The Tupac Amaru Rebellion

THE
TUPAC AMARU
REBELLION

Charles F. Walker

THE BELKNAP PRESS OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS

Cambridge, Massachusetts
London, England
2014
 Copyright © 2014 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College
All rights reserved

Jacket image: Michael Melford/National Geographic/Getty Images

Jacket design: Graciela Galup

The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:

Walker, Charles F., 1959–
The Tupac Amaru rebellion / Charles F. Walker.
pages cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-674-05825-5 (alk. paper)
1. Peru—History—Insurrection of Tupac Amaru, 1780–1781. 2. Tupac-Amaru, José
Gabriel, –1781. I. Title.
F3444.W35 2014
985' .033—dc23 2013037830
To four wonderful historians, with whom I so very much
wish I could share this book:
Alberto Flores Galindo
Friedrich Katz
Enrique Tandeter
Eduardo Mendoza Meléndez
It is unlikely that in the history of revolutions, another will appear that is more justified
or more unfortunate. Spanish America had become in those times the theater of the
most extensive tyranny, but the yoke lay most heavily on the necks of Peruvian Indians.
—Gregorio Funes

There is a general belief that the declaration of Peru’s independence, proclaimed by

Gabriel Tupac Amaru, was suffocated by his capture and death in May 1781, in Cuzco’s
main plaza; this is a historical error that needs to be overturned, and only a few people
have scoured the archives, collecting the precise sources and rebuilding the real and
true facts.
—Modesto Basadre
 Contents

List of Maps

Introduction: The Execution of Antonio de Arriaga

1. The Andes in the Atlantic World

2. From Pampamarca to Sangarará
3. A World without the Catholic Church?
4. The Rebellion Goes South
5. The Siege of Cuzco
6. In Pursuit of Tupac Amaru
7. Torment
8. The Other Side of the Lake
9. Southern Campaigns
10. The Pardon and the Cease-Fire
11. The Rebellion in Limbo
12. Ordered by the Catholic King

Conclusion: The Legacy of Tupac Amaru

Illustrations
Chronology of the Rebellion
Notes
Acknowledgments
Index
 Maps

Western South America

Colonial Lima
The Rebellion’s Core Area
The Southern Campaigns
The Siege of Cuzco
The Royalist Advance, 1781
Katarista Violence
Battle Areas near Lake Titicaca
The Distribution of Rebel Body Parts
The Prisoners’ Journey: Cuzco-Lima and Callao-Europe
 Introduction
The Execution of Antonio de Arriaga

ON NOVEMBER 4, 1780, José Gabriel Condorcanqui Noguera, who increas-

ingly used the Inca royal name Tupac Amaru, had lunch with Antonio de
Arriaga at the house of Carlos Rodríguez, the priest of Yanaoca. If a Hol-
lywood producer had asked central casting for colorful individuals who
personified political relations in the colonial Andes, he would have been
delighted with this trio. Tupac Amaru was the kuraka or cacique, the eth-
nic authority in charge of collecting the head tax (“tribute” was the coloni-
al euphemism) and keeping order in Yanaoca and two other small towns,
Pampamarca and Tungasuca, fifty miles southeast of the ancient Inca cap-
ital Cuzco. The Incas still loomed large in this area. Quechua-speaking In-
dians constituted the vast majority of the population, and they venerated
their ancestors, defeated by the Spanish in the sixteenth century, and those
like José Gabriel Tupac Amaru who claimed bloodlines from the Inca
royalty. Well-educated and bilingual, the forty-two-year-old José Gabriel
moved easily between the Spanish and Indian worlds. In fact, this was his
role as kuraka.1
Arriaga was the corregidor, the Spanish authority who collected taxes,
arranged the despised labor draft for the massive Potosí mines six hundred
miles to the south (today Bolivia), and oversaw regional affairs. Arriaga
was a nobleman born in 1740 in the Basque country in northern Spain
whose family had strong connections to Spain’s American empire, as
members of the all-important Council of the Indies in Madrid and as mer-
chants.2 Originally from Panama, Father Rodríguez was Yanaoca’s parish
priest. He, along with another priest, Antonio López de Sosa, had been
Tupac Amaru’s first teachers. Impressed by the young boy’s intelligence,
they had remained close to him. These priests’ nurturing took hold: José
Gabriel would remain pious and intellectually curious throughout his
life. Thus, as was usually the case, Tupac Amaru the kuraka was indi-
genous or mestizo, Arriaga the corregidor a Spaniard, and Rodríguez a
creole, the term used for people of European descent born in the Amer-
icas. These three authorities, kuraka, corregidor, and priest, formed the
triumvirate that maintained order throughout the Andes under Spanish
rule. Two other priests, Arriaga’s scribe and assistant, and numerous ser-
vants also accompanied them at the meal. José Gabriel’s wife, Micaela
Bastidas, did not join them.
Arriaga and Tupac Amaru knew each other well. Arriaga had a web
of economic activities and, as tax collector and foremost authority, he
enjoyed capital and power and had even lent Tupac Amaru money. Al-
though the two had previously bickered over the labor draft or mita to
Potosí, they shared an amicable meal that day, celebrating the day of
Saint Charles (San Carlos), Father Rodríguez and the King of Spain’s
saint day. After Arriaga enjoyed a short siesta, Tupac Amaru invited him
to spend the evening at his house in Tungasuca. Arriaga insisted that
he had to be back in Tinta, his home and the largest town in the area,
about seven miles from Yanaoca, and began the four-hour journey by
foot and horse over several precipitous hills. The imminent arrival of
tribute money, the Indian head tax that filled colonial coffers, encour-
aged him to return.
Tupac Amaru and a few young men accompanied the corregidor for a
bit and then feigned that they were returning to Tungasuca. Instead, they
rushed ahead to a hiding place on a peak, shocking Arriaga and his en-
tourage when they leapt into their path. Arriaga fled into a canyon, hid-
ing behind an apacheta, an indigenous sanctuary or sacred place made
of stones. An Indian, however, spotted him and Tupac Amaru tied him
up. They waited several hours until late that evening and then they took
their prisoners in chains to Tungasuca. They forced Arriaga, his scribe
Felipe Bermúdez, and two black slaves into a cell in the basement of
Tupac Amaru’s house.3
Tupac Amaru compelled the stunned Arriaga to write letters to his
treasurer in Tinta requesting money and arms, with the peculiar pretext
that he was planning an expedition against pirates on the coast. Tupac
Amaru himself then went to Tinta and used Arriaga’s key to take
seventy-five fusils or light flintlock muskets, a small number of standard
muskets, gunpowder, bullets, some militia uniforms, mules, silver,
22,000 pesos of tribute money, gold, and other goods.4 He also wrote
messages in the name of Arriaga to mayors and powerful individuals de-
manding that they convene in Tungasuca. Numerous military figures and
entrepreneurs such as the Spaniards Juan Antonio Figueroa and Bern-
ardo La Madrid fell into the trap. Kurakas also received instructions to
send their Indians; thousands assembled in Tungasuca, streaming in for
days. The rebels posted sentinels on the road to Cuzco to keep the news
from authorities there. They also kept Arriaga’s whereabouts a secret.
The masses congregating in Tungasuca did not know the corregidor was
a prisoner in Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas’ basement.5
When Tupac Amaru placed a painting of the Crowning with Thorns
in Arriaga’s cell and sent father López de Sosa to take confession, Ar-
riaga knew that he was in deep trouble. Flabbergasted by the events and
conscious that his life was in danger, Arriaga offered his entire fortune to
the Pampamarca parish in exchange for freedom, but to no avail. López
de Sosa and three other clerics accompanied the corregidor in his cell on
November 9.6 Tupac Amaru explained to those assembled on the nearby
plain that he had orders from the powerful Visitor General, José Anto-
nio de Areche, that were approved by the High Court (the Audiencia)
of Lima. In the coming months, Tupac Amaru often referred to orders
or permission that he had from Madrid authorities, including even the
King. He did not, of course, but many of his followers believed him or
at least felt that Tupac Amaru was fulfilling the King’s wishes: that if
“His Majesty” only knew about the situation in the Andes, he would un-
derstand. Rumors spread that Arriaga was to be punished; the astonished
crowds wondered why. Many believed that it was God’s will.7
On November 9, moving on horseback, Tupac Amaru ordered
Europeans, mestizos, and Indians to line up in military columns. He was
elegantly dressed: black velvet coat and knee-breeches, a ruffled shirt,
a vest, linen, silk stockings, gold buckles at his knees and shoes, and a
Spanish beaver hat. His attire often included more indigenous flourishes
such as the uncu or tunic and a gold chain with the Inca sun. His hair
cascaded down his back.8 Tupac Amaru repeated these maneuvers on the
tenth, instructing the thousands present to follow him to a nearby knoll
where a gallows had been set up. Some of his followers waved a white
flag with a red cross.9 A mestizo read a proclamation in Spanish and
Quechua: “Through the King it has been ordered that there no longer be
alcabala [sales tax], customs houses, or the Potosí mita and that Don An-
tonio de Arriaga lose his life because of his destructive behavior.” One
witness claimed that Tupac Amaru called Arriaga “harmful and tyran-
nical” and pledged to raze “obrajes [textile mills], halt the mita to Po-
tosí, the alcabala, customs tax, and the reparto de mercancias [the forced
sales of goods], and free Indians so as to live in union and harmony
with the creoles.”10 Another witness quoted him as saying that he had
“superior orders” to abolish taxes and customs houses, to expel corre-
gidors and textile mill owners, and that his actions were not against God
or the King; he wanted “Indians and Spaniards” to live as brothers.11
The crowd understood that it was witnessing a momentous event. Indi-
ans heard, in their own language, about the abolition of the forced sales
of goods and the hated labor and sales taxes, and witnessed the condem-
nation of the maximum Spanish authority in the region. Mestizos and
creoles nervously wondered whether these seemingly welcome changes
might lead to turmoil and dangerously independent Indians. Spaniards
did not fully understand what they were seeing but feared for their lives.
A town crier led the procession to the gallows, announcing that they
were fulfilling the King’s wishes and repeating the pledge that customs
houses, alcabalas, and the mita would henceforth be abolished. Tupac
Amaru ordered the town crier to speak in Quechua, a language never
used in official events or in documents.12 The three priests accompanied
Arriaga, surrounded by soldiers. Once at the gallows, the soldiers took
Arriaga’s staff from him and forced him to replace his military uniform
with the simple, penitentiary habit of the Franciscan order. Arriaga’s
black slave, Antonio Oblitas, was forced into service as the execution-
er. On the first try, as he heaved to elevate Arriaga, the rope snapped
and slave and master fell to the ground. Oblitas received several ropes
to carry out his task and people close to the gallows, some of them Ar-
riaga’s allies, tugged to strangle him. All commentators noted the tomb-
like silence. One witness claimed that some Indians passed by Arriaga’s
cadaver and sneered in Quechua, “Jew, didn’t you used to do this? [Ju-
dio manachu caita rurahux canqui?]13 As would be the case throughout
the uprising, Micaela had an active role. One account mentioned that she
“surpasses her husband in spirit and malevolence: she knew all about the
execution of Arriaga and despite the weakness of her sex, she carried
out that unjust homicide, transporting bullets used by the guards in her
shawl.”14
Speculation on why Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas had executed
Corregidor Arriaga circulated like an Andean thunderstorm through the
crowd that fateful November 10 and people have not stopped asking
the question since. Then and today, people gave reasons that range from
the personal (a grudge) to the macropolitical (the weakening of Span-
ish rule). The biography of Tupac Amaru is, of course, central to the ex-
planation. He had witnessed the worst forms of Spanish exploitation of
indigenous people and found himself increasingly hard pressed to ful-
fill his duties as intermediary between the Quechua and Spanish world.
José Gabriel’s work as a merchant and muleteer took him throughout
the Andes, while his legal battles to regain a marquisate (a noble title)
had forced him to spend eight months in the viceregal capital of Lima
in 1777, where he made important contacts and gained a deeper un-
derstanding of Peru. He had the respect of Cuzco’s Indians, reasons to
loathe the Spanish, and the experience and worldliness to organize an
uprising.
In broader terms, in 1780 colonial authorities continued to escalate
the Bourbon Reforms, a series of measures that increased taxes and labor
demands on indigenous people while reducing their autonomy. Spanish
reformers sought to restrict the pact created in the sixteenth century that
granted Indians certain rights, including a high degree of cultural and
political autonomy and the control of communal land, in exchange for
subordination and a slate of taxes. They increased labor and tax demands
and debated about how (or whether) to assimilate the native population
and convert Indians, a category that implied political and cultural in-
dependence, into Spanish subjects. In practice, this meant that Indians
throughout the southern Andes faced higher and new taxes, the revival
of older and despised practices such as the Potosí mita, and an assault on
their ethnic authorities, the kurakas.
 The reforms also sought to reduce the power of the church. Tensions
between secular and religious authorities escalated in the 1770s and
came to the surface throughout the rebellion. Arriaga himself had battled
priests over protocol and finances. The fact that Tupac Amaru had been
involved in these events helps explain the rebellion itself and the sym-
pathy of some priests for the rebellion. Not surprisingly, many parish
priests opposed the colonial government’s efforts to control and tax their
parishes. At the same time, dozens of priests remained in their parishes
and fought the rebels “behind the lines,” casting them as apostates and
heathens, bolstering royalists’ spirits. The “Catholic Church,” a term that
should not be conceived of in the singular, provided supporters and op-
ponents. The uprising emerged from and brought into view these and
other deep tensions in the southern Andes of Peru.15
By late 1780, Tupac Amaru’s forces had defeated the Spanish in sev-
eral confrontations. He and his followers entered small towns and Indi-
an villages to gain recruits and provisions. They sought to kill all cor-
regidors (most, however, fled before the rebels arrived) and to imprison
landowners despised by local Indians. The rebels razed the small textile
mills present throughout the area, which served as virtual prisons for the
Indian workers, distributing the cloth to shocked locals. Tupac Amaru
and other leaders spoke Quechua to the indigenous masses and rumors
spread that he embodied the return of the Incas, as indicated in his name,
a link to one of the last Inca rulers, Tupac Amaru I (1545–1572). A wide-
spread belief in the possible return to Inca rule nourished the uprising.
These assaults were just the beginning; the uprising rapidly spread
across the Andes. The colonial state collapsed in much of the area that
stretched from Cuzco to Puno, near Lake Titicaca in the south, as au-
thorities dared not attempt to collect taxes or enforce the mita. With the
adjoining Upper Peru or Charcas under fire from a coalition of upris-
ings often called the Kataristas, and revolts inspired by the events around
Cuzco springing up to the north and south, the Spanish faced the greatest
military challenge since the sixteenth century, with what became the
largest rebellion in colonial history. Although authorities initially under-
estimated the uprising, they realized by the end of 1780 that their control
of Peru and beyond was in danger.
 The Experience of Rebellion
The Tupac Amaru rebellion is not an untold story. Generations of his-
torians have written on it, ranging from epic tales in the nineteenth cen-
tury to social-scientific works of the late twentieth.16 This book builds on
the torrent of studies in the last forty years or so, including two major
multivolume document collections as well as works on specific topics
such as prior uprisings in the 1770s, conflict in towns and cities far from
the Tupac Amaru base in Cuzco, and the history of the textile mills.17
Two phenomena coincided around 1970 to prompt fascination with Tupac
Amaru and boost the number of studies: the interest in rural revolts
because of the Vietnam War and other anticolonial struggles and, in
Peru, the unique Juan Velasco Alvarado “revolutionary military regime”
(1968–1975), which cast José Gabriel Tupac Amaru as the forefather of
its revolution and of Peruvian independence from Spain. It was during
those years that the 86-volume Colección documental de la independ-
encia peruana (1971–1976, originally projected to have 106 volumes)
was released and Colección del bicentenario de la revolución de Tupac
Amaru undertaken (the seven tomes were published in 1980–1982). These
provided thousands of pages of transcribed and indexed documentation on
the uprising.18 Nonetheless, despite this outpouring of studies, no access-
ible account of the Tupac Amaru rebellion exists in English, while those
in Spanish are outdated and out of print.19
Yet the book is not simply a revised overview, a retelling of a well-
known story with some new citations and documents. It seeks to make
several novel arguments regarding the uprising and to contribute to broad-
er debates about violence and geography. The first contribution is seem-
ingly mundane, a question of chronological scope or time frame, but im-
portant. Virtually every study focuses on the period from Arriaga’s execu-
tion in November 1780 to mid-1781, when the Spanish captured and ex-
ecuted important rebel leaders. The executions are fascinating and ghastly
events that nonetheless serve poorly as bookends or starting and stop-
ping points for an analysis of the uprising. Many of the most intriguing
and influential moments of the rebellion occurred after April 1781, when
Tupac Amaru’s cousin Diego Cristóbal and others took over the lead-
ership of the rebellion. The uprising became increasingly bloody as it
shifted to the south in the area near Lake Titicaca. It was here that the
full force of the rebels emerged as they swept through the altiplano and
linked with insurgents in Upper Peru. Their control of South America in
danger, the Spanish divided between soft- and hardliners, with the latter
ultimately winning. They imposed draconian measures against indigen-
ous people that marked the region for decades, until the wars of inde-
pendence (1808–1825) and beyond. Only through an examination of the
overlooked events of 1782 and 1783 can the uprising and its legacy be
understood.20

Western South America

 I also provide the first full portrait of Micaela Bastidas. Authors have
always cast her as an important secondary player, in part because of the
lack of sources to flesh out her character. I have found rich material on
her and place her, as was the case then, in the limelight. Prior to the
uprising, Bastidas was an active partner in Tupac Amaru’s work as a
merchant-muleteer. She collected debts, hired field hands and muleskin-
ners, planned the long journeys to northern Argentina, and represented
José Gabriel in his frequent absences. As is common today in the Andes,
the woman, Micaela, oversaw the family’s finances. All of these skills
prepared her well for her role as a rebel leader, particularly to manage
logistics. More than accompanying or backing her husband, she led the
uprising alongside him.
The book also rethinks the role of the Catholic Church in the uprising.
Most studies on this theme have focused on priests who supported the
rebels. This reflects, I believe, the massive documentation generated by
the trials against priests such as López de Sosa and Bejarano who stayed
with Tupac Amaru, as well as the inclination of historians (particularly
in the 1970s and 1980s) to search for rebel heroes, including men of the
cloth.21 I argue that the Catholic Church, particularly Cuzco’s Bishop,
Juan Manuel Moscoso y Peralta, was fundamental in the repression of
the rebellion. He excommunicated Tupac Amaru and demanded not only
that parish priests remain in the areas controlled by the rebels but that
they proselytize against the uprising. Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas
did not know what to do. Highly religious, the two rebel leaders could
not conceive of a world without the Church and could not come up with
an effective plan to silence these royalists. The stories of the priests who
remained behind enemy lines will shake up studies of late colonial Span-
ish America and add to the rich storyline.
I attempt to tell the entire story of the uprising, from its onset to its
legacy. I return to the events themselves, probing why people supported
the royalists or rebels, why some sought to remain neutral. I aim to give
the reader a feel for the lived experience of the uprising.22 The idea is
not only to extend the analysis chronologically but also to explore how
people understood and participated in the uprising. The flurry of studies
published in recent decades has overlooked the fascinating events of the
rebellion in their totality. I want to immerse the reader in the terrifying
guerrilla campaigns, the relentless propaganda war, the gruesome repres-
sion of the revolt, and the rebellion’s long aftermath, revealing the fear
and indecision on both sides and the ever-narrowing room for neutrality
and negotiation. I shed new light on Tupac Amaru and Micaela Basti-
das, while also addressing the role of common people who fought for or
against the uprising or sought to remain on the sidelines. I hope to help
answer the vital questions about this and other rebellions: Why did they
fight? What did they seek? Why did they succeed so brilliantly at first
but ultimately fail?
 Gore and Gorges
Two topics or phenomena form the backbone of this study: violence and
geography. Violence is at the center of any mass uprising and this book
probes why and how people kill. The Tupac Amaru rebellion provides
rich, grim material. Not only did the death count reportedly reach 100,000
(the Viceroyalty of Peru had about 1.8 million people) but the stories are
gruesome. Colonial forces exterminated hundreds of indigenous fighters
at a time, displaying heads on pikes, while rebels reportedly committed
atrocities including raping dead women, drinking the blood of the recently
killed out of skulls, and throwing children in Lake Titicaca to drown.
The analysis builds from the argument by Stathis Kalyvas, in his work
on Greek civil wars, that “clearly, the relation between political actors
and underlying populations must be problematized rather than assumed
away.”23 Leaders and followers constantly negotiate the terms of their
relationship and the ways of war. Too many studies of Andean upris-
ings have assumed that rebel and royalist fighters followed their leaders
without question; their loyalty is taken for granted or overlooked rather
than scrutinized. I pay particular attention to why and how violence in-
tensified over time. The initial efforts on both sides to respect those re-
maining neutral fell by the wayside and atrocities mounted. The fighting
moved toward a “total war,” in which the limitations on who was to be
attacked and who was to be mobilized disappear.24
Prior to the twentieth century, people followed largely unwritten rules
while conducting war. The understanding of how women and children
should be treated, whether enemy combatants deserved Christian burial,
and whether soldiers merited the right to ransack varied greatly according
to local or imperial military culture and the particularities of the war it-
self.25 Rules applied, but could change dramatically in the course of a
struggle. This was the case in Peru, where the rebellion quickly pushed its
followers and enemies into uncharted territory. This book sheds light on
this new terrain, where restraints or limitations on violence eased or even
disappeared.
Colonial authorities had little experience in repressing such a massive
uprising, which eventually stretched across the Andean core of South
America. They did not count on a standing army in Lima or Cuzco and
relied, at least initially, on militias. These had proven adequate in putting
down local revolts. In riots or upheavals prior to 1780, militias took ad-
vantage of their arms advantage (Indians and blacks were not allowed
to own firearms), moved into a town, captured and executed the leaders,
and returned to Lima once order had been restored. The Tupac Amaru
rebellion demanded a much greater effort than this.26
In the eighteenth century, indigenous people of Cuzco and the Lake
Titicaca area had sued authorities, run them out of town, mutinied, and
even taken over towns. Submission did not characterize Indian-state re-
lations. The Tupac Amaru rebellion, however, was a much larger enter-
prise. With no precedent (the fighting occurring at the same time in what
became the United States was, from the perspective of Peru, a poorly
reported, distant phenomenon), rebels invented the rules as the upris-
ing grew. In fact, debates about violence—who was to be killed and
how—proved to be a major point of contention among both the rebels
and the royalists. This book traces the changing nature of violence in the
uprising.
While a mass uprising fought over a vast terrain was unprecedented,
violence was not. It formed part of an indigenous person’s daily life, part
of the fabric of colonial society. Authorities ranging from corregidors to
kurakas arrested, detained, whipped, struck, and threatened in order to
ensure that Indians paid their taxes and worked for the state, the church,
and others. But the colonial state did not have a monopoly on violence.
Estate owners counted on jails and gallows to ensure order and compli-
ance; textile mills had become privately run jails, as the owners locked
up Indians to make them work in abysmal conditions. Rebels destroyed
the gallows and jails, or turned the world upside down by placing the
powerful in them. Nor was violence unidirectional. Local people, Indi-
ans and others, proved highly capable of hitting, whipping, raping, and
coercing one another, as the bulging trial records in Cuzco’s historical
archive demonstrate.27 Drinking often played a part. Yet this does not
mean Andean society was uniquely violent. Europe in this period also
was the site of countless forms of aggression, both from the state and the
upper classes and within the lower classes.28
One tendency in the rebellion stands out: aggression on both sides
increased and became more ghastly as the uprising moved away from
its base in Cuzco and the months passed. In the initial weeks after
the execution of Arriaga, Tupac Amaru made sure that rebels only at-
tacked Spanish authorities. He shielded rich creoles or others whom the
indigenous fighters might have understood as the enemy. Across time
and space, this changed. Both sides began to slaughter their opponents
and neutrality became impossible. By mid-1781, neither took prison-
ers—they killed those they captured. In fact, the atrocities began to mir-
ror one another. Royalists would hang rebels and display their body
parts; rebels would humiliate and brutalize captives. By late 1781, rebels
near Lake Titicaca reportedly pierced eyes and drank blood out of skulls.
Each side increasingly saw the other as barbarians, as bad Christians,
which justified greater violence.
Violence spiraled out of control because of three overlapping factors:
leadership, chronology, and geography. First, Tupac Amaru and Micaela
Bastidas sought to control their combatants’ aggression. Stressing that
the fight was against evil Spaniards, they protected creoles, mestizos,
and even affluent Indians from rebel wrath. They managed to do this
quite effectively in the core area where they were in charge. When the
rebellion expanded (and, of course, when José Gabriel and Micaela were
no longer the leaders) this proved more difficult, and rebels attacked
non-Europeans. In fact, this aggression broadened from Europeans to all
non-Indians, in some cases. Whereas Tupac Amaru and Micaela Basti-
das protected mestizos and creoles, some rebels in the second phase at-
tacked people for simply wearing European dress or speaking Spanish.
This also proved true of the royalist commanders—they were less and
less capable of controlling the fury of their followers (or willing to).
Second, as the uprising spread each side abandoned the restraints that
had kept them from killing “civilians,” victimizing women, or ransack-
ing stores and estates. Violence begets violence, and as each side ramped
up the aggression the other acted in kind. The transformation was not
just tactical or a byproduct of the search for revenge. Each side increas-
ingly envisioned and cast the other as heretics, as fallen Christians who
deserved to die. This ideological transformation justified greater violen-
ce, which in turn reinforced the interpretation of the opponent as a hea-
then or barbarian. What began as an uprising developed into a guerrilla
war and then deteriorated into a vicious bloodbath.
 Geography or space was the third factor: important changes can be
seen depending on where the fighting took place. As the rebellion’s cen-
ter shifted from Cuzco toward Lake Titicaca, the violence worsened.
This has much to do with the time frame outlined above—Tupac Amaru
and Micaela Bastidas could not control their forces and, over time, ag-
gression accelerated—but also with different populations and their rela-
tion to the colonial state and each other.
In Cuzco, the state and the Catholic Church had a stronger presence
than in the Titicaca area. Tupac Amaru himself had pleaded his case
in the courts, lobbied corregidors, bishops, and patriarchs, and used his
power as a kuraka to improve his lot and that of the Indians he rep-
resented. He had gone to school at the prestigious “School for Kura-
kas” in Cuzco’s center and rubbed elbows with people ranging from
common Indians to Cuzco patricians. Demographics (more intermediate
groups such as mestizos) and the economy (more active trade networks)
meant that different ethnic groups knew each other and coincided in
daily life more in Cuzco than in the Titicaca region. This contact or ex-
change could, arguably, build bonds and fortify empathy that decreased
the likelihood of violence. The towns Tupac Amaru represented as a kur-
aka and which served as rebel centers—Tungasuca, Surimana, and Pam-
pamarca—stood just fifty miles from Cuzco. Even the more humble res-
idents took the much-traveled valley route to conduct business or to visit
acquaintances in the former Inca capital.
In contrast, the Spanish state and even the Church had a lesser pres-
ence in the south, around Titicaca. These institutions existed to oversee
Spanish rule and the exploitation of Indians. Yet they also could shield
Indians from behavior considered abusive or abhorrent. These “safety
valves” were not as heavy on the ground away from Cuzco, and Indians
and Spaniards had less contact or interaction, helping to explain why
violence was cruder. Indians had fewer qualms about attacking all
Europeans, particularly after more than a year of warfare, a point when
the Spanish took no prisoners and assumed all Indians were bloodthirsty
rebels. The Spanish falsely framed this in terms of civilization—the In-
dians of the South were more “savage” or “barbaric.” Instead, southern
Indians had less attachment to the colonial system than their brethren
in Cuzco, yet suffered brutal exploitation. The war itself had erased any
empathy—a key impediment to the use of coercion—the Indian insur-
gents might have had with the Spanish.29
This spatial or cultural argument should not be exaggerated or over-
simplified. The opposite argument may be equally true—a strong (colo-
nial) state presence meant greater exploitation and thus a stronger like-
lihood for tension and violence. The city of Cuzco and the surrounding
area were certainly violent before the uprising. Eminent scholars con-
tinue to debate whether modernity and the “civilizing process” reduce,
increase, or modify violence.30 Nonetheless, Tupac Amaru and Micaela
sought to limit aggression against Europeans and envisioned a postin-
surrection utopia free of European exploiters. Rebels farther to the south
attacked a far wider group and showed particular cruelty in the towns
that they seized along Lake Titicaca. This contrast reflects the other two
factors outlined here—the leadership and changes over time—but also a
different social reality to the south.
Geography, or topography, marked the uprising; not only the battles
but also the animosity between the two sides. In fact, ideas about nature,
the Andes, shaped how each side viewed and fought against the other.
This study stresses these ideas’ centrality for understanding the blood-
shed and more generally, colonialism.31 The Spanish incessantly com-
plained about the towering mountains and craggy passes that the rebels
used to their great advantage. They wondered how people could live at
over twelve thousand feet above sea level and related this harsh envir-
onment to Indians’ supposed maladaptation to Spanish ways. Just as the
rebels frequently retreated to the hills, a classic guerrilla (a term that
had not yet been invented) tactic, the Europeans believed that the Inca
descendants had also turned their back on or retreated from the Span-
ish language and Christianity over the centuries. Indians, in turn, saw the
soldiers, at least those from the coast, as outsiders who deserved to be
pushed back to the sea. They also questioned their Christianity.
Over the last 150 million years or so, plate tectonics created the
Andes. The Nazca Plate below the Pacific Ocean has slipped ever so
slowly under the South American Plate, the grinding impact prompting
earthquakes and pushing the earth up and to the side (many writers use
the image of a car hood after a collision). Two main ranges, the eastern
and the western (or, in Spanish, the black and the white, as the moun-
tains closer to the Pacific have considerably less snow), run down much
of South America, their highest peaks rising over twenty thousand feet
above sea level. In several places, mountains running east-west bridge
the two ranges, separating the sierra valleys. Plate tectonics also formed
gorges and lakes, most notably Lake Titicaca, which straddles what is
today the Peru-Bolivia border and is often called “the highest navig-
able lake in the world” (by large ships). In Cuzco, the Vilcamayu and
Paucartambo rivers run to the northeast, into the Ucayali and from there
the Amazon. The warm valleys to the north and northeast of Cuzco (in-
cluding the tourist mecca Machu Picchu) were barely touched by the
Tupac Amaru rebellion.
Instead, the rebellion stretched from Cuzco to Lake Titicaca. Towns
such as Tungasuca and Pampamarca stand at about eleven thousand five
hundred feet above sea level, ensconced in broad bluffs above the Vil-
canota Valley. These towns benefited from prime agricultural land, par-
ticularly in comparison to the surrounding sheer highlands or punas that
soar well above the tree line. The correctly named “high provinces” or
provincias altas just fifty miles southeast of Pampamarca tower above
fourteen thousand feet. Europeans could not believe that humans lived
there; the area became a rebel hotbed.
As the rebels and the pursuing colonial armies moved from Cuzco to-
ward the Titicaca basin to the southeast, altitudes became higher, the air
thinner, the valleys narrower, and the hills steeper and more barren. In
the midpoint between Puno and Cuzco, the two Andean ranges come to-
gether in a snowy crag, the La Raya pass. Train riders today, often diz-
zied by altitude sickness, crane their neck to peer upwards to the glacier
peaks and typically deem the terrain lunar. From this gateway south, into
the Titicaca basin, more than thirteen thousand feet above sea level be-
comes the norm. Corn does not grow at this altitude and livestock (cattle,
sheep, goats, llamas, and alpaca) rather than agriculture drove the eco-
nomy. In linguistic terms, Quechua, the lingua franca of the Incas—and
today the most widely spoken indigenous language of the Americas with
over ten million speakers—predominated in the Cuzco region. Around
and to the south and east of the Lake Titicaca basin, what is known as
the Collao and today is part of Bolivia, much of the population spoke
and speaks Aymara.32 Throughout the uprising, royalists complained bit-
terly about the altitude, the precipitous hills and mountains, and Indians’
rejection of the Spanish and their language. Rebels used all of these to
their advantage.
This dichotomy between a European coast (Lima) and Indian high-
lands (Cuzco) should not be exaggerated. The Spanish had a strong pres-
ence in Cuzco (and Indians typically constituted 10 percent of Lima’s
population of about 50,000 at this time). With its population of 30,000
in 1780, Cuzco was Peru’s second city, the key administrative center
between Potosí in Upper Peru and Lima.33 The viceregal state main-
tained important institutions and authorities there, and over the centuries
thousands of Europeans settled in Cuzco to work as merchants or to pur-
chase haciendas. This Spanish presence weakened as one moved toward
Titicaca: fewer Europeans owned estates or mines or worked as mer-
chants and the state relied more on indigenous authorities, kurakas, than
European bureaucrats. Mestizos, those of mixed European and Indian
blood, made up a major part of the city of Cuzco’s population, about
50 percent according to the imprecise censuses of the era. Although im-
portant, they had less of a demographic weight in the rural areas toward
the south where, in the eighteenth century, the dividing line between
Europeans and Indians remained stark. As the Spanish army would learn
in the course of the uprising, the Collao was more indigenous and even
more mountainous than Cuzco.
Throughout the Peruvian Andes, Indian towns and communities in
the lower levels specialized in agriculture while those in the higher areas
focused on livestock, both European animals such as cows and goats and
the American cameloids—llamas, vicuñas, guanacos, and alpacas. But
this contrast was not as great as it might seem. The genius of the Incas,
the remarkable empire that ruled the Andes in the three centuries prior to
the arrival of the Spanish, was their ability to grow a vast variety of food-
stuffs in different ecological niches (potatoes being the most famous,
quinoa the trendiest) and to exchange and distribute goods among the
Andes, the Amazon lowlands, and the coast. These “vertical archipela-
gos” did not crumble with the Conquest. In the eighteenth century, indi-
genous communities in the valleys often maintained pastureland in the
higher reaches and traded actively with producers of coca leaves and
chili peppers in the warmer areas toward the Amazon.34 Tupac Amaru
himself was a muleteer, specializing in the route between Cuzco and
Jujuy in what became northern Argentina. In general, communities at
lower altitudes and closer to the cities such as Cuzco or, in the Titic-
aca basin, Puno were more affluent than those in the more remote areas.
However, they also faced greater oversight by authorities such as corre-
gidor Arriaga. This study highlights some key differences in how these
diverse regions reacted to and participated in the uprising.

