulated a clear policy on what the "desirable
or practicable" norm of settlement should be (Fraser 1990:
36).
Given the lack of explicit royal directives as to how these
towns ought to be geographically organized, the geographical and
architectural uniformity of many American cities and towns is
quite striking (see Fraser 1990). For example, a commonly shared
and important feature of these municipalities was the traza,
the Spanish core, the political, religious, social, and cultural
center of the city (see figure 1). The trazas of Spanish-founded
colonial cities were built on a gridiron design, with a large
central plaza surrounded by streets running at or near right angles.
At the heart of the traza was a central plaza, on or near
which would be the main church or cathedral, the town hall, the
pillory and the prison, as well as the town's main market (see
figure 2) (Kagen 2000; Fraser 1990).
It has been convincingly argued that this common design was
not merely an imitation of what was found in Spain. Indeed, most
Spanish towns (particularly those build prior to the Reconquest)
lacked such geographical standardization (see Fraser 1900). Instead,
such uniformity has been attributed to widely shared ideological
assumptions about what 'town' and 'city' represented. Urban life
was seen as a prerequisite for civilization, for policía
(roughly defined as civil society with a just form of government
and a range of attributes including rationality) (Fraser 1990;
Nader 1990). The few people who did live outside of municipalities-the
miller, shepherd, or innkeeper-were considered truly 'outside'
civilized society, if not socially perverse (see Nader 1990).
One's citizenship (vecindad) in a municipality was the
legal basis for the civil status of laypersons outside the nobility.
It also symbolized a "secure and moral social world"
(Nader 1990: 28).
The actual physical attributes of urbanity were similarly imbued
with meaning. Orderliness in town planning was directly related
to the social orderliness that would be found within it. Certain
materials (stone) and architectural styles (classical) were considered
more indicative of cultural progress than others. "In addition,
as the town's chief ceremonial center, site of religious processions,
various temporal entertainments such as bullfights, and the place
where visiting dignitaries were customarily received, the plaza
served both as a school and a theatre where the rudiments of policía
were taught" (Kagen 2000: 34). Thus even in pre-colonial
era Spain, the production of persons was grounded in or conceptually
linked to specific physical and social spaces.
Colonial Mexico City was planned and constructed to exhibit
many of these geographical and ideological traits (see figures
1 and 3 and for comparison, figure 4). Clearly outlined in figure
1 is its traza, featuring well-ordered streets that emanate
out from the Plaza Mayor. Around this central plaza were the Viceregal
Palace, the city hall or casa de cabildo, and the cathedral,
the seat of the Archbishop of Mexico. "The Plaza Mayor was
the scene of great economic and social activity" (Haslip-Viera
1999: 10). It was where royal decrees were read and civil and
religious ceremonies and processions were held. It was also a
site in which corporal punishments, including whippings, mutilations
and hangings, were carried out, particularly for crimes that "offended
the public morality" (Haslip-Viera 1999: 101). On its western
corner was the Parián or marketplace, where a wide range
of products and services were offered. Within a few blocks of
the plaza other important colonial seats of power could be found:
the Royal Mint, the Inquisition, and the Customshouse. Around
the Plaza del Volador, adjacent to the Plaza Mayor, stood the
University of Mexico and the Academia de San Carlos. These structures,
we should also note, were built on top of the remains of the destroyed
Mexica-Aztec capital Tenochtitlan, its great canals gradually
filled by forced Indian labor, and a cathedral looming where the
greatest Mexica-Aztec temple once stood (see Kagan 2000; Townsend
1989; Gibson 1964).
Ideally, the traza was meant to be the Spanish center:
"a Spanish island in an indigenous sea" (Cope 1994:
10). This area of some thirteen square blocks was conceptualized
as a haven for the Spanish only, with Indians relegated to the
barrios surrounding it. Separated Spanish and Indian spaces
were obviously politically convenient, facilitating the orderly
collection of tribute and the extraction of labor from indigenous
populations. But they were also tools for the production (and
surveillance) of persons. In these separate spaces American-born
Creoles and Indians were to be imbued with the ideals of Spanish
policía in their own similarly patterned towns.