In geographical terms, the Tupac Amaru Rebellion encompassed a larger

area than the contemporaneous struggle in North America, the American
Revolutionary War. On a darker note, the level of violence approached
that of the ghastly Haitian Revolution a decade later, with up to 100,000
dead.35 The mass rebellion greatly altered Peru and Spanish presence
in the Americas, casting a large shadow on the wars of independence
that would emerge in the early nineteenth century. On the one hand, re-
pression was brutal and anti-Indian sentiments flourished (or resurfaced)
throughout the Andes in the following decades. The rebellion deepened
the coast-Andes divide. On the other hand, Indians looked back at the
uprising with pride and earned certain rights, as the Spanish dreaded
another uprising. It certainly has not been forgotten in subsequent cen-
turies. In recent decades, José Gabriel Condorcanqui, Tupac Amaru II,
provided the name for two guerrilla groups (the Tupamaros in Uruguay
and the Movimiento Revolucionario Tupac Amaru in Peru) and one rap
singer, Tupac Shakur. The name Tupac Amaru is everywhere in Peru. I
hope to show why it continues to resonate in Peru, Bolivia, and beyond.
 1

The Andes in the Atlantic World

JOSÉ GABRIEL CONDORCANQUI, born on March 10, 1738 in Surimana, was

the son of Miguel Condorcanqui Usquionsa Tupac Amaru and María Rosa
Noguera. Miguel, who died in 1750, was the kuraka of three towns in
the Tinta district, Surimana, Pampamarca, and Tungasuca, a position José
Gabriel inherited. José Gabriel would throughout his life use multiple last
names. Condorcanqui—you are a condor in Quechua—was his patronym
associated with the rights to the kuraka position but like his father, he also
employed the last name Tupac Amaru to underline his royal Inca blood.
Amarus are mythological winged serpents while Tupa (as his name was
usually spelled) denotes royalty or proximity to the Inca.1 José Gabriel
claimed to be a direct descendent of Tupac Amaru, the final Inca ruler, be-
headed by Viceroy Toledo in 1572. These bloodlines gave him consider-
able prestige among Quechua Indians, many of whom believed, two cen-
turies after the Conquest, that the Tawantinsuyo or Inca rule would re-
turn. In addition, José Gabriel occasionally added his mother’s last name,
Noguera, which some scholars believe indicated Catalan roots.2
José Gabriel spent his childhood in Surimana, but accompanied his
father on trips throughout the district and beyond as he fulfilled his duties
as kuraka and plied his trade as merchant. These expeditions continued
when José Gabriel came of age and assumed his father’s position and pro-
fession. After initial classes by Fathers López de Sosa and Rodríguez, he
studied in the prestigious San Francisco de Borja School in Cuzco, run
by the Jesuits for the sons of kurakas. The Jesuits provided him a strong
education that also impressed on him his social standing as future kuraka
and someone of royal Inca blood. At school just up the hill from Cuzco’s
imposing cathedral, he learned Latin and deepened his Spanish.3
As a kuraka, José Gabriel held rights to land. He also had small min-
ing interests and coca fields in Carabaya, to the south, and owned sever-
al houses and a small hacienda. His wealth, however, should not be ex-
aggerated: he owed and was owed a great deal of money and had liens
and mortgages on his property.4 He inherited 350 mules from his father,
which he used to work the Cuzco-to-Upper-Peru circuit, the trade route
that linked Lima and Cuzco with the all-important Potosí mines. He car-
ried textiles from local mills as well as sugar, coca leaves, and dried chili
peppers on his mules and llamas to sell or trade in the Lake Titicaca re-
gion and Upper Peru. He returned with more mules and other goods as
well as posts and packages. As a muleteer, he gained important contacts
throughout the region and had a privileged viewpoint on the ebb and
flow of the colonial economy and the increasing strains it put on the in-
digenous population. Over campfires at night or when negotiating a deal,
people told him about the local situation and asked him for news from
Cuzco and beyond. Throughout the colonial period and until the emer-
gence of four-wheeled vehicles and the diffusion of radios in the twenti-
eth century, Andean muleteers such as Tupac Amaru served as the main
conduit between rural life and the outside world. People revered him for
his Inca heritage and, according to many, his kind manner and willing-
ness to defend the rural poor.
The late 1770s were difficult years for the Andean economy. The
opening of Buenos Aires to Upper Peruvian trade (Lima had previously
held a monopoly) meant that producers in Cuzco selling their wares
in Potosí had to compete with products from Buenos Aires and even
from Spain. Moreover, widespread overproduction throughout the Andes
prompted prices to drop. The coarse wool fabric from Cuzco’s mills, for
example, confronted unprecedented competition from European textiles.
Moreover, the years 1778 and 1779 brought extremely cold weather to
Andean Peru, damaging crops and making travel more difficult.5 Tupac
Amaru himself experienced this crisis. By 1780, he had considerable
means but mounting debts as well. He also witnessed and heard about
widespread economic malaise, ranging from merchants verging on bank-
ruptcy to Indian communities that could not pay the increasing tax load.6
 Writers have long asked whether Tupac Amaru was an Indian or a
mestizo, a question that would not have been posed in the same way
in his time. His contemporaries made clear that he was both and that
he took full advantage of his ability to move among the different social
groups of the period. His economic interests and education made him a
member of the colonial middle class, with ties to the upper and lower
classes. He had close connections with distinguished Spanish and creole
residents of Cuzco such as his friend Gabriel Ugarte, but also was com-
fortable with the region’s masses, Quechua-speaking Indians. He spoke
both Spanish and Quechua well, wrote graceful Spanish, and thanks to
the Jesuits knew some Latin. The upper classes in Lima saw him as a
well-educated Indian; some understood this as an acceptable case of so-
cial mobility while others saw it as an aberration and threat to the flex-
ible but ultimately real barriers between caste groups in colonial Peru.
Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas were able to carry out the rebel-
lion because of this ability to move among, gain acceptance from, and
recruit different social groups. They attracted, at least initially, Spanish,
creole, mestizo, black and, above all, indigenous followers. In the midst
of the uprising, however, this balancing act became increasingly diffi-
cult. Europeans quickly became concerned about the use of violence and
the ransacking of estates. Some groups never supported the rebels. For
example, some kurakas, particularly those of the Sacred Valley, saw him
as an arriviste with an unimpressive lineage. They questioned both his
claims to royal Inca blood as well as his economic standing, believing
themselves superior on both fronts.7
Many Spaniards and Creoles scoffed at the notion of a “noble Indian,”
and despite business dealings and even friendship with him, wanted
nothing to do with his political project. They rejected his requests for
support. On the other hand, while Indians venerated the couple, some
abandoned the movement or pushed for more radical (violent) actions.
Doubts about the leaders’ revolutionary credentials and opposition to
the multiclass alliance they sought nourished these desertions and insub-
ordination. In a society as hierarchical as colonial Peru, coalitions that
united racial and class groups strained from the beginning.
As for Micaela Bastidas, she was born in 1744 in Pampamarca. Some
writers have contended that she was from Abancay, west of Cuzco, but
the archival records confirm Pampamarca, part of the Tupac Amaru’s
family kurakazgo. When I visited this town in 2007, locals proudly
claimed her as their own and showed where she had lived about a mile
outside of town. They maintained that parts of her house had stood until
recent decades. Her mother was Josepha Puyucahua (look at the clouds
in Quechua) Sisa and her father Don Manuel de Bastidas; they never
married. He died in 1746 and his identity remains unclear. Some contend
that he was a local man with black heritage, inasmuch as a few docu-
ments refer to her as a zamba or one with cinnamon-colored skin, imply-
ing that she had black blood. Others claim that he was a priest, assigned
to nearby Yanaoca.8 Being an illegitimate daughter of either a partially
black father or a priest placed her in an unusual social category, partic-
ularly in the overwhelmingly indigenous highlands, and closed doors to
her. It certainly excluded her from elite circles. Yet her wedding certific-
ate listed both her parents as “Spaniards,” a sign of respectability more
than birthplace. Racial and class categories in Spanish America were
quite fluid and someone like Micaela could move among different sec-
tors comfortably and gain their respect. She had three brothers, Antonio,
Pedro, and Miguel.
Micaela was a devout Catholic throughout her life. She had little
schooling and her Quechua was far superior to her Spanish. In Pam-
pamarca, oral history claims that she was forced to work in an obraje,
the oppressive textile mills. Father Antonio de Sosa married her and
José Gabriel in Surimana on May 25, 1760. They had three children,
Hipólito (born 1761), Mariano (born 1762), and Fernando (born 1768),
all baptized by Father Sosa in Pampamarca.9 The nineteenth-century
English geographer Clements Markham, who knew the Cuzco area well
and wrote widely on the Incas, Quechua, and Andean geography, called
her a “beautiful Indian girl.” He knew this because Dominga Bastidas,
Micaela’s cousin, had survived the uprising and, fifty years later, de-
scribed her beauty to General John Miller, who was in Cuzco in 1835.
Miller then relayed the description to Markham.10
Micaela was a full partner in José Gabriel’s enterprises. While he was
away in Lima or elsewhere, she managed his business and kuraka af-
fairs, overseeing tax collection and the labor draft and supervising the
men who stepped in for him in his work as a merchant. This helps ex-
plain how she proved to be such an exceptionally able leader of the re-
bellion. She excelled at paying the troops, managing supplies, keeping
discipline, posting sentinels, and watching for spies—all of the intric-
ate logistics that make up military campaigns. Her proficiency brings
to mind the military axiom, “amateurs talk about strategy, profession-
als talk about logistics.” Even before the uprising, she displayed her
strong nature. One tithe collector claimed that in front of the corregidor
Micaela had threatened to “punch him” if he did not relent.11 Her work
as Tupac Amaru’s partner in his political and economic endeavors pre-
pared her well for the uprising.
Micaela’s prominence in the uprising was not a shocking reversal of
gender roles in the Andes. Women participated actively in the cash eco-
nomy, particularly in the sale of produce, livestock, and other goods in
markets and fairs. They frequently managed the household economy.
Men believed themselves the representative of the family and saw them-
selves in charge. Domestic violence, frequently fueled by alcohol, was
rampant. Nonetheless, women were usually significant partners in the
large, extended families that characterized the period, and led the house-
hold if males weren’t present. In the case of the Condorcanqui-Bastidas
household, Tupac Amaru no doubt spoke for the family and believed that
he had the final say. But, as would occur in the rebellion, Micaela Basti-
das helped make decisions and run the household economy.12
Although Spaniards burnt the portraits of Tupac Amaru that he com-
missioned during the rebellion, we have several descriptions and one
painting. Markham reproduced one royalist’s recollection:

Tupac Amaru was five feet eight inches in height, well proportioned, sinewy, and firmly
knit. He had a handsome Indian face, a slightly aquiline nose, full black eyes, and altogeth-
er a countenance intelligent, benign, and expressive. His address, remarkable for gentle-
manlike ease, was dignified and courteous toward superiors and equals; but in in his inter-
course with the aborigines, by whom he was profoundly venerated, there was sedateness
not inconsistent with his legally-admitted claims (de jure) to the diadem of the Incas. In
mind he was enterprising, cool, and persevering. He lived in a style becoming his rank, and,
when residing at Cuzco, usually wore a black velvet coat and small-clothes in the fashion
of the day, a waistcoat of gold tissue, embroidered linen, a Spanish beaver dress hat, silk
stocking, and gold knee and shoe-buckles, and he allowed his glossy black hair to flow in
ringlets which extended down nearly to his waist.13
An anonymous Spaniard stressed his seriousness and deemed Tupac
Amaru “very white for an Indian, although not so very much for a Span-
iard.”14 Descriptions from the rebellion cast him as an elegant figure
on a white horse, dressed in European style with a few Andean touches
such as the uncu or overshirt and the mascapaicha or royal band. Roy-
alists emphasized his cold, calculating bearing, which in their eyes en-
abled him to oversee the slaughter of innocent Europeans, while sub-
sequent generations of admirers have presented him as an elegant and
handsome mestizo. Portrayals from the mid-twentieth century gave him
the impossibly large muscles of the Soviet Social Realism school and, in
the 1960s, features that made him a sort of darker-skinned Che Guevara.
Twentieth-century depictions of Micaela cast her as a long-necked, thin
beauty, with European features. Many have whitened her skin consider-
ably.
 The Atlantic World Reaches the Andes
Tupac Amaru moved throughout the Peruvian viceroyalty, from the le-
gendary silver mines of Potosí to the regal colonial capital of Lima, where
he found himself entangled in new policies and ideas emanating from
Europe. While the rebellion cannot be understood without taking into ac-
count the lives of Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas as well as those
of the indigenous masses of the southern Andes, it also requires examin-
ing changes in Spain and its treatment of its American holdings. Tupac
Amaru, Micaela Bastidas, and their followers lived and suffered the Bour-
bon Reforms. Their lives provide excellent entryways into local Andean
society as well as global changes.
In the eighteenth century, warfare and commercial competition with
France and England plus a palpable sense of decline prompted Spain
to change its relations with and demands on its American holdings. Its
alliance with France against Great Britain in the Seven Years’ War
(1756–1763) proved disastrous. The English occupied strategic Havana
and Manila in 1762, a “devastating blow to Spanish prestige and mor-
ale.”15 King Charles III, who ruled from 1759 until 1788, understood that
he had to revamp the military and modernize the administration in Spain
and its colonies in order to keep pace with France and Great Britain. In
1765, he commissioned the lawyer José de Gálvez to conduct an inspec-
tion or “general visit” to New Spain (Mexico), where he remained for six
years. Gálvez then became Secretary of the Indies in 1775 and domin-
ated the Madrid court on all overseas issues until his death in 1787. Riv-
al factions among the Spanish in Peru maneuvered to gain his favor. It
was Gálvez who received the voluminous information arriving from Peru
about the Tupac Amaru uprising and oversaw the royalist response.
Spain closely followed events in Europe and the Americas. Anticolo-
nial movements in North America in the 1770s and 1780s troubled au-
thorities. The Madrid court believed that if victorious, the patriots would
set a bad example for their colonial brethren in Spanish America; worse
yet, if the British maintained control, they might launch new attacks to
the south.16 Some authorities even worried that the English secretly sup-
ported Tupac Amaru.17 In reality, the British focused their attention and
resources on keeping as large a claim as possible in Canada and the
newly emergent United States. While the English press printed informa-
tion about “revolution in Peru” with a certain satisfaction, the Spanish
had little reason to worry about British support for the Andean rebels.
Intent on improving its defenses and extracting more revenue from
the American colonies, the Spanish state centralized its colonial ad-
ministration and increased the demands on the population. Dismantling
the Habsburg system (the dynasty that ruled Spain from 1506–1700,
which relied on negotiation and the diffusion of power), it reduced the
number of American-born individuals in the administration, replacing
them with Europeans. The Bourbons, the royal house of French origin
that ruled Spain after 1700, also tightened control of the administrative
units through “visits” and other mechanisms. Visitador Generals such
as Gálvez in Mexico and Antonio de Areche in Peru, who would play
a vital role in the Tupac Amaru drama and appears prominently here,
clashed with viceroys and other authorities, whom they believed too lax
and cozy with local society. The viceregal state increased taxes and ex-
tended them to previously exempt groups, improved collection methods,
and imposed new monopolies. Kurakas such as Tupac Amaru found it
increasingly difficult to meet the growing demands of the state without
jeopardizing their own legitimacy in local society. They pleaded with
corregidors and in the courts for leniency (tax reductions, extensions, or
exemptions) and for recognition, stressing their heritage and the local
stability they maintained. The reformers, however, had little sympathy
with kurakas such as Tupac Amaru and saw them as an unfortunate
vestige of the Inca and Habsburg past. Tupac Amaru’s frustration grew
as his efforts to contest the tax and labor demands failed. Yet even if un-
successful, this work brought him increasing appreciation and even ven-
eration by the Indians in his kurakazgo and beyond whom he defended.
The military reforms had initially concentrated on improving Spanish
America’s coastal defenses (authorities understood the British Navy and
seaborne pirates as the primary threats). In 1780, military authorities
were in the midst of shifting imperial defense from militias (local “vo-
lunteers”) to a standing army. These reforms reflected the Bourbons’ dis-
trust of those born in the Americas and their preference for professionals.
The events in Cuzco accelerated this process.18
Jurisdictional changes in the 1770s weakened Cuzco’s role in Upper
Peru and the Atlantic trade via Buenos Aires, angering bureaucrats,
merchants, estate owners, and peasants throughout Peru. In 1776, the
Viceroyalty of Rio de la Plata was created, separating Cuzco from Potosí
and the Titicaca basin. The 1778 “Free Trade” policy opened Buenos
Aires to trade with Spain, reducing Cuzco’s role in the vast Potosí net-
work by directing trade that had flowed through Cuzco via the Pacific
to the Atlantic instead. Authorities also raised fiscal demands. The al-
cabala, a sales tax paid on most goods traded by non-Indians, rose from
2 to 4 percent in 1772 and to 6 percent in 1776. Visitador General Areche
arrived in 1777, implementing the construction of customs houses
throughout the Andes and endeavoring to enforce the tax’s collection.
He also broadened the tax to include products, such as coca leaves, and
social groups, such as artisans, previously exempt from the alcabala.
People in Cuzco despised these changes.
Indigenous people suffered the most from these tax increases. The
colonial state had long relied on the Indian head tax as a main source
of revenue, and the amount collected in Cuzco multiplied by a factor
of sixteen between 1750 and 1820. In addition to increased tribute and
sales tax, Indians continued to confront the odious forced purchase of
goods, the reparto de mercancías or repartimiento. Corregidors, usually
aligned with powerful merchants and producers, required Indians to buy
products, often at inflated prices.19
José Gabriel witnessed and bore the brunt of these reforms from an
early age. He struggled against one of the hallmark reforms in the Andes,
the transfer of the kuraka office from locals, usually families that had
held the office for centuries and often had claims of Inca royal blood,
to outsiders, who in many cases did not even speak Quechua. Corre-
gidors were unable to implement the changes until the 1790s, and even
then with delays and exceptions, but in previous decades they obstructed
every transfer from father to son and occasionally placed outsiders in the
position. José Gabriel had fought to assume the kurakazgo that his fath-
er had held, succeeding in 1766. Yet in 1769, authorities in Cuzco took
the position away from him, only to return it in 1771. Conflicts with suc-
cessive corregidors of the Tinta province, Gregorio de Viana and Pedro
Muñoz de Arjona, prompted these setbacks. In 1768, Tupac Amaru took
Geronimo Cano, a tax collector, to court for his abusive behavior in the
forced sale of goods to Indians. This very well might have hurt his ef-
forts to reclaim the kuraka position.20
Tupac Amaru heard complaints and pleas for help from Indians
forced to buy overpriced goods under the reparto who then scrambled to
pay the head tax and other obligations with the scarce cash that circu-
lated in indigenous society. He witnessed groups of men and their griev-
ing families, who generally accompanied the men, leaving for mita work
at the Potosí mines, no one sure that they would return due to the cost of
the journey and the danger in the mines. The new trade policies, which
facilitated the arrival of goods from Buenos Aires and Spain to Upper
Peru, made his work as a merchant-muleteer in the Potosí circuit less
profitable. Like many, he despised the new customs houses installed un-
der Visitador Areche’s watch. Tupac Amaru had witnessed the erosion
of creoles’ power, the decrease in Indians’ autonomy, and the weakened
position of the Church. He butted heads with Spanish authorities, partic-
ularly the autocratic corregidors and their henchmen who were in charge
of implementing these new policies. Tupac Amaru had objected to the
exploitation and abuse of Indians and, of course, despised the efforts
to replace ethnic kurakas with Spaniards or creoles.21 The Bourbon Re-
forms, as they would later be known, were not an abstraction for Tupac
Amaru and the indigenous people of southern Cuzco; they were a daily
grievance, corroding their social, political, and economic standing.
Tupac Amaru had an extended battle in the Cuzco courts and then
Lima’s Real Audiencia or high court with don Diego Felipe de Betancur
over which of them was the legitimate descendent of the last Inca, Tupac
Amaru I, and thus entitled to the marquisate of Oropesa, a rich fief dating
from the seventeenth century. Tupac Amaru I had led the final stages of
Inca resistance in Vilcabamba, the lush area toward the Amazon basin.
The Spanish captured him in 1571 and beheaded him the following year.
Tupac Amaru claimed that he descended from Juana Pilcohuaca
Coya, the illegitimate daughter of Tupac Amaru I, who married Diego
Felipe Condorcanqui, the kuraka of Surimana, Tungasuca, and Pam-
pamarca. José Gabriel’s father would in this case be the great grandson
of this couple. Betancur contended that Tupac Amaru had fabricated im-
portant elements of the supporting evidence and consequently was not
a direct descendent. Betancur presented ample material showing his lin-
eage, which was itself of dubious origin. Each side accused the other
of fraud. The Spanish prolonged the trial, preferring not to fill the mar-
quisate.22 In April 1777 Tupac Amaru traveled to Lima to plead his case
in the Audiencia. This long trial, which was not over when he hanged
Arriaga in November 1780, clearly troubled him. The colonial courts had
denied what he believed to be his ancestral rights.23
 The Last Inca in the City of Kings
In the 1530s, the Spanish created Lima or “The City of Kings,” as it was
also known, to anchor and represent Spanish power in the still Inca-dom-
inated Peru. The city and its nearby port, Callao, served as the political
and economic center of the Viceroyalty. Home to the viceroy, the arch-
bishop, the principal religious orders such as the Jesuits, Franciscans, and
Dominicans, and the aristocracy, in 1780 it had a population of about
50,000. Indians made up about 10 percent of the city, ranging from work-
ers in the eastern “Indian district” to kurakas such as Tupac Amaru con-
ducting business in the capital. Spaniards, blacks, and multiracial groups
constituted the bulk of the city’s population. The city’s architecture and
active court life impressed Europeans; eighteenth-century travelers also
commented, usually with disdain or even fear, about the city’s multihued
population and its disobedient ways.24
During his year in Lima, José Gabriel stayed in a second-story room
on Concepción Street, in front of the Concepción Monastery, three blocks
from the Plaza Mayor, the city’s center. His room became the meeting
place of malcontents, mostly from Cuzco, such as Father Vicente Centeno
and the mestizo Miguel Montiel y Surco from Oropesa, a town between
Cuzco and José Gabriel’s home base. Montiel had traveled throughout
Peru, visited England, France, and Spain in the 1760s and 1770s, and
greatly admired the English. As a merchant in Lima, he had a small stand
in the “Street of the Jews” next to the Plaza and according to one testi-
mony in his trial for sedition, Montiel maintained that the Spanish occu-
pation of Peru was illegal, that Tupac Amaru should replace the king and
take the throne, and that “if Indians weren’t enough to expel the Spanish,
the English, who have a superior government, will help.” He was a fer-
vent reader of Garcilaso de la Vega’s Royal Commentaries of the Incas,
the fundamental text for the rebels.25
Colonial Lima

Born in Cuzco in 1539, the offspring of a conquistador, Sebastián

Garcilaso de la Vega y Vargas, and an Inca noblewoman, Palla Chimpu
Ocllo, Garcilaso de la Vega became a leading figure in Spain’s golden
era of literature. He lived with his mother in Cuzco in his early years,
learning Spanish and Quechua and imbibing vivid stories of the Incas
and the still unfolding Conquest. His was not a story, however, of mes-
tizo bliss. His father married a noble Spanish woman and passed on
Chimpu Ocllo to a Spanish foot soldier. Garcilaso decided to use a
4,000-peso inheritance upon his father’s death in 1560 to travel to Spain.
Living in Montilla and Córdoba until his death in 1616, Garcilaso finally
published his epic Royal Commentaries (Comentarios Reales de los In-
cas) in 1609 (part 2, General History of Peru, was published posthum-
ously, in 1617). Garcilaso presented the Incas as dignified, accomplished
rulers who had conquered and even civilized a vast territory. While his-
torians question many of his arguments, readers appreciated his lively
prose and bold depiction of the Incas and the Conquest.26
Published in numerous editions, the book circulated widely in
eighteenth-century Peru, nurturing Neo-Inca nationalism.27 José Gabriel
had the education to capture all the nuances of this literary work. He
no doubt appreciated the romantic depiction of the Incas and read with
horror about the betrayal and execution of his ancestor, Tupac Amaru:
“So ended the Inka, the legitimate heir to the empire by the direct male
line from the first Inka Manco Capac to himself.”28 One source claimed
that during the uprising, José Gabriel “nourished himself with daily read-
ings of the historian, Garcilaso.”29 Garcilaso de la Vega (often called “El
Inca” to differentiate him from another writer) provided José Gabriel and
others readers a rousing portrait of the grandiose Incas, casting them as
worthy rivals, respectable monarchs who perhaps deserved a renewed
opportunity to lead the benighted Andean people. “El Inca” Garcilaso
tells particularly moving stories of how different Incas such as “Maita
Cápac, the fourth Inca, conquers Tiahuanaco” (book 3, chapter 1) and
about other successful campaigns to the south. As will be seen, these
stories of southern expansion would inspire and influence Tupac Amaru.
José Gabriel met with many dissidents in Lima. Francisco Pineda,
a tamale and pastry vendor identified as a young black man, recalled
hearing spirited conversations about “how the reparto oppressed Indi-
ans” when he made his deliveries to Concepción Street, and that cor-
regidors and their tribute or head tax demands “didn’t leave the poor
enough to maintain their wives and children.”30 Pineda noticed that
Tupac Amaru was ill with tertian fever, malaria, and understood that
doctors told him he would die if he did not get out of Lima. Prosec-
utors later claimed that Tupac Amaru met with dignitaries in Lima, in-
cluding “men of letters,” who encouraged him “to get on with the up-
rising.”31 According to Father López y Sosa, Indians from an adjoining
province—probably Huarochirí—visited him in Lima. Concerned about
his illness, they kneeled and expressed their veneration. They had told
a judge in Lima that he was their “king.” Indians believed him to be a
messiah, the last Inca.32 Micaela Bastidas claimed that the experience in
Lima “opened his eyes.”33
In Lima in July 1777, Tupac Amaru presented an impassioned de-
fense of the Indians of the districts of Canas y Canchis and Quispicanchi,
emphasizing the heavy burden of the mita labor draft. This was not that
unusual an act. Throughout the colonial period, authors wrote careful yet
pointed critiques of aspects of colonial rule. The court channeled Tupac
Amaru’s petition to Visitador General Areche, whose power by this time
perhaps surpassed that of the Viceroy. Areche responded on September
23, 1777 that Tupac Amaru’s petition against the mita was insufficient
and unconvincing. Moreover, he instructed Tupac Amaru to return to
“his towns” and wait for an answer from the superintendent of the mita,
who held office in distant Potosí. Tupac Amaru responded to Viceroy
Manuel de Guirior in December 1777, with a biting critique of the mita.
Tupac Amaru stressed the “unbearable” burden the labor draft placed
on families, as wives, children, and other dependents almost always ac-
companied the man forced to work in Potosí and they received no com-
pensation for the six-hundred-mile journey. The expenses often forced
them to sell their huts and furniture to finance the trip, making their
return unlikely. Because of the decreasing population of the re-
gion—caused, he claimed, in large part by the mita—men were enlisted
more frequently than every seventh year as the law stipulated, and were
forced to stay for longer periods. Tupac Amaru stressed that Potosí
already had a sufficiently large resident labor population and cited at
length the Crown’s Laws of the Indies (the body of laws that oversaw
Spanish control of the Americans and the Philippines) to show how the
system had been perverted since its origin in the late sixteenth century.
He suggested that the mine owners rely instead on blacks, presumably
slaves, and wage laborers. On May 20, 1778, the “Protector of Indi-
ans,” don Francisco Ruiz Cano, who apparently had been friendly with
Tupac Amaru, confirmed Areche’s earlier rejection of the petition. Tupac
Amaru lost this case at the same time that his legal battle with Betancur
stagnated. He left Lima in mid-1778 dejected, convinced that the legal
system offered little hope for improving the lot of the Indians he rep-
resented. The long trip to Cuzco gave him plenty of time to mull over
his frustrating defeat. He met with disgruntled Indians in Huarochirí, just
outside of Lima, a region that had risen up in arms before and would do
so again.34 His anger with the Spanish and his willingness to be seen as
an indigenous leader and even the savior of his people were on the rise.
 Foreshadowings
In the months and years after the uprising, prosecutors scrutinized all of
Tupac Amaru’s activities from 1777 until his death, seeking to discover
how long he had planned the uprising and with whom. They recognized
that as kuraka Tupac Amaru had defended his Indians with growing pas-
sion and had met with a variety of people. The image of him as an
Inca royal destined to represent his people began to take root throughout
Cuzco, in other Andean areas, and even in Lima. Conspiracies and revolts
in Cuzco as well as Tupac Amaru’s actions foreshadowed the violence of
the 1780s. In hindsight, investigators wondered how they could not have
seen the rebellion coming and why they had tolerated Tupac Amaru’s in-
creasing belligerence.
Visitador General Areche arrived in Peru in 1777. Born in 1731 near
Santander, Spain, Areche had studied law and received his first appoint-
ment overseas in the Philippines in 1765. He worked closely with José
de Gálvez, Mexico’s first Visitador General. Both clashed with viceroys,
who saw them as uncouth interlopers with no sense of local reality. The
viceroys, up until this point the maximum representatives of the king in
the Americas, disliked the visitadors’ heavy-handed implementation of
the administrative changes, which they knew sought to undermine their
own power. The visitadors, in turn, saw the viceroys as second-rate bur-
eaucrats who were too corrupt or too lazy to implement changes that
sought to wrest power away from creoles. Gálvez and Areche shared a
great impatience and even disdain for the residents of Spanish America.
They worried that Spaniards who resided in the Americas had been cor-
rupted by local society, and they mistrusted creoles, whose loyalties were
not necessarily aligned with Spain. They doubted that a fifth-generation
creole, say, appreciated and understood Spain. The visitadors also disliked
the multiethnic lower classes, questioning their assimilation and loyalty.
Areche almost immediately fought with Viceroy Manuel de Guirior,
seemingly over issues of protocol but ultimately about who was in charge
of the viceroyalty, the visitador or the viceroy. Areche’s arrival actually
surprised Viceroy Guirior, who departed Lima soon after, in 1780.
Areche did not get along any better with the replacement, Viceroy
Agustín de Jáuregui, and their sparring marked the period of the uprising.
Jáuregui (1711–1784) had been Governor of Chile until he reached Lima
in July 1780 to assume the office of viceroy. His arrival took his pre-
decessor, Guirior, by surprise—he did not know he was being replaced.
Some believed that Visitador Areche had maneuvered to have Guirior
removed.35 Nonetheless, the visitador also battled with the new viceroy.
Jáuregui was one of the older, cautious, bureaucratic viceroys that Bour-
bon reformers such as José Gálvez and Areche targeted. Gálvez and
Areche believed that authorities such as Jáuregui were too old and too
tied to tradition to implement the changes that the Bourbons under the
reign of Charles III (1759–1788) sought. They held that he and his
brethren aligned too easily with the American-born and did not have the
will to implement real change. One historian deemed it a battle between
“complacent conservatives and zealous reformers.”36
Some of the precedents were almost comical. In 1776 in the city of
Cuzco, an Indian named Juan de Dios Tupa Orcoguaranca told everyone
he met that they should fear the year 1777 with its numerical or eschat-
ological implications (the number seven having an important biblical
presence) and that Indians should “rise up against Spaniards, beginning
with corregidors, mayors and other white-skinned and blonde people,
and kill them.”37 He declared himself an Indian noble and claimed that
in the San Cristóbal parish in the city of Cuzco, Indians were busy em-
ploying the quipu, the Inca knotted cords used to register information.
Imprudent drinking and boasting got him into trouble. One evening, he
and several other Indians had been drinking heavily and among discus-
sions about rising up against the Spanish, had fought over a woman as
well as the bill for chicha or corn beer. They became so drunk that when
dancing, one of them fell on top of a guinea pig, ubiquitous in Cuzco
households and a key source of protein, and squashed it. The next day
they ate it. Judicial officers in Cuzco learned about Tupa Orcoguaranca’s
subversive rants and arrested him. What seemed like a drunken party and
loose tongues was, from the perspective of 1781, proof of “formal mach-
ination since 1776 of an uprising.” The Spanish later recriminated one
another for not having followed this lead.38
The trial of Joseph Gran Quispe Tupa Inga confirmed rumors circu-
lated widely in Cuzco that 1777 would be a tumultuous year, that Santa
Rosa of Lima’s prophecy about the end of Spanish rule might well come
true, and that an Inca King might be crowned. Throughout the eight-
eenth century, the apocryphal story that Santa Rosa (1586–1617), the
first American-born saint, had predicted the fall of the Spanish, inspired
renegades.39 Quispe, a sixty-year-old illiterate peasant from the Sacred
Valley, had commissioned letters that called for Indians to prepare an
uprising and to kill puka kunkas, rednecks, the derogatory Quechua
term for Spaniards used frequently during the rebellion. He defended
himself, rather poorly, by claiming that he was merely trying to raise
money for his sick daughter; yet he also noted that rumors had spread
in chicha bars, chicherias, that the prophecy would begin with “commo-
tion and sedition by Indians and mestizos rising up against corregidors,
killing some and expelling others.”40 The trial against Quipse Tupa Inga
dragged on until the events of 1780 gave it new significance. Quispe
died in Cuzco’s Royal Jail in December 1780. His lawyer claimed that he
and other prisoners were starving, barely surviving on scraps of barley
bread. At that point, however, it became clear that Cuzco’s authorities
had greater concerns.41
The trials of Tupa Orcoguaranca and Quispe Tupa Inga as well as oth-
er rumors from the period indicate that the ingredients for an uprising
were developing, expanding, and feeding off one another: the wide-
spread and growing hatred for the Spanish, the belief that they were di-
vided and vulnerable, the notion that the Incas would return, and the pur-
suit of unity and strategies. Tupac Amaru would imbibe and promote all
of these, raising hopes among many.
Some observers claimed that Tupac Amaru himself changed in the
late 1770s. In the two years prior to the uprising, a few residents in Tupac
Amaru’s hometowns complained that he had become dictatorial and pre-
sumptuous. No one paid attention to these charges—until after the rebel-
lion. In 1779, several Spaniards accused Tupac Amaru of authoritarian
and violent behavior and alleged that he deemed himself “the last Inca.”
After the rebellion, authorities reviewing the case believed that Tupac
Amaru had given clear signs of his violent nature and subversive inten-
tions and that an opportunity to prevent the uprising had been lost. The
Justicia Mayor or local judge of Tinta accused José Gabriel of detaining
and whipping prisoners in his house and calling for all Spaniards to get
out of town. One witness warned, a year before the uprising, that “it’s not
good to have Tupac Amaru around here as the Indians are very restless
due to the news he’s spreading.”42 Someone else accused him of meet-
ing with a group of unhappy Indians from Sicuani in his role as “the last
Inca of Peru” to hear their complaints. In the late 1770s, José Gabriel in-
creasingly stressed his Inca lineage and the term “the last Inca” surfaced.
Others charged him with whipping “Spaniards with white faces”
and demanding that mestizos not from the region—that is, mestizos
forasteros—leave the province. Esteban Zuñiga, the tithe collector of
the Azángaro province and a resident of Pampamarca, complained that
Tupac Amaru always had disliked and mistreated him. They had once
bickered over some land and had come to blows when Tupac Amaru
brought Micaela Bastidas’s aunt to town for some type of punishment,
kicking her and pulling her hair. When Zuñiga intervened, Tupac Amaru
hit and kicked him. Zuñiga claimed that Tupac Amaru consistently be-
haved as though he were the sole authority in town, whipping and im-
prisoning people at his whim, and acting with hostility toward mestizos
and Spaniards. The local judge subsequently called Tupac Amaru in for
a meeting. The kuraka, however, brought a letter of support from Pam-
pamarca’s priest, Antonio López de Sosa, and no punishment followed.
Years later, 1785, when the newly named president of the Cuzco Intend-
ancy, Mata Linares, reviewed this case, he seethed over how officials
had missed so many signs of serious trouble brewing: “this inattention
caused so much misfortune, set the state so far back that we can’t even
calculate it.”43 Mata Linares ranted for paragraphs about this lost oppor-
tunity to stop the rebellion before it began.
These small conspiracies in Cuzco and Tupac Amaru’s truculent be-
havior were not the only antecedents. In the late 1770s people organized
and rioted in different Andean cities and towns such as Cochabamba,
La Paz, and, closer to Cuzco, Maras, over the implementation of the tax
reforms imposed by Visitador Areche. The turmoil did not begin with
Arriaga’s execution. In 1780, Arequipa and Cuzco witnessed anti-Span-
ish disturbances. On January 1, 1780, satirical posters appeared on the
cathedral door in Arequipa that ridiculed the Spanish and threatened the
administrator of the new customs house. On January 5, another one tar-
geted Arequipa’s corregidor, Baltasar de Sematnat. It ended on a famil-
iar note: “Long Live the Great Charles III/Death to his evil henchmen/
and bad government.”44 Eighteenth-century rebels frequently claimed to
be fulfilling the king’s wishes by targeting his wayward and corrupt rep-
resentatives. Tupac Amaru himself held that he had the support of the
king. In the following weeks, the posters in Arequipa became more poin-
ted, complimenting England at a time when Spain was allied with France
and raising the prospect of replacing Charles III with an Inca king.45
On January 13 and 14, 1780, rioters stormed the customs house, a sym-
bol of the increasing tax demands, and troops were only able to control
the rebels, described as a motley group of Indians, mestizos, and whites,
after a week of fighting.46 The Spanish had initially believed that Indians
were too cowardly and mestizos too “unfortunate” (desdichada suerte)
to lead an uprising; they would soon learn they were wrong.47
News of the Arequipa disturbances reached Cuzco quickly, just when
officials were inaugurating a customs house. Dissidents surreptitiously
placed lampoons that objected to new taxes and the stepped-up collec-
tion. In March, the Cuzco police rounded up conspirators who planned to
attack the new building, the so-called Silversmiths’ Conspiracy. Eleven
of the twelve arrested were creoles or mestizos and in their confessions
they conceded that the movement sought to incorporate everyone in
the region other than Spaniards. Tupac Amaru’s brother-in-law, Antonio
Bastidas, claimed that when the rebel leader learned that one leader, the
kuraka of Pisac, Bernardo Tambohuacso Pumayala, had been hanged,
“he said that he couldn’t understand how the Indians had let this hap-
pen.”48 Authorities kept a close eye on potential conspirators and an
“ambience of impending civil war” took hold in the city.49 Corregidor
Arriaga accused Bishop Moscoso of abetting the rebels, deepening the
animosity between these two, representatives of the State and Church.
This conflict flared up just months before the Tupac Amaru uprising.
 The Church
Events in early 1780 in the towns that rose above Tinta and Tupac
Amaru’s base brought to the fore the explosive tensions that marked re-
lations among civil authorities, members of the church, kurakas, and the
Indian masses. In livestock towns such as Yauri and Coporaque, where
sheep, llamas, alpacas, and cows grazed in the narrow valleys and steep
hills and where Indians worked primarily as shepherds, the joint church-
state governance system shattered, disrupting the fragile alliances and un-
derstandings that held society together and mitigated violence. The clas-
sic eighteenth-century clash between state and church lay behind the con-
frontation. Nonetheless, the battle over the state’s effort to control the
church, and the bishop’s maneuvers to manage his heterogeneous and dis-
tant flock, can only be understood in the context of the local culture and
economy.
The story is not simple. In 1779, Cuzco’s Bishop, Juan Manuel Mo-
scoso y Peralta, asked all priests along the Royal Highway to present de-
tailed summaries of the state of their parishes. Bishop Moscoso would be-
come a leading figure in the Tupac Amaru rebellion and its long after-
math. Born in the southern Peruvian city of Arequipa in 1723 to aristo-
cratic parents, he studied in Lima and Cuzco and was married in 1748.
His wife died three years later in childbirth, their newborn son days af-
terwards, causing Moscoso to rethink his plans to take his place along-
side his father as an Arequipa patriarch. Instead, he petitioned to become
a priest. He worked his way up the clerical hierarchy, in Moquegua and
then Córdoba (in what became Argentina), and in 1779 became the bish-
op of Cuzco. Several characteristics stand out in his long career: the use
of his considerable wealth for the social work and art of the church; his
frequent spats with authorities; and his taste, according to salacious ac-
cusations, for women, married and single, young and old.50 He and Cor-
regidor Arriaga had taken a dislike to each other before Moscoso’s arrival
in Cuzco and his nomination had irritated some Spaniards, who expected
a peninsular rather than a creole for the prestigious position.51
His 1779 request for reports from the parishes along the Royal High-
way sought to monitor the priests’ actions and to gain a share of the rev-
enue they earned from the services they offered to parishioners and the
rental of church land. The bishop’s defenders claimed that he sought to
protect Indians from excessive fees and duties while watching over the
moral activities of his flock, while critics argued that he was simply try-
ing to extract more revenue from an impoverished area. Parish priests re-
sponded slowly or not at all to his requests and so, in mid-1780, Moscoso
sent father Vicente de la Puente, the priest of Coporaque, to investigate
father Justo Martínez of Yauri, accused of improperly controlling vast
amounts of land. After weeks of recriminations, tussles, and riots, the
sides were set. On one side stood Moscoso and Puente, who saw the loc-
als as uncooperative at best and corrupt and belligerent at worst, and on
the other side were Corregidor Arriaga and his allies, the kuraka Eugenio
Sinayuca, the disobedient Martínez, and other powerful locals, who saw
Moscoso as a meddling outsider who sought money from their poor dis-
trict. The church, as always, was divided; priests can be found on both
sides.
In July 1780, Moscoso excommunicated Arriaga. Arriaga’s nephew
and assistant, Eusebio Balza de Verganza, who for years accused Mo-
scoso of supporting Tupac Amaru and wreaking havoc, called this “the
most famously scandalous case this Kingdom has ever seen” and deemed
it proof of “the lack of respect priests have for authorities and their con-
tinual insults.”52 Arriaga himself retaliated by sending a secret report
to Viceroy Guirior that implicated Bishop Moscoso in the Silversmiths’
Conspiracy (also called the Farfán de los Godos uprising) in early 1780,
a reaction to the newly established customs house in Cuzco.53
The all-powerful Visitador General Areche seemed to support Mo-
scoso and Puente at one point, sharing their disdain for corregidors
and kurakas. Puente accused Arriaga of numerous illicit profiteering
schemes, while the corregidor countered that Father Puente was not
only living sinfully with Maria Josefa Alarcón and their children but
that he also tyrannized and exploited local Indians. Arriaga charged
that, “Puente and other ecclesiastics have shaken up local Indians,” and
blamed them and above all their superiors (namely Bishop Moscoso) for
disturbances in Cuzco and Arequipa along with the uproar over taxes.54
As was so often the case, accusations about money quickly turned to
those involving sex and scandalous lifestyles.55 Moscoso was forced to
rescind Arriaga’s excommunication in September.
 The conflict simmered until November when the execution of Arriaga
galvanized Europeans and put on hold this and other local struggles.
Throughout these disputes, both sides worried that the conflict could
lead to broader indigenous uprisings, but blamed the other side and re-
fused to relent. In witnessing this infighting among Europeans, the in-
digenous population gained an anticlerical and anticorregidor vocabu-
lary. If all revolutions require a prior partition of the upper classes, this
was it, although in a microregional context. Pushed to the side with Ar-
riaga’s execution in November, the conflict smoldered for years. Ar-
riaga’s nephew, don Eusebio, relentlessly accused Puente and Moscoso
of supporting Tupac Amaru. Years later, a former prisoner in Tungasuca
stated that these events as well as the long, frustrating trial over the mar-
quisate had sparked the rebellion.56
 Preconditions
In the 1770s, Tupac Amaru made important contacts throughout the
massive Peruvian viceroyalty, from the Potosí silver mines, where dra-
gooned Indians moved from the bitter cold down into the dangerous and
infernally hot shafts, to coastal Lima, where Tupac Amaru heard anti-
Spanish ideas and received a cold shoulder from the powers that be. He
and other indigenous people bore the brunt of the efforts by the Span-
ish to squeeze more revenue out of the colonies and to tighten con-
trol. Disgruntlement spread beyond the Indians, however, including hard-
pressed mestizos, dissatisfied creoles, and a small number of Spaniards.
Opposition to Spanish rule blossomed and alternative visions and utopias
emerged, most incorporating some form of the return of the Incas.
In 1780, at the ages of forty-two and thirty-six, Tupac Amaru and
Micaela Bastidas seemed to have the connections, abilities, and griev-
ances to lead a revolution. José Gabriel, in particular, rubbed elbows with
Spaniards, creoles, mestizos, and Indians, and both were comfortable in
Spanish and Quechua. Work and legal troubles had taken José Gabriel
throughout the viceroyalty of Peru, and he and Micaela counted on valu-
able networks of family, friends, and business partners in the Cuzco re-
gion and beyond. José Gabriel had confronted all of the ramifications
of the Bourbon Reforms: he despised the new tax and labor demands,
suffered from the limitations put on ethnic kurakas, and distrusted the
State’s incipient effort to rein in the Church. He also disliked older forms
of exploitation and domination, such as the corregidors’ omnipotence and
Lima’s deaf ear to Andean demands, phenomena that predated the Bour-
bons.
At a broader level, beyond the personal, southern Peru also exhibited
the necessary conditions for revolt: increasingly oppressed Indian masses,
disaffected “middle sectors,” and elites divided over changes emanating
from Spain. Divisions within the ruling class are an indispensable precon-
dition for revolution and Peru had several schisms: Spanish-creole dis-
trust, the church-state conflict, and tensions between Lima and Cuzco. All
worsened in the 1770s with the arrival of Visitador Areche and the juris-
dictional changes understood, particularly in Cuzco, as the “loss” of Up-
per Peru to Buenos Aires. In addition, the zealous (some would say fan-
atical) Bourbon reformers arriving from Iberia had no qualms about chal-
lenging other Europeans: Visitador Areche fought with Viceroys Guirior
and Jáuregui almost from his arrival.
The launching of a revolution requires more than a strong leadership,
economic grievances, and elite political divisions; it requires a platform,
an ideology. Various sets of ideas or notions of change buoyed the rebels.
Chief among them was the belief that the Incas would return or that some
sort of fairer, more just system with its roots going back to the Inca peri-
od would be put into place. Since the Conquest, different groups, includ-
ing non-Indians, had kept alive a belief that the Incas constituted an al-
ternative to Spanish colonialism. Tupac Amaru’s descent from “the last
Inca” greatly augmented his prestige; it is no coincidence that he increas-
ingly adopted that as his last name in the late 1770s. Bolstering the mes-
sianic nature of the uprising, followers believed that Tupac Amaru could
not be killed, or had numerous lives, and that his martyred followers
would be resurrected. The belief in resurrection emboldened his indigen-
ous soldiers.57
The rebels also built on the idea of “bad government,” that people
could take direct action against corrupt or disruptive authorities. Coloni-
al Spanish America had a long tradition of negotiated relations between
the state and the indigenous peasantry. Eighteenth-century insurgents of-
ten claimed that wayward authorities had broken the pact which they, the
insurgents, sought to rebuild. Tupac Amaru and other leaders never de-
viated from their proclamation that they acted on behalf of King Charles
III.58 It is more difficult to discern whether elements of the Enlighten-
ment, the radical and heterogeneous set of ideas that marked eighteenth-
century politics in Europe and the Americas, can be found in their pro-
gram. The rebels never presented a platform. In fact, the ideological
nature of the uprising can only be understood by examining the events of
the rebellion, the words and actions of the leaders and followers.
 2

From Pampamarca to Sangarará

THE DAYS AND WEEKS following Arriaga’s hanging on November 10, 1780
proved that the execution had not been spontaneous. Tupac Amaru and
Micaela Bastidas set up camp in Tungasuca, sent emissaries to gain sup-
port in nearby towns, wrote notes to potential allies, particularly kura-
kas, and supervised their prisoners, who trembled in their basement cells
aware of the corregidor’s fate. They also posted spies and sentinels on the
roads into Cuzco, hoping to keep the uprising secret as long as possible
and to be well prepared for a counterattack. Tupac Amaru almost imme-
diately left the base in Tungasuca while Micaela Bastidas stayed behind,
an arrangement that continued throughout the uprising.
Tupac Amaru’s forays into nearby towns in November 1780 reveal
his objectives, social base, economic program, and military strategy. In
light of the absence of a “program,” the activities and correspondence
of Micaela Bastidas and Tupac Amaru are the best entryway into un-
derstanding what they sought and how they intended to carry out their
objectives. Tupac Amaru and his increasingly large entourage burst into
towns and congregated people by the church, the cemetery, or in the plaza.
The rebel leader then explained to the startled crowds what he planned
to do. Most Indians, apparently, quickly warmed to the ideas he presen-
ted, his promise of a new world or perhaps an ancient one harking back to
the Inca past. Members of the middle groups who stood just above Indi-
ans in Peru’s social pyramid—merchants, shop owners, small landowners,
primarily mestizos but also creoles and even Indians—vacillated. Some
welcomed the prospect of reduced taxes and less corregidor intrusion,
while others agonized about the consequences, concerned that the Indians
around were becoming less subservient or about the ensuing punishment
and repression from the colonial state. With a few exceptions, Spaniards
not singled out by the rebels paid little attention to Tupac Amaru’s assur-
ances, and understanding the danger, made plans to flee.
In the early weeks and months of the uprising, November 1780,
the organization, unity, and rapid growth of the movement shocked the
southern Andes. At the same time, the obstacles Tupac Amaru and
Micaela Bastidas faced in maintaining a united front and creating a co-
hesive anticolonial program came to the surface. Continuing with the
questions of rebel support and how they organized themselves, I exam-
ine the rebel camp in the town of Tungasuca. Particular attention is paid
to the mystery surrounding a group of European prisoners who passed
over to the rebels. Their “captivating stories” demonstrate the challenge
in constructing a multiethnic movement.
Sources used to interpret the uprising include correspondence, ex-
tensive trials against major participants, accounts written in the after-
math, and documentation that, while not focused on the uprising per
se, sheds light on the context or specific individuals. All of this is in
Spanish and the majority comes from the Spanish perspective. In some
cases, multiple sources on a key moment can be contrasted in order to
present the most plausible course of events and to highlight how differ-
ent people or groups understand them. In many other cases, however,
a single letter or brief testimony is all there is, forcing speculative in-
terpretations. In terms of the quantity of available material, the archives
reproduce the social pyramid—much more is written about educated
Europeans and the rebel leaders than about the mostly illiterate indigen-
ous followers and the black royalist soldiers. In fact, the sources almost
never name common fighters. Even if deemed heroic or blamed for an
atrocity, they remain anonymous. This book uses the tidbits or fragments
about Quechua-speaking rebels, the female camp aides, and the foot sol-
diers to tell a broad, social history.
 Stream of Followers
Tupac Amaru headed for Quiquijana, the capital of the Quispicanchi
province, on November 11, the day after Arriaga’s execution. A few thou-
sand Indians as well as a small number of mestizos accompanied him.
One observer noted that the Indians followed Tupac Amaru “willingly”
while many of the mestizos and Spaniards were coerced.1 The elegantly
dressed Tupac Amaru and other leaders rode horses while most of the In-
dian fighters walked. Women accompanied them as camp aides, but al-
most no document or description mentions them in any phase of the up-
rising. One exception describes a battle in Oruro, in Upper Peru, where
the women aided the rock-slinging Indian soldiers: “the women dedicated
themselves to continually collecting rocks, particularly big, sturdy ones
they brought from the mines.”2 The only women subsequently prosec-
uted were rebel leaders such as Micaela Bastidas and Tomasa Titu Con-
demaytu or family members.3 Mules carried provisions and weapons, al-
though the rebels traveled light in these initial excursions to nearby towns
and communities. The term “troops” might be an exaggeration, since they
had little military training and most relied on lances, pikes, and slings for
weapons. They had a few rustic cannons, or pedreros, made by local ar-
tisans, and muskets that they seized from the enemy. The rebel soldiers
struggled to learn how to use the muskets.4
The Rebellion’s Core Area

The closest thing they had to a uniform were hay or palm crosses
such as those distributed on Palm Sunday that many of them wore in
their hats. One prisoner admitted that he wore both the cross and a red
embroidery, “the insignias of the rebels.”5 In December 1780, Micaela
Bastidas ordered that they display the crosses in their hats “as a sign
that they are good and true Christians.”6 A small-town mayor reported
that when a group of royalist troops switched over to Tupac Amaru, they
“put on Indian shirts,” presumably coarse wool with rustic buttons, and
placed white crosses in their hats.7 Nonetheless, these Indian combatants
knew the area well, venerated Tupac Amaru, and proved to be brave and
resourceful. They also hated Spanish authorities and the status quo.
On November 12, the rebels destroyed the textile mills of Pomacanchi
and Parapujio. Tupac Amaru opened up the jail in the Pomacanchi mill
and, after asking if the owner owed anyone money, distributed some of
the cloth and thousands of pounds of wool to his Indian followers, his
half-brother, Juan Bautista Tupac Amaru, and a priest. One report noted
that “the resentful Indians were about to burn the mill, cheered on by the
prisoners.”8 Indians despised the mills because of the dreadful working
conditions and their use as jails. Also, the obrajes played a central role
in the forced purchase of goods, the reparto, because their owners ac-
quired wool at artificially low prices and sold cloth for substantial profit.
Tupac Amaru used the confiscated funds to pay his soldiers, two reales
(one-fourth of a peso) per day for Indians and four reales (half a peso)
for Europeans.9 In the coming weeks he used the mill’s jail for his pris-
oners.
One astonished observer, Isidro de Montecinos, a salesman from
Cuzco, could not believe the size of Tupac Amaru’s following. He
claimed that the rebel leader left Pomacanchi at three or four p.m. and
that “a rope-like stream of followers” continued well into the night. He
calculated that the columns stretched over seven miles, and included In-
dians, mestizos, and Spaniards. Montecinos reported that the Indians had
slings, lances, and sabers and that they were hugging one another in
joy, proclaiming that forced labor and their suffering had ended.10 Tupac
Amaru’s main objective, the corregidor Fernando Cabrera, evaded the
first wave of rebels by hiding in a chapel and fled Quiquijana two hours
before Tupac Amaru arrived, indicating the rapid spread of news or ru-
mors. The rebels destroyed another mill, distributing the cloth and wool
among themselves. They would ransack at least two more in the follow-
ing days.11
Don Joseph Alvarez y Nava, a post-office administrator en route to
Lima with satchels of mail from Cuzco, stumbled upon the rebel forces
in Quiquijana. He noted that the “hills were teeming with Indians” and
in town “armed men, mestizos and Spaniards, were taking orders from
their cacique don Joseph Tupac Amaro … who was distributing Cab-
rera’s goods to the sound of drums. The Corregidor had fled to Cuzco.”12
Alvarez y Nava rushed to the priest’s house, where he met a Francis-
can friar and four other priests. They were in shock, even more so when
Tupac Amaru walked into the room. The rebel leader treated them cour-
teously and granted Alvarez y Nava permission to continue with his par-
cels because the rebellion “did not seek to harm anyone or anything, in-
cluding royal paperwork and finances.”
It’s surprising that Tupac Amaru did not confiscate the bundles, to
prevent information about his uprising from reaching Lima and to find
administrative secrets.13 When Tupac Amaru left, another priest came
out of hiding. The diligent postman asked the priests what he should
do and they gave him different opinions—leave the bags and return to
Cuzco or continue to Lima with Tupac Amaru’s permission. Alvarez y
Nava started toward Lima and witnessed Indians ransacking obrajes in
Checacupe, where about twenty-five Indians detained him. They sent a
query to Tupac Amaru who instructed that he be freed. At this point
Alvarez y Nava took flight to Puno, where he wrote to the viceroy about
his adventure.14 His story captures the initial uncertainty about the up-
rising as well as Tupac Amaru’s efforts to gain the support of or at least
mollify members of the Church.
On his return to Tungasuca, Tupac Amaru continued to recruit allies,
intimidate enemies, and gather supplies. In the small town of Guaro,
after services in the town church with the two priests who accompanied
him (those of the town had fled), Tupac Amaru gathered local Indians
and his entourage in the cemetery. He declared that they “didn’t even
know who God was, that they were following false Gods, those of the
thieving corregidors and priests.” This argument, that incessant exploita-
tion by Spaniards impeded Indians from developing true faith, became a
leitmotif of the uprising. The rebel leader promised to remedy this situ-
ation and to do away with repartos, the sales tax, the Potosí mita, pay-
ments to priests, and customs houses. He pledged that Indians would be
free and only have to pay the head tax to him.15 With this speech, Tupac
Amaru cast his uprising as a defense or liberation of indigenous Catholi-
cism. Nonetheless, although he, Micaela Bastidas, and other leaders as
well as the bulk of his followers proved to be devout Christians who ven-
erated the Church, the uprising’s opponents cast them as church-burning
heathens, a label that proved difficult to shake.
In this journey back to the base, Tupac Amaru sent his son Hipólito
and his much trusted brother-in-law Antonio Bastidas ahead to make
sure that the route was clear of soldiers and that his Indian supporters
did not pillage. They also obtained or expropriated supplies. Although
the uprising had spread quickly, without a hitch, they understood that
an encounter with a small group of well-armed enemies could be the
end.16 In Andahuaylillas, priests met him on the stairs that lead up to
the town’s spectacular church. After he kissed the cross and prayed at
the main altar, Tupac Amaru descended to the adjoining cemetery where
he made a rousing speech that again called for the elimination of the re-
parto, mills, and corregidors and called on the town’s people to support
him.17 One priest, however, Martínez Sánchez, wrote him a letter ques-
tioning whether the Crown had actually sanctioned his activities. Tupac
Amaru answered sharply, ending his letter on this ominous note: “I can
see that you have a great deal of affection for the thieving corregidores,
who, with no fear of God, imposed unbearable work on the Indians with
the reparto, robbing them with their long fingers. Some priests collabor-
ated with them and they will be expelled from their jobs as thieves, and
then they will know my power.”18
 His Program in Action
This initial foray to nearby Quiquijana set the tone for Tupac Amaru’s
military activities in late 1780. He and a large group of followers—the
vague but imposing figure thousands is often used—would enter a small
town and assemble the population. Tupac Amaru would demand that
everyone gather—not difficult due to the excitement of most people as
well as the inability of most Spaniards and other prominent people to
hide—and explain his enterprise in Spanish and Quechua. Indians from
adjoining communities and villages would participate and, if convinced,
join the uprising. November is the early part of the rainy season; agricul-
tural tasks were at a minimum, making it easier for peasants to leave their
fields. He opened jails, burned gallows, ransacked textile mills, and de-
clared the abolition of the sales tax, reparto, and the mita, and the end of
corregidors. This was his stump speech. For Indians, these were wildly
popular and deeply symbolic actions. In the Andes under Spanish colo-
nialism, powerful individuals used jails, gallows, and mills to exert their
seemingly inescapable power over Indians while authorities, in cahoots
with locals, took advantage of forced sales and the head and labor taxes to
exploit and control the indigenous population and to make money. Coer-
cion and colonialism went hand in hand.
In these initial weeks, Tupac Amaru repeated in his speeches and
memos the essence of his economic program: the abolition of the mita, the
reparto, sales taxes, and customs houses. He stated that he would main-
tain the head tax and rarely mentioned fees destined to the church. To
the great satisfaction of the Indian masses, he spoke to them in Quechua.
He allowed his troops to ransack the property of corregidors and unpopu-
lar Spaniards but sought to limit the damage on other estates. He did not
consider all haciendas and hacendados evil, worthy of rebel wrath; some
of his more radical followers did. Beyond these negative measures—the
banning of unpopular colonial impositions that had become increasingly
intolerable in the prior decade or so and the confiscation of Spanish-
owned estates—he never set out a clear economic plan. These measures
delighted his indigenous followers, intrigued mestizos and creoles, intim-
idated landowners and prosperous merchants, and infuriated Spanish au-
thorities.
 Tupac Amaru was a man of action. One of his prisoners, José Esteban
Escarcena, provided a telling anecdote on the rebel leader’s worldview
and strategy. In Tinta, Escarcena found some bound law books. When he
showed them to the rebel leader, Tupac Amaru responded “these books
are worthless other than to make empanadas or pastries; I’ll just impose
strong laws.” He explained that once in power they would place one of-
ficial in every town, who would collect the head tax and send it to the
city of Cuzco. This program would begin in Cuzco but expand to Are-
quipa, Lima and Upper Peru. Escarcena also noted that Tupac Amaru
told many people that he would get rid of lawyers and jails and simplify
punishment. Major criminals would be hanged on the spot while smal-
ler transgressions would be punished by hanging the perpetrator by one
foot from the gallows, placed in every town. This streamlined system
would not only reduce crime but also “get rid of lawsuits and notaries.”19
These comments and his speeches made his platform clear, at least in ad-
ministrative terms: tough laws and the abolition of all taxes, income and
labor, other than the head tax.20 This same passage also clarified who
was in charge: “the rebel and his wife made the decisions, and he [Tupac
Amaru] said several times that he didn’t need advice, he knew well what
needed to be done.”21
Tupac Amaru expropriated food, livestock, and other goods from cor-
regidors and landowners. For his supporters, the sacking and looting
were necessary tactics justified by the level of exploitation that the Indi-
an majority suffered on a daily basis. In their eyes, these actions paled
next to the quotidian abuse of Indians, and ultimately sought to right
an out-of-sync system that did not even allow Indians to be practicing
Christians. For critics, however, looting constituted the lone motivation
for naïve Indians and mestizos to participate in the uprising—they were
greedy, low-end ruffians and criminals, not politically motivated rebels.
Royalist supporters cast the rebel masses as ignorant followers who did
not understand or even care about debates concerning the legitimacy of
Spanish rule. Of course, in virtually any uprising opponents disagree
about whether rebel actions are expropriation for a larger cause or mere
theft. It is clear that the rebel leaders understood the importance of provi-
sions. From the beginning they accumulated and kept track of supplies.
While they distributed wool to their followers in some of the first rebel
actions, they sought to store sufficient food, coca, and alcohol for what
they understood would be a long struggle ahead.
Tupac Amaru insisted that he was obeying royal orders. A perplexed
Spaniard wrote in the early days “there are still subjects who think he’s
following His Majesty’s orders, which would make him a faithful sub-
ject, but this seems unbelievable as Indians aren’t granted these rights.”22
Even the letter writer wondered whether Tupac Amaru might actually
have permission from Madrid. In a letter to Cuzco’s bishop, Diego
Cristóbal Tupac Amaru, Tupac Amaru’s cousin and successor, conten-
ded that “Our King [Charles III] had taken repeated and wise measures”
against the “unbearable” abuse inflicted on Indians by misguided colo-
nial authorities, but to no avail. Frustrated, His Majesty thus gave José
Gabriel a “royal decree” permitting his actions against corregidor Ar-
riaga.23 In other words, the king had grown tired of his underlings not
following his orders and had supposedly granted Tupac Amaru permis-
sion to act. Tupac Amaru believed, it seems, that he would have the
king’s support to rid Peru of wayward authorities if the monarch were
to know the level of exploitation in the Andes. Tupac Amaru converted
this faith in the king’s hypothetical support into the argument that he had
written proof of it, a contention that many people accepted.
Violence did not mark these initial excursions. The Spanish did not
have troops in any of the towns between Cuzco and Arequipa and
local militias, if they existed, did not have arms or esprit de corps and
crumpled before the fight began. Royalists could not confront these
quick entries into towns and villages. On the other hand, Tupac Amaru
imprisoned corregidors and abusive Spaniards but rarely executed them
on the spot. In fact, from the beginning, late 1780, he tried to keep rebel
violence in check. This would change.
Tupac Amaru returned to Tungasuca late on November 14. He spent
the next few days organizing his forces and drafting numerous letters and
decrees. He wrote these on paper but the rebels also wrote on canvas and
even on animal skins. They often hid their messages under saddles and
mule bags.24 On the fifteenth alone, he penned at least six edicts, five
letters, and three orders or commissions. That day he wrote the kuraka
Diego Choquehuanca, ordering him to arrest the corregidor of Azángaro
(in the district just north of Lake Titicaca). He announced that corre-
gidors would no longer exist and declared the abolition of “the mita, al-
cabalas, customs houses, and other pernicious novelties.” He included
a decree justifying his actions.25 Diego Choquehuanca and his son José
immediately reported the letter to the corregidor and assured him of their
good intentions. His family remained loyal until its bloody demise.26 In
fact, Tupac Amaru largely failed in his efforts to recruit the kurakas of
the Titicaca basin.
Tupac Amaru wrote to the kuraka of Lampa (also to the south, near
Lake Titicaca), Bernardino Sucaragua, in similar terms. The accompa-
nying document began “In as much as the King has ordered me to pro-
ceed in an extraordinary manner against several corregidores and their
lieutenants, based on legitimate reasons that cannot be disclosed at this
moment.… I authorize Governor D. Bernardo Sucaragua to do it in my
place.”27 In another letter to Sucaragua Tupac Amaru insisted that he
would respect all Spanish people and members of the Church “who
have become friends of the Peruvian people,” yet would pursue ab-
usive “Europeans.” He instructed Sucaragua to capture the corregidor
of Lampa.28 Sucaragua disobeyed his orders and, like Choquehuanca,
joined the royalists. Tupac Amaru wrote numerous kurakas throughout
the region with instructions to capture the corregidor and to implement
the abolition of colonial institutions such as the mita and the reparto. He
insisted that he had the support of King Charles III and sought to allow
Indians to become good Christians. His uprising, which began with the
execution of Corregidor Arriaga and stormed though the Vilcanota Val-
ley in its initial weeks, was fought, he claimed, in the name of the king
and the Catholic Church.
On November 16th, “Don José Gabriel Tupac Amaru Indian of noble-
blood of the Incas and royal family” wrote one of the most intriguing
documents of the uprising: the emancipation of African and Afro-Per-
uvian slaves. The document’s title indicated its dual goal to free slaves
and weaken Spaniards: “Proclamation to the people of Cuzco so that
they desert the Spaniards and free the slaves.” It called for all people
of Spanish descent, clergy, and other distinguished people who had be-
friended the Peruvian people to join his struggle against the hostilities
and abuses of European people, and for everyone including slaves who
had been mistreated by chapetones (the derogatory name for Spaniards)
to abandon them. They would be granted freedom from their servitude
and slavery. It employed a common rhetorical maneuver by the rebels,
inviting all of those who didn’t partake in the more egregious aspects
of colonial rule and exploitation to join the rebellion, thus narrowing
the enemy to abusive Spaniards and their representatives. Tupac Amaru
sought a broad anticolonial alliance and did not want to scare away all
Europeans and priests. He underplayed the incendiary activities of his
movement, his attacks on estates and textile mills. Critics would discount
these statements by contrasting them with his violent actions. One ac-
count labeled his seeming moderation “a mask,” a strategy that sought to
hide his true intentions and ferocious tactics.29 In many ways, both sup-
porters and critics are correct: he did seek a multiracial movement yet
also understood the advantages in the early days of keeping his military
movements and broader plans under wrap.
Why emancipate African slaves? The vast majority of the slave pop-
ulation was on the coast, working in sugar and other plantations or in
the city of Lima. The Andes, in contrast, counted on Indians for laborers
and its products did not merit relatively expensive slaves. In 1790, the
intendancy of Lima had 75 percent of Peru’s slaves, roughly thirty thou-
sand out of a total of forty thousand. Cuzco only had 284.30 Mining,
focused in the Andes and the backbone of the colonial economy, relied
on indigenous workers, coerced (mita) workers, or wage earners. This
pattern was found throughout the Americas: Africans and Afro-Amer-
icans concentrated near the coast and the plantation or export economy.
Moreover, in Peru people commonly believed that people of African des-
cent suffered and, more importantly in the calculating eye of the slave-
owner, could not perform well in high altitudes.31 It does not appear that
Tupac Amaru and his retinue had links with the burgeoning abolitionist
movements or sentiments then present in North America and Europe.32
Tupac Amaru’s decision was definitely strategic and arguably heart-
felt or sincere. The tactical advantage was clear. If slaves started fleeing
their masters, the colonial export economy would crumble and rebel
forces would grow. If the proclamation reached the coast—and we know
nothing about its diffusion—it could tempt plantation and urban slaves,
already defying their masters by running away and other forms of resist-
ance. In August 1781, one account noted that with the rebels’ promise
of freedom, “hacienda slaves are somewhat restless.”33 In Lima, the up-
per classes worried more about defiant slaves and truculent free blacks
and mulattoes than they did about highland Indians.34 As an acute ob-
server who had spent time in Lima, Tupac Amaru presumably under-
stood the psychological and economic effect of slaves massively fleeing
their owners. Although he did not count any blacks in his inner circle,
perhaps he had made friends with blacks in Lima. Forty years later, in
1820, the Argentine Liberator and leader of the War of Independence,
General José San Martín, employed the same tactic on Peruvian shores,
promising slaves their freedom if they joined him. San Martín hoped to
weaken royalists and to gain soldiers.35 The freedom offer might have
also sought to gain the sympathy of the vast mixed-blood population,
those with some African lineage who although free despised slavery.36
Yet the motivation was not merely practical. The freedom of slaves, cast
here as victims of the Spanish, resonated with Tupac Amaru’s emphasis
on justice and the struggle against widespread and systemic abuses by
Europeans. Tupac Amaru had witnessed the horrors of slavery in Lima,
and abolition fit well with his call for freedom from European abuse.
 Cuzco and the Battle of Sangarará
Despite Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas’s efforts to control rumors
and the flow of information, news of Arriaga’s execution reached the city
of Cuzco quickly. On November 12, 1780, the Quispicanchi corregidor,
Fernando Cabrera, who had barely escaped the rebels, reported to the
Cuzco town council about the “horrible excess” in Tungasuca.37 The cor-
regidor of Cuzco, Fernando Inclán Valdéz, established a war council or
junta that included some of Cuzco’s leading citizens. They raised money,
established barracks in what had been the Jesuit monastery until the or-
der’s expulsion in 1767, and on November 13 sent an emissary to Lima to
request aid. In a November 14 note to Bishop Moscoso, the junta mem-
bers requested the Church’s aid in the fight against Tupac Amaru, who
“with a fake decree from His Majesty, has published numerous edicts
that call for his followers to kill corregidors, free Indians from the head
tax, and ruin textile mills.”38 Internal divisions and perhaps fear and in-
competence, however, impeded the junta’s efforts, and it failed to put to-
gether an organized front.39 Instead Bishop Moscoso took over military
organization and fundraising. He and other clergy helped rouse the city
against the threat of the rebels. They organized incessant religious pro-
cessions, bringing out Cuzco’s traditional saint, The Lord of the Earth-
quakes (El Señor de los Temblores), who had protected the city during the
1650 earthquake, and—more traditional, for the Spanish—the Archangel
Michael.40 Moscoso himself donated 12,000 pesos and other monasteries
and religious orders an additional 18,000. He lent 14,000 pesos of the
Church’s money while the San Jerónimo priest, Ignacio de Castro, lent an
additional 40,000 pesos.41
The Bishop organized the city’s clergy into a militia, divided into four
companies.42 He held a meeting with religious leaders on November 13
to devise a plan. The Bishop stressed that the rebel was only ten leagues
or about twenty-six miles away, counted on ten thousand armed Indians
and six hundred mestizos and Spaniards, and thus posed a great danger
to “religion, our king, and the republic.”43 They discussed the possibility
of confronting Tupac Amaru in the area between Cuzco and Tungasuca,
to persuade him “by any means possible” to abandon his “depraved pro-
ject.” The church leaders decided to remain in Cuzco—presumably to
the great relief of the majority of the religious men—because of the lack
of weapons. Instead, they agreed to use the pulpit to chastise the rebels,
to collect information from priests in the rebel area, and to lobby father
Don Antonio López de Sosa, the Tungasuca priest and intimate of Tupac
Amaru. They recognized that the rebel leader himself was a devout sub-
ject of the king who could perhaps be convinced to give up his upris-
ing.44
Don Tiburcio Landa created a company composed of local militia
members, volunteers from Cuzco, and approximately eight hundred In-
dians and mestizos procured by the kurakas of Oropesa, Pedro Sahuar-
aura and Ambrosio Chillitupa. In the ensuing two years of insurgency,
Indians would almost invariably constitute the majority of combatants on
both sides. This hastily assembled group of counterinsurgents intended
to defeat the rebels and claim a reward. On November 17, they reached
Sangarará, a small, frigid town north of Tinta, twelve thousand five hun-
dred feet above sea level. Indian militias organized by the kurakas of six
small towns joined them.
When the sentinels reported no sign of the enemy, Landa’s company
camped in town rather than on a less vulnerable hillside. They were more
concerned about an impending snowstorm than the enemy. Tupac Amaru
had hidden his forces in order to dupe the royalists into believing that the
rebels had fled or were simply not that numerous.45 At four in the morn-
ing, Landa’s troops found themselves surrounded. One observer said that
the approaching troops sounded like “an earthquake.”46 Landa and his
troops took refuge in the church. Tupac Amaru demanded they capitu-
late and instructed the priest and his aides to leave. When the royalists
disobeyed these instructions, Tupac Amaru ordered creoles and women
to abandon the church, indicating that an attack was imminent. Landa
and his forces prevented anyone from leaving, and several died in the
chaos. Their gunpowder caught fire, burning much of the church’s ceil-
ing, and causing one wall to cave in. Desperate, they fired their can-
non and charged. Greatly outnumbered and outpositioned, hundreds of
Landa’s troops were killed. One report calculated 576 dead, including
more than 20 Europeans. Rebels treated and freed twenty-eight wounded
creoles.47
The survivors who fought for the Spanish gave a detailed account,
blaming Tupac Amaru for the damage to the church and for the blood-
shed. Bartolomé Castañeda contended that upon arrival, Landa secured
the support of Indians from Sangarará. He also claimed that, contrary to
other accounts, the commander realized that the enemy was near and de-
bated about whether to set up camp on one of the surrounding hills or in
or near the well-fortified church. They chose the church to take refuge
from the cold night, which proved to be a fatal mistake. Tupac Amaru’s
troops slipped into the adjoining cemetery and bombarded the enemy
camped outside the church with rocks from their slings. Landa’s artillery
was useless because of the walls separating them from the cemetery.48
One soldier was killed in the stampede into the church. Desperate, many
of the soldiers confessed to the harried chaplain, Juan de Mollinedo. He
could not offer Communion because they could not find the key to the
cabinet with the ciborium. Once the roof was on fire, burning beams
began to fall and the tejas or roof tiles exploded from the heat. Rebels
used stones and spears to kill the troops fleeing the church. Castañeda
saved himself by hiding in a small chapel. He calculated that at least
three hundred of his comrades died, most of them subsequently stripped
of their clothes and weapons by the Tupac Amaru troops. He guessed
that there were six thousand Indians in the surrounding hills and far-
reaching support for the rebels in much of the region.49 Another report
contended that Tupac Amaru kicked the cadaver of Fernando Cabrera,
the corregidor of Quispicanchi who had evaded him days earlier, mutter-
ing, “[T]his guy ended up like this because he was so hardheaded.” (Este
por caveza dura se ve de este modo.) The account also claimed that the
exuberant rebels beat a royalist kuraka to death in front his family.50
The chaplain, Juan de Mollinedo, provides more details about the
Sangarará battle. In his report, he notes that authorities in Cuzco offered
a reward for Tupac Amaru, dead or alive, which spurred Landa’s com-
pany to hasten their expedition. Their rush doomed them. They camped
the first night in Huaro and then made the long trek to Sangarará. After
Landa had won the debate about whether to set up base in the church
or outside of town, false alarms woke up the troops several times. Mol-
linedo describes the frustration when the Indians took the adjoining
cemetery and reports that one soldier was blinded by a rock propelled
from a sling. He details the heroics of Landa and other leaders, who
fought on after they were shot. Landa sought to hide royalist cadavers
so his troops wouldn’t lose faith. The fire in the church, blamed in this
account on Tupac Amaru, killed many men, and those fleeing “the vo-
racious flames fell into the hands of the no less voracious rebels. The
universal slaughter, the pitiful groans of the dying, the bloodthirstiness
of the enemy, the flames—in short, everything that occurred that un-
fortunate day provoked horror and commiseration, sentiments never felt
by the rebels; blinded by fury and thirsty for blood, they only thought
of stabbing all the whites.”51 Mollinedo tabulates 395 dead in combat,
plus an incalculable number incinerated in the church. He puts Tupac
Amaru’s forces at twenty thousand Indians and four hundred mestizos,
as well as a sizeable contingent guarding Tungasuca.52
Rebels captured Mollinedo, the presbitero of Oropesa, fleeing the
church with the holy sacraments. Tupac Amaru ordered that the cleric
be given alcohol (aguardiente) for his wounds and be taken prisoner to
Tungasuca. There, Mollinedo oversaw the burial of some royalists, and
Tupac Amaru released him because of his status as a priest. Mollinedo
still had to get past sentinels and rebel troops and describes escaping half
naked, without even a hat on his head. He was detained, coincidentally,
just outside of Sangarará but released again and reached Cuzco. Other
royalist prisoners kept in the Pomacanchi textile mill for a longer peri-
od confirmed his story.53 In the small town of Papres, he witnessed In-
dians and rebel sympathizers kill the kuraka of nearby Rondocan just
because of his “white face,” despite the fact that he had fought for the
rebels in Sangarará.54 Mollinedo’s story and all of the other reports from
Sangarará prompted panic in Cuzco about the prospect of a caste war.
 The Tungasuca Camp Base
The rebels kept Tungasuca as their base. Not only was Tupac Amaru and
Micaela Bastidas’s house there, but the town loomed above the Vilcanota
Valley, the logical route for enemy soldiers from Cuzco, Puno, or Are-
quipa. Several prisoners describe Tungasuca in the frenetic first weeks
of the uprising. Friar Juan de Rios Pacheco, a Mercederian, was on his
way from Arequipa to Cuzco with two children in the middle of Novem-
ber when “mestizos with lances and slings” detained him and took him
to Tungasuca. He mentioned four thousand Indians, more mestizos with
lances and some muskets, three simple cannons, and the gallows. Indians
called him a “puka kunka” or “redneck” in Quechua, which he explained,
“is how they refer to Europeans.” When Micaela Bastidas learned that he
was a priest, she invited him into the house.55 He was surprised to pass
by a mestizo doorman dressed in red and blue with a saber in hand, an
uncommon formality in this rustic setting. He described Tungasuca as full
of “thousands of people of every caste,” mentioning Europeans, blacks,
mulattoes, and Indians. Micaela explained to him their opposition to “bad
government” but not the Church and expressed her confidence that Are-
quipa and the Upper Peruvian towns of La Paz and La Plata supported
them. At this time they only controlled nearby Tinta, Quispicanchi, and
Chumbivilcas. She claimed to have letters of adhesion from kurakas from
these areas.56
Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas shared power, cajoling yet trusting
and confiding in one another. While Tupac Amaru was the leader who
made speeches and signed the bulk of the rebel documents, Micaela Basti-
das ran the rebel camp and oversaw provisions. Both rebels and loyal-
ists feared her wrath. According to one royalist document, her duties in-
cluded aiding Tupac Amaru in every way possible: mobilizing soldiers
through stern orders; punishing and even executing anyone who resisted;
recruiting and encouraging the Indians (providing honors for those who
stood out and telling them terrible stories about the Spanish to kindle their
hatred); promising followers no taxes other than the tribute and a return
to the freedom “of their idolatrous times” (that is, the time of the Incas);
letting everyone know that Tupac Amaru and she meant to reign; gaining
even more obedience than that offered her husband; tearing down decrees
from Church doors and replacing them with her own; closing churches;
providing passports; writing letters to publicize the uprising; and de-
manding recruits from local leaders, with the threat of death for any who
disobeyed.57 These were not the activities of a behind-the-scenes under-
ling or obedient wife, but instead those of a full-blown partner in plan-
ning and executing the mass uprising.
Their inner circle consisted of an extensive list of family members
and friends and colleagues from Cuzco, including Indians, mestizos, and
even a handful of Spaniards. Family supporters included their three sons,
as well as aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, nieces, in-laws, and more dis-
tant relations. Kurakas, men and some women, from the region that ran
from Cuzco south to La Raya pass, also proved important.58
So who supported the rebels? The rebel documents and those of co-
lonial authorities agree, although from absolutely opposing viewpoints,
that Tupac Amaru initially sought to create a multiethnic, multiclass
movement. He spoke about “living as brothers” with creoles in one de-
cree while Micaela wrote “Europeans treat us like dogs.”59 He sought the
support of creoles, mestizos and blacks and must have looked with satis-
faction at the bustling headquarters in Tungasuca. The Spanish, in turn,
complained that creoles had lost their respect for Spain. Many blamed
these “Europeans born in the Americas” and priests, usually creoles
themselves, with the type of venomous hatred saved for those considered
class traitors.60 Yet both sides understood that as the months passed,
it became an increasingly indigenous uprising, one that often targeted,
to Micaela Bastidas and Tupac Amaru’s dismay, creoles and mestizos.
Tupac Amaru sought to impede a war of extermination, understanding
that he could not win without a broad base of support and believing that
he was destined to lead not only Indians but others as well. The Spanish
realized that over time, they did not have to worry as much about creoles
but rather Indians, who were increasingly prone to attack and kill any-
one they deemed European. This was not reassuring—Indians made up
90 percent of the population in the southern Andes.
Indians supported Tupac Amaru for a number of reasons. He under-
stood them, lived in their world, and spoke their language. Many runa
or common Indians had met Tupac Amaru in his work as a kuraka or
in his journeys as a muleteer. Others had heard about him, his battles in
Lima to reclaim his Inca legacy and to defend Indians from the odious
mita and other exactions. His speeches and initial actions made clear that
he would abolish taxes, the labor draft, and other exactions, would erad-
icate corregidors, and would rule with Indians’ well-being in mind. His
Inca ties gave him prestige as well as a platform—the return in some new
form of Inca rule, a more just society than that of Spanish colonialism.
Supporters understood that he would create a new society, one rooted in
their language and traditions.
Many supporters believed that Tupac Amaru could resurrect them,
bring them back from the dead if they died in battle. He instructed
them to enter battle “without fear, that on the third day after their death
he would resurrect them.” Spanish observers complained bitterly about
these promises, which obviously increased the troops’ courage, their
willingness to die in battle.61 The promise connected to broader messi-
anic and millenarian elements of the uprising, to Andean beliefs about
the circularity of time and thus a return to an era free of exploitation by
Europeans. Tupac Amaru presented himself as the messiah (a term he
did not use) whose bloodlines and project could bring about the return of
the Incas, or at least a more just system. He built on neo-Inca currents as
well as Andean millenarian ideas of radical upheaval, such as a cataclys-
mic Pachacuti.62
More mundane factors explained why some supported him and others
did not. Many Indians followed the lead of their kurakas while others,
particularly the more mobile such as shepherds, stumbled upon the rebel-
lion and simply decided to join it. Similar explanations can be used for
those who opposed the rebellion. Many presumably did not agree with
his platform; others were forced to fight it by their royalist kuraka. As
will be seen, the fighting could pit one Indian community versus another.
The question of who formed his inner circle obsessed colonial author-
ities. They posed it to seemingly every witness in the subsequent trials.
In an effort to isolate and capture Tupac Amaru, in March 1781 Visitador
Areche offered rebels a pardon, excluding those individuals deemed part
of the rebel leadership. These included all kurakas “allied with the move-
ment”; family members (Tupac Amaru, Micaela and her brother Anto-
nio, three sons, and five cousins); two of the “European scribes” dis-
cussed below, Manuel Galleguillos and Diego Ortigoza as well as Felipe
Bermúdez; and a number of Indian and mestizo supporters in the area
around Tinta.63 The list points out the obvious—the centrality of his fam-
ily in the rebellion. Later Spanish measures would target a much broader
selection of his family, essentially anyone related to him, no matter what
they had done in the uprising.
A group of about a dozen “European” (Spanish or creole) prisoners
also found themselves in Tungasuca. Although initially locked in a
cellar alongside Corregidor Arriaga, watched over constantly and kept
in chains, they eventually aided the rebels as scribes, advisors, account-
ants, and even weapon makers. The debate over whether they did this
out of coercion or rebel sympathies has still not been settled. Both rebels
and royalists treated them warily. Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas
imprisoned them and then granted them increasing freedom and duties,
although never losing their doubts about their loyalty. Colonial author-
ities scrutinized them in long trials, tapping them for information about
the origin and social base of the rebellion and verifying whether the be-
wildering prospect of men from Spanish side of society aiding an Indian
uprising could possibly be true.
Fascinating and enigmatic figures, these prisoners shine light on both
sides of the struggle. They personify Tupac Amaru’s search for a multi-
class and multirace movement, his perhaps foolish belief that land-own-
ing, Spanish-speaking professionals would join his cause. This strategy
arguably reflected a deeply colonial view on his part that an uprising
could only succeed with Europeans. Once the prisoners turned them-
selves over to the colonial authorities, they were treated as sources of
useful knowledge but also dangerous mavericks who broke well-rooted
and venerable hierarchies. The court system showed that colonial Peru
had an arsenal of nouns and adjectives to explain Indians’ misdeeds
(many dating from the Reconquest or Crusades)—“heathens,”
“apostates,” “childlike,” and “hateful” stand out—but struggled to ex-
plain or even describe European treachery. Authorities’ shock at their
possible treason was tinged with fear. Their stories take us deep into the
rebellion.
Most of them had worked with Corregidor Arriaga and were captured
when they followed his instructions (written under coercion) for people
to assemble in Tungasuca. Juan Antonio “el Gallego” Figueroa, a forty-
year-old from Galicia, had been in Tinta building a bridge. Arriaga
owed him money. Mariano Banda from Cuzco and José Esteban Escar-
cena from Arequipa both worked as scribes or secretaries for Arriaga.
Diego Ortigoza, in contrast, had been in Tungasuca for a decade, for
the last few years teaching Tupac Amaru’s children. He was fifty-two
and claimed no profession, proving the venerable dictum that under-
employed scholars are dangerous. Manuel Galleguillos arrived in Tun-
gasuca after the other captives, when Indians captured him after
Sangarará. Francisco Molina initially resisted the call by Arriaga to go to
Tungasuca but heeded threats by Tupac Amaru to appear. Francisco Cis-
neros followed Arriaga’s false order and was imprisoned in Tungasuca
upon arrival on November 7.
Don Bernardo de la Madrid, the owner of the Pomacanchi textile mill,
received a letter on November 5 from his friend Corregidor Arriaga re-
questing that he come to Tungasuca. He left that morning, after Mass,
and was greeted by Tupac Amaru himself, who suggested that he join
him at the table for a meal. De la Madrid said that he had already eaten
and became impatient when he was told repeatedly that the corregidor
would soon arrive. Tupac Amaru eventually led him to a room where he
said Arriaga was dressing some wounds. Twenty-five “servants” jumped
the mill owner but he claimed that they could not get him in chains.
Taken to the basement, de la Madrid refused to write a letter inviting his
friend, Don Fernando Cabrera, to come to Tungasuca. The request in-
furiated de la Madrid, who “blinded by rage at seeing myself the prison-
er of a servant of mine who served me as a muleteer taking my cargo to
Potosí [i.e. Tupac Amaru], [I] answered that once I was freed from this
oppression, he would suffer worse consequences than those inflicted on
me. After a while the Rebel ordered them to put me in shackles.”64 In
the following weeks, rebel guards threatened to kill de la Madrid sev-
eral times and he did his best to gain the trust of the rebel leaders. He
remained scared and indignant, complaining that Tupac Amaru refused
to give him blankets, even though “he owed me 1,500 pesos, money that
I had supplied him on various occasions for his expenses.”65 Once un-
shackled, “I accommodated myself to serve the Rebel and his wife with
humility and zeal, behaving as the most humble of blacks. When the In-
dian [Micaela Bastidas] would go to Mass I would take her by the hand,
holding the umbrella in the other.”66
 The rebels kept the prisoners in locked rooms with guards. At one
point in late November, Tupac Amaru wanted to hang them. Micaela
Bastidas defended the prisoners, stressing their useful knowledge of
weapons. On November 26, he wrote her “Be very careful with the pris-
oners in our house, and tell Figueroa to make sure that he has all the
weapons there ready soon.”67 When Micaela learned that royalists had
killed her cousin, Simón Noguera, she cried with rage and threatened to
hang all of the prisoners.68 The rebel leaders’ concern eased, however,
and they increasingly relied on them to write letters and memos, to take
care of and make weapons, and in some cases to participate in decisions
and key tasks such as paying soldiers. Banda, Cisneros, Escarcena, Gal-
leguillos, and Ortigoza served as scribes. They subsequently claimed
that they did this to save their lives—they had witnessed the fate of Ar-
riaga—and that they merely followed orders. The prosecution contended
that they participated willfully, influencing what was being communic-
ated and even dictating letters and orders. Tupac Amaru was a capable
writer but required help because he was so busy and often out of Tun-
gasuca. Whether Micaela Bastidas could write adequately in Spanish is
unclear. She did not have the schooling that her husband did and was less
likely to pick up the rudimentary training that men of her intermediate
social status often gained in small towns such as Pampamarca. Although
bilingual, she frequently spoke in Quechua in discussions, forcing the
Europeans and creoles to rely on a translator.69
In her testimony, Micaela Bastidas deemed Mariano Banda “a major
confidante.” Other prisoners also incriminated him, although their testi-
monies need to be taken critically—they were trying to save their own
lives and sought to present themselves as secondary figures forced to
help the rebels in minor roles. Ortigoza and Galleguillos maintained that
Banda had paid rebel soldiers. In fact, one historian argues that perhaps
his imprisonment was a ruse and that his participation had been planned
before the capture of Arriaga.70
While they no doubt fudged the truth when defending themselves
by blaming others, they provide a clear portrait of camp in Tungasuca.
They describe their shock at the execution of Arriaga, their mistreatment
(guards and chains), and their eventual duties. They indicate that Tupac
Amaru was in charge yet always consulted with Micaela. After
Sangarará, they were allowed out of the locked rooms and even shared
meals with Tupac Amaru and family. Micaela ran the camp in Tun-
gasuca. She kept a close watch on provisions, cajoled Indians and kur-
akas to support them, threatened those who wavered, kept tabs on her
husband as he expanded his zone of action toward the south in late 1780,
and to the extent possible scrutinized events in Cuzco, which she knew
would counterattack. People spoke Quechua and Spanish and an air of
nervous elation can be detected. The leadership knew that they had taken
irreversible steps that could radically change their world or lead to their
gruesome deaths. Although they did not understand this at the time, both
outcomes proved to occur. Followers had experienced an unbelievable
turn of events—the death of exploiters, the abolition of hated institu-
tions, the return of an Inca leader—yet they also knew that defeat would
come at a fantastically high price.
Tupac Amaru was not the only one concerned about the loyalty of
these puka kunkas or rednecks. Escarcena noted that the Indians sought
to exterminate Europeans and then do the same to creoles and mestizos.
He argued that they ultimately wanted to “be alone among themselves …
living happily with their king (the treatment they gave Tupac Amaru).”71
Francisco Cisneros, one of the detained Spaniards, contended that the In-
dians despised him and planned to kill him. Manuel Castelo, a Spanish
authority imprisoned alongside Cisneros, described Indians breaking the
walls and roof of their prison, Tupac Amaru’s house, in an attempt to get
their hands on Cisneros, Arriaga’s tax collector. The assistant priest of
Coporaque and Tungasuca, Ildefonso Bejarano, maintained that he con-
vinced the Indians to stop the attack.72 While Cisneros used these claims
in his defense, no one countered them.73
Their testimonies mention some unusual events and conspiracies, not
found in accounts of the uprising. Francisco Molina asserted that Banda
had been aware of a plan to poison Europeans in Cuzco city. Banda
contended that a man named José de Palacios had written to Micaela
Bastidas claiming to have a strong potion that would kill the city’s elite,
gamonales, and thus facilitate seizing the city. He had even tried it out on
some unfortunate dogs, with success. Although rebels did not poison city
residents, the threat or rumor played on city dwellers’ fears of insurrec-
tion from the countryside and from within the city.74 Cisneros mentioned
that he and some others had tried to kill Tupac Amaru in November, but
could not shake their captors. He also claimed an attempt to capture him
in April 1781, when Spanish forces pushed into Tupac Amaru territory.75
 Why Support an Indian Rebel?
In an effort to make the charges against him seem ludicrous, Manuel Gal-
leguillos posed the question: “Why would a subject of the Spanish Cathol-
ic King support an Indian rebel who had a mortal hatred of Europeans?”76
This is the question that authorities in the trials and scholars ever since
have been asking. Although we probably will never know the exact pro-
portions of coercion, desperation, or free will (were they forced, were they
trying to gain favor, or did they support the rebels?) that motivated their
actions, the Europeans and creoles did write memos, give advice, and
even took up arms or spied for the rebels. Their defense that they actually
did these things solely because of coercion seems implausible. Scarlett
O’Phelan Godoy posits three explanations: solidarity with Tupac Amaru,
the belief in his decrees that he had royal support, and the defense of their
property. She also stresses that they came from the intermediate European
or creole social groups, not the most powerful but not the weakest.77
The trials indicate a good measure of opportunism on their part. They
were imprisoned and no doubt did whatever they could to save their lives.
But their testimony supports authorities’ suspicions that they did not flee
when they had the opportunity and fulfilled their duties with a certain
level of enthusiasm. While they claimed they did not have an alternat-
ive, they might have been swept up a bit in the heady times of late 1780.
Creoles—and even some Spaniards—had many reasons to dislike the
taxes and other measures imposed by corregidors such as Arriaga. They
could have supported Tupac Amaru’s call for the abolition of despised
Spanish institutions and even the execution of some of the more hated au-
thorities and believed in his emphasis on a multiethnic, multiclass move-
ment. Almost all Andean social movements included support from way-
ward mestizos and creoles.78 They lived in Tupac Amaru’s house—first
as prisoners but increasingly, it seems, as guests—and shared food and de-
cision making with the rebel leaders.
Was this a case of Stockholm syndrome, in which hostages increas-
ingly sympathize with their captors? Probably, although the metamorph-
osis is not that shocking. The prisoners came from a social group that
Tupac Amaru rubbed shoulders with in his work as a muleteer and kuraka
and hoped to recruit for his movement, thus explaining his patience with
them and rejection of his initial inclinations to execute them. Before the
uprising, Tupac Amaru was likely to socialize with people such as
Banda, Cisneros, and Galleguillos. Ortigoza taught his children and in a
small town such as Pampamarca (population of less than 5,000), the two
literate men must have shared many conversations.
In fact, the relationship might also reflect what has coincidentally
been called the Lima syndrome, in which abductors feel growing sym-
pathy for their hostages. The name derives from the 1996 seizure of the
Japanese embassy in Lima by the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Move-
ment (MRTA, another coincidence) guerrilla group, when the rebels
treated the hostages well, releasing most of them and befriending some.
This laxness facilitated the storming of the embassy and the death of
the guerrillas. Perhaps Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas grew increas-
ingly fond of the captives, appreciative of their adulation and cognizant
of their value to the movement. Ethnic kurakas and those who claimed
royal Inca blood, such as Tupac Amaru, sought throughout the eight-
eenth century to gain the respect of creole society.79 Their deference
might have given Tupac Amaru a similar satisfaction to that which he
derived when he redistributed cloth from an obraje or announced the ab-
olition of the Indian head tax. Tupac Amaru believed that their respect
for him was as correct and necessary a societal change as the improve-
ment of conditions for Indians. For Spanish authorities, it was also an
equally subversive and troubling change.
The rebels counted on creole supporters. Felipe Bermúdez also
worked for Arriaga in Tinta but once in Tungasuca, his time in rebel
prison did not last long. Whether his capture was a ruse or not is uncer-
tain. He was rapidly named “capitan general” and wrote important let-
ters for Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas. He did not stay behind in
Tungasuca but accompanied the rebel leader in his forays to the south in
the final months of 1780. Tupac Amaru clearly trusted him, instructing
Micaela at one point that a decision should be made “by only you and
Bermúdez.”80 Antonio Castelo, a mestizo or creole from Sicuani who
had lived in Tungasuca for several years, was the other mestizo or creole
leader. Hesitant at first over the execution of Arriaga, he quickly gained
authority within rebel ranks and by the end of the year led one of the
three major fronts. He was in heady company: Tupac Amaru himself and
his cousin, Diego Cristóbal, who would soon become the absolute lead-
er, led the other two.
In an important reassessment of creole participation, David Cahill ar-
gues that “rather than the leadership having consisted of a charismatic
Inca leader and a small nucleus of lieutenants, the rebellion was rather
the creation of a ruling Inca-Creole Junta with Túpac Amaru allocated
the starring role—in effect, a joint venture of the Túpac Amaru and
Castelo families—given that his stature as Inca made him a lodestar for
Indian recruitment.”81 Cahill shows how the Castelo clan’s patriarch,
Melchor, had ingratiated himself with José Gabriel well before the up-
rising and highlights the important military role that the multiple mem-
bers of the family, not only Antonio, played.82 While correctly describ-
ing the role of creoles in this early phase, Cahill overstates his argument
when discussing a “joint adventure.” All of the documentation (corres-
pondence, the trials, contemporary accounts, and the rest) demonstrate
that Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas planned and oversaw the upris-
ing. Although eager to gain creole support, Tupac Amaru was firmly in
control.