The attempted spatial separation of Spanish and Indian also embodied
the need to prevent the mixing of these bodies. Not only did miscegenation
produce legally ambiguous peoples-mestizos not subject
to tribute-but it also complicated attempts to justify the premises
behind conquest (the Christianization of indigenous, pagan peoples)
by blurring the lines between essentialist notions of 'Spanish'
and 'Indian' identities. The attempted physical separation of
these peoples therefore also represented the attempted reproduction
of clear-cut social categories based on race, with 'Spanish' and
'Indian' replacing hidalgo and plebian as the crucial social
markers. Finally, however, this layout also emerged from the Spanish
"fear and mistrust" of the Indians: "the traza's
houses and churches had a fortresslike solidarity, in case of
native uprising; [visualizing] their disdain for the social and
cultural practices of their conquered foes" (Cope 1994:10).
We can also point to the very interesting role that memory
played in signifying the traza as a site of cultural production.
On one hand, we might characterize it as a site of strategic forgetting.
Mexica-Aztec monuments were dismantled and concrete symbols of
a new power structure erected in their places. On the other, it
seems likely that even one or two hundred years after the fall
of Tenochtitlan, certain physical markers kept it emblazoned in
the Spanish and Indian imaginary: strategic canals and bridges
remained, some original causeways were maintained, and perhaps
even the city's periodic floods invoked memories of Tenochtitlan's
great lake. Even the replacement of Mexica-Aztec monuments with
Spanish ones (particularly the virtual imposition of a Spanish/Catholic
temple on top of an indigenous one) recalled the past. We could
say, therefore, that the destruction/replacement of structures
was an only partially successful attempt to erase the Mexica-Aztec
past. At the same time, we might also see the imposition of new
forms on already meaningful spaces as the attempted maintenance
of a memory of defeat-a reminder of who had been victorious and
who had been replaced.
To a large degree, however, the attempted social and spatial
separation of persons in Mexico City failed. On one hand, the
streets of Mexico City, particularly within its traza,
were sites of mixing. "Each morning, large numbers of Indians
would descend on the [Plaza Mayor] from the outskirts of the city
from the neighboring towns of the valley to sell grains, vegetables,
fruits In addition all kinds of services were available at the
marketplace" (Haslip-Viera 1999: 10). Economic necessity,
moreover, meant that mestizos, mulattos, and Indians lived
and worked in the center of the city with the Spaniards and Creoles
(Haslip-Viera 1999: 13). In pulquerías, "Indians,
castas, and poor Creoles got drunk in the midst of people
coming and going" (Albán 1999: 99). Varied activities
and diversions kept the streets full and 'separate' populations
in constant interaction: commerce, funeral and religious processions,
drinking (pulque, tepache, guarapo, etc.), socializing
and prostitution. Indians and castas even occupied the
traza during Carnaval in celebrations of social
subversion until mandates increasingly prohibited such triumphant
incursions into sacred Spanish spaces (see Albán 1999).
All categories of person roamed the streets of the city: "among
grandiose convents and churches [The streets] were the center
of sociability The street was the privileged space of the popular
classes" (Albán 1999: 98-100).
Of course this social and spatial mixing was also a concrete manifestation of the other mixing that was going on: the biological mixing of peoples that was creating subjects neither Spanish nor Indian. The very existence of mestizos threatened the fundamental organizing principles of colonial society and the maintenance of internal stability within either racial sphere. Moreover, "they had no legitimate socioeconomic niche" (Cope 1997: 15). Legally, from the mid-sixteenth century, castas were forbidden to live in Indian towns or neighborhoods. But as I noted earlier, these regulations were easily and flagrantly transgressed.
The Bullfight in Mexico City's Main Plazas: Vortices of Fighting, Memory and Forgetting
Thus far I have offered a description of attempted social reproduction
within a fairly wide social landscape: the cityscape. To offer
a more detailed understanding of how cultural reproduction articulated
in and with physical space in colonial Mexico City, I will now
focus on a more specific activity within particular geographical
spaces: the bullfights staged in the Plaza Mayor and the adjacent
Plaza del Volador, located in the heart of the traza.