Within weeks of the shocking execution of corregidor Arriaga, Tupac

Amaru and Micaela Bastidas had set up camp in Tungasuca and prepared
well for a long battle. Tupac Amaru crushed the royalists in the first con-
frontation, Sangarará, and recruited supporters in nearby towns and com-
munities. He unsuccessfully attempted to capture corregidors, but in do-
ing so prompted a mass exodus of authorities from the region. His plat-
form of abolishing hated taxes and labor demands, his seizure and re-
distribution of goods found in haciendas and mills, and his presentation
of himself as an Inca descendant, loyal subject of the king, and devout
Catholic resonated well with the indigenous population. Weeks after the
execution, indigenous support and Spanish fear accelerated. From Tun-
gasuca, Micaela Bastidas oversaw provisions and logistics and kept dis-
cipline.
Indigenous men and women joined him en masse, the men as soldiers
or guerrillas and the women usually as camp followers. The intriguing
stories of the creoles and Spaniards captured in early November, who
transformed from prisoners to supporters, shed light on the rebellion.
They demonstrated that the rebellion could gain supporters from regional
“middle sectors” but also showed the challenges in recruiting and main-
taining them. Creoles and Spaniards shared Tupac Amaru and Micaela
Bastidas’s dislike for heavy-handed Spanish policies. Nonetheless, they
hesitated to support a mass movement that sought the expulsion if not
death of Europeans. This tension between a multiclass and an indigenous
uprising only increased over time. Yet it was not the only contentious
and disruptive dividing line among rebel supporters. The Church proved
to be an equally vexing problem for the rebel leaders.
 3

A World without the Catholic Church?

AFTER THE STUNNING VICTORY in Sangarará and Tupac Amaru’s triumphant

return to Tungasuca in mid-November 1780, he and Micaela Bastidas
worried about attacks from two fronts. They knew that they had only
defeated the first wave sent by the hastily organized junta in the city
of Cuzco, and apprehensively awaited a stronger royalist offensive from
Peru’s second city. They also fretted that colonial troops would attack
from the south, either from the Lake Titicaca area or from the city of
Arequipa to the southwest. Therefore, instead of immediately attacking
Cuzco, the administrative center of the Andes, the rebel leaders decided
to take advantage of their strength and expand to the south. Tupac Amaru,
the apparent architect of the plan, would lead the combatants while
Micaela Bastidas would oversee camp headquarters in Tungasuca. Other
rebel commanders, Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru and Antonio Castelo,
would continue to attack and recruit in the core area of the Vilcanota Val-
ley and the upper provinces and extend their forays into the coca-growing
lowlands of Paucartambo.
On November 25, Tupac Amaru entered the town of Livitaca in the
provincias altas near Chumbivilcas. This largely monolingual Quechua
area was and is known for its unruly, violent population. Most towns
perch around two and a half miles above sea level and their inhabitants,
long associated with livestock, excelled at trekking and riding long dis-
tances. Many supplemented their meager incomes with cattle, sheep, goat,
llama, and alpaca rustling. Outsiders always feared the upper provinces’
people and severe topography; the area rapidly became a rebel hotspot.
The small population of Spaniards in Livitaca fled when Tupac Amaru
appeared, whereas, according to one breathless account, “even boulders
turned into Indians who kneeled and bowed to him.” The assembled In-
dians pledged that “you are our God and our Lord; we ask that there no
longer be priests who disturb us.” Tupac Amaru answered that this could
not happen: “who would absolve us in the time of death?”1 This ex-
change highlights perhaps the greatest, or at least most unexpected, chal-
lenge faced by the rebel leaders: how to reconcile their religiosity, with
widespread indigenous dissatisfaction with the Church on the one hand
and extensive counterrevolutionary efforts by priests and other members
of the Church on the other. This conundrum would dog the rebels until
the end.
The indigenous masses had a worldview different from that of the re-
bellion’s leadership. As will be seen, Indians understood the uprising as
a messianic movement and believed that Tupac Amaru would unleash
a radical change in the Andean world, turn things upside down, invert
power relations. Indigenous rebels had little patience with efforts to keep
creoles and mestizos in the rebel fold and to temper rebel violence.
These differences or tensions escalated over time, but did not come to
the fore in the initial months. Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas suc-
ceeded in keeping peace among the insurgents, as the euphoria of these
early months satisfied the more radical vision of much of the indigen-
ous masses. However, the conflict between the rebel leaders’ respect for
priests and the bishop’s implacable efforts to depict the rebels as heathen
apostates and to use the clergy to defeat them proved to be a virtually in-
surmountable obstacle for the rebels.
The stories rapidly spreading throughout the region about the exe-
cution of Arriaga and the rebel victory in Sangarará terrified lowly tax
collectors, petty officers, and corregidors. In fact, Tupac Amaru com-
plained that authorities fled so quickly that he could not capture them.
The Church was a different matter. While the rebellion counted on the
support of a handful of clerics, others remained in their parishes and
campaigned bravely and effectively for the royalists. Tupac Amaru could
not convince these clerics to join or leave; nor could he bear executing
them.
Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas confronted a formidable ad-
versary—the Catholic Church had a deep presence in colonial Cuzco.
The city itself, with a population of about thirty thousand, had nine con-
vents, three monasteries, eight houses for religious women or beaterios,
and seven Church-run colleges and schools. All of the major male orders
could be found. From the Cuzco cathedral, the bishop presided over a
sprawling diocese divided into over one hundred thirty parishes or cur-
atos, the number varying due to frequent territorial realignments. One
calculation put the total number of secular and regular priests (that is,
members of religious orders) at about one thousand. In the sixteenth cen-
tury, the Jesuits built an imposing church on the Plaza de Armas equal
in grandeur to the cathedral, while the Dominicans, Mercedarians, and
Franciscans also constructed magnificent churches.2 Although strongest
in larger cities, the Church extended deep into the countryside, main-
taining a greater presence in most cases than the colonial state. Every
town mentioned in this book had at least a small chapel while many, in-
cluding towns with less than five thousand people such as Pampamarca
and Checacupe, had splendid churches laden with spectacular artwork.
Beginning in the sixteenth century, Spain had sent European masters to
train indigenous artists in Cuzco, part of its efforts to indoctrinate the
descendants of the Inca Empire. Their work, the “Cuzco School,” fea-
tured vibrant, didactic paintings of religious scenes. These works of art,
which graced the churches and temples throughout the region and today
are victims of thieves and the thriving international market for stolen co-
lonial treasures, sought to convert and instruct through the eye, the es-
sence of baroque religiosity.3
Since the sixteenth century, the colonial state had delegated much ad-
ministrative work in the Andean hinterland to kurakas such as Tupac
Amaru. Priests and their numerous aides and underlings, however, took
charge of the spiritual realm, and consequently had an important presen-
ce in daily life. The fees for masses, burials, baptisms, and other services
kept them afloat and, when considered excessive, angered many local
people. They also counted on free labor from local Indians and profits
from church property, rural and urban. These different forms of income
made some local parishes quite profitable.4 The indigenous people could
very well venerate their priest, but they were also willing to sue, harass,
and even run him out of town if they disagreed with him.5
 The Catholic Church was an all-encompassing institution and must be
conceived of in the plural. Hierarchies and divisions characterized its in-
ternal structure, while over the centuries members of the Church fought
over its administration and direction and confronted external foes. The
stratification took many forms. Secular and regular priests understood
their missions in markedly different ways, while priests and nuns oper-
ated in distinct realms, with the former enjoying far greater rights. In the
uprising, the secular clergy played a particularly important role. In eco-
nomic terms, Bishop Moscoso presided over a vast and profitable do-
main from the majestic cathedral in Cuzco while a doctrinero in his dis-
tant parish hustled to make ends meet. Masses held in and around Cuzco
resembled those of Rome while religious rituals in the countryside were
less orthodox and incorporated native elements. Nonetheless, over two
centuries after the conquest of the Incas, Catholicism had put down deep
roots in Cuzco.
Tensions brewed in the late eighteenth century. Not only was the
Crown attempting to rein in the autonomy of the Church but in Peru and
beyond, some members of the Church demanded that Indians be gran-
ted the right to become priests.6 Bishop Moscoso worried about these
and other strains but also recognized the profound religious devotion that
characterized Cuzco, the city and its largely indigenous countryside.
 Excommunicated
Bishop Moscoso excommunicated Tupac Amaru on November 17. The
bishop proved to be a formidable enemy. The confrontation with the
church devastated Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas. It surprised,
pained, and angered them and ultimately weakened their control of their
core area, the Vilcanota Valley. They could not conceive of a world
without the Catholic Church firmly rooted in the Andes. They sought a
radical uprising that left the church intact, which proved to be a difficult if
not impossible objective in the colonial Andes. They could not convince
followers, enemies, and most of those in between that the excommunic-
ation was a mistake or illegitimate and thus inapplicable. In turn, the op-
position never tired of casting them as church-burning excomulgados.
Bishop Moscoso excommunicated Tupac Amaru and his followers for
“having set fire to pubic chapels and the church of Sangarará; for be-
ing a bandit and rebellious traitor to the King; for seditiously working
against peace; and being an usurper of Royal Rights.” The excommu-
nication also threatened anyone who aided him or who removed the an-
nouncement from church walls, where it had been posted throughout the
region.7 Moscoso also ordered priests to spread the news by posting the
decree and verbally chastising the rebels in Mass. At this point, late 1780,
Moscoso led the efforts in Cuzco to defeat Tupac Amaru. He lent 12,000
pesos of his own money and even more from the bishopric itself; organ-
ized four militia companies that included over four hundred ecclesiastics;
and ordered priests outside the city to send information about the rebels
and to conduct Masses in Quechua in order to separate Indians from “the
pernicious superstitions that the rebel has planted all over the place.”8
Although the bishop’s conflict with Corregidor Arriaga had earned him
some enemies, and became even more controversial after the corregidor’s
execution on November 10, authorities in Cuzco in late 1780 knew that
they needed the bishop’s leadership and resources. Those who subse-
quently criticized Moscoso for purported links with the rebels presented
his efforts in late 1780 as a smokescreen to conceal his initial lack of
activity against the uprising and even rebel sympathies. This seems exag-
gerated—Bishop Moscoso energetically and effectively took command of
royalist efforts in Cuzco.9
 With the excommunication, Moscoso sought to exclude Tupac Amaru
from the Christian community. The rebel leader was not permitted to
partake of Church rituals, nor could Christians (as the term “excommu-
nication” indicates) “communicate” with him. The horror expressed by
Tupac Amaru indicated how unexpected the measure was, and he con-
tested the decision passionately in the coming months. He argued that
Moscoso’s decision was illegitimate for three reasons: Indians like him-
self were exempt from excommunication; he was not against or an en-
emy of “the faith”; and the royalists, not he, had burnt down the church
in Sangarará. Tupac Amaru had a strong case on all three points but he
had no forum in which he might rebut Moscoso—he could only attempt
to minimize the excommunication’s impact.10 Moscoso had justified the
excommunication in a closed assembly with regular and secular priests.
Recognizing that Indians could not be excommunicated, he contended
that the rebellion required extraordinary measures and that Tupac Amaru
and his main followers were more enlightened (más luces) and more ra-
tional (actually, less irrational) than most Indians. He called them ladi-
nos, people of Indian descent who spoke Spanish.11 With one decree, he
converted Tupac Amaru in the eyes of many from a rebel hero into a hea-
then.
The excommunication stung. Tupac Amaru believed himself to be a
model Christian and also understood that Moscoso’s decree would be
the single most efficient weapon against him in the propaganda war that
was beginning to rage. To defend himself, he repeated the argument that
as an Indian he was not subject to excommunication and moreover that
he was innocent of Church burning. As for Micaela Bastidas, she de-
clared in her trial that Tupac Amaru always held that “they were not sub-
ject to excommunication and that God knew their intentions.”12 His ac-
tions throughout his life substantiated the sincerity of his devotion and
he demonstrated his religious fervor and respect for the Church during
the uprising. He sought to have a priest with him at all times and atten-
ded Mass and offered services for the deceased, both supporters and en-
emies, whenever possible. He insisted that corregidors and the many cor-
rupt and misguided representatives of the king, but not men of the cloth,
were his enemies. The rebellion never sought to break with the Church;
in fact, the leadership went out of its way to protect priests. In Novem-
ber, Tupac Amaru claimed that he was defending the “holy faith.”13
Micaela also demonstrated her faith and her understanding of the con-
sequences of the excommunication. In order to impress a Mercedarian
friar who happened to be in Tungasuca just after the rebellion began,
she had the people of Tungasuca pray at her house and attend church.
She sought to show him that “she was a very good Christian, telling him
that God supported her cause in benefit to the people.”14 In a Decem-
ber 13, 1780 decree, Micaela noted that “Our Holy Faith is carried with
the greatest respect and veneration, which we have to take forward, and,
if possible, die with; respecting in the same way the ministers of Je-
sus Christ, the señores priests, so that God supports us in our Christian
goals.” She then instructed followers to display the cross in their caps
and hats.15 Nonetheless, Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas could not
contest the excommunication edict or contain the damage.
They tried. Anguished by Moscoso’s actions, Tupac Amaru sought to
lessen the excommunication’s impact in his core area, the valleys and
peaks south of Cuzco, in late 1780. He and Micaela ordered their fol-
lowers to rip the decree from church doors. Authorities in Cuzco fumed
when they learned that the decree had not been posted in rebel towns
such as Pirque and Rondocan.16 Indians in the rebel-controlled town of
Acos did not allow priests and Europeans to confer, in an attempt to
prevent news of the excommunication from spreading.17 When Tupac
Amaru found out that a priest in Chumbivilcas had preached against
him, stressing to his parishioners Tupac Amaru’s religious limbo, he sent
two trusted comrades, Felipe Bermúdez and Ramón Ponce, to arrest the
priest. They tore down Moscoso’s decree from the church door, replacing
it with one that explained that the priest had been arrested, that Tupac
Amaru knew how to repay his loyal followers, and that they should not
believe anything that the cleric had told them.18
The evidence in the trial against Tupac Amaru included the bando
(decree) that the rebels posted in Chumbivilcas. It stated, “He who re-
moves this will be given the death sentence.” It came from “don José
Gabriel Tupa Amaro Inca, descendent of the natural king of this king-
dom of Peru,” and was intended for “all types of people, Spaniards as
well as common Indians” in the province of Chumbivilcas. After declar-
ing the rebellion’s intention of liberating people from corregidors’ ab-
uses and from “ ‘European’ threats,” it continues:

some ecclesiastics, taking advantage of the excommunication imposed maliciously and

fraudulently by some Europeans, attempt to introduce countless abuses against Christians,
trying to perturb their faith … we demand that everyone in this kingdom, Spaniards as well
as Indians, completely disregard their preaching, because they are not only against God’s
law and that of Christianity which we must defend, but the objective of their advice is to
protect the unjust demands they place on us and the great damage they inflict. To liberate
ourselves from them, we request that the citizens capture and bring us these clerics, fol-
lowing the necessary procedure, and those who don’t follow these orders will be hanged.
Those priests who don’t abstain from their lying abuses and sermons will be committed in
a school for the rest of their life, or they will serve the sentence wherever we end up. Tupa
Amaro.19

It is striking that the decree threatened disobedient followers with the

death sentence whereas the wayward priests would merely be committed
to a school. One witness claimed that Tupac Amaru himself ripped the
decree from the church in Yaurisque, replacing it with one of his own.
He searched for the priest who had posted it and when he didn’t find him,
“ransacked his belongings.” He threatened to send priests who didn’t
obey “wherever he felt like.”20
The battle over the excommunication decree heightened rebel sen-
tinels’ efforts to control how information, letters, posters, and lampoons
circulated. In a note to authorities in Cuzco, a priest complained that “the
Indians are so malicious that if they find out that priests on this side of
the river are communicating with those of the Paruro province they say
we are opposing the rebels; we can’t even write one another. The letter
that I’m including is from the Acomayo priest who got it to me through
his assistant, who is very ill [and thus was allowed through by sentinels].
Otherwise, it’s very dangerous.”21 In another case, the unfortunate Fran-
cisco Lasarte carried letters to Cuzco in his shoe. On a return trip, the
rebels found them and executed him on the spot.22 Despite these efforts,
Tupac Amaru fell short in his efforts to impede the spread of the news
about his excommunication.
People reacted to the news in different ways. One royalist account
said that the excommunication made people lose their “fear of the re-
bellion.”23 The priest of Lluzco and Quinota raved about its impact. He
claimed the excommunication had “brought peace to Quinota,” a rebel
hotbed. He described how kurakas and other people listened carefully
when he translated the document into Quechua for them. He followed
up in Mass by promising that even those who had participated in some
rebel activity would be absolved by the bishop’s special measure as
long as they did not recur. He claimed that the decree had also turned
the tide in Colquemarca and Santo Tomás, important towns of the high
provinces.24 The priest contended that excommunication had punctured
Tupac Amaru’s mystique and driven fear into pious Indians.
The letter exaggerates. Calm did not suddenly return to these two
towns. Nonetheless, the excommunication gave many people second
thoughts, slowing recruiting into rebel ranks, decreasing enthusiasm, and
increasing desertions.25 It particularly weakened the rebels’ efforts to
cast themselves as judicious reformers who were forced to do what the
king would have done himself had he been aware of the situation, that
is, expel abusive authorities. It also countered the argument made fre-
quently by Tupac Amaru in late 1780 that the rebellion sought to forti-
fy Indian religiosity by ridding Peru of the exploitation that kept Indians
from becoming good Christians.
The excommunication weakened the movement. It prompted doubt
among supporters and drove away potential rebels. The decree aided the
royalist propaganda campaign. Yet its impact should not be exaggerated.
The rebellion continued to grow after the November 1780 excommunic-
ation. Thousands of insurgents cared more about the uprising’s antico-
lonial efforts than about the bishop’s maneuver. How indigenous people
felt about the Church and Catholicism varied greatly. It was a person-
al question, one that reflected circumstances and context. Popular, em-
phatic priests held great sway over their communities; the more abus-
ive earned parishioners’ wrath (as might have been the case in Livitaca,
where Tupac Amaru was questioned about what he was going to do with
exploitative priests). The rebel masses shared Tupac Amaru’s ideal of
rising against the Spanish without breaking with the Church. Nonethe-
less, they proved themselves much more willing to attack Church prop-
erty and even priests themselves.26
Moscoso’s measure was the centerpiece of the propaganda against
Tupac Amaru after Sangarará, presenting him and his followers as
church-burning heathens, backward and dangerous Indians. One dejec-
ted rebel in Calca, in the royalist stronghold of the Sacred Valley, de-
scribed how royalists jeered him as an “excommunicated Indian,” telling
him that “he couldn’t go to church to hear mass and that the insurgents
were all sorcerers.”27 Some feared that the excommunication of Tupac
Amaru presented a danger of contagion. When thirty Indians surrendered
to the royalist kuraka commander, Mateo Pumacahua, in early January
1781, he executed them, claiming they “were separated from the church
and they would infect his people with their wretchedness and guilty
sins.”28 In January 1781, loyalist Indians would not touch rebel cada-
vers or their belongings due to the excommunication.29 Excommunica-
tion had prompted Indians and others to question Tupac Amaru’s faith
and his uprising.
Moscoso coupled the excommunication with a decisive strategy that
historians have largely overlooked: he demanded that priests remain in
their parishes, doing whatever they could to weaken the rebels and, if
possible, reporting the situation to Cuzco. In light of the virtual absence
of the state after the rebellion—corregidors fled almost immediately and
the bulk of administrative work fell to kurakas anyway—parish priests
formed a virtual shadow government behind enemy lines. They main-
tained the morale of Europeans and others who distrusted and feared
the rebels, insisting on the leaders’ excommunication and the sinful and
doomed nature of the uprising. Although Tupac Amaru dominated the
Vilcanota Valley, the priests and their supporters never allowed him to
have free rein in his own base. Frustrated and even desperate, Tupac
Amaru and Micaela Bastidas themselves cajoled and threatened the
priests, yet ultimately found themselves forced to ask for their permis-
sion to hold masses for the dead or to bury them. In several cases, the
priests refused. The rebel leaders could tear down posters and threaten
those who propagated news of the excommunication; they would not,
however, attack royalist priests. This strategy proved decisive, maintain-
ing royalist figures in an area overrun by the rebels.
 Faith behind Enemy Lines
In a December 21, 1780 letter to Viceroy Jáuregui, Moscoso wrote, “I
have instructed my priests to harass, reprimand, and to preach continu-
ally against the rebels.” He continued that they were thereby preventing
“much malevolence” and that he had ordered them to stay in their par-
ishes, even if they were under threat and wanted to flee.30 The war junta in
Cuzco underlined the importance of this strategy.31 One document men-
tions that Moscoso selected “strong and spiritual” priests from the city’s
monasteries to send to the war zone to preach to the people about their er-
rors.32
Moscoso had no patience with priests who disregarded his instructions.
One writer said the bishop “breathed fire” when dealing with them.33
Father Antonio Areta, the priest of Velille in the center of rebel territory,
despaired to the bishop in a letter that his flock despised him for his efforts
to dissuade them from supporting the rebels and for the fact that he was
European. Areta told him that he was leaving for Lima or Buenos Aires
because of the great danger. Moscoso showed no sympathy and ordered
him to stay in Velille and continue his antirebel endeavors. He wrote, “I
cannot believe in such a metamorphosis in your flock, just because you
spoke with them with Christian liberty and attempted to separate them
from the rebel.”34 While he acknowledged Areta’s courage, Moscoso de-
scribed others who had faced greater risks. The priest of Quiquijana had
removed the gallows that Tupac Amaru had placed in the public square,
cut down a bridge to impede a rebel advance, and posted the excommu-
nication decree. Fearful for his life, Fernández de Córdoba had fled to
Cuzco but Moscoso sent him back to Quiquijana, “to calm the situation
in a town openly in favor of the rebel.”35 The Bishop recognized that
while some priests had very few parishioners left because all the Indians
had left (presumably to join the rebels), people in Sicuani, Omacha, and
other towns begged their priests to stay. He ended by pointing out that
Tupac Amaru did not seem intent on slaughtering Europeans, as Father
Areta argued. To prove his point, Moscoso mentioned the Spaniards who
moved around Tungasuca freely as well as the absence of executions after
Sangarará. He insisted that he himself was staying in Cuzco to avoid dis-
order and confusion, reiterating his command that the priest remain in Ve-
lille.36
 The priests in the war zone were not clear-cut heroes who selflessly
held the line by standing up to the rebels. The situation was more am-
biguous and fluid as clerics and other residents of the small and medium-
sized towns south of Cuzco attempted to figure out the meaning of the
uprising, specifically the danger to them and the best way to save their
lives and those of others. Many individuals sought to be neutral, while
partisanship remained quite open in this early phase of the uprising. In
fact, we know about the priests’ activities because eighteen of them were
tried after the rebellion for having written obsequious letters to Tupac
Amaru or Micaela Bastidas. They had the misfortune that loyalist com-
manders found their correspondence when they captured the two leaders.
While some of the priests convincingly argued in lengthy trials that the
notes and letters were ploys to gain time and to save lives, others seemed
to sympathize with the insurgents. This correspondence and the detailed
trials about them, which featured elaborate discussions of the language
used by the priests, provide unusual glimpses into daily life during the
uprising.
 In the Heart of the Fire
Moscoso prosecuted eighteen priests or other religious men (sacristans,
aides, and others) for having written to Tupac Amaru or Micaela Bastidas.
The letters complimented these two leaders and requested favors, from
protection to sugar. The archbishop tried them in Cuzco’s ecclesiastic
court, the curia eclesiástica, for pledging their support to the rebels and
for consorting with someone who had been excommunicated. The syco-
phantic salutations usually got the writer in trouble.
Juan de Luna, a priest in Chamaca, near Velille in the center of rebel
territory, wrote to Micaela Bastidas on February 10, 1781 “to clear up
some false accusations by don Juan de Dios Valencia, the comisionado or
representative of Sr. Don José Gabriel, your majesty’s husband,” which
led to his imprisonment by two hundred Indians in the town of Livitaca.
Luna explained to Bastidas that his captors misinterpreted his sermons as
critiques of the rebels. He argued that he had spoken out against wretched
vices and the horrors of sin and that the rebels’ efforts were actually ad-
dressing these issues, thus carrying out divine will. Father Luna insisted
that the prevalence of vice in the area greatly offended God. In this let-
ter, Luna also disputed the rebels’ claim that he had organized royalist
soldiers, contending that he had only brought them together so that they
could confess and take communion. He requested that he not be harassed
and signed off by calling himself “her most reliable server and fond chap-
lain.”37
Luna testified in 1782. He argued that the letter was part of his efforts
to get out of rebel prison, where he was held along with other priests and
religious people. He asserted that the rebels controlled the paths and roads
that led to Cuzco and he thus stayed behind to defend his people, helping
many Spaniards escape the area. He had been forced to “feign surrender
and submission.” Apparently confident, Luna chided the judge for writ-
ing from “the tranquillity of his office,” while he had been surrounded
by “barbarians.” Witnesses supported Luna’s claims, insisting that Velille
and Chumbivilcas in general were firmly rebel territory, that some priests
had been killed in areas such as Paucartambo and the area near Lake Tit-
icaca, and that he helped Spaniards escape. In his case, the letter was not
particularly damning and he was absolved.38
 The prosecution accused the clerics of negotiating with the rebels
rather than fleeing and of communicating with an excomulgado. The
defendants relied on three explanations. When asked why they did not
leave rather than plead with the rebels, they claimed it was impossible.
Rebels had filled the roads and paths to Lima with sentinels and spies
and people could not circulate easily. They used a similar line of argu-
ment when accused of dealing with an excomulgado. They argued that
they were unaware of the decree, as it had not reached their town. With
these two justifications, they portray a curious scenario in which rebels
controlled a massive region extending hundred miles south of Cuzco but
could not thwart royalist priests. In the region around Tungasuca, rebels
would not break into the sanctuary of the churches or, even after direct
and heated confrontations, attack priests.39
Their third line of defense, alongside the impossibility of fleeing and
their ignorance of the excommunication decree, was fear. The prospect
of death at the hands of the rebels forced them to negotiate and even
fawn but also led them to act in irrational and unusual ways. One defend-
ant wrote, “it would have been different if I had found myself free of the
worries prompted by such unexpected and scandalous events [the upris-
ing]; but when fear rather than reason dominates … an overwhelming
fantasy takes hold that makes you think about the most wretched events
and get overexcited.”40 In canon law, the rules of conduct that guided in-
vestigations and trials of church members, grave fear is understood as di-
minishing actions and thus can be used to justify unacceptable actions.41
And despite Bishop Moscoso’s reassurances in late 1780, the clerics had
reason to tremble. Don Antonio Chaves, the auxiliary priest of Sicuani,
gave a chilling anecdote. Chaves had written Tupac Amaru to ask that
he send a judge to prevent “extortions” by Indians. The town’s dignitar-
ies and wealthier merchants had taken refuge inside the Sicuani church.
Rebels frequently pounded on the church door and did not tire of threat-
ening those inside. One day they intimidated Chaves by shaking burlap
bags with objects inside that made a loud noise. He was horrified to learn
that inside the bags were the heads of royalists killed by the rebels. He
was acquitted.42
Don Carlos Rodríguez, the priest of Yanaoca, wrote Micaela Bastidas
to request fifty pounds of sugar, for which he sent ten pesos. In this
December 26, 1780 note, he promised to make up the difference if the
ten pesos weren’t enough and that he would like even more sugar if pos-
sible. His justification for the one-sentence letter was, in contrast, elab-
orate. Tupac Amaru had threatened the people of Yanaoca if they did not
join him. Locals begged Rodríguez to impede the “rebel, and even more
so his wife, the stronger one.”43 He said the letter was to trick the rebels
into believing that he and the town supported them, a ruse he came up
with “in the midst of so much confusion, in the very heart of the fire, sur-
rounded by barbarians.” He emphasized that he helped three Spaniards
escape and that his town had captured Micaela’s brother, Antonio Basti-
das. The prosecutors recognized the difficult situation that Rodriguez y
Avila faced but persevered because of his signoff in the letter to Basti-
das, “I pray to our Lord and the Virgin for your success and that they
take care of you for many years.”
Witnesses testified that Rodríguez had acquired much-needed sugar
for Yanaoca and gained time to allow Spaniards to escape. They de-
scribed his face-to-face confrontations with rebels and how he had kept
Yanaoca out of the hands of the insurgents. Every night he had his pa-
rishioners join together in a procession in honor of the Holy Virgin,
clearly a counterrevolutionary ritual. On November 30, Micaela Bastidas
arrived in Yanaoca with two thousand six hundred soldiers. He would
not receive her in royal fashion or allow the rebels to ring the church bell.
She ordered three artillerymen to shell his house but, according to his
testimony, he didn’t budge. Rodríguez took an even greater risk when he
did not allow the rebels to bury Andrés Noguera (Tupac Amaru’s cous-
in) and Hermenegildo Roxas in the Yanaoca church. The rebels offered
300 pesos, he claimed, but he refused. He also raised the rebels’ ire by
allowing local Spanish authorities threatened by rebels to take refuge in
the church. Despite their fury, the rebels did not break down the door or
even demand that he give up the key.
Rodríguez also confronted Tupac Amaru himself, audaciously asking
him whether he didn’t fear God and Hell in light of all the turmoil,
deaths, and theft he had prompted. Tupac Amaru responded that in tak-
ing action against the “thieving corregidors,” he was doing God’s work.
On another occasion, the priest criticized Tupac Amaru for having ran-
sacked the church’s fields. The rebel leader responded that the damage
would be repaid. Witnesses did not corroborate these encounters—they
were not asked—and the priests might have exaggerated. Nonetheless,
the stories indicate the respect that rebels had for the sanctity of the
church. If a Spanish landowner had made such comments, the rebels
would very likely have killed him. Other priests also told stories of rebels
ransacking, burning, and threatening but stopping at the church door.
Backed by Spanish witnesses, Rodríguez was acquitted.
Domingo de Escalante had been the assistant to the priest in Mar-
coconga, an annex of Sangarará, but after the events there returned to
his family house in Acos, Quispicanchi, aiding the priest of Pirque. On
February 12, 1781, he sent Micaela Bastidas peaches, prickly pears, and
bread in the name of his mother. In a poorly written letter, Escalante de-
scribed how the Indians of Pomacanchi, where rebels had burned a tex-
tile mill and entered repeatedly, had threatened his brother and damaged
his house. He asked her for protection.
In his defense, Escalante claimed that caution and just fear (“recelo y
temor justo”) drove him to write the letter. He noted that while he never
believed the decree published by Tupac Amaru that declared his prerog-
ative as a viceroy and visitador general to punish corregidors, he did not
know about the rebel leader’s excommunication. He explained, “Indi-
ans didn’t allow us to meet or talk about anything or to put up signs.”
He described how rebels controlled all of the roads in the area and how
they targeted all Spaniards, with no respect for gender, age, or status.
They punished them “for no other crime than having a white face or
for not wanting to join the vile insurgent troops.” He insisted that “even
priests” were arrested and subject to execution. He employed the widely
circulated anti-insurgent litany—Tupac Amaru was a violent tyrant who
murdered, burned churches, and killed his enemies on a whim—and
stressed his own anguished and even irrational emotional state. Several
witnesses confirmed that the rebels had blocked all roads and threatened
priests and Spaniards. He was acquitted.44
Luna, Chaves, and several other priests prosecuted by Moscoso ap-
pear to have been faithful and courageous followers of the bishop’s com-
mand to stay put and preach against the insurgents. They wrote the letters
and notes that got them into trouble but their testimonies and the many
witnesses that backed their stories indicate their loyalty and unflagging
efforts to boost the morale of local people and to disparage the rebels.
Other defendants leave a more ambiguous impression. They wrote obse-
quious letters to Tupac Amaru or Micaela Bastidas but their actions went
beyond desperate maneuvers to save their lives or those of European pa-
rishioners. They might have simply felt obliged to show their support for
the insurgents in tangible ways, beyond a mere letter. It should not be
forgotten that they were in the midst of rebel territory, terrified by dread-
ful stories or scenes of insurgent violence. But their seeming ambival-
ence might have been more than just a tactic used in a dire time. Some
seem to have supported certain measures taken by the rebels, or at least
believed that Tupac Amaru and his followers were going to control the
region for a long period. They certainly did not enthusiastically follow
Moscoso’s command to harass the rebels implacably.
In late December 1780, don Buenaventura Tapia, an ordained priest
based in San Pablo de Cacha, sent Tupac Amaru the town’s tax rolls
along with his assurances that he would quickly dispatch Indian soldiers,
“even single men and choir members.” Rebel leaders could use the tax
rolls to keep track of recruits and to make sure that the town was sending
its share. Tapia told the recruits that the rebellion fought for the “com-
mon good.” He thanked Tupac Amaru for “cutting from the root” the
corregidors’ bad customs and monopoly of resources that caused such
“great poverty,” but excused himself from leaving town to meet in per-
son due to his “choleric tumors.” In the trial, Tapia blamed panic for this
highly incriminating letter and the remission of the tax rolls, bluntly stat-
ing that he wrote it due to “his fear of Tupac Amaru’s recklessness and
rigor.” He elaborated, “fear impelled and moved me to write the letter …
the extraordinary effects that this class of fear prompts in men, not just
unprepared, pusillanimous, uninformed ones like myself but even those
strong, informed individuals who had perhaps experienced such serious
conflicts.” He deemed the letter “a pretext or ruse that only the most
confused, fearful, or uninformed men could create.” Witnesses acknow-
ledged that he had protected Spaniards and preached against the rebels.
The prosecution rebuked him for the letter but absolved him, noting that
it was written in a context of “coercion, force, and fear.”45 Nonetheless,
it seems clear that he took concrete steps to help the rebels.
 The priests frustrated Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas. They could
not force them to follow their commands, particularly when they were in
the sanctuary of the church, nor could they easily contest the anti-insur-
gent messages in masses and processions. In fact, Tupac Amaru had to
prevent his troops from taking actions into their own hands. Another de-
fendant, Don Justo Gallegos, the priest of Layo, had sent Tupac Amaru
some fish and requested that Indians stop harassing him and his parish-
ioners. On January 20, 1781, Tupac Amaru wrote him that there was
little he could do “as the Indians are out taking revenge for the Span-
ish affronts and iniquities and from what I see they are destroying the
church haciendas, who aren’t the guilty ones but rather the priests who
are preaching against us and hoping to obscure our righteous orders.”46
This might have been disingenuous on the part of Tupac Amaru—by
claiming that he couldn’t control his Indian followers he tried to shield
himself from some of the blame—but in effect he did struggle to limit
violence and ransacking by his own followers. However, his anger and
disappointment with the priests and their sermons are clear.
 Rebel Priests?
The best-known priests in the Tupac Amaru rebellion are those who ap-
parently supported the rebels from the beginning. Father Antonio López
de Sosa, the parish priest of Pampamarca, had married Tupac Amaru and
Micaela Bastidas and baptized their children. Some maintained that he
had virtually raised Tupac Amaru and that they were compadres.47 In his
testimony, López de Sosa did not deny their closeness and admitted that
he had lent Tupac Amaru money at times. Born in Panama, López de Sosa
was a long-time resident of the area and his jurisdiction also included Tun-
gasuca and Surimana. He had been at the dinner at Father Rodríguez’s
house that preceded Arriaga’s capture and remained in Tungasuca after
his execution. One witness claimed that he went in and out of Tupac
Amaru’s house, rebel headquarters, at will and some contended that he
had even helped gather wood to build the gallows.48
The assistant priest, Ildefonso Bejarano, lived in Tupac Amaru’s house
and to the disgust of European prisoners, moved about freely in the rebel
camp. He and López Sosa participated in the preparations for Arriaga’s
execution. López de Sosa gave last rites while Bejarano lectured from the
gallows to the thousands present, “see what has happened to this bad man
for having lost respect for priests and the bishop.”49 They both had paid
lip service to the excommunication but reiterated their support to Tupac
Amaru.
Micaela Bastidas had reservations about their loyalty to the rebel
cause. On November 26, 1780, she wrote Tupac Amaru about how Be-
jarano and Ramón Moscoso, the kuraka of Yanaoca and Bishop Mo-
scoso’s cousin, reported to the bishop and others in Cuzco on troop num-
bers. She pointed out that the fact that Bejarano and López de Sosa closed
the church and wouldn’t give Mass could indicate loyalist leanings. She
closed this letter, “all of this has me worried as we are in the midst of en-
emies and we could become victims of a sudden act of treachery.”50 This
exchange prompted Bejarano to reassure Tupac Amaru in a highly incrim-
inating letter dated December 1, the centerpiece of the decades-long tri-
als against him. He explained to the rebel leaders that city council mem-
bers in Cuzco had deemed them accomplices of the rebel. López de Sosa
thus closed the church and posted the excommunication decree to counter
these charges, to appear to be working for the royalists, “but it was well
known how much he [López de Sosa] cares about Your Majesty [Tupac
Amaru].” Bejarano stressed that López de Sosa and he understood that
the rebellion was not “against the faith” and recognized that “young and
old knew that this type of men [abusive Spaniards] has been very harm-
ful in this kingdom.”51 The letter explains their actions and confirms
their admiration for Tupac Amaru but does not explicitly say that they
support the rebel. It strikes a middle ground, in which these priests con-
tinue to work with their parish in the midst of rebel headquarters but do
not pledge support. When they later defended themselves in court by as-
serting that they were only doing their jobs as men of the cloth and had
no alternative but to perform some duties in the elaborate execution of
Arriaga, they were stretching the truth but not blatantly lying.
The priests had sided with Bishop Moscoso in his previous battles
with Corregidor Arriaga and believed in greater clerical autonomy from
the viceroy and the Crown. They opposed the regalist efforts of the Bour-
bons to hem in the power of the Church. Other than that, the explanations
of why they supported the rebels are not that different than those for oth-
er middle-sector individuals. They knew Tupac Amaru well and under-
stood that he was a devout Christian. In fact, they trusted and even vener-
ated him. These priests witnessed on a daily basis the ceaseless exploit-
ation of Indians and understood the toll that the mita, the reparto, and
other taxes took on Indians; they also knew that these demands reduced
the money available for the Church. In addition, they believed that cor-
regidors and authorities in Cuzco and Lima served towns such as Tun-
gasuca and Pampamarca poorly. They presumably understood and wel-
comed the importance they would have and the longed-for changes that
would take place if the rebellion were successful; they also must have
had a strong inkling of the consequences if it failed.
The trials against López de Sosa and Bejarano lasted for more than
a decade—the Spanish did not know what to do with them. It’s safe to
say that their robes saved them. It is difficult to imagine a layperson get-
ting away with such open support for the rebels. In their defense, several
of the European prisoners noted the priests’ kindness and deemed them
“good men.” For example, Juan Antonio Figueroa observed López de
Sosa pleading with Tupac Amaru just half an hour before the execution.
However, they also expressed their shock at how López de Sosa and Be-
jarano moved about camp freely and rubbed elbows with the rebel lead-
ership.52 The two priests insisted that circumstances did not allow them
to prevent the execution or alert authorities.
In 1787, López de Sosa was still captive in a Capuchin monastery
in Madrid. He presented medical testimony that he suffered from hypo-
chondria (depression) and from the region’s bad weather. Bejarano had
spent time in Cádiz, Madrid, and Sigüenza (in the center of Spain), re-
stricted to monastic life. In 1790 the King granted him a small daily pen-
sion yet in 1794 Bejarano demanded his freedom, bitterly complaining
about Sigüenza’s climate, “a land of misery and tears.” He missed his
homeland, “the delicious valley of Paucartambo.”53 Neither returned to
Peru.

Scholars have long debated whether the Catholic Church supported the
Tupac Amaru rebellion. The key is how the question is framed. If it is
asked whether some members of the Church aided the rebels, the answer
is yes. As seen here, the clergy from the center of the rebellion met with
Tupac Amaru on a daily basis before and after the uprising began and did
almost nothing to impede the rebels. López de Sosa and Bejarano con-
tinued their clerical duties in the midst of Arriaga’s execution and its af-
termath. While not weapon-carrying soldiers or radical ideologues, they
were close to Tupac Amaru and disregarded the bishop’s command to
condemn the rebellion from the pulpit and to spy on the rebels. But no
one contests that some clerics were on the rebels’ side.54
The trials against the priests and the long-running campaign against
Bishop Moscoso led people past and present to focus on the bishop and
to exaggerate the subversive role of the Church. In part, this reflects
the ageless maxim that the victors write history. Spanish hard-liners,
who took over the royalist side at the very end of the demise of the re-
bellion and then oversaw the trials (the major source for scholars) and
subsequent repression, contended that defiant priests had played an im-
portant role in the formation and development of the uprising. Visitador
Areche and his replacement, Benito Mata Linares, mistrusted and dis-
liked Bishop Moscoso. They belittled him in correspondence and tried
with great energy and even anger to prosecute him for rebel sympath-
ies. These trials dragged on for almost a decade and the archive records
are literally voluminous.55 A critic of Moscoso, Arriaga’s nephew Euse-
bio Balza de Verganza, published a detailed indictment loaded with doc-
uments, La verdad desnuda o las dos fases de un Obispo, “The Naked
Truth or the Two Sides of a Bishop.”56 In 1784, José Raphael Sahuaraura
Titu Atauchi published Estado del Perú (1784), a defense of Moscoso,
while in 1790 Moscoso released a long summary of his refutation of
the charges in Inocencia justificada contra los artificios de la calumnia,
“Justified Innocence Against Slanderous Tricks.”57 Subsequent chapters
examine his long struggle, from Cuzco to Lima to Spain, to defend him-
self against the accusations of supporting the rebels. Readers are led to
believe that whether Moscoso supported Tupac Amaru or not is the fun-
damental question, and his accusers made a convincing or at least spir-
ited argument. This chapter instead stresses the impact of his measures
in late 1780 and early 1781 and their importance for slowing the rebels
in their own base.
This battle between the hard-liners and the bishop was based on
both Areche and Mata Linares’s growing disdain and even hatred for
the creole Moscoso, as well as on broader ideological battles in Spain
and the Americas. As we will see, Moscoso’s relatively conciliatory ap-
proach to the second stage of the rebellion dismayed hard-liners. They
gladly channeled the accusation and rumors about Moscoso (not only re-
garding rebel inclinations but also scandalous relations with women) to
the king’s inner circle in Madrid. It was personal. But the battle also re-
flected the battle over the role of the Church in Spain and Spanish-Amer-
ican society. Although devout Catholics, hard-liners and royalists such
as Areche and Mata Linares believed that the Church and other institu-
tions should be firmly under the control of the Crown.58 They thought
that priests had too much autonomy and wealth in Peru and had lost
their monastic discipline. Stories linking priests and nuns with lovers, of-
ten of the lower orders or occasionally even of the same sex, abounded
in eighteenth-century Peru, a virtual trope.59 Moscoso’s enemies shared
the view that ecclesiastics were too independent and unruly, particularly
creoles, and could even go so far as to raise arms against the Crown. The
story of Moscoso and Arriaga as well as that of the hard-liners moves
from the personal to the structural, Spanish royalists versus the creole
clergy.
 In a June 1781 letter, Areche vented that in Peru,

Clerics—secular and regular clergy as well as many creoles—are weak at heart in terms
of Spain’s ownership and possession of these dominions: Your Excellency, there are many
Voltaires, many Rousseaus, many Raynalds and many others who have sacrilegiously op-
posed in their writing the authority of Kings, as these clerics are not properly watched over
by the Inquisition, Prelates, or the government, who must be zealous that such doctrines
despised by everyone educated, rational and Christian—don’t enter, aren’t disseminated or
read.

Near the end of the letter he added that in the trial against Tupac Amaru,
they had found “a great deal of correspondence to him from priests and
friars that scandalizes and hurts the ears of even the most robust and pa-
cific. There you see how they treated him as Your Majesty and the sub-
mission and respect with which they treated him, calling him Redeemer
and the New Messiah.”60
Followers of the trial after the rebellion and readers of the transcripts
over two hundred years later can be easily led to believe that defiant
priests subverted the Cuzco countryside along with Tupac Amaru. Des-
pite the cases of López de Sosa, Bejarano and a few others, however, this
view is excessive if not erroneous. While Bishop Moscoso knew Tupac
Amaru, sympathized with some of his battles prior to November 1780,
despised Arriaga, and had tangled with other Spaniards, he threw all his
weight against the uprising upon news of the corregidor’s execution and
the battle of Sangarará.61 What is key is the impact of the excommunica-
tion and the decisive aid that priests, following the bishop’s orders, gave
to royalists. If they had not stayed, the rebels would have had free rein in
the massive triangle between Cuzco and its amorphous borders with Are-
quipa and Puno. Recruiting and gathering provisions would have been
much easier and church land would have been there for the taking. Roy-
alists would have not had anyone in the region to contest rebel ideology.
Instead, priests rallied intermediate groups and planted doubts with the
Indian masses about Tupac Amaru’s religious status, his all-important
soul, and the fate of the rebellion.
The question of whether a group or an individual supported the up-
rising is not so black and white. Partisanship was fluid—often due to
opportunism or desperation—and many of the priests were neither com-
mitted rebels nor effective counterinsurgents. As the letters to Bastidas
and Tupac Amaru showed, they cowered in fear and shock and sought to
save their lives and those of their parishioners. Many probably saw good
things about both sides or despised them both. Some presumably did not
understand what was happening—few people did in the confusing final
months of 1780. Nonetheless, the work of priests backed by the bishop
in the Tupac Amaru zone vexed and weakened the rebels. Without them,
Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas would have had a much easier time
spreading their message and gaining resources. They could not imagine
a world without the Catholic Church; their struggle to create a new world
had to contend with its fervent and effective opposition.
 4

The Rebellion Goes South

AFTER THE NOVEMBER 18 victory in Sangarará, many in the rebel camp be-
lieved that they would bolster their forces in their base, the Vilcanota Val-
ley, and then quickly proceed north, to the city of Cuzco. Instead, Tupac
Amaru had his eyes set on the south, the overwhelmingly indigenous area
toward Lake Titicaca. As is often the case with military commanders, an
uneasy mix of confidence and fear sparked his thinking. He knew that
his message would be well received in a region that bore a particularly
high mita burden for the Potosí silver mines. At the same time, he un-
derstood that he had not yet faced the main thrust of the colonial milit-
ary and that much more challenging battles lay ahead. In the following
weeks and months, both rebels and royalists boasted about their numbers
and flaunted their confidence while privately fretting that a debacle was
close at hand.
Tupac Amaru believed that he could control the arid plateau that
stretched from Cuzco to Lake Titicaca and perhaps even expand into
Upper Peru, or Charcas as it was more commonly called. He worried,
however, that the corregidors of five districts in the Lake Titicaca region
would soon receive money, arms, and troops from Arequipa and attack
him from the south, or at least thwart his expansion in that direction. He
thus decided to push toward Lake Titicaca, leaving Micaela Bastidas to
manage the Tungasuca base. Many of his supporters wondered why the
rebel didn’t take Cuzco immediately, before Spanish reinforcements ar-
rived. Commentators and historians would continue to debate this strategy
for centuries.
 Micaela stayed behind and took care of provisions, discipline, cor-
respondence, and the countless other tasks that military campaigns re-
quire. During her husband’s foray to the south, she increasingly worried
that a swift royalist attack from Cuzco would crush their camp in Tun-
gasuca. In numerous letters to Tupac Amaru, she expressed her impa-
tience with his extended sojourn to and urged him to hurry, stressing that
his family was in danger. In Cuzco, fifty-five miles away, Bishop Mo-
scoso directed royalist efforts. His situation and activities displayed a
curious symmetry with those of Micaela. He raised money and morale,
orchestrated religious processions, and communicated with authorities
in Lima, his priests throughout rebel territory, and militia leaders. With
only vague and distorted news about events south of the city, he and
much of the city population feared that a siege of the city was imminent.
Europeans began to think that their worst nightmare was possible: the
bizarre hanging of a corregidor and the unfortunate turn of events in
Sangarará could develop into a full-blown war. While Bastidas looked
to the south, anxiously waiting for her husband and the bulk of their
troops to return, royalists in Cuzco impatiently waited for reinforcements
from the north. Both sides sought to win the information and propaganda
battles, placing spies and messengers, inflating their strength, and mask-
ing their intentions and anxieties.
 Contentious Preparations
Panic spread in Cuzco because of alarming reports about rebel actions to
the south and complacency, even incompetence, among the city’s leaders.
Bishop Moscoso chided the junta in Cuzco for its delays and divisions but
worked closely with its members to prepare the city’s defenses and to re-
spond to Tupac Amaru. Sangarará had convinced them to forgo any sort
of attack and instead wait for troops from Lima and prepare for rebel in-
cursions or even a siege of the city. The bishop persuaded district may-
ors, kurakas, and the city’s well-to-do to donate to a defense fund while
mayors and kurakas from nearby areas arrived with militias, usually about
two hundred strong. The corregidor of Abancay, Manuel Villalta, became
the city’s military commander. Moscoso enlisted all of the city’s students
as well as priests in militia companies. Villalta reportedly “shed tears of
joy and edification” when he witnessed the priests marching in Cuzco’s
streets.1 In late December, the city council exonerated Indians who joined
the royalists from the reparto and the sales tax (alcabala), two of the
rebels’ major grievances.2
The city council and Bishop Moscoso did not limit their preparations
to fundraising, military training, and last-minute reforms. One account
described how the entire population of the city, led by Bishop Moscoso
and Franciscan friars, united “to wash away their sins in the fountain
of penance and to take strength from the Holy Eucharist.” The author
declared that “undoubtedly a spectacle has been offered to God that is
capable of disarming his wrath, while the solemn fasting on November
28–30 has placed this town in the humility that God demands, whereas be-
fore its immoderate haughtiness and excesses prompted his just indigna-
tion.” Panic had reached the point where city dwellers viewed the uprising
not as an unprecedented expression of Indian fury or of Tupac Amaru’s
bloodthirsty quest for retribution, but as divine wrath.3
News of Arriaga’s execution reached Lima on November 24. Viceroy
Jáuregui called for an immediate emergency meeting with the General In-
spector of the Army, Commander José del Valle, Visitador General José
Antonio de Areche, and members of the high court or Audiencia. On the
28th, commander Gabriel de Avilés left the city with two hundred mem-
bers of the free black (“pardos libres”) militia, with instructions to recruit
soldiers along the long march to Cuzco. Peru did not have a standing army
and relied instead on militias. Avilés’s troops had four hundred muskets,
twelve thousand cartridges, and five hundred sabers. At this point, the
viceroy believed that the rebels counted on twenty thousand men.4 Days
later, when the viceroy learned about the Sangarará debacle, he sent an
additional 400 soldiers as well as 6 cannons, 1,525 16-caliber muskets,
75 pistols, spears, lances, and other weapons. Mules and foot soldiers
carried the load down the desert coast in the hottest days of the summer.
They turned inland around Pisco and climbed the precipitous Andes.
Summer in the Andes means warmer temperatures, a welcome respite
for people used to the temperate coast, but also rain. The showers and
mud made the marching miserable, particularly the climbing. Del Valle
left Lima on December 20 with an additional two hundred soldiers.
These and other soldiers from the coast suffered terribly from sor-
oche, or altitude sickness. Over millennia, Andean people have adapted,
with enlarged chests and increased lung capacities.5 However, people
from lower elevations begin to feel the flulike symptoms at about eight
thousand feet. The thinner (scientists prefer the term “less dense”) air
contains less oxygen, causing people to tire quickly, run out of breath,
and become nauseous. Many dehydrate as the altitude consumes more
water vapor in the lungs. Some people can develop potentially fatal pul-
monary or cerebral edemas. Rest relieves the symptoms but these sol-
diers continued to march up and down steep mountains, the grim reports
from Cuzco adding to their haste. The route to Cuzco includes passes
that tower fourteen thousand feet above sea level. Cuzco itself is at ten
thousand five hundred feet but most of the fighting took place in the
south, much of it well over twelve thousand feet above sea level. Bus
drivers in the Andes routinely hand out coca leaves or medications that
can alleviate the aches and nausea. Anyone who has flown to an Andean
or other city over ten thousand feet above sea level knows that after an
initial exhilaration, the traveler feels sluggish and has a pounding head-
ache. Hydration and rest help greatly—the royalist soldiers did not have
this option. Soroche would add to their miseries and impede their fight-
ing in the coming battles.
Well-armed battalions advance slowly in the Andes. The sheer west-
ern face that rises sharply only a few miles inland presented just the
initial challenge. Horizontal ranges that run east-west saddle the inter-
range valleys, rapidly breaking up any respite from climbing and des-
cending. Even today, the roads between Nazca and Cuzco feature al-
most nonstop hills and unnervingly steep turns. The Avilés expedition
did not reach Cuzco until January 1, where they waited for the others.6
The three expeditions had orders to recruit among the largely indigenous
population between Lima and Cuzco. No commander provided numbers
but they had to rely on coercion and apparently had only middling suc-
cess—hundreds rather than thousands joined them. On December 11,
1780, Areche wrote to one corregidor demanding that he pay suppliers
the full amount and on time. He confidently predicted that “many would
volunteer and thus require supplies.”7 His optimism proved unfounded.
Indians did not volunteer massively and many of these indigenous sol-
diers deserted when the fighting began and conditions worsened.
On December 7, Lima’s city council abolished the reparto, believing
it the major cause of the uprising, and ordered that corregidors receive a
fixed salary, hoping that this would discourage them from exploiting loc-
als. They criticized Cuzco for the divisions and indecisiveness that Bish-
op Moscoso reported, contending that the Andean city had been “pusil-
lanimous.” At the same time, in Lima divisions emerged that would
mark the royalist reaction to the uprising and policies well into the nine-
teenth century. Incensed that he had not been named to lead the exped-
ition, Visitador Areche wrote fiery diatribes against the viceroy and del
Valle to his ally in Madrid, the powerful José Gálvez. He decried their
incompetence and what he deemed the cowardice of the Lima popula-
tion. To Areche’s chagrin, few people in Lima volunteered to join the ex-
pedition to fight the rebels in Cuzco. This should not have been surpris-
ing: it was a five-week journey over mountain passes that stretched four-
teen thousand feet above sea level. Moreover, people understood that the
pay would be minimal, conditions rugged, the combat brutal, the Andean
population hostile, and the enemy relentless. In late December, Areche
himself headed to Cuzco, intending to take over operations in this early
stage. He failed and had to share responsibilities. Yet Areche never gave
up in his attempt to undermine Viceroy Jáuregui and Commander del
Valle and to implement his preferred hard-line policies against the rebels
and the Andean people.
The Southern Campaigns