By royal edict, the Plaza del Volador was the staging ground
for bullfights that marked the entry of the viceroy and other
royal occasions (see Albán 1999). The bullfight had been
staged for important ceremonial occasions in Spain since the eleventh
century. There, as well as in the Americas, it symbolically legitimized
the right of warriors (in Spain, the aristocratic horseman; in
the Americas, the conquistador) to rule over peons (in Spain,
the plebian class; in the Americas, the native population). "It
was not coincidental that the first bullfight celebrated in New
Spain was held on August 13, 1529, to commemorate the anniversary
of the fall of Mexico to the Spaniards" (Albán 1999:
11). Bullfights were staged annually to commemorate the feasts
of saints Hipólito, on whose feast day the city fell, and
James, "the epitome of warrior saints" (ibid.).
The staging of the bullfight provided a spectacle that made
visible the hierarchical order of colonial society. Nobles confronted
the bull from horseback in the spectacle's focal event. The viceroy
presided over the spectacle from a special box, and free boxes
offered to important officials and civil authorities were coveted
as marks of social status and prestige. High-church officials
were frequently in attendance as well, despite papal regulations
prohibiting their presence. Indeed, mass was celebrated inside
the ring before the festivities started, emphasizing the central
role the clergy played in such festivities (Albán 1999).
Generally speaking, the status of individuals and corporate groups
was reflected in the type of box they occupied, spurring continuous
conflicts over seating (and rank). Participation in the ceremony,
therefore, both reflected and reinforced the ordering of the estates.
Change in this system (in the Americas) came after 1692, when
on the Octave of Corpus Christi, the plebian masses-Indians, Africans,
and other castas-rioted over a shortage of wheat and grain.
During this disturbance, hungry, disgruntled protestors turned
riotous in the very heart of the capital's Spanish center, making
"the Indians owners and masters of the plaza" (Cope
1994: 148). During this tumulto, rioting crowds taunted
the guards of the viceregal palace, with one witness commenting,
"The Indians provoked soldiers, acting the bullfighter [toreando]
with their mantas, one red, another blue, and another black"
(quoted in Cope 1994: 137). After order had been restored, all
Indians were ordered to leave the traza and return to their
barrios within twenty days-an order that, not surprisingly,
failed, given the high level of interdependence (if inequality)
between populations. This edict was significant, though, as the
first ordered separation of the republics based strictly on the
premise of protecting the Spanish (not premised on the need to
Christianize, indoctrinate or protect the Indians) (Cope 1994;
Albán 1999). This riot marked the first stark, jarring
rupture of colonial stability-a break in the pax hispanica
(Cope 1994). After this event, Spaniards and Creole elites had
a heightened sense of living with a constant threat, a continual
danger (Albán 1999). In its aftermath, bullfights and other
potentially provocative activities (including the sale of pulque)
were banned.
When restrictions against bullfighting were lifted three years later, the activity became imbued with new meaning: it became a popular diversion staged to raise money for the royal treasury. The granting of free boxes was significantly scaled back, and the participation of nobles decreased:
"[As] the nobility retreated from the bullring and left it in the hands of the people, the central interest of the actual bullfight was also displaced. The man on horse back was no longer the principal protagonist of the festival, and his place was taken by the former peon. As a result of this transformation, the centerpiece of the drama now took place on the ground. At the same time, the whole bullfight was restructured so that each of its parts contributed to increasing the excitement of the apotheosis: the death of the bull" (Albán 1999: 16).
Other diversions such as dog races and fireworks were added
to the spectacle, which shifted locale from the Plaza del Volador
(a site reserved for royal ceremonies) to other locations throughout
Mexico City-including directly into the Plaza Mayor. Eventually,
the bullfight was eliminated as part of annual San Hipólito
festivities. What was once a staging of power and hierarchy turned
into a popular diversion "regulated by the logics of profit
and consumption" (Albán 1999: 18). An important source
of income that funded public works and ceremonies, it was not
banned until the early nineteenth century, despite Enlightenment-inspired
elite aversion to the now 'bloody' and 'barbaric' spectacle.