Areche teamed with Benito Mata Linares in this struggle. Born in

Madrid in 1752, Mata Linares had been named to Lima’s high court in
1778 and was also Auditor of War.8 He and Areche belittled the vice-
roy’s efforts, demanding a greater reliance on fixed units and profession-
al soldiers rather than local militias and volunteers. They presented the
creoles and corregidors who oversaw the militias as lazy and corrupt and
the lower classes who manned them as untrustworthy cowards. In the fi-
nal months of 1780 and early 1781, Mata Linares and Areche won this
battle, at least on paper, as Madrid recognized the drawbacks of the mi-
litias. Nonetheless, royalists did not have the time or resources to make
this transition quickly. Mata Linares joined Areche in peppering Madrid
with letters and memos about the viceroy’s errors and the need for rad-
ical change in Peru. In the coming two years they succeeded in wresting
decision making from the viceroy and his allies.9
 Going South
On November 22, 1780, Tupac Amaru left Tungasuca to shore up his
support in the nearby towns of Pichigua, Yauri, and Coporaque, where
the kuraka Eugenio Sinayuca had been proselytizing against him. He fol-
lowed what was becoming standard procedure: his scouts searched for en-
emies and provisions and he gave an impassioned speech from the church
steps about his movement, announcing in Quechua to flabbergasted locals
that a new day had arrived. Many listeners joined his movement. On the
25th, Tupac Amaru wrote a proclamation to the population of Lampa,
a large town to the south near Lake Titicaca, announcing his campaign
against “bad government” and abusive Spaniards and his commitment to
creoles. He boasted that he counted on sixty thousand Indian supporters
as well as creoles and people from outside the area.10
In this initial foray to the south, Tupac Amaru failed to capture José
Campino, the corregidor of Chumbivilcas, and also saw the royalist kur-
aka Eugenio Sinayuca slip out of his hands. On November 27, he heard
disturbing news about an alliance among the corregidors of Azángaro,
Chucuito, Carabaya, Lampa, and Puno, who were awaiting arms and sol-
diers from either Arequipa or La Paz. He worried that if the corregidors
received this help and royalists attacked from Cuzco, he could be trapped.
This motivated him to continue his push south. He asked kurakas in his
core area to stall any troops mobilizing from Cuzco while he was away
and instructed Micaela to disseminate an exaggerated image of their fol-
lowers’ numbers and resources in order to discourage such a royalist
charge. He also told Micaela on November 26 that he would be back in
“five or six days”—he was off by almost a month.11
Tupac Amaru headed toward an area he knew well because of his trips
to Potosí. He counted on important contacts and allies. His favorite author,
Garcilaso de la Vega, perhaps inspired him. Book 2 (“which describes
the idolatry of the Incas and the way in which they glimpsed our true
God”) chapters 19 and 20 of the Comentarios Reales (Royal Comment-
aries) describes in characteristically epic style how Lloque Yupanqui, the
third Inca ruler, conquered the Collao in the thirteenth century. Garcilaso
portrays how Lloque Yupanqui tamed their “wicked” women and instruc-
ted them to follow a single God, the Sun. We can imagine José Gabriel
reading these lines from chapter 20 with glee, perhaps understanding them
as a premonition: “the people of Chucuito [near Lake Titicaca], though
they were powerful and their ancestors had subjected some neighboring
tribes, did not wish to resist the Inca. They replied on the contrary that
they would obey him with love and goodwill as a child of the Sun, to
whose clemency and mercy they were attached and whose benefits they
desired to enjoy by becoming his subjects.”12 It should be remembered
that José Gabriel considered himself “El Inca.” The Royal Commentar-
ies tells multiple tales of Incas based in Cuzco triumphantly imposing
order in the Collao.13 José Gabriel looked to the Collao with the confid-
ent enthusiasm of someone who knew the region well. In contrast, when
pursuing rebel forces there half a year later, the Spanish would view the
region with dread and even disgust.
In reality, Tupac Amaru’s objective, the five corregidors, did not pose
a serious threat to Tupac Amaru and were themselves vulnerable. The
reinforcements and funds they expected from Arequipa, La Paz, or Lima
never arrived, while much of the Spanish-speaking and more affluent
local population in the Titicaca area fled. Moreover, as rumors of hordes
attacking from the north circulated, the Indian masses increasingly aban-
doned their customary deference and flaunted their rebel sympathies.
The corregidors felt besieged; they knew their lives were in danger. In
late 1780, they strove to hold out against the rebels and save their own
lives.
Although recriminations about the corregidors’ inability to hold the
south continued for months and years, they tried. Desperation seems the
best term to describe their efforts. When he learned about the uprising,
don Miguel de Urbiola, the Carabaya corregidor, instructed parish priests
to prepare with “penance and public processions” and had his assistants
organize the defense of towns such as Crucero and Sandia. He himself
supposedly walked twenty-two leagues (about sixty miles; a league was
often measured by how far a person could walk in an hour) in a single
day “to provide Spaniards and Indians with guns and spears” that he paid
for himself. Nonetheless, rebels eventually burned down much of Cara-
baya.14 On November 14, the Azángaro corregidor instructed his coun-
terpart in Lampa to organize troops and to hold the line, because other
provinces were “bereft of weapons.”15
 Puno’s corregidor, Joaquín de Orellana, left a detailed account of his
frantic efforts to defend the Collao. In November 1780, reacting to the
call by another corregidor to “drown out this fire before it spreads and
resist with everything,” he proceeded to Lampa with his minuscule mi-
litia of 166 men. Orellana was then ordered to Ayaviri, where rebels al-
most trapped him and he lost his guns and gunpowder. To his dismay, he
then was called on to help much of Puno’s population evacuate; he had
hoped Lake Titicaca’s largest city would be a royalist stronghold. He had
no confidence in the local militias and labeled authorities in Cuzco, La
Paz, and Arequipa “indolent” for not sending aid of any kind. Orellana
remained active throughout 1781.16 Authorities in Cuzco, in turn, criti-
cized the corregidors for having fled so quickly from the rebels.17
After attacking the mining town of Cailloma in late November, where
officials managed to flee with large quantities of money and silver just
before the rebels arrived, the Tupac Amaru forces crossed the glacier-
covered mountains of La Raya, over fourteen thousand feet above sea
level, the towering dividing line between Cuzco and Puno. Reports of
his troop size ranged from ten thousand to sixty thousand.18 The rebels
understood that ahead of them, in the Titicaca basin and into the Col-
lao, Indians vastly outnumbered Europeans, creoles, and mestizos, and
that desertions and fear had already crippled the colonial militias. They
also knew that the area’s sheep and cattle ranches provided easy prey for
meals—the ranchers could flee to Arequipa or elsewhere but could not
take their livestock with them. The insurgents entered the town of Santa
Rosa, where Corregidor Urbiola had patched together a militia with up
to two thousand troops. It quickly folded, however, its members fleeing
or passing over to the rebels, and Urbiola himself barely escaped. On
December 4, the rebels passed into the Viceroyalty of Rio de la Plata,
entering the small town of Macara.
That same day, the corregidors of Chucuito, Lampa, Azángaro, Puno,
and Carabaya met in Vicente Oré Davila’s house in Lampa. Colonel
Pedro de la Vallina brought frightening news. He had been imprisoned in
Tungasuca but had convinced the rebels that he was a Lima creole, not
a Spaniard, married to the granddaughter of don Diego Choquehuanca,
the kuraka of Azángaro whom the rebels hoped to enlist. All of this was
false. Before releasing him, Tupac Amaru had told Vallina that he had
upwards of thirty thousand Indians and that “Cuzco would be his.”19 Val-
lina demanded that the corregidors prepare what could be a final defense
of the Titicaca area. Tupac Amaru had fueled the corregidors’ fear by
writing letters that he made sure they intercepted, which greatly inflated
his troop numbers.20 This group of corregidors proved unable to defeat
the rebels in battle. They lamented the absence of help from La Paz or
Arequipa and recognized that they lacked sufficient weapons and sol-
diers (and critics would contend courage) to hold the line.
The corregidors probably regretted their one deed that December day.
Weeks before, royalists had captured Tupac Amaru’s nephew, Simón
Noguera, in the Qqueque hacienda near Santa Rosa and taken him to
Lampa on November 24. The twenty-year-old had been sent ahead of
Tupac Amaru’s troops to scout the area. The corregidors oversaw his ex-
ecution after their junta on December 4.21 Micaela Bastidas reportedly
burst into tears when she learned of his death; Tupac Amaru vowed re-
venge.
Tupac Amaru sent troops to the hacienda where Noguera had been
captured while another group set out for Lampa. The corregidors fled
and deserters bolstered the rebel forces. At this point, people massively
abandoned the towns in the plateau northeast of Lake Titicaca, many
heading for Arequipa. Tupac Amaru and his troops entered Ayaviri on
December 6 to great fanfare. Priests met them formally, with the cus-
tomary canopy and ceremony, and Tupac Amaru gave a speech, seeking
recruits and reassuring creoles and mestizos. He was upset to learn that
the priests of Santa Rosa, Miguel Martínez, and Orurillo, Juan Bautista
Morán, had offered an award for him, “dead or alive.”22
One petrified and anonymous observer of Tupac Amaru’s triumphant
entrance into Ayaviri declaimed: “the enemy is on top of us, having
taken the towns of Macari, Santa Rosa, Ayaviri, and Pucará.… We don’t
have the people, arms, or ammunition to challenge them.”23 People fled
“with only the clothes on their back” and the chaos and fear disrup-
ted the harvest and distribution of food. Hunger began to take its toll,
particularly on older people and children.24 Confident and motivated by
the quest for revenge, the rebels nearly captured the five corregidors.
They burned jails, named new local judges and kurakas, and confirmed
the abolition of the mita, the reparto, and customs houses. Requiring
a massive amount of food, the rebels relied on the region’s livestock,
sheep, cattle, and alpaca. Royalists presented these expropriations as the
main incentive for the Indian masses: not only were they “fooled” by
the leadership but “their propensity toward theft helped seduce them, as
they found it easy pickings to ransack ranches (estancias) and estates.
They’ve ruined many. In the Collao, some days they consumed over four
thousand sheep.”25 One official from Lampa calculated that the rebels
slaughtered sixty-three thousand sheep and one thousand six hundred
cows, and consumed the entire harvest of corn, potatoes, and other pro-
duce.26 Tens of thousands of soldiers on the move almost every day ate
massive amounts of stew. The rebels could do as much damage with their
stomachs as with their weapons.
At this point, early December 1780, Tupac Amaru had a good idea
of his strengths. He understood that unless discouraged or even coerced
by their kurakas, most Indians supported his call for an end to Spanish
mistreatment. Tupac Amaru promised a new, more just world and he and
his tens of thousands of followers easily toppled colonial forces. Indi-
ans in the Titicaca basin supported the project and believed that he, or
they, could succeed. Although Tupac Amaru did not know what to ex-
pect from the Spanish—he knew they would attack but not from where
or when—he understood that his growing mass of soldiers represented a
serious threat in open battle. He recognized that they had the advantage
in mobility, and could employ hit and run or guerrilla tactics (a term that
would not be invented until the Napoleonic invasion of Iberia in 1807)
with great success.
Diego Choquehuanca, a kuraka from Azángaro who came from a
distinguished family, initially provided the royalists a bit of good news
amidst the gloom of the rebels’ seemingly unstoppable advance in the
Titicaca area. In November 1780, Tupac Amaru had written this elderly
patriarch (estimates of his age range from seventy to ninety) several let-
ters, explaining his efforts and requesting his support. Choquehuanca
immediately informed the Lampa and Carabaya corregidors and within
days had written several more corregidors as well as the city council and
bishop of La Paz, pledging his opposition to the rebellion. He instruc-
ted his sons—Joseph, a colonel in the militia, and Gregorio, a priest—to
shore up Azángaro´s defenses.27 Furious about Choquehuanca’s rejec-
tion and believing that he had participated in the execution of Simón
Noguera, Tupac Amaru went after the Choquehuanca family and their
numerous estates with unusual vehemence. Although Diego Choque-
huanca managed to flee to Arequipa, his family paid a heavy toll: rebels
killed another son, a daughter, three cousins, and one grandson, and
razed their estates.28
Choquehuanca was not alone—the southern kurakas spurned Tupac
Amaru. In the words of David Garrett, “the cacical elite of the Titicaca
basin remained resolutely loyal. As news of Sangarará reached Lampa,
the province’s kurakas arrived in its capital with armies of tributaries
to defend the crown.”29 In the midst of the royalist nightmare of late
November and early December, when Arequipa and La Paz failed to
send reinforcements and corregidors fled alongside thousands of des-
perate people, kurakas provided promising bits of good news. They re-
mained loyal, particularly those with aristocratic pretensions, rejecting
Tupac Amaru’s calls for an Inca utopia. This decision would prove fun-
damental for royalist success not only in the south but also in the Sacred
Valley north of Cuzco. In fact, as we will see, another kuraka, Mateo Pu-
macahua, was at this very time halting rebel advances in Paucartambo
and the Sacred Valley.
Tupac Amaru reached Lampa on December 9, greeted by Indians and
“a few vecinos [non-Indians].” According to the nineteenth-century Eng-
lish geographer Clements Markham, “The Inca entered Azángaro in tri-
umph. He rode a white horse with splendidly embroidered trappings,
armed with sword and pistols, and dressed in blue velvet, richly em-
broidered with gold. He had on a three-cornered hat, and an uncu or
mantle in the shape of a bishop’s rochet, with a gold chain around his
neck, from which a large golden sun was suspended.”30 His speech in-
terrupted by celebratory musket blasts, Tupac Amaru insisted that he
sought to end the reparto and “other impositions suffered by Indians.”31
His troops burned the jail and city hall, ransacked other buildings, and
rummaged through the haciendas, textile mills, and mines of the afflu-
ent.32
Tupac Amaru wanted to sleep—they had trekked over night from
Ayaviri to Lampa—but his aides warned him, “he who has enemies can’t
sleep.” They set up their tents in a safe position outside of town, where
he rested.33 Throughout the uprising, Tupac Amaru accompanied his sol-
diers, although surrounded by his entourage. Unlike the majority of the
rebels, however, he moved on horseback and slept in a tent. One priest,
while acknowledging the deep fear that the rebel leader prompted, noted
that he was “dressed like a gentleman,” with elegant clothing.34 The
priest testified that the rebels ransacked the church and took everything
they could find from the homes of the town’s Spaniards, with the pretext
of a search for weapons. Lampa had a considerable population of afflu-
ent merchants, who before fleeing had left some of their valuables in
the church. The rebels expropriated these goods.35 They committed “un-
thinkable damage” in haciendas and stole all the livestock they could.
The priest lamented that Indians insulted vecinos and refused to pay the
fees on which clerics relied. He deemed this abandonment of the status
quo, in which Indians had to show deference to priests, mestizos, and
Europeans, “the eve of the end of the universe.”36
The testimony of two Indians captured in December provides insight
into the rebel followers. The loyalist mayor of Carabuco (on the northern
side of Lake Titicaca, today part of Bolivia) had found them with straw
crosses in their hats, the rebel emblem. Diego Choquehuanca took their
testimony in Quechua. Pascual Gutiérrez Sonco, described as an Indian
from the town of Nuñoa, Lampa, told Choquehuanca that Indian and
Spanish rebels wore the cross and were instructed to kill all chapetones,
a derogatory term for Spaniard. The rebels understood that there were
two types of Spaniards, those who could be recruited and the enemy,
chapetones. Gutiérrez Sonco explained that non-Indian rebels used paper
crosses in their hats while Indians employed straw. He had heard that
“the Inca [Tupac Amaru] was on his way to conquer Buenos Aires to be
crowned and that he would extinguish all corregidors.” He claimed that
some Indians “joined of their own free will and others because of death
threats from their chiefs or mandones.” Gutiérrez Sonco had witnessed
Tupac Amaru redistribute goods taken from estates and was awed by the
“infinity” of Indians who were following the rebel leader.37
Manuel Chuquipata, arrested with Gutiérrez Sonco, added that the In-
dians in the Collao, “and the young and the Spaniards had given Tupac
Amaru their full obedience and all are in unison in their support, wearing
the cross in their montera, the indigenous headwear; we were instructed
to wear this rather than other types of hats as well as uncus or a tunic and
a sling across our chests.” Tupac Amaru had requested that his troops
use the cross to distinguish themselves and preferred indigenous clothing
rather than European. Chuquipata pointed out that the rebel leader had
exonerated Indians from the December semester head tax.38 The docu-
ment does not note the two Indians’ fate but they were presumably ex-
ecuted.
 Micaela and Tomasa
Tupac Amaru stayed in Lampa for three days, deciding where to continue.
He was tempted to push on to Upper Peru and align with rebels there.
He also considered attacking Arequipa or sieging nearby Puno. Numerous
letters from Micaela, however, persuaded him to return. In fact,
throughout the uprising, she proved to be highly persuasive.39 On Decem-
ber 6, she chided him for “moving very slowly, touring around from town
to town.… I am losing my patience with all of this, and I’m capable of
turning myself over to the enemy so that they take my life, because I see
that you do not take this grave matter seriously, endangering all of our
lives.”40 One royalist observer described her role with repugnance and
amazement, “She filled in for her husband in Tungasuca, overseeing the
expeditions and even mounting a horse to recruit in Chumbivilcas where
she sent repeated orders, with audacity and unique intrepidation, authoriz-
ing the edicts with her signature and going so far as to begin a plan of in-
vading Cuzco herself, in charge of the troops, which she would have done
if Tupac Amaru hadn’t written about his victorious return from the south.
She thus decided to wait for him.”41
Their correspondence in December is among the most touching doc-
umentation of the rebellion. They expressed great affection, referring to
each other with names such as Mica and Chepe (from Micaela and Pepe,
the classic nickname for José) and as “my daughter” and “my son.” These
letters combine affectionate banter and Micaela’s demands that he stop
dilly-dallying and return. On December 10, she chided him for “having
paid little attention to my letters” and for putting her life in danger (“pla-
cing her on the bull’s horns” is her metaphor).42 Authors have used these
to cast her as the henpecking wife who also happened to be a smart, effi-
cient commander. The latter point is true.
José Gabriel and Micaela demonstrated how much they loved each
other not only through terms of endearment but also with recommenda-
tions for the other’s safety. In a brief note on November 23 which came
with 600 pesos, some alcohol for the troops, and correspondence, Micaela
ordered him to make sure that he only ate food prepared by his most trus-
ted comrades. She worried that he would be poisoned.43 On December 8,
he sent a letter (in Spanish, the language of all their correspondence) in-
structing her what to do if the Spanish troops attacked from Cuzco—this
clearly worried both of them. His elaborate plan called for her to go to
the town of Langui, where their sons Fernando and Mariano were. If ne-
cessary, she could go to the nearby hills of Chacamayo, which they con-
sidered impenetrable, but rebel troops could stay in Langui and nearby
Layo. While noting that this was unlikely as their forces controlled the
mountains and peaks that separated Tungasuca from Cuzco and could
use boulders and slings to pick off the enemy, he encouraged her to speak
with kurakas of nine towns to be prepared to take to the hills and prepare
a counterattack. He instructed her to proceed to Langui if a Spanish at-
tack occurred, under the pretext of recruiting more soldiers, but to make
sure to shackle the prisoners well, or to even poison them, “and then we
wouldn’t have to worry.”44 Tupac Amaru closed by reminding her that
he had requested some cannons and that she should keep a handful of
soldiers in Tungasuca even if she and the bulk of their troops abandoned
it.
The correspondence to and from Micaela Bastidas highlights her ca-
pacity as a commander. She received reports from towns and sent spies
to check on others and the roads to Cuzco; instructed her followers to
protect livestock, creoles, and priests; trekked to Chumbivilcas to recruit
soldiers; watched over the troops to prevent desertions; and tapped vari-
ous sources to make sure that they could feed and pay soldiers. Bish-
op Moscoso complained that her measures “seduced towns,” citing the
“wretched news” from Ccatca, Paucartambo, where Indians had des-
troyed several estates and plundered all the livestock, and towns near the
Sacred Valley where rebels had attacked haciendas and bridges.45 She
kept a tight rein in Tungasuca, but also celebrated victories and made
plans for the future. According to one account, “when she got news of
the king’s troops dying she got very happy and handed out silver or
clothes to whoever brought the information. She advised the Indians to
get strong, insisting that even if some of them died, the benefits would be
for them and their children. She warned them that authorities in Cuzco
wanted to trick them with a pardon, while they would really barricade the
rebels in the main plaza and slaughter or burn them until no one was left
alive. She notified the Indians that if she and her husband were defeated,
they should put Spaniards, men and women, and priests in a house and
set it on fire.”46 The last sentence should be read warily—the testimony
was from a creole detained in rebel camp, Manuel Galleguillos, who
wanted to stress the danger he faced in Tungascua. Yet he closed by not-
ing, “I saw more rebelliousness in Micaela than her husband, more ar-
rogance and haughtiness, to the point that she was to be feared more than
her husband.”47 He had little to gain by underlining her strength and spir-
it. In fact, no one disagreed and many echoed this description of Micaela
as a dedicated and fearsome leader.
Her primary concern in late November and early December was that
royalists would push through and attack Tungasuca while Tupac Amaru
was in the south. She sought information from her informants and re-
ceived contradictory intelligence. One spy in Quiquijana reported that
although a few Indians had betrayed the rebels, Spaniards were not ad-
vancing south. Yet Marcos Torre wrote from Acomayo on the following
day, December 15, that the towns of Paruro, Accha, and Pilipinto suppor-
ted the royalists and would soon attack the rebels’ first line of defense,
Acos and Acomayo. He suggested she send troops to attack the royalist
rear guard in Livitaca and requested arms: “we don’t have a single mus-
ket.”48 That same day Tomás Guaca reported from Pomacanchi, where
the rebels had ransacked the textile mill a month earlier, that he couldn’t
feed the troops and they were crossing over to the royalists. Antirebel
kurakas and mayors were “giving them plenty to eat.”49 The ability to
feed the troops proved crucial for both sides, aiding recruitment and de-
terring desertions. Micaela Bastidas wrote that very day to her husband
that “there is news that they [royalist troops] have left Cuzco; the van-
guard is in Urcos and they also want to attack us from Paruro.”50 This
proved to be false but she and others were worried.
Her private correspondence took on the schizophrenic nature of any
commander—panic about being overrun mixed with confidence that
they would soon control the southern part of Peru and the northwest of
the Rio de la Plata viceroyalty. On December 15, she instructed her fol-
lowers to send more troops, while boasting that “everything had gone
well [mayor felicidad] so far and we have in our favor the provinces of
Urubamba, eight parishes of Cuzco, Paucartambo, Quispicanchi, Paruro,
Tinta, Lampa, Azángaro, Carabaya, Pacarcolla, the city of Chucuito, and
others.”51 In a December 6 letter, she outlined her efforts to recruit more
people and “little by little encircle Cuzco, which is well guarded as I
noted in my previous letter.” Here she chided her husband for taking his
time—“walking with lead feet”—and fretted that Indians were returning
to the hills as they ran out of livestock.52 She exuded confidence and
concern.
Tomasa Condemaita, the kuraka of Acos, was the other important fe-
male rebel leader. She had received the kurakazgo as a birth right in a
town not far from Surimana, where Tupac Amaru held his. Born around
1740, she presumably knew Tupac Amaru as a child. In the initial days
of the rebellion, rebels threatened to kill her, believing her a royalist
due to her creole husband. She sent her husband and three children to
Cuzco and committed to the rebellion.53 She watched over Acos, provid-
ing troops and provisions and directing skirmishes against the royal-
ists. Early in the uprising, on November 12, noting Indians’ inclina-
tion to steal sheep and “commit excesses” with creoles, she requested
that Tupac Amaru send someone to impose order.54 She shared with
Micaela Bastidas the frustration with Tupac Amaru’s extended sojourn.
On November 30, she wrote Tupac Amaru wondering where he was;
on December 9, she expressed her concerns to Micaela: royalists “could
come [han de venir] and surround us from all over, Quiquijana, and the
hills; they know that the Inca is away and if we are not careful, they will
ambush us. I have been very pained by Don José’s tardiness; let’s hope
God brings him back safely and as soon as possible.”55 In another note
probably from the same day, she described the pressures she faced from a
possible royalist attack as well as from those within the rebel camp who
doubted her because of her gender: “I am so unfortunate [desfavorecida]
for being a woman.”56 Her fate became entwined with that of the two
rebel leaders she followed faithfully.
Fifty-five miles separated Micaela and Bishop Moscoso. They both
complained about the lack of news due to the turmoil and the great
danger messengers faced, and waited for, if not their saviors, at least
their military superiors: Tupac Amaru in the case of Micaela, and Vis-
itador Areche and Commander del Valle in that of the bishop. Moscoso
lamented that he could not find out anything about Tupac Amaru’s south-
ern campaign due to the “confusing chaos.” He bitterly noted that the
rebels controlled the Vilcanota Valley, the “throat of the viceroyalty,” but
also boasted of his own work. He planted spies in and around Cuzco
and sent troops to counter the rebels in Paucartambo. In letters to Lima,
he underlined the effectiveness of the excommunication and the import-
ant information he received from priests and their assistants that he had
kept in rebel territory.57 The bishop also described royalist efforts and
even victories in areas to the north and east of the city, the Sacred Val-
ley and Paucartambo essentially, and recruitment success just southwest
of Cuzco and Paruro, thus bordering on the rebel base. These sections of
his detailed letters to the viceroy and to the visitador in mid-December
were not hyperbolic bits of inflated good news that sought to whitewash
the generally miserable situation in the south. The royalists had made
important inroads in the north and the dividing line between the rebel
south and the royalist north, which ran roughly east to west somewhere
in between Tungasuca and Cuzco, would mark the rebellion and its re-
pression until the very end. This helps explain Bastidas’s and Moscoso’s
anxiety—each knew that the enemy’s base was a single day’s ride away.
Both sides took extraordinary measures to get letters and notes past
enemy sentinels and to monitor the other side’s activities. Noting fre-
quent ambushes and “interceptions,” Bishop Moscoso relied on the
priest of Ayaviri to carry messages to the south, assuming that a cleric
would not be searched as thoroughly.58 A December 7 letter from
Micaela Bastidas to two kurakas in the town of Maras never made it to
them. Authorities captured Ramón Gutiérrez with the letter.59 He told a
rich story at his trial.
A thirty-year-old field worker (labrador) from Urubamba in the
Sacred Valley, he had been working in Paucartambo but Indians from
the town of Qero took him to greet Tupac Amaru in Tungasuca. They
were disappointed to learn that the Inca was in the south, in Lampa, but
Micaela Bastidas thanked them for their support and asked Gutiérrez to
take the letter. She hid it, written on coarse cloth by a tall man with an
elegant sleeveless coat, presumably one of the European prisoners, in the
lining of his bag or chuspa, instructing him to take back roads to Maras
and not to go near Cuzco. She told him to tell the Indians not to worry,
that her husband sought only to get rid of corregidors and to destroy
obrajes. The Qero Indians stayed behind. Guards at the Urcos Bridge
searched him superficially and didn’t find the letter. Nonetheless, they
made him pay a bribe of four reales to pass the bridge. He couldn’t find
the kuraka to whom the letter was addressed, Lucas Nuñez de la Torre (a
very Spanish name), and gave it to the authority’s daughter. She found
her father and he quickly had Gutiérrez arrested and sent to Cuzco.
The prosecutors in Cuzco tried to get more information from him
about why Tupac Amaru was in Lampa and who was with the rebels
in Tungasuca but he did not have anything valuable. They gave him
the death sentence and rejected his appeal. Although the trial ends with
the sentence, he was presumably hanged as an “emissary of Tupac
Amaru.”60
 The Northern Front
While greatly concerned about Tupac Amaru’s advances in the south and
frustrated by the lack of information, Bishop Moscoso commented with
cautious satisfaction about events in Paucartambo and the Sacred Valley
in December. José Gabriel’s cousin, Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru, led
about six thousand followers into the region, Cuzco’s breadbasket (actu-
ally corn—and in Paucartambo, coca). They sought to separate the city
from this important agricultural area and eventually approach it from the
Sacred Valley, creating a pincer movement in tandem with Tupac Amaru
entering from the south. The rebels recruited in the high towns of Ocon-
gate, Caicay and Ccatca and then approached Pisac along the Vilcanota
River.
The royalists understood the significance of a rebel intrusion into a
productive region bordering Cuzco. Commanders particularly worried
that if the rebels proceeded to Abancay, they could cut Cuzco off from
Lima. On December 8, Cuzco sent troops to Paucartambo, led by Lorenzo
Pérez Lechuga and Francisco Celorio. The former was a veteran of
Spain’s wars in Italy.61 On December 20, aided by the kuraka of
Chinchero, Mateo Pumacahua, and his soldiers, royalists defeated Diego
Cristóbal’s forces near the Pisac Bridge. One priest counted 120 dead
rebels as well as many washed away by the Vilcanota River.62 The royal-
ists slaughtered everyone they captured. The rebels took refuge in Calca
and, according to several accounts, committed numerous atrocities,
“killing everyone who had a shirt.… Raping attractive women and then
killing them, and even raping the dead.” Witnesses also accused the rebels
of murdering children and profaning the Calca church.63 The “killing
all with shirts” reference means that the rebels attacked all Europeans,
broadly defined as those who wore shirts, that is, western dress.
Pumacahua (1740–1815) rose to the top of the royalist military com-
mand, recruiting thousands of Indians whom he commanded in numerous
victories. For generations his family had held the kuraka office in
Chinchero, a town built on a prominent Inca site on the peaks that separate
Cuzco and the Sacred Valley, renowned today for its dual Inca-colonial
architecture. While he never clarified the reasons why he opposed Tupac
Amaru so vehemently, he presumably saw the Tungasuca rebel leader as
a lowly kuraka with less prestige and capital than those of the Sacred Val-
ley and towns such as Chinchero.64 Just like the rebels they confronted,
Pumacahua’s indigenous soldiers knew the terrain well, moved great dis-
tances quickly, and employed hit-and-run tactics. Pumacahua proved to
be an invaluable ally to the royalists. Bishop Moscoso explained, “once
this highly faithful [fidelisimo] Indian knew about the wretched insur-
rection of Tupac Amaru, he charged through towns, executing with a
knife those who wouldn’t join him, burning their houses.… He armed his
people and after inspiring them” defended all of Chinchero and the Calca
y Lares district.65 On December 23, 1780, Pumacahua’s forces attacked
the rebels in Calca, killing hundreds and executing almost everyone they
captured.
Cuzco’s city council labeled this bloody defeat of the insurgents a
turning point, a “glorious triumph.” The victory raised morale among
troops and civilians and weakened the rebels. The city council’s account
claimed that the wretched events in Calca, the rebel atrocities, “showed
that Tupac Amaru’s intention was to exterminate all Spanish and mestizo
people, and so those people who might have followed him stopped doing
so, comforted by our union.”66 The widely reported events in Calca al-
lowed royalists to cast the rebels as bloodthirsty savages who would
eventually pursue all non-Indians. Royalists used this to drive a wedge
into the rebel coalition and to justify their own violence.
Battles took place even closer to Cuzco, increasing the anxiety of city
residents. On December 21, rebels confronted the royalists on the Chita
Pampa about ten miles northeast of the city, toward the Sacred Valley.
A battalion led by Francisco Laisequilla defeated them. Laisequilla re-
turned to Cuzco with twenty-five prisoners and four leaders’ heads on
pikes, parading them around the main plaza. One account called this
“very opportune … as the common people had never seen this and it en-
couraged the entire city.”67 Authorities hanged many of the prisoners.68
At this point, reinforcements from Anta and Abancay aided the royalists,
boosting city residents’ spirits.
Moscoso underlined the importance of this victory in a town, Chita
Pampa, so close to Cuzco that it forms the outskirts today, believing
that Indians in the “sub-urban towns” sympathized with the insurgents.
He also recognized several other aspects that made the defeat of the
rebels so important. Diego Cristóbal had to retrench in the hills above
the Sacred Valley, abandoning his plan to encircle the city of Cuzco from
the north. Bishop Moscoso stressed the need to protect the Apurimac
Bridge, near the town of Mollepata well to the east of Cuzco, and the
Calca Bridge and others that crossed the Urubamba River in the Sacred
Valley. December is the high point of the rainy season and the gush-
ing Apurímac and Urubamba Rivers pushed through narrow gorges. The
bridges, many of them dating from the Inca period, offered the only way
across in the rainy season. Bishop Moscoso worried that if the rebels
managed to take the bridges, they would proceed to the north, isolating
Cuzco. Moreover, troops from Lima would have to take a longer route
and their highly awaited arrival would be delayed. As one defender of
Bishop Moscoso put it, “if Calca and Yucay were lost, the Rebels would
have lots of grain and other food from the haciendas of that area. If they
holed up in Huailcabamba, four families could make that narrow pas-
sage impenetrable.”69 Moscoso also appreciated the support of northern
towns, particularly Anta and Abancay, that provided large, disciplined,
battalions led by kurakas. Building on this defeat of Diego Cristóbal
Tupac Amaru, royalists impeded any sort of rebel northern front.70
 Violence
The events in the Sacred Valley and the hills above it mark a change in
the use and understanding of violence by both sides. Although sources are
thin and one-sided (we do not have rebel accounts), each side slaughtered
the other and desecrated cadavers: the rebels raped cadavers and the roy-
alists paraded heads on pikes. Neither took prisoners. In the initial weeks
of the uprising, in contrast, rebels stormed into a town and ransacked es-
tates and mills, but did not pursue all Europeans or kill most prisoners.
Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas sought to prevent widespread viol-
ence and many people near the rebel center believed they could remain
neutral. By the middle of December, however, each side believed that the
other sought to exterminate and thus matched brutality with brutality. To
use an important term in the study of war and violence, restraints dimin-
ished or even disappeared.71 Neutrality was increasingly difficult.
The change can be explained partially by the passing of time and the
extension of the rebellion. Violence begets violence and Pumacahua’s
troops believed they were taking revenge for rebel atrocities; the rebels
probably had a similar justification or motivation. Furthermore, rebel vi-
olence increased or hardened as the uprising expanded geographically.
Miles away, Tupac Amaru, Micaela Bastidas, or other commanders had
little power to impede the distant rebels from slaying anyone of European
descent or culture, often in brutal fashion. As will be seen, the worst rebel
atrocities took place when no major rebel commander was present. Yet
the cruelty in late 1780 was not just a reflection of deepening hatred and
an expanding uprising; it also revealed a broadening ideological divide
between the two enemies. Each side defined the other as a vile nemesis
who needed to be exterminated.
As historian Jan Szeminski showed, rebels cast the Spaniards as bad or
evil Christians, whose actions placed them outside the church, and who
thus deserved a brutal death. At the same time, insurgents broadened the
definition of puka kunkas, thus unleashing violence against anyone with
European dress, the Spanish language, or other western cultural attrib-
utes. Whereas Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas differentiated between
good and bad Spaniards, more radical insurgents considered everyone of
European descent or culture as evil and thus a justifiable victim of violen-
ce.72
 Similarly, the burning of the Sangarará church and Tupac Amaru’s
excommunication allowed royalists to paint the rebels as non-Christians
or heretics. This validated cruel treatment such as that of Pumacahua to-
ward the victims of the Calca massacre. The Chinchero kuraka treated
all rebels as heathen excomulgados, and claimed that some of his Indian
followers, despite the cold and their hunger, would not touch the rebels’
clothing or food.73 In reality, the broadening of the definition of rebels
(or the enemy) as virtually any Indian who did not fight under a royalist
kuraka came not only from the exclusion of the rebel leaders from the
church but from the events of late 1780—the miserable news coming
from the Vilcanota Valley, the Collao, and the Sacred Valley. If Indians
sought to rid the viceroyalty of people of European descent, royalists
responded that they, in turn, needed to attack all Indians. Divisions
widened and brutal tactics became the norm; violence escalated in 1780.
The following year, 1781, would be worse.
 Terror in Cuzco
Tupac Amaru terrified Cuzco’s European population. A report from the
royalists’ headquarters in Cuzco (cuartel general) to Lima from Decem-
ber 22 complained that the rebels had cut off all communication and that
the city knew nothing about events stretching from Tungasuca into the
Collao. They had not seen any correspondence from Tupac Amaru in over
twenty days and, they correctly noted, Micaela Bastidas seemed to be in
charge of the rebel base. The writer worried that Tupac Amaru might be
in Chayanta (where the Katari brothers led a violent uprising), “reaching
an agreement with the Kataristas or infesting those provinces and light-
ing the flame of rebellion throughout the kingdom.” The writer noted that
Indians were better at trickery than open battle (“devemos temer más sus
engaños que sus fuerzas por la guerra”), which can be interpreted as a
jab at Indians’ mental capabilities or recognition of their guerrilla tactics.
The writer acknowledged that they were so uninformed about the rebel’s
whereabouts that he could even be in Cuzco, planning an attack.74 Resid-
ents of Cuzco felt surrounded.
A few days later, however, just before Christmas, they learned that
Tupac Amaru had returned to Tungasuca. City residents prepared for his
attack. The usually optimistic Bishop Moscoso gave several reasons for
additional concern. José Andia, an accountant with the city’s royal treas-
ury, had absconded with a great deal of money and prominent figures
such as the archdeacon Ximénez Villalva and another priest had fled the
city. The bishop also complained about rebel spies operating in the city.75
In the rebel camp, Tupac Amaru boasted about his successful trip to the
south. He had gained supporters and provisions, what the Spanish deemed
booty.76 After a month of uncertainty, when only ghastly rumors reached
Cuzco and both sides suffered from the near impossibility of getting their
messages and spies through the corridor between Cuzco and Puno, the
situation became much clearer. Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas were
about to lead an attack on the city of Cuzco.
 5

The Siege of Cuzco

COLONIAL CUZCO possessed all the signature elements of Spanish urban-

ism: a majestic cathedral, a spacious municipality, checkerboard design,
elegant housing for the powerful, and prominent shops. And this was
just the main plaza. The Spanish built their city on top of the Inca
capital, believing that Catholic churches put the Incas’ “sites of heresy”
to shame and that their palaces outdid those of the Inca rulers. Their ma-
sons—almost always Indians—added brick or adobe walls and elabor-
ate roofs to preexisting Inca buildings or built more European-looking
structures from the ground up. In the eighteenth century as well as today,
astounding monuments from both cultures stood side by side. Inca walls,
mass blocks of granite crafted to fit together snugly without any type of
caulking, lined streets and alleyways.1
From some perspectives, Inca and Spanish architecture meshed togeth-
er nicely, highlighting the imperial vision and technical skills of both. For
example, both the Inca fortress that towers above the city and the impos-
ing Jesuit Church, La Compañía, receive awed compliments from visit-
ors past and present. From other viewpoints, however, these two styles
clashed glaringly, bringing to light opposing aesthetics (simple stone
versus intricate Baroque) and the brutal power struggles behind the archi-
tecture. This ambiguous duality served as a metaphor for social and polit-
ical relations. In the colonial period, Cuzco could seem like a flourish-
ing bilingual and bicultural center where people knew and accepted their
place and Spanish rule thrived; in other moments or from other points of
view, the strains of colonialism and its cornerstone in the Andes, the op-
pression of the Indian masses, surged to the surface and tensions spread.
December 1780 was such a time.
The Incas built Cuzco (or Qosqo) alongside the Huatanay River, in a
bowl surrounded on three sides by steep hills and ravines, which opens
to the southeast toward the sacred Ausangate glacier and Tupac Amaru’s
Vilcanota Valley. In late 1780, Cuzco was both a Spanish and Inca center.
It was Peru’s second city, with a population of thirty thousand people
compared to Lima’s fifty thousand. The upper classes consisted of des-
cendants of the conquistadors but also those of different waves of Span-
ish immigrants. But it was still also an Inca city. Quechua was as com-
mon as Spanish—even many members of the upper classes who flaunted
their European lineage spoke the Inca language. Quechua-speaking Indi-
ans and mestizos constituted three-quarters of the city’s population and
at any time Cuzco also hosted thousands of campesinos bringing their
wares to sell or seeking short-term employment. Indians throughout Peru
venerated Cuzco, seeing it as the Inca capital. Here, in the final days
of 1780, the city’s population believed that the long-awaited attack by
Tupac Amaru—dreaded by some, anxiously awaited by others—was at
hand. Everyone understood the importance of Cuzco.2
Tupac Amaru’s return to Tungasuca in mid-December signaled that
such an attack on the city of Cuzco was imminent. Micaela Bastidas and
other rebel leaders understood his southern sojourn as a delay, a loss
of valuable time. City residents, in contrast, had hoped that he would
be defeated in the Collao or that he would extend his campaign into
La Paz and Potosí rather than Peru’s second city, less than sixty miles
from his base. They wanted him away from the city of Cuzco for as
long as possible. While his expedition gave the city’s residents a month
to fortify their defenses, it also provided time for rumors and anxiety
to spread. Well-to-do city residents despaired that Indian barbarians, as
they saw the rebels, would pillage and rape or that the insurgents would
siege the city for months, depriving them of food and water. They looked
nervously at the Indians and mestizos who constituted the city’s ma-
jority. Would the lower ranks join the rebels, supporting the incursion
and perhaps looting and wreaking havoc? They also wondered whether
their neighbors would flee the city or surrender quickly. The city’s upper
crust, authorities, and many more dreaded the arrival of the insurgents.
 Preparations
The war council in Cuzco recognized on December 23 that “he wants
to invade this city” and prepared for an attack.3 By this point, “he” or
“the rebel” referred to Tupac Amaru. The council could keep track of
events in the nearby Vilcanota Valley much more easily than in the dis-
tant Collao. On December 24, it informed Viceroy Jáuregui that a cleric
who had been in Tinta told them that Tupac Amaru planned to attack
around Christmas. He also reported the grim news that the rebel leader
had been well received in Lampa and Azángaro, “whose corregidors and
white citizens [vecinos blancos] have fled to Chucuito.”4 The city coun-
cil and the war council set up headquarters in what had been the Jesuit
College on the corner of the Plaza de Armas until this order’s expulsion
in 1767. They organized patrols, especially at night, and formed six mi-
litia companies. Fearing that the “iniquitous traitor” hoped to recruit its
members, they kept a close eye on the company made up of noble In-
dians. Authorities purchased or requisitioned weapons and ammunition,
and commanded people to place rocks on their balconies to hurl at rebels.
Priests used church towers as sentinel posts.5 Bishop Moscoso instruc-
ted the Dominican priests of Santo Domingo to defend the Santa Catalina
convent if he rang the main bell of the cathedral five times. He deemed
an attack “certain,” but admitted that he did not know the rebel’s exact
intentions.6 City residents shared the bishop’s prognosis—they believed
that the rebels would soon attack, but could not predict the specifics.
Clerics and students received military training. The sight of priests
marching with a purple flag that the bishop had purchased reportedly
boosted morale, especially among the city’s “plebes.”7 The bishop also
spearheaded efforts to raise funds to buy or make arms and outfit the mi-
litias, collecting the considerable quantity of 110,881 pesos in November
and December. He leaned especially hard on the cash-rich monasteries.8
In their 1784 report, members of the city council boasted about their ef-
forts to prepare for an attack. Visitador Areche, however, grumbled in a
December 22 letter about the city council’s inefficiency and soon departed
for Cuzco. Authorities in Lima agreed that the war council in Cuzco was
not doing enough and needed commanders, soldiers, and other support to
confront the uprising.9
 The war council feared internal traitors and forbade anyone from
leaving the city in the days before the rebel army’s arrival. They worried
that the enemy would gain information about the city’s defenses or that
a mass exodus might take place and facilitate an invasion.10 Fear even
affected the religious calendar. The Bishop held Christmas Mass at sun-
set rather than the customary midnight because “such a gathering could
turn into a riot.”11 At the same time that authorities took measures to
make sure that the city’s residents resisted an invasion or siege, they re-
ceived distressing news from the south. On December 19, Father Ignacio
de Santisteban Ruiz Cano wrote from Chamaca, in the upper provinces
to the southwest of Tungasuca, that he needed reinforcements, as Indians
merely laughed at his exhortations to remain loyal. Those of his town as
well as nearby Velille were joining the rebels: “They already consider
that damned Indian [Tupac Amaru] sovereign.” In an unusual display of
blunt frustration, he closed by noting that if he had twenty-five men on
his side, he would burn Chamaca to the ground, “as an example to every-
one and to show that the voice of our King was not completely asleep
amidst these barbarians.”12 Panic began to take hold among the city’s
powerful: a mass rebel army was on the way, royalist priests could no
longer control their towns, and a significant number of the city’s resid-
ents might very well welcome the rebels.
The story of a courageous or foolish team of merchants illuminates
events and the mood at rebel base. On November 15, Agustín Herrera
and María Santos de Valencia, husband and wife, loaded their mules with
over two hundred gallons of wine and left Arequipa to sell their goods in
Cuzco.13 For centuries merchants supplied the highlands with Arequipa
wine and spirits, much of it produced in the Majes Valley. Today, a popu-
lar dance in Cuzco’s countless patron saint festivals commemorates these
traders, the majeños.14 The couple had bravely ventured into Tungasuca
to request a pass from the rebels and, successful, had reached Cuzco on
December 2 or 3. On their return weeks later, insurgent sentinels had
taken them again to Tungasuca to find out whether to allow them to con-
tinue. The rebel leaders chatted with them amicably and were surpris-
ingly open about their plans. When Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas
asked about defense efforts in Cuzco, Herrera and his wife told them that
five thousand soldiers as well as weapons had reached the city, an exag-
geration, and more were on their way. Tupac Amaru snickered and said,
“I wish there were even more people in Cuzco so I could capture all of
them and their weapons … this only makes me braver.”15 He confided
that although he didn’t have the date for the attack set, he and his people
preferred Saturday, as they had always succeeded on that day of the week
and he had great faith in the Virgin Mary, venerated on Saturdays.16 He
mentioned that he thought that the viceroy was in Cuzco, which pleased
him; it was better “to start with the head.” Viceroy Jáuregui had not left
Lima. This bravado might have reflected Tupac Amaru’s confidence or
have been intended to boost morale. It very well could have been both:
the rebel leader believed that he could take Cuzco but understood that he
would need the commitment of his troops and support from the towns in
the approach to Cuzco as well as sectors of the city itself.17
Tupac Amaru and Micaela gave the traveling couple a poncho and
silk stockings as parting gifts and asked that they place a lampoon about
the uprising in a corner of Arequipa’s main plaza. Laughing, Tupac
Amaru told them that he didn’t want to kill anyone but just wanted to
spare Indians from Spaniards’ demands. He noted that Indians worked
so hard to pay for the reparto and taxes that they “don’t even learn how
to pray.”18 The rebel leader promised to “take a tour” [dar un paseo]
at some point to Arequipa to learn about events there.19 The couple
handed over the lampoon to authorities upon arrival in Arequipa. San-
tos de Valencia reported that Tupac Amaru’s plan was to cut off food
and water for eight days if Cuzco didn’t surrender. If that didn’t work,
he’d burn the city. Another member of their party pointed out that some
people in Tupac Amaru’s camp, including a Bethlemite priest, disclosed
that they had been forced to participate. One priest, “don Justo,” [Father
Justo Gallegos] told him that once the rebels left, the people of the small
town of Layo “would turn their backs on and isolate the rebel.” They had
only feigned support because of coercion.20 Their testimonies portray a
confident leader facing possible discontent in his ranks.
 Rebels in the Hills
Hurried by Micaela and by the prospect of troops arriving not only from
Lima but also Buenos Aires, Tupac Amaru led the rebels out of Tungasuca
on December 20.21 One account calculates that forty thousand followers
joined him, a seemingly high estimate.22 These numbers included fam-
ily members and other supporters—above all women who set up camp,
searched for kindling and additional food, and cooked.23 Royalists sent
troops to Angostura, the gateway to Cuzco from the Vilcanota Valley.
They knew that Tupac Amaru wanted to proceed to the important towns
just outside of Cuzco, San Jerónimo and San Sebastián, and take the Inca
fortress of Sacsayhuaman, which looms over Cuzco from the north. Tupac
Amaru and most of his troops avoided the enemy by taking a less direct
route across the towering mountain peaks to the south of the Vilcanota
Valley, from Colcaqui to Ocoruro. Carrying light loads and accustomed to
the steep topography of the area, the rebel forces scurried up and down
these hills and mountains, so steep that up until today they have resisted
the spread of urbanization. The rebels avoided towns such as Andahuay-
lillas and Oropesa and used gunfire as signals. Despite their numbers, the
insurgents moved quickly and silently. Once they reached Cuzco, they
turned up their volume by shouting, singing, playing drums, and setting
off fireworks and guns. They succeeded in intimidating all who saw or
heard them. Antonio Castelo took a smaller group through the valley,
ransacking haciendas as he proceeded. Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru re-
turned to the Sacred Valley, with the intention of attacking the city from
the north.
The Siege of Cuzco

The approach to Cuzco did not go well for the rebels. Tupac Amaru
had expected to recruit widely but failed, primarily because he did not
come into contact with as many Indians as he expected. Not only did the
bulk of his forces skirt the Vilcanota Valley, where the larger towns were
found, but authorities had brought kurakas from nearby towns into the
city—either as volunteers or conscripts—making it impossible for these
ethnic authorities to pass over to the rebels with hundreds of followers.24
Unlike the areas near Tinta and in the Collao, Indians and other locals
did not join the rebel side en masse when Tupac Amaru arrived. They did
not enlist either because they couldn’t—their kurakas or other authorit-
ies prevented them—or didn’t want to. As the following weeks would
reveal, most Indians in and around Cuzco remained loyal.
The rebels not only had difficulty adding troops but also began to
lose some of them. In a December 30 letter from the outskirts of Cuzco,
Tupac Amaru instructed Father José de Maruri, a supporter, to tell his
commissioners and kurakas in Azángaro to send “Indians, mestizos, and
Spaniards” who had been convoked for his newest campaign.25 The next
day, December 31, he commanded a rebel authority back at the base to
take “the most energetic measures so that the Indians who maliciously
stayed behind in Pampamarca and Surimana be brought to me as prison-
ers for disobedience, and please bring a list of them without losing any
time.”26 Some Indians from his home base had failed to join him.
In the final days of December, Tupac Amaru mystified the royalists
by not sending forces to the north, where commander Gabriel de Avilés
approached the city. The rebels perhaps could have routed the tired and
outnumbered royalists, exhausted from the long journey from Lima.
Bishop Moscoso considered this a godsend, or at least a terrible tactical
error, and noted how the arrival of the Spanish commander and his mu-
latto militiamen on January 1 raised the spirits of the city.27 Perhaps
Tupac Amaru did not have reliable intelligence about Avilés’s arrival or
feared losing a direct confrontation with Avilés’s well-armed and discip-
lined troops. Above all, it seems that Tupac Amaru envisioned entering
the Inca capital triumphantly, with a few skirmishes but no major battles.
It would not be so easy.
Good news continued for the royalists after Avilés’s arrival. The in-
surgents had sent Antonio Castelo with a smaller contingent along the
Camino Real through the Vilcanota Valley in order to recruit, attack roy-
alist forces, ransack haciendas, and surround the city from the north. He
might also have been a diversion, allowing the bulk of the rebels to move
quickly through the hills. The priest of Urcos alerted Cuzco of Caste-
lo’s route, however, and on the evening of January 2, the cavalry led
by Joaquín de Valcárcel and Francisco Laisequilla demolished Castelo’s
forces in the town of Saylla, killing four hundred rebels and taking a flag
with Tupac Amaru’s coat of arms. The royalists took advantage of their
horses and slaughtered the rebels, who had little place to hide or flee in
this wide valley. Bishop Moscoso noted that many of the victims had
been important members of the rebellion, so powerful or affluent that
they slept in tents.28 He mentioned that some royalist Indians would not
touch the dead rebels or their belongings because they were “excomul-
gados.”29 One partisan gleefully noted that the small number of rebel
survivors took to the hills, “possessed of a great fear.”30 Castelo and his
extensive family would soon betray the rebels. The fact that he escaped
led some historians to believe that his treachery might have begun with
this battle.31
More bad news came from the north, where Diego Cristóbal Tupac
Amaru failed to open a second front. He proceeded from Catca to Pisac,
planning to attack Cuzco from the Sacred Valley. Royalists stopped him
in Huayllabamba and, this time led by Pumacahua, in Yucay. Diego
Cristóbal could not break through royalist forces on the all-important
Urubamba Bridge. Tupac Amaru was forced to send him reinforcements
but to no avail.32 The battle for Cuzco came down to the tens of thou-
sands of rebels camped south of Cuzco versus the royalist forces, milit-
ary, religious, and civilian, preparing in the city and arriving from Lima.
The approach to Cuzco had not been the triumphant climax of the 1780
fighting that Tupac Amaru had envisioned. His troops had not been able
to march into the city unscathed and Indians near the city had not passed
over to the rebels en masse.
 Rhetoric above the City
In the final days of December, residents of the city of Cuzco could see
thousands of troops amassing on the hills to the south and west. Some
reacted to the troop buildup with terror, others with nervous anticipa-
tion or even delight. People tried to hide their valuables, shelter women
and children, and store food and water. Those who attempted to leave
the city encountered sentinels barring their way. An epic battle seemed
about to begin. Yet Tupac Amaru’s forces did not immediately plunge
into the city or push toward the arriving Spaniards in the plains or pam-
pas to the north. Instead, the rebel leader wrote detailed letters to Bish-
op Moscoso, the people of Cuzco, and the city council, announcing his
plans and requesting permission to take the city. He sent the letters to
the junta’s general headquarters with three of his distinguished prison-
ers: Bernardo de la Madrid, Father Ildefonso Bejarano, and the Franciscan
friar Domingo Castro, all of whom quickly passed over to the royalists.
The bishop received the letters with shock and indignation; the city coun-
cil deemed the letters pretentious and “ridiculous.”33 Critics maintained
that Tupac Amaru lost valuable time with the correspondence, allowing
Avilés’s forces to arrive and the city to prepare. The letters themselves are
an interesting entryway into his plans and mindset.
In a cover letter included with the longer note to the bishop, Tupac
Amaru complained that Moscoso had not answered his previous corres-
pondence and requested that he post these new communications in pub-
lic places. He demanded that the bishop answer him, in coordination with
the cathedral chapter, within twelve hours.34 In the letter, Tupac Amaru
stressed his religiosity and respect for the Catholic Church and loyalty
to the king. He explained that he targeted corregidors, customs houses,
and other “abuses,” having tired of waiting for someone else to defend
his people from “theft, homicides, and insults.” He labeled the grow-
ing wave of exploitation in recent years, “a second Pizarro,” [Francisco
Pizarro, 147?–1541, the conquistador of the Incan Empire and founder of
Lima], a curious phrase as modern historians have labeled the Bourbon
Reforms “the second conquest.”35 Tupac Amaru reassured Moscoso that
the bishop—as well as the monasteries, convents, and churches that he
oversaw—had no need for concern with the uprising. In fact, once the up-
rising achieved the abolition of Indians’ taxes, the destruction of customs
houses, and a pardon for his actions, Tupac Amaru promised “to retire
to a Thebes, requesting compassion.” He closed by asking the bishop to
send him the necessary titles and papers for such radical changes, with
no apparent sense of irony.36
In his letter to the city council, Tupac Amaru emphasized that in his
struggle “against Indian slavery” he sought to avoid “deaths and hostil-
ities” but that they, the city leaders, had been executing people, hanging
them without proper confession, and committing other atrocities. He re-
ferred to the recent bloody repression in Calca and Chita. He threatened
that if they did not allow him to enter the city peacefully, he would have
to do so with “fire and blood.” The rebel leader requested that the cab-
ildo turn over their weapons and deemed his struggle a “defensive war.”
He also pointed out that the fact that he was the last royal Inca (“la mia es
la única que ha quedado de la sangre real de los Incas”) had motivated
him. His letter resembled a modern public relations campaign in which
he attempted to cast his opponents as the aggressor. As was the case with
his efforts to overturn his excommunication, he had little chance to con-
vince others. Authorities, of course, did not disseminate his letters and
maintained the upper hand in communications.
Tupac Amaru continued: bad authorities so exploited Indians, “sup-
pressing and dismissing the king’s dispositions,” that his people could
not even know the true God, and did little more than enrich the corre-
gidor and priests through “their sweat and work.”37 He vaguely noted
that once he got rid of the repartimiento and other Spanish institutions,
he would place one Indian and someone of “good consciousness” as
mayor [alcalde mayor] in each province. This person would be in charge
of justice and the Christian training of the Indians and would only
receive a modest salary. He ended by underlining that despite these
changes, the king of Spain would continue to rule.38
He began his letter to his “beloved compatriots” by emphasizing his
Inca heritage: “Don José Gabriel Tupac Amaro Inca, by the grace of God
descendent of the kings and natural lords of the kingdoms of Peru, prin-
cipal branch.” He pointed out that some people had been misrepresent-
ing his plans, casting him as an enemy of their “conservation and free-
dom.” He sought, to the contrary, the abolition of unjust taxes imposed
by corregidors and others. While he “ought to take extraordinary meas-
ures against these people” who had misrepresented his project, as well
as those who had hanged and dragged his partisans behind horses, he
offered to pardon them if they turned themselves in with their weapons.
The rebel leader underlined the brutality of recent battles in the Sacred
Valley. He demanded that this letter be posted.39 All three letters were
dated January 3, 1781, from the Ocoruro base. Royalists, of course, did
not post them for public viewing.
In an effort to maintain as broad a coalition as possible, the three
letters defined his enemies narrowly—Spaniards and corregidors—and
stressed his Christian piety and loyalty to the king. He presented himself
as an avenger of Spanish abuses and excesses, one who had not expected
or sought this role and who planned to slip away once he accomplished
his objectives. He also highlighted his Inca bloodlines.40 The letters
can be understood several ways. Recipients in Cuzco saw them as out-
rageously pretentious and ridiculous statements that showed that Tupac
Amaru had no sense of reality.
Whereas the recipients ridiculed the letters, subsequent analysts be-
lieved that they provide insight into his ideas and plans—although Tupac
Amaru wrote a great deal, he did not produce a program. They indicate
his efforts to maintain or gain the support of middling mestizos and
creoles and, perhaps, his confidence that the city would rise up and sup-
port him. They can be seen as strategic feelers to evaluate his support, a
sign that Tupac Amaru wanted to take the city without bloodshed. Com-
manders encircling cities traditionally provided authorities a last chance
to surrender and to avoid sacking.41 Most analysts, however, have seen
them as a curious but significant waste of time. In writing, sending, and
waiting for a reply, Tupac Amaru squandered several days, allowing city
authorities to prepare and for Avilés’s troops to arrive.
 Quills on the Hills
On January 4, Tupac Amaru moved his forces from Ocoruro to Kayra, the
ridge south of the city. He expected sympathizers to rush forward from
Cuzco and its outlying areas to join him, but this did not happen. Instead,
royalists attacked him that very day and he continued to skirt the city,
moving toward the western peaks above the city, the Puquín hill.42 Today,
the train for Machu Picchu slowly zigzags up these slopes, the steep in-
cline forcing it to amble slower than those who walk next to the tracks.
People continue to build on all of the hills surrounding the city. The bowl-
like ravines that mark the western hills like pockmarks, however, have
proven too steep and too prone to landslides for any type of construction,
providing a bit of open space. Tens of thousands of rebels converged on
these western bluffs. Rebels and royalists clashed in this difficult terrain.
On January 6, members of the recently arrived mulatto militia charged
up the slippery hill toward Puquín, confident in their firepower and the
element of surprise. Rebels repelled them with their muskets and motley
collection of arms, rushing down the hill to finish them off with sticks and
rocks. Fifteen mulattoes died in the first attempt and twenty-five more in
a second, including Captain Francisco Cisneros. The rebels insulted the
Lima troops in Quechua, which the troops did not understand. Blood ran
in the muddy streets of Cuzco. Bishop Moscoso claimed that these new-
comers from Lima did not know the terrain and lacked backup due to the
indolence of royalist commanders.43 A ravine separates the steep Puquín
hill from the city, making it difficult for either side to charge. The teeming
rain worsened conditions and the mood.
The sight of the flag-carrying rebels perched on the western bluffs pet-
rified city residents. One person stated that the hills looked like a massive
“porcupine back,” with forty thousand rebels serving as the quills.44 If
this number was correct, the rebel camp outnumbered the city itself. The
viceroy subsequently calculated twenty thousand, primarily Indian volun-
teers along with eight hundred Spaniards and mestizos, “most of them
coerced.” Understanding that desertions had already diminished rebel
forces, he thought that the insurgent leaders would have difficulty con-
trolling the undisciplined Indian masses.45 Tupac Amaru wrote that he
counted on sixty thousand Indians and six thousand Spanish soldiers.46
Although these calculations never provide details, they include women
and other camp followers who prepared food and set up camp but only
fought in extreme circumstances.47 With the scary spectacle of tens of
thousands of rebels just above the city and the failure of the mulatto
battalion in the first skirmish, panic and pessimism spread among the
city’s royalist population. People prepared for the rebel masses to take
the city in the coming days. They nervously checked their provisions and
wondered whether they could flee.
Yet this initial victory over the Lima mulattoes was the last for Tupac
Amaru. In the coming days, his troops sought to take control of the
northern entrances into the city and, above all, to occupy the former
Inca capital that stretched below them. They failed on both fronts. While
the arrival of the Lima troops boosted royalist morale, desperation also
prompted them to defend the city energetically and efficiently. Avilés’s
troops guarded the city center and used their artillery to halt rebel ad-
vances. Although the muskets and fusils often backfired, they intimid-
ated the rebels, who relied on lances, slings, and knives. In this period,
gunshot wounds almost invariably killed, although not immediately. In-
dian troops from Chinchero led by Pumacahua and from Anta led by kur-
aka Nicolás Rosas thwarted rebel efforts to take the northern entryways.
Small groups of rebels pushed into the city, scrambling to attack isol-
ated royalist soldiers. They tested the defenders’ resolve. Some grabbed
supplies, defaced buildings, and even looted. These insurgents had dif-
ferent fates: some returned to rebel camp to describe the situation and
their own deeds, while others abandoned the rebels and sought to blend
in among the city’s heterogeneous population or turned themselves in to
commanders. Others were not so fortunate. Royalists shot them or sur-
rounded them and then executed them. Residents watched these street
fights with apprehension, cheering from the safety of their balconies
when soldiers captured rebels.
One account claimed that everyone in the city, “from the nobility to
the plebeians,” collaborated. This writer tabulated that royalists counted
on two thousand soldiers, as well as an unspecified number of Indians
from Anta, Chinchero, and Maras and the support of civilians and mem-
bers of the church.48 On January 8, the corregidor of Paruro, Manuel
de Castillo, arrived with eight thousand reinforcements, primarily Indi-
ans. They attacked the rebels from their flanks and rear.49 If the rebels
moved too close to the city, royalists attacked their rearguard. But the
city’s unity should not be exaggerated. Bishop Moscoso, for example,
complained bitterly about people fleeing Cuzco.50
Skirmishes continued in the ravine that separated Puquín from the
city, as small rebel groups sought to break the royalist lines. Women
threw ash to blind the marauding insurgents and brought food and sup-
plies up hill to soldiers. Priests took up arms and summoned everyone
to join in the city’s defense, appealing to numerous saints. One friar
recalled how “moved by celestial impulse,” he left his monastery and
charged uphill toward the rebels, summoning the Virgin Mary and invok-
ing the king. A mob of children, merchants, men of all stations, and wo-
men followed him, armed with sticks, rocks, and any other weapon they
could find. He confronted the rebels and attended the wounded.51 Bish-
op Moscoso surveyed the western front on a mule, coming within two
blocks of the rebel forces according to one sympathetic account. Another
writer claimed that the bishop, despite believing that the rebels “wanted
his head first,” approached the enemy cannons and dared the gunners to
blast him.52
The city, including the Quechua-speaking lower classes, put up a
greater fight than Tupac Amaru expected. Through coercion and persua-
sion, royalists managed to prevent the urban masses from joining the
rebels. One writer claimed that “the mob, the dregs of the plebes, feeble
women, made up the bulk of the antirebel resistance.”53 Authorities had
clamped down on Indians in the outskirts of the city and the indigenous
and mestizo masses in the city had not risen. Authorities watched them
closely and terrified them with stories of the bloodthirsty nature of the
rebels and the horrific consequences for those who disobeyed and sup-
ported the rebels. The parading of rebel heads on pikes after the recent
battles in the Sacred Valley and Chita Pampa had discouraged many. Pro-
paganda efforts that cast Tupac Amaru as a heathen whose movement
would kill all non-Indians—a view supported by events in late Novem-
ber and December, at least as understood in Cuzco—helped impede the
multracial alliance he sought and the support from the city he needed.
To Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas’s great disappointment, Cuzco’s
lower classes did not massively pass over to the rebels.
 Micaela blamed priests. In a letter to her husband from late January,
she explained that “the common people were about to pass to our side,
but the sermons by several priests dissuaded them.”54 She also claimed
that Bishop Moscoso was on his way to negotiate with the rebel leaders
when priests convinced him that he could be shot and killed. She argued
that people had told the bishop “countless falsehoods” about Tupac
Amaru, particularly that he was going to burn the city down. These ru-
mors encouraged Moscoso to enlist “all priests to arm themselves” and
nuns to leave the monasteries.55 Moscoso’s supporters later contested the
view that he had been conciliatory, stressing instead his fervent and ef-
fective military measures. What is beyond doubt is that priests led by
Bishop Moscoso helped convince the city’s masses to reject the rebels.
The royalists benefitted from traitors in the rebel camp. Juan Antonio
Figueroa, a Galician taken prisoner in Tungasuca, was in charge of the
insurgents’ dozen or so rustic cannons and their artillery. Most of the
cannons, pedreros, had been made quickly and poorly in Tinta.56 He
aimed the cannons, a brutally effective weapon when fired from a hill-
side against a cluster of people, high and off target and also sabotaged
their ammunition. He dumped some ammunition into a stream, claiming
that the rain had damaged it.57 Another prisoner, Bernardo de la Mad-
rid, had gained the rebel leaders’ trust. They sent him in the midst of
the siege of Cuzco to negotiate with the royalists. The city’s authorities
met him with great joy—most thought him dead—and de la Madrid had
no trouble convincing them that that he had been a captive and had es-
caped at the first opportunity. In his account, he claimed that a few days
later, on January 8, he charged to the front line to take thirty-five shots at
the rebels. Prosecutors did not charge him.58 Tupac Amaru and Micaela
Bastidas’s misgiving about these European “allies” proved correct.
The rebels suffered in the miserable conditions in their camp and dis-
sent grew. The cold rain made for very uncomfortable days and espe-
cially nights for the rebels, most of whom did not have any sort of cov-
er besides their ponchos. The two sides clashed in bloody hand-to-hand
combat and the guns and cannons added to the carnage. Tupac Amaru
and many of his supporters recognized that the mass uprising from with-
in the city that he expected and needed was not going to take place and
that taking the former Inca capital might require weeks of fighting. The
nebulous group of creole supporters he believed he counted on in the city
abandoned him, if they ever supported him. Pessimism spread among the
rebels. Many slipped away the night of January 6, exhausted, frightened,
and dubious about Tupac Amaru’s leadership or invincibility.
Confrontations continued after the January 6 desertions, with roy-
alists enjoying the advantage of access to the city center to gather
food, ammunition, and reinforcements. Rebel supplies, including food,
dwindled. On January 7, the rebels shelled the city with their meager
artillery and confronted the royalists on their flanks. One contemporary
wrote in his diary that with this strategy the rebel leader hoped to con-
vince the urban plebes, many of whom lived on the western outskirts
of town, to join him. They did not.59 Tupac Amaru held his ground
around Puquín, pushing toward the higher Picchu peak with little suc-
cess. Picchu means mountain or peak in Quechua—Machu Picchu is the
“old mountain.” The fact that many Indians fought at the front lines for
the royalists discouraged Tupac Amaru, refuting his belief that he could
count on their support. Instead, he realized that he could only take the
city over their dead bodies. He also lacked money to pay his soldiers and
to purchase food, if he had found any for sale. The hills and ravine that
he controlled did not have any harvestable food and the rebels quickly
ran low on supplies.
Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas understood the centrality of pro-
visions. On December 29, he demanded that Eugenio Sinanyuca send
“cows, sheep, and other products from the Collao as well as any remain-
ing cheese, wine, and other provisions.” He instructed Sinanyuca to send
any wine or aguardiente that the majeño merchants brought, as well as
food that arrived from Chumbivilcas in the upper provinces.60 Tupac
Amaru knew that without provisions, particularly food, they would lose.
By early January, his abundant troops had no doubt consumed almost all
the supplies they had left camp with more than a week earlier. Although
Castelo’s group had ransacked numerous haciendas en route to Cuzco,
the entire Tupac Amaru contingent had met more resistance than they
expected and plundered less food than they planned. Once in Puquín, the
women in charge of collecting food and firewood had to risk their lives
and venture farther and farther from camp. Little food grew in the hills
and ravines on the outskirts of the city. Potatoes, the Andean staple, were
not yet ready for harvest and firewood and brush were always scarce at
ten thousand feet above sea level. The rich yellow and purple corn that
flourished in the Sacred Valley or the quinoa and kiwicha found in the
higher elevation zones lay tantalizingly beyond the rebels’ reach. The
rebels could see the city’s markets (merchants continued to enter from
the east) but to their great frustration could not reach them.
On January 8, rebels peppered the city with cannon fire but failed to
gain any ground. The vast majority of rebels remained on or around the
Puquín hill, their supplies diminishing, hunger and dissent growing. In
contrast, the arrival of the reinforcements from Paruro that day buoyed
royalist spirits. A friar from the Dominican order shocked observers
and heartened (or at least amused) Spanish commanders by shooting at
the rebels from behind a boulder. Volunteers joined the well-disciplined
Lima forces in increasing numbers. Bishop Moscoso credited Figueroa’s
sabotaging of the cannons for saving the day, lamenting, however, that
over sixty royalists were injured and “some dead.”61
On the 9th, Tupac Amaru sent another letter to the city council, with
Francisco Bernales, whom he had captured in Sangarará. He claimed that
rebel forces were on the offensive and threatened that his Indians were
about to take the city at any cost, “ruining it and leaving it in ashes.” He
contended that he could not control them and it was up to the city coun-
cil to surrender and avoid a bloodbath. Tupac Amaru was bluffing, as the
royalists had the upper hand at this point. He closed by mentioning that
he knew that authorities were considering the abolition of the reparto and
the alcabala sales tax. He supported these measures, pointing out that
mestizos and Spaniards would “gladly” make up the money lost in tax
revenues. The proof lay in the fact that “a high number of them are under
my orders, on their own free will.”62 The city council never replied.
On January 10, royalist forces pushed into his lines, driving them
back. One account claimed five thousand dead rebels, an exaggeration
that nonetheless confirms that this was not the hit-and-run confrontations
of the previous days but a full-scale battle, ending in a royalist victory.
Two observers describe Tupac Amaru desperately whipping his soldiers,
ordering them to fight. Nonetheless, “they rebelled against him, treating
him as a fraud, especially the Tinta Indians.”63 Many deserted, believing
the struggle lost and hoping to avoid the repression they assumed would
ensue. On the foggy morning of January 11, the royalists awoke to see
that the rebels had fled the evening before. They charged the rearguard,
capturing a few stragglers and seizing some animals and Tupac Amaru’s
bed. It had a silk headboard and a golden base, and apparently had be-
longed to Corregidor Arriaga.64 The incessant rain had bedeviled the In-
dians but facilitated their flight, as royalists could not track them and
slipped in the muddy slopes. Prisoners who had escaped from Tupac
Amaru told one commander that the enemy was “broken” (deshecho).65
Bishop Moscoso described with great satisfaction “the enormous deser-
tions” among rebel troops, but also chided the royalist commanders for
not attacking at this point and allowing the rebels to regroup in Yana-
cocha.66 Nonetheless, the insurgents could not mount another offensive
and Tupac Amaru would only return to Cuzco three months later, in a
very different context.
Scholars and others have long debated why Tupac Amaru did not take
Cuzco. Many question his timing, arguing that he should have attacked
in November, rather than shore up forces in the south. Others wonder
why he did not move more quickly in December. If he had attacked prior
to Christmas, he could have taken the city before Avilés and his mulatto
militiamen reached it. Perhaps he took his time because he still hoped
for Diego Cristóbal to push from the north and distract the royalists. The
more relevant question is why he failed to take Cuzco when he surroun-
ded it with tens of thousands of rebels in late 1780.
One highly critical review from late January 1781 gave four reasons:
the rebel leadership lacked food and money; the city was well supplied
with soldiers and supplies and also counted on formidable defensive po-
sitions; Tupac Amaru lost confidence and increasingly believed that tak-
ing the city “seemed impossible”; and “people are abandoning him since
they see he can’t even offer a salary to survive on.”67 Generally sympath-
etic to Tupac Amaru, most historians have stressed his ultimately naïve
belief that the city would capitulate and his refusal to win by slaughter-
ing thousands of Indians. According to these accounts, he delayed and
finally decided not to push into the city because he understood that a
victory was only possible at the cost of the lives of thousands of In-
dians, rebels, and royalists.68 Contemporaries found other explanations.
One 1781 account, while mentioning rebel desertions, the lack of support
from the city’s lower classes, and Diego Cristóbal’s failure to arrive, ulti-
mately credited Our Lady of the Rosary, whom “the people had invoked
after every sound of gunfire with an Ave Maria.” The annual Our Lady
of the Rosary feast commemorates the Christian victory, that of the Holy
League, against the Ottoman Empire in Lepanto in 1571. Some attrib-
uted the victory, which impeded further Muslim excursions into Europe,
to persistent praying of the rosary. Many Cuzco residents also felt that,
similarly, they had miraculously defeated the heathen hordes.69
These are important explanations and the timing question continues
to prompt fascinating counterfactual questions or what-ifs.70 I would add
a new, unpleasant factor related to poor conditions and internal dissent
among his forces: dysentery struck the rebel camp. On January 18, 1781,
Father José de Maruri, who at this point had abandoned, at least tem-
porarily, his sympathies for the insurgents, wrote to the kuraka Diego
Choquehuanca from Asillo. He contended that in the midst of the siege
Indians in the south disobeyed Tupac Amaru’s call for fresh recruits be-
cause they knew that those in Cuzco “are suffering from hunger, without
wages, and sleeping outside, in the midst of turbulent weather, which it
has been said has caused many to die of diarrhea [cursos] and malnutri-
tion [flaqueza, literally “thinness”] and since people coming from Cuzco
are bringing news of this, Indians from around here are getting scared.”71
The terms cursos and flaqueza are unusual but mean “illness” and “hun-
ger.”72
Conditions in the rebel camp were horrible and thus ideal for wide-
spread dysentery. Tens of thousands of rebels, soldiers as well as the wo-
men in charge of the camp and other accompanying family members,
rested, slept, and ate in extremely crowded conditions. Supplies ran low
and hunger weakened defenses. The rebels’ spirits fell as they watched
their comrades die or suffer from terrible wounds, the realization spread-
ing that the siege would not be quick or perhaps even successful. The
constant downpours and chilly nights worsened the situation, making the
ground muddy and life wretched. No one had a change of clothes. In
the late eighteenth century, people did not understand the relationship
between hygiene and infectious disease, and care was not taken to use
sterile water for cooking or to defecate and urinate well away from the
kitchen. In fact, little was known about the cause and transmission of dis-
ease. Although dismissal of indigenous people as filthy and unhygienic
is a mainstay of racist condemnations past and present, sanitary condi-
tions were undoubtedly appalling in a swarming, dispirited rebel camp.
The rain, cold, slippery hills, and constant enemy fire impeded the insur-
gents from adventuring out in search of food and brush (they were close
to streams and could collect rainwater) and discouraged them from dis-
tancing themselves from where they ate and slept when relieving them-
selves. While I found only one reference to stomach disorders, sever-
al accounts mention hunger among the insurgents as a factor for many
of them fleeing. The spread of dysentery or other ailments thus seems
highly likely. Tupac Amaru had not received the support he expected in
the city of Cuzco and also witnessed many of his troops fleeing. Wide-
spread illness aggravated this situation, giving the royalists a great psy-
chological and physical advantage.73
 Retreat
Cuzco residents celebrated their defense of the city with religious pro-
cessions and festivities. Bishop Moscoso blessed the military barracks,
located in the Jesuit college on the corner of the Plaza de Armas, and
declared victory with a rousing “vivat Rex in Aeternum.” Circumventing
trenches and the other remains of the fighting, the Bishop toured the battle
area and visited wounded soldiers. Men and women cheered loudly from
balconies, windows, and doors, fanning their hats, shawls, and handker-
chiefs.74 Some concerns soured the celebrations, however. Three months
of warfare had ruined much of the harvest and authorities worried about
impending food shortages. Rebels had stolen food, razed haciendas, ex-
pelled property owners and overseers, and blocked trade routes. Castelo’s
advance into Cuzco up the valley had been particularly destructive and
the rebels still controlled the Vilcanota Valley and the western entrance
into the city. Moscoso himself believed that they should have pursued the
rebels and finished them off. He understood that the uprising was not over
and that they had lost an opportunity to capture the leader and decimate
his followers.75
Tupac Amaru retreated to Ocoruro and from there to Acomayo, reunit-
ing with Micaela and other family members and allies who had remained
behind. According to one unsympathetic account, “he entered Acomayo
with far too much arrogance for a defeated and scorned aspirant.” He
forced the priest to receive him with honors and then took Mass kneeling,
“in pharisaical style.” In what the writer cast as a sign of divine aversion
to the rebel leader, the priest and the church assistants could not open the
sacrarium, which had been working fine before his arrival. Tupac Amaru
invited himself to lunch at the priest’s house, where he explained that he
had retreated because the royalists had put Indians on the front lines, “as
bait,” and because the mestizos who had been in charge of his fusils had
lost their courage. This explanation has been repeated by the accounts
most sympathetic to Tupac Amaru, placing the blame on his good heart
and mestizo treachery rather than his tactics or wavering social base. He
told the priest that he would recruit more soldiers and would not give up
on his “principal idea of taking Cuzco.”76
An anonymous royalist made fun of Tupac Amaru’s leadership, jibing
that “an army of mice led by a lion is better than an army of lions led by
a mouse.”77 José Rafael Sahuaraura Titu Atauchi, a kuraka whose 1784
Estado del Perú defended Bishop Moscoso from accusations of rebel
sympathies, wrote that “many Indians who had been with Tupac Amaru
in the siege told me on their return that their Inca had cried a great deal in
Yanacocha over not being received as King in Cuzco.”78 In its account,
the city council boasted that the “city managed to free itself from the as-
sault and prevent the Rebel’s twisted plan of taking the city. This was his
desire, because if he had taken possession of the old kingdom’s capital,
the court of his Incas, his perverse ideas would have taken an imaginary
triumphal step. Freed from the anguish that had torn at their souls, the
city’s inhabitants, especially women and nuns, offered their thanks and
praise to God.”79
Yet alongside the celebrations, taunts, and exploration of how or why
they had repelled his attack, royalists understood that the uprising was
not over. The same writer who described the diarrhea and hunger in the
rebel camp mused, “We don’t know what the rebel will do with him-
self or the route that he will take but it’s a beautiful opportunity to hunt
him down as soon as possible and so the Cuzco troops will soon go after
him.” This was on the mark: Royalists in Cuzco did not know Tupac
Amaru’s next steps but went on the attack.80
 6