Through the spectacle of the bullfight, we can see in greater
detail how two main plazas in the traza constituted vortices
of commerce, recreation, and political activity into which all
members of colonial society were pulled. These were places of
cultural reproduction: the attempted reproduction of a system
of estates with a proper hierarchy established between persons
and corporate groups. The reproduction of this social system was
essential for the reproduction of a system of privileges and rights.
This in turn provided the colonial elite with wealth and status-fulfilling
the very desires that prompted the colonial endeavor in the first
place.
At the same time, we saw in these vortices the production of riot and social inversion in which the order of the social hierarchy was momentarily overturned (in a way not possible if these riots had not occurred in the highly signified traza). But as Roach warns, we should not assume that these tactics were acts of clear transgression. Social lapses occurred during the riots in these spaces. But these spaces were then, along with the bullfight, refigured as profitable spaces of popular diversion. In other words, we can say that the bullfight was resignified by the masses who then further entrenched themselves in supposedly Spanish spaces. But it is also true that after the riots, elites extracted themselves from the bullfight and looked to different processes and re-elaborated notions of status to produce a hierarchy in which they remained on top. The movement of the popular bullfight from the Plaza del Volador to the Plaza Mayor, therefore, can also be read as the creation of a new space of surveillance where the masses could be watched and entertained while funds were raised for the further maintenance of empire. In either case, the condensational events that took place in these spaces were indelibly stamped upon the collective memory, refashioning these spaces as locations of possible subversion, and impacting social relations.
Conclusion
In this brief paper, I have drawn upon historical analyses of colonial Mexico City in an effort to demonstrate how social reproduction occurred not only in but also through geographical space. This account has hardly been exhaustive. In taking as my starting point the strategies of the elite, I have most likely elided the significance and agency of the indigenous, Africans, and castas in asserting their own forms of cultural reproduction and innovation through these same spaces. Capturing these processes, however, would perhaps require a more 'against the grain' reading of the same largely 'official' archival sources, which are undoubtedly biased toward elites. Nevertheless, I have attempted to draw some connections between the use of space and the imposition of social categories and hierarchies, showing how movement and mixing challenged elite attempts to fix place on the social and physical landscape, subverting a key mechanism of social separation and subjugation.
Works Cited:
Albán, Juan Pedro Viqueira.
2000 Property and Permissiveness in Bourbon Mexico. (Originally
published in Spanish in 1987) Translated by Sonya Lipsett-Rivera
and Sergio Rivera Ayala. Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources,
Inc.
Cope, Douglas R.
1994 The Limits of Racial Domination: Plebian Society in Colonial
Mexico City,
1660-1720. Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press.
Fraser, Valerie.
1990 The Architecture of Conquest: Building in the Viceroyalty
in Peru, 1535-1635. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Certeau, Michel de.
1984 The Practice of Everyday Life. Translated by Steven
F. Rendall. Berkeley; University of California Press.
Gibson, Charles.
1964 The Aztecs under Spanish Rule: A History of the Indians
of the Valley of Mexico, 1519-1810. Stanford: Stanford University
Press.
Haslip-Viera, Gabriel.
1999 Crime and Punishment in Late Colonial Mexico City, 1692-1810.
Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.
Kagan, Richard L.
2000 Urban Images of the Hispanic World, 1493-1793. New
Haven and London: Yale University Press.
Lockhart, James, and Stuart B. Schwartz.
1983 Early Latin America: A History of Colonial Spanish America
and Brazil. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Nader, Helen.
1990 Liberty in Absolutist Spain: The Hapsburg Sale of Towns,
1516-1700. Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University
Press.
Townsend, Richard F.
1989 "Coronation at Tenochtitlan." In: The Imagination
of Matter. D. Carrasco, ed. Oxford: B.A.R. Pp. 155-188.
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