In Pursuit of Tupac Amaru

THE COURSE OF BATTLE seemed to turn at the beginning of 1781. Tupac

Amaru abandoned his campaign to take the city of Cuzco, and to the
glee of the city’s royalists, reinforcements from Lima marched up the
Andes destined for Cuzco. After three months of rebel attacks and territ-
orial expansion, the royalists had taken the offensive. In March, their or-
ganized, well-armed forces, numbering over fifteen thousand, fanned out
from Cuzco toward rebel headquarters down the Vilcanota Valley. These
events from March through May seemed to indicate a complete turn of
fortune, from unstoppable rebel growth to royalist domination. Nonethe-
less, they form part of a more complicated story. Even with their intim-
idating numbers, the royalists still had a challenging struggle ahead, one
that would last into 1783 and beyond. The campaign of early 1781 was
crucial, even momentous; it was not the end of the story.
Royalists suffered greatly as they chased Tupac Amaru into his home-
land. The terrain voided many of their advantages: their horses and heavy
armament did not work well as the trails became narrower, steeper, and
higher. Moreover, the altitude and the shortage of food and other supplies
undermined morale, while deaths in battle and, above all, desertion de-
creased their numerical advantage over the rebels. On the defensive,
Tupac Amaru and his major commanders turned to effective and frus-
trating guerrilla tactics. Reports from the south, the Lake Titicaca area,
further disturbed the royalists. There, rebels had the upper hand and the
uprising became increasingly violent. Tales of rebels massacring and be-
heading prisoners terrified the royalists. Commanders and soldiers alike
understood that they would need to proceed to the lake, a prospect they
dreaded.
Tupac Amaru also faced new challenges. The Spanish had a mass,
united army focused on trapping him. It was one thing to storm into town
and topple a small militia; it was another to confront six well-armed
columns. He also faced internal divisions and dissension that had not sur-
faced prior to the battle of Cuzco. Micaela and he struggled to maintain
order, to prevent violence against non-Spaniards and noncombatants,
and to make sure that the troops did not sneak home. Discipline and
desertion became a problem for both sides. Moreover, while the news
from Titicaca was positive, the reports of rebel massacres and bloodlet-
ting troubled José Gabriel and Micaela. The insurgents were winning in
the south, but not in the way that the Tinta rebels had envisioned. In
the midst of the frenzied hunt for José Gabriel and the other leaders, the
nature of the struggle was changing.
 Fanning Out
Led by Visitador General Antonio de Areche and Inspector General José
del Valle, approximately fifteen thousand troops entered Cuzco on Febru-
ary 24. Headquartered in the Bethlemite convent on the city’s outskirts,
the soldiers paraded through the town the following day, their leaders cel-
ebrated with a mass and a “magnificent banquet.” Areche publicly re-
cognized royalist supporters such as the priests in Cotabambas who had
defended the region from the rebels, and conferred the rank of captain
on Pumacahua and Nicolás Rosas, the kurakas of Chinchero and Anta.
Days later Areche released a widely distributed decree that offered a par-
don to those involved in Tupac Amaru’s “robberies, insults, and other
grave crimes,” stressing how the rebel leader had used false affection,
unfulfilled promises, and fear to attract followers. He instructed those
interested in a pardon to give up their arms and appear in the city of
Cuzco. The pardon listed about thirty-five people excluded from the offer:
Micaela Bastidas, Tupac Amaru, his immediate family, and their inner
circle. Areche offered a reward of eighty pesos a month for life to anyone
who turned in a person on the list. He also promised both the pardon and
reward to anyone listed who handed over Tupac Amaru, Micaela Basti-
das, their children, and other family members.1 The visitador sought to di-
vide the rebels, believing that many would abandon the cause and hoping
that some might even turn on their leaders.2
The army divided its troops into six columns. The first included 310
dragoons (infantrymen), 100 of them mounted infantry, and 2,000 Indians
from the Calca highlands. The second column had 950 cavalry drawn
from Lima, Cuzco, and surrounding areas, and 2,000 additional Indians
from Maca, Abancay, and Chinchero. All six columns followed this pat-
tern; Indians from the Cuzco area greatly outnumbered soldiers from
coastal Lima. Put another way, the composition of the royalist troops re-
flected Peru’s demography; most were Indians, followed in order by mes-
tizos, blacks and black mixed races, creoles, and Spaniards.3 The army
also mirrored social hierarchies. Spanish and creoles led and other groups,
with the exception of kurakas, served as soldiers. The Indians had been
“volunteered” by their kurakas or dragooned by Spanish forces en route
to Cuzco. Some, perhaps, had joined on their own volition. In any case,
they remained anonymous except when they got into trouble. No Span-
ish report ever named a common Indian who died fighting for the royal-
ists. Blacks and mulattoes came from Lima. Some fought for pay, others
because they had been forced. All of the coastal troops suffered with the
altitude.
Some rebel deserters joined the royalists because they were dis-
heartened with the uprising, knowing that this would in most cases ex-
empt them from punishment as insurgents. Some who had abandoned the
rebel forces found themselves hundreds of miles from home and joined
the royalists for food and, eventually, permission to return home. Com-
manders complained about Indian soldiers’ lack of discipline and com-
mitment. In contrast, the indigenous troops led by kurakas such as Pu-
macahua had demonstrated their skill and determination in battle.
The official account tallied 17,116 soldiers in Cuzco in March, al-
though the actual number may have been over 20,000.4 They had over
three thousand fusils, the light flintlock musket that had replaced the har-
quebus, as well as numerous cannons. These proved invaluable in scat-
tering the enemy, although their transport through the precipitous Andes
required herculean effort.
Leaving one thousand soldiers to defend Cuzco, the Army’s six
columns fanned out, intending to converge on the rebel base around
Tinta. The elaborate military chart and map reveal the increased troop
count and precise planning, a vast improvement over the royalist efforts
just months earlier.5
Thousands of uniformed troops, their weapons glistening in the sun,
impressed and intimidated the local population, and their arrival changed
the nature of the conflict. Royalists had taken the offensive. They coun-
ted on a substantial advantage in weaponry and cavalry (with the rebels,
only the leaders traveled on horse) and were no longer outnumbered.
Nonetheless, significant obstacles lay ahead. Feeding a larger army as
they pushed farther and farther away from Cuzco proved difficult. Scant
supplies translated into cold, hungry, and consequently lackluster sol-
diers. Moreover, the dramatic, mountainous topography of the area be-
deviled the royalists. When they marched through the narrow valleys
the rebels harassed them from peaks and ambushed them from all sides.
They suffered, particularly those from the warmer coast, from the cold
and thin air at twelve thousand feet above sea level. Also short on food
and air, their horses stubbornly refused to continue and within weeks all
but the commanders were on foot. A little over a month after parading
their gallant horses through the streets of Cuzco, royalists were forced to
abandon or even eat them. Despite organization, arms, and numbers, the
royalists proved not to be the invincible force that many believed them
to be upon their arrival in Cuzco.
On March 1, General del Valle sent José Gálvez, the head of Madrid’s
all-important Council of the Indies, a bleak assessment. Del Valle apo-
logized for the delay in leaving Cuzco and blamed corregidors’ sloth in
providing provisions and pack animals. Royalists in Cuzco grumbled as
the soldiers ate massive amounts and Tupac Amaru slipped away farther
and farther south. Del Valle contended that Tupac Amaru had convinced
the “barbarous, naïve Indians” that his lineage made him the appropriate
person to defend them and that his followers who died in battle would be
resurrected once the struggle was over and would then “find happiness
and the wealth unduly taken from them.” Numerous authorities lamen-
ted in the coming months the widespread belief that Tupac Amaru had
the power to save those martyred in his struggle.6 Del Valle described
the enemy’s rustic weapons and complained that they preferred to remain
in the highest mountains both because of their fear of firearms and the
availability of rocks and boulders, which they hurled down upon the roy-
alists.7
Del Valle believed that Tupac Amaru wanted to return south, to the
Collao and Lake Titicaca, and also take Paucartambo, an important ag-
ricultural area and a gateway to the Amazon. For centuries, the jungle
had constituted a refuge for Cuzco rebels and malcontents. Most notably,
in the sixteenth-century Conquest of the Incas, Manco Inca and his
son Tupac Amaru, José Gabriel’s supposed ancestor, had taken flight
from Cuzco toward Vilcabamba and the Amazon rain forest. This per-
haps influenced Tupac Amaru’s own strategy. The Spanish commander
thus had the columns fan out, the first and sixth columns approaching
Paucartambo, but keeping close in order to help one another if attacked.8
The fifth column pushed to the west, into Cotabambas, while column
four moved into Paruro. Columns two and three marched down the val-
ley toward the rebel base. To the dismay of the coastal troops, however,
del Valle drove his forces over the sheer mountain passes that lead
to Tinta rather than through the pleasant valley path. He knew that in
the narrow canyonlike valley, the rebels would pick his men off with
their favorite weapons, boulders sent careening down hills or rocks from
their slingshots. Instead, royalist troops had to climb precipitous and icy
slopes, their heads pounding due to the thin air.9

The Royalist Advance, 1781

Although disappointed by their failure to take Cuzco and concerned

about desertions and the difficulties in supplying their troops, Tupac
Amaru and Micaela Bastidas still led a formidable force. While uni-
formed Spanish troops with cannons, shotguns, and horses intimidated
the people of Cuzco, the rebel forces terrified well-to-do locals. The
breakdown of discipline among the insurgents after the failed siege of
Cuzco, although detrimental in the long run, made them even more
fearsome. In the months to come, rebel leaders complained that their
troops stopped following orders to limit their violence and looting. Un-
restrained rebel hordes, no longer under the control of leaders, consti-
tuted a royalist nightmare. Moreover, thousands of rebels still worked
in unison and proved to be fearsome adversaries in the rugged terrain
south of Cuzco. Bishop Moscoso lamented in a January 21 letter that in
their return to Tungasuca, Tupac Amaru and his forces had fought with
“blood and fire,” especially against Spaniards and mestizos. He worried
that they would return to attack Cuzco.10
In the ever more intense conflict, Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas
continued their 1780 roles: he the frenetic, mobile commander and she
the logistics chief who stayed closer to base. He remained on the move,
rarely sleeping in the same place two nights in a row, and prepared to
shift the fight from Cuzco to the Titicaca area. On January 14, José Gab-
riel instructed his commanders in the south, in Carabaya, Lampa, and
Azángaro, to prepare “their Indians,” demanding that they shelter people
from news about the failed attack on Cuzco.11 Micaela Bastidas man-
aged the building of fortifications, aware that as she had feared since
November, the royalists would attack the rebel base. They constructed
a defensive wall outside of Combapata and dug trenches in Tinta. She
continued to organize the rebels’ provisions, desperately calling on her
followers to send soldiers and food and to maintain discipline.12 In early
1781, they rebuilt their forces, recruiting wherever they ventured and en-
couraging skeptical or frightened supporters. They threatened deserters
and other traitors with death.13
While all of the rebel troops fought in the name of Tupac Amaru, ad-
miring him and Micaela, some battled under other commanders. Micaela
did her best to make sure that the troops were paid (from what they
expropriated), in coin or goods. She also strove to guarantee sufficient
food, knowing that hungry troops would flee. On February 15, 1781,
her brother, Antonio Bastidas, asked her for “coca and alcohol, the two
things that maintain our soldiers.” He also requested jerky and wheat
for his troops and some binoculars “to spot the enemy.” A month later,
a priest in Sicuani complained to Micaela about hunger due to “ex-
treme poverty.”14 The rebels’ commitment varied: some had given up
everything to fight for the “last Inca” while others saw it as a tempor-
ary struggle and planned to be home for the upcoming harvest. Some
had been forcibly recruited by their kuraka. Much of the rebel base came
from the indigenous towns and hamlets to the south of Cuzco, in the river
valley as well as the high peaks, but Tupac Amaru also recruited more
mobile people, indigenous and mestizo, who were not tax-paying mem-
bers of an Indian community.15
Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas worried about desertions and
even treachery. Some important supporters had abandoned the rebels, in-
cluding the Castelo clan, led by the patriarch Melchor and his son Anto-
nio, who staged a mutiny in Sicuani after the failed siege of Cuzco. An-
tonio had been the rebel leader in the disastrous defeat in Saylla in late
December, when royalists had blocked them from entering the Inca cap-
ital. Once back in Sicuani, they called for other creoles to rise up against
Tupac Amaru and threatened those who remained faithful to the rebels.
Their efforts might have been a last-ditch ploy to avoid royalist repres-
sion. They understood that the end was near and thus tried to convince
authorities that they no longer supported the rebels and could even be
valuable in the uprising’s repression.
Both the mutiny and the ploy failed. Rebels killed several members
of the Castelo family in an ambush. The historian David Cahill contends
that the Castelo family’s treachery eased Tupac Amaru’s misgiving
about anticreole violence among his supporters and that, after the
mutiny, rebels increasingly targeted the American-born elite.16 The
sixty-year-old Antonio Castelo turned himself in to del Valle in April but
authorities treated him as an insurgent—particularly galling to the co-
lonial courts because of his social background as someone of European
descent—and tried him as a rebel commander and insider. Witnesses
deemed him a recruiter and captain. Castelo claimed that he had been co-
erced, but to no avail—he was found guilty and executed.17
Rebel lieutenants reported cases where the local population resisted
participating in or collaborating with the uprising. On January 11, one
Francisco Torres wrote Tupac Amaru, “beloved father of all my heart
and my lord, father of all the poor and all the miserable and helpless,”
that in a small town in Paruro an Indian woman insulted him and refused
to hand over mules and wheat. Referring to the requisitioning of sup-
plies, the brave woman stated, “the Inca does these things only be-
cause he has nothing to show,” a stinging reference to the failed siege.18
Torres mentioned that in another town, locals were organizing against
the rebels, contending that “the Inca had lost all the souls.” This implied
that his troop numbers and general support had decreased, and perhaps,
with the term alma or soul, underlined his soullessness due to the excom-
munication.19 Tupac Amaru instructed Torres on January 17 to bring him
any troublemakers and to continue to seize goods.20 Indians in even the
most prorebel communities no doubt disliked having their goods confis-
cated. Torres, however, was in Paruro and Acomayo, provinces that had
provided many soldiers for the royalists and that were by no means rebel
strongholds. His letter indicates that local people spoke up against the
uprising even in front of one of the major lieutenants, Torres, and that
confidence in the rebels had diminished after the failed siege.
In January and February 1781, the rebels fought on numerous fronts.
Forces led by Diego Cristóbal sieged Paucartambo, ravaging much of
the area. He failed, however, to take Calca in the Sacred Valley, running
up repeatedly against the royalist commander Pumacahua. Diego
Cristóbal’s troops retreated behind the icy glacier peaks of Ocongate and
Lauramarca, the snow-peaked mountains visible from Cuzco’s plaza.21
Tomás Parvina, who like Tupac Amaru claimed royal Inca heritage, was
one of the rebellion’s major commanders. He had accompanied Tupac
Amaru to the south in November and then in December led the largely
unsuccessful forays into the Urubamba Valley, the brutal confrontations
in which the royalist kuraka Pumacahua came out on top. On January 25,
Parvina’s forces ambushed the royalist commander Isidoro Gutiérrez in
Chahuaytiri, a small Indian community that looms above the idyllic town
of Pisac.22 Royalists reported that rebel soldiers ate Gutierrez’s heart,
drank his blood, and proclaimed, “Spanish blood turned out to be really
tasty.”23 The story added fuel to the royalist propaganda that the rebels
were savages, and no doubt made many soldiers nervous. Pumacahua
counterattacked in the following days and Parvina and Diego Cristóbal
lost more than one thousand men.24
Did eating the heart and drinking blood reflect some type of Andean
ritual? Scholars have sought to explain the increasing brutality in terms
of traditions, both pre- and post-Conquest. Jorge Hidalgo showed that
the beheading of one prisoner and the extraction of his heart in Upper
Peru was an offering to the Inca deity of pachamama, mother earth.25
Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy underlined the parallels between rebel violence
and that depicted by Guaman Poma’s fabulous illustrations in his early-
seventeenth-century Corónica Nueva.26 In his important study of rebel
violence against Europeans, Szeminski illuminated how Quechua people
understood the Spanish, particularly the concepts that could lead to their
exclusion from the category of “good Christian.” He also studied how in-
digenous people employed alternative notions of history and justice.27 In
seeking to understand the indigenous perspective on the uprising, these
views correct the royalists’ interpretation of the brutality as mere con-
firmation of the Indians’ savagery and backwardness. Nonetheless, the
paucity of sources, particularly rebel accounts, makes this type of inter-
pretation challenging and, beyond these important contributions, even
questionable. Andean people varied greatly in 1780 (as they did in 1480
or 1980) and cannot be lumped together. They also changed over time.
Szeminski used Mochican iconography (a pre-Inca coastal civilization
that flourished from CE 100 to CE 800) to understand eighteenth-cen-
tury mindsets.28 Studies that combine an understanding of contemporary
views of power and violence in the Andes (with fieldwork in Quechua,
a language I do not speak) with a reading of historical sources can illu-
minate the indigenous mindset, past and present. The authors cited above
contribute by moving away from Eurocentric interpretations. Yet any in-
terpretation that relates brutality with Andean traditions and mentalities
needs a much greater set of sources and a deeper understanding of local
society than what we count on.
Not all of the battles pitted rebel and royalist soldiers. In some cases,
rebel-leaning towns assaulted those believed to be royalist, or vice versa.
For example, one document refers to the people of Colquemarca, Santo
Tomás, Quillota, and Llusco attacking those of Capi and Collabamba,
“with many dead and great damage done to estates, houses, and live-
stock.” The document noted that the rebels sought to cut down the
Huacachaca Bridge to isolate the region from Cuzco.29 One rebel com-
mander died in this confrontation and rebels forced a local priest to bury
him with full honors, paying 100 pesos. Bishop Moscoso subsequently
initiated proceedings against the priest, who claimed that he had been
coerced and that once the rebels were gone he had dug up the body and
dumped it in a field.30 Behind these town-versus-town confrontations lay
decades of tensions as well as more ephemeral personal conflicts.31
 The Hunt for Tupac Amaru
In early 1781, royalist commanders focused on the pursuit of Tupac
Amaru. Although fleeing the city of Cuzco, rebels protected their base
area aggressively. As the royalists made their way toward Tinta in mid-
March, rebels incessantly harassed them from the high peaks. In response,
the Spanish charged head-on into these breathtakingly steep mountains,
temporarily dislodging the rebels. In these initial confrontations, neither
side could claim victory—the rebels made life miserable for the royalists
and when necessary fled to even more inaccessible zones to reduce their
vulnerability. But by March 18, both sides prepared for combat.
A snowstorm, low supplies, and fear of a rebel trap had halted the roy-
alist advance. The lack of provisions proved to be the royalists’ Achilles
heel. One account complained that from the outset, the troops “experien-
ced great discomfort, whether from rainstorms, hail, or storms—frequent
in that elevation—or the lack of food and firewood, caused by the rebels’
ability to sever communication with royalist towns.” This isolation meant
that “cold and hunger” threatened the lives of many soldiers.32
Feeding some fifteen to twenty thousand soldiers in an area where tra-
ditional agriculture only flourished in the narrow valleys and where the
bulk of the population was reluctant to assist the Spanish bedeviled Gen-
eral del Valle. Rebels and royalists alike had previously ransacked the
estates, farms, and small plots at lower elevations and had depleted the
herds of llamas, alpacas, sheep, and cows. Indigenous shepherds took the
surviving animals to higher elevations. Native crops such as quinoa only
grew in narrow niches in out-of-the-way elevations, around thirteen thou-
sand feet above sea level, and in any event constituted an emergency sup-
plement for the Spanish and coastal troops at best, in their eyes hardly
qualifying as a true meal. The fundamental Andean staple, the ubiquitous
potato, presented a challenge to marauding soldiers. Unlike corn or oth-
er grains that were stored in silos or stone granaries, potatoes remained
underground until ready for the pot. Communities hid their supplies of
chuño or freeze-dried potatoes.
Furthermore, even if supply lines were open to Cuzco, that city could
not offer surplus food to the soldiers. The presence of fifteen thousand
troops in the city for a month had already exhausted supplies. Andean
seasons also punished the royalist forces. The rainy season (November
through April), which made every river crossing life-threatening and the
daily march on slippery, muddy trails exhausting, was followed by a
brief fall and then the frigid winter months of June through August. In
March, for example, commanders complained about the rain; months
later they suffered the bitter cold. As they pushed south, into higher and
higher altitudes, temperatures dropped.
Royalists suffered in the high peaks. Many soldiers had thought that
they had passed the worst in the steep climb from Lima to Cuzco. High-
er, more desolate summits, however, stretched above them in the journey
from Cuzco to Lake Titicaca. Even though they had overcome initial sor-
oche or altitude sickness, pursuing the enemy among peaks that loomed
over thirteen thousand feet above sea level was exhausting and terrify-
ing. But oxygen was not the only element in short supply. Just weeks
after leaving Cuzco, Lieutenant Colonel Manuel Villalta complained that
his column was out of meat, bread, and firewood and were hard pressed
to get by on biscuits, probably unappetizing hardtack. The severe scarcit-
ies resulted not only from the lack of local provisions but also from
shabby planning and reluctance to spend on the part of colonial author-
ities.33 Adding to the soldiers’ misery was sleep deprivation. The fear
of rebel attack and the cold kept soldiers up at night, often covered with
snow. Illnesses spread.34
On March 18, del Valle led his soldiers onto the Sullumayo peak,
seeking to dislodge the rebels from the mountaintops that loomed over
the valley. Rebel forces harassed them day and night and a punishing
snowstorm and strong wind, along with the alarming lack of food, made
conditions miserable. On March 20, the two sides clashed in Pucacasa.
Royalists decimated the rebel front line, forcing survivors to “step over
cadavers.”35 Bad weather and attacks on their flanks pushed the royalists
back. On the twenty-first, a rebel deserter burst into camp, begging not to
be shot and promising valuable information. This was Yanuario Castro,
a kuraka from Pitumarca, who reported to del Valle that Tupac Amaru
planned a sneak attack that very evening or at dawn. The rebel leader
had ten thousand men, who he had inspired with “many jugs of firewater
(aguardiente), so that they would attack with the fury that their malevol-
ent leader desires.”36
 Del Valle prepared his troops, who after taking their positions quickly
begged to return to their tents rather than die of cold. Although dis-
heartened by his troops’ softness, del Valle admitted that they all prayed
for dawn to come, preferring “to fight a million men” than stand knee-
deep in the snow. They had no hot meal for three days and survived
on biscuits and bits of stale bread.37 One anonymous account described
“the days of cruel snow and cold, the soldiers up all night knee-deep
in the snow.”38 At dawn the attack began, with shouts in Quechua of
“Viva King Tupac Amaru.” Two rebel columns attacked the royalist
troops and the third attempted to seize their mules and supplies. Tupac
Amaru had the advantage. He had lured the royalists into the hills and
concealed the whereabouts and strength of his forces. Nonetheless, the
rebels found the troops ready for battle, not sleeping, as they had expec-
ted. The battle pitted del Valle’s largely black vanguard, the Lima cav-
alry and dragoons, against Tupac Amaru’s indigenous fighters. Rebels
could not overpower the royalist camp and by 8:00 a.m. most of them
had withdrawn. Even with the warning, del Valle’s troops barely repelled
the attack, ultimately relying on the fortunate arrival of a column led by
Juan Manuel Campero.
Disgruntled soldiers complained bitterly to del Valle about their hun-
ger and fatigue. The following night, March 23, del Valle witnessed
many of his troops falling exhausted into the snow, unable to remain
awake or even seated. Noting that the exhaustion caused by days without
sleep and the bitter cold “would have defeated not just my soldiers but
the robust warriors of the King of Prussia,” he began a retreat toward the
valley.39 Campero brought desperately needed food and alcohol while a
priest collected firewood, clothing, and more food for the starving, frost-
bitten royalists, who retreated to the Vilcanota River basin. The Spanish
had learned not to confront the rebels in the higher mountain peaks.
Tupac Amaru expressed his frustration over the near miss in Pu-
cacasa, ridiculing the royalists’ cowardice.40 While the Black militia
members and Pumacahua’s forces remained loyal to del Valle, Indians
who had joined the royalists after the frustrated siege of Cuzco deserted
en masse. Del Valle also learned that royalist indigenous troops from
Anta, Abancay, and Huamanga had returned to their towns. He wanted to
track them and execute every tenth man, the diezmado, but realized that
the circumstances made it impossible. He bitterly described the deser-
tion of “many Indians from among our auxiliary troops from Chinchero
and Anta, who took with them many sacks of coca leaves and wheat
and spread the rumor that I had sent them home and suspended the cam-
paign until Easter.” The commander called for severe reprisals, “because
of the bad consequences their malicious lies can have and because I
now understand that we will get nothing out of this dim, disaffected na-
tion [Indians] by treating them with contemplation and suavity.”41 Del
Valle’s opinion of Indians would become even more acidic in the coming
months.
After near disaster in Pucacasa, del Valle led his troops down toward
the rebel center around Tinta. The rebels had destroyed the Urcos Bridge,
so the royalists lost several days crossing the Vilcanota River, at its ra-
ging peak at the end of the rainy season. Del Valle knew that the roy-
alists had little chance for success in the remote, high mountain passes,
and instead sought something closer to a classic military engagement in
the Vilcanota Valley. After days in the snowy mountain peaks, he ex-
tolled the valley’s “benign temperature and abundant food.”42 His ac-
count, however, demonstrates a limited knowledge of the region; he
named only a few of the larger towns found on colonial maps and de-
scribed the challenging topography more than political geography. He
observed that the rebels didn’t take full advantage of the narrow passes
and deep canyons. Although this seemed to surprise him, he generally
minimized the rebels’ talent and intelligence, stressing instead, when re-
cognizing their military prowess, Indians’ supposed bloodthirsty nature
and blind devotion to Tupac Amaru. Del Valle mentioned that the rebels
attacked “from the left and the right” and surrounded them at night, pep-
pering the royalist camp with light cannons and fusils.
Del Valle’s troops encircled Quiquijana, a rebel stronghold. He ini-
tially calculated that it would take fifteen days and much bloodshed to
take the town, but Quiquijana’s parish priest got a note through to him
that the rebels had fled to join Tupac Amaru elsewhere. Royalist troops
entered the town and found only women and the elderly cowering in the
church. They tearfully begged del Valle for a pardon, pleading that he
not torch their houses and haciendas. The Spanish commander hanged
Luis Pomainga, a distant relative of Tupac Amaru and another suspected
rebel. Del Valle belittled the indigenous population, contending that “in
the hands of a more educated nation, conquering the town would have
taken two months even with veteran and abundant soldiers,” whereas he
marched in unopposed.43
The fighting in late March frustrated Tupac Amaru. In several letters,
he sneered that the royalists fled like cowards. Pucacasa also made him
overconfident—he had been close to decimating del Valle’s column.
Concerned about other areas, the rebel leader sent troops to aid Tomás
Parvina and Felipe Miguel Bermúdez in Chumbivilcas, Diego Verdejo in
Cailloma, and Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru, his cousin, in Urubamba.
Ramón Ponce and Vilca Apaza confronted royalists around Puno. The
bulk of his forces retreated to Quiquijana and then Combapata, just north
of Tinta, where they reinforced a wall and trenches to hold off the Span-
ish.44
In March, Parvina, one of Tupac Amaru’s most trusted commanders,
moved his troops into Chumbivilcas. This towering province had been
a rebel stronghold. Tupac Amaru worried about the extreme use of vi-
olence by both sides, and also feared losing it. On March 13, he sent a
decree to the area, expressing his concern about “many excesses, every-
one killing each other, with Spaniards and Indians hurting one anoth-
er.”45 He demanded that they live in peace, “as God orders,” threaten-
ing death at the gallows for those who didn’t obey. Once there, Parvina
warned his followers about the grave consequences of desertion, and al-
lowed them to ransack the property of those he considered deserters. He
and Felipe Bermúdez confronted the royalist column led by Francisco
Laisequilla. On March 21, Spanish forces pushed the rebels, who were
virtually out of guns and ammunition, into a final defense near the town
of Santo Tomás. Del Valle described Parvina and Bermúdez’s courage as
they died fighting, below their cannon, the only significant weapon they
had. Del Valle calculated that the rebels had five thousand to six thou-
sand men and that the royalists executed over one thousand of them. To
save ammunition, they stabbed them to death. At this point in the upris-
ing, body counts had jumped from dozens to thousands. We know noth-
ing about the identity of the dead rebels or their remains. On March 31,
royalists paraded into Cuzco with Parvina’s and Bermúdez’s heads on
pikes, displaying these grisly trophies of victory in the Plaza Mayor and
then in the paths that led to Cuzco.46 The royalists had begun to slaughter
all captives and to show off severed heads and other body parts. The use
and display of violence was changing on both sides.
Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas lost two important commanders
in an area that had been considered a rebel stronghold. Yet the royalists
also had reason to worry. On April 6, Visitador Areche complained that
Chumbivilcas “is more agitated and rebel than ever.” He lamented that
not only had its only judge and some priests fled, but the royalist offi-
cials and parish priests who remained had been at odds, “everyone just
defending their own interests.”47
Amid the bloody battles of late March, chaos and uncertainty reigned
from Cuzco to Puno and into Upper Peru. Each side stressed the oppon-
ent’s weaknesses and confusion. Del Valle wrote, for example, on March
19, that “We hear that this damned man [Tupac Amaru]’s own house
is in disarray with grief; that his wife won’t stop crying, that Diego is
suffering from extreme melancholy, and that in Tinta, where he’s based
and where they’ve built trenches for reinforcements, the twelve hundred
soldiers protecting him are eager to turn him over or kill him, as soon
as our troops approach.”48 Violence and retribution caused the situation
to deteriorate. One Spanish prisoner claimed that a rebel commander
had sent Micaela Bastidas the heads of a woman and a young boy as
trophies of his deeds.49 At the same time, reports from the far south, the
Collao, maintained that the rebels were “thoroughly defeated”; troubling
rumors also spread that Tupac Amaru was headed south to regroup in
the Lake Titicaca area.50 Violence escalated. Rebel leaders struggled to
control their troops. Antonio Bastidas wrote his sister Micaela in mid-
February that after they entered the town of Urcos, his “Indians” des-
troyed houses and burned down the city hall. Indicative of the short-
age of supplies faced by both sides, he requested coca leaves and alco-
hol, “the two things that keep our army going.” He also asked for char-
qui, llama jerky—the English term comes from Quechua—and wheat
to pay his troops.51 Royalists executed prisoners en masse, dryly noting
the deaths of hundreds or thousands of men, or punished them brutally.
For example, the troops led by Laisequilla who had defeated Parvina en-
countered thirty-eight men on a hillside. They sent a local man to con-
vince them to give up but he was received with a volley of rocks. The
royalists charged the hill and captured the group. They whipped those
“they caught alive” and sliced off pieces of their ears to make a “perman-
ent mark of their iniquity and rebelliousness.”52 This distressing increase
in the level of brutality did not reflect the opponents’ supposed tradi-
tions (European cruelty or Indian barbarism) as much as the spiraling of
violence and the conversion of the enemy into a wretched “other” seen
as deserving abuse and death. As was the case in other rebellions and
wars, as casualties and mortalities mounted, combatants on both sides
sought revenge (and the upper hand) and employed increasingly brutal
tactics not seen in the initial combats. Desperation and hatred deepened
and each side killed captives and desecrated cadavers. This fervor fed in-
to and fostered each side’s understanding of the other as non-Christians
or savages, interpretations that justified greater violence.
In the midst of this violence and chaos, Tupac Amaru and Visitador
Areche wrote one another, seeking to explain their plans and, perhaps,
negotiate some sort of accord. Their correspondence resembled a chess
match, as each side tried to inflate its base and narrow that of the
enemy. Tupac Amaru insisted that he was only fighting against evil
Spaniards while Areche cast the rebels as a small, aberrant band of vi-
olent apostates who would soon be annihilated. Although propaganda
pieces, the letters shed light on both sides and the state of affairs in early
1781.
 David and Goliath Correspond
On January 26, Tupac Amaru wrote Father Josef Paredes. He explained
that “European heretics” had been at fault at Sangarará and that he had
actually saved lives. In addition, his Christian faith had stopped him from
taking Cuzco, thus saving it and its numerous churches, monasteries, and
convents from destruction. He insisted that Bishop Moscoso erred in pit-
ting the church against him and reiterated his proposal to abolish the re-
parto, mita, customs houses, and sales tax, arguing that exploitative cor-
regidors not only mistreated Indians but also prevented them from be-
ing good Christians. He ridiculed royalists’ confidence in support from
Lima, scoffing “I’ve been in that Audiencia and I’ve seen that the only
thing they’re good for is killing Jews and wolfing down corn pudding
[mazamorras] … they also excel at delaying lawsuits and living off the
blood of the poor, which is what happened to me.”53 He insisted that he
had only killed Arriaga, no one else, and signed off as “the last descend-
ent of the last King of Peru, his last heir.”54 He would continue this line
of argument in his correspondence with the visitador.
On March 5, Tupac Amaru sent Areche a long (twenty-eight para-
graph) letter with a prisoner, the priest Rafael José Sahuaraura Titu Atau-
chi. Sahuaraura’s brother, Pedro Sahuaraura Ramos Titu Atauchi, a kur-
aka, had died in Sangarará.55 Tupac Amaru later claimed that his scribe,
Francisco Cisneros, a member of his inner circle, Felipe Bermúdez, and
Sahuaraura himself had helped him write it.56 José Gabriel began with a
respectful, even obsequious, tone and then explained that after Arriaga’s
death, he went to Cuzco to fulfill “His Majesty’s wishes,” referring to the
Spanish king, and withdrew in order to avoid bloodshed. He did not men-
tion his prior foray to the south or his violent actions. José Gabriel claimed
that he wanted to avoid the examples of the Roman emperor Vespasian
and his son Titus regarding the siege of Jerusalem. With this, the rebel
leader made it clear that he did not want Cuzco to be sacked. Turning
to the Old Testament, he cited King Saul, whose defeat and death at the
hands of the Philistines at Mount Gilboa crippled the kingdom of Israel,
and compared his own struggle against the Spanish with that of David and
Goliath.57
Tupac Amaru described in great detail how corregidors oversaw a cor-
rupt web of activities that ignored both Spanish law and Indian well-be-
ing. After expounding on brutal conditions in haciendas and textile mills
and how the scant wages prevented Indians from paying the head tax, he
asked who were the true apostates and traitors: Indians or corregidors?58
Building on a much-discussed theme in the eighteenth century, he com-
plained that priests did not maintain churches or their own appearance
and focused more on charging exorbitant fees rather than offering Mass
itself. Tupac Amaru also grumbled that these priests “as foreigners don’t
know the language [Quechua], this means that there are twenty-year-old
girls and boys who don’t even know how to cross themselves.” This was
an unusual complaint, for rebels rarely referred to the need for Quechua-
speaking priests. Throughout the letter, he stressed his deep Catholicism
and made almost no reference to the brutal war that he and the recipient,
Visitador Areche, were waging.59
On March 5, 1781, Areche published his decree offering a pardon for
most insurgents and a reward for those who helped capture the uprising’s
leaders. He described the rebellion’s sacrilegious nature and destructive
ways, and explained its mass following in terms of the leaders’ “vain,
unjust, and damned” promises to naïve followers as well as intimidation
through threats and punishment. He demanded that the decree be pub-
lished in Quechua and Spanish and posted in “every town and place pos-
sible.”60
On March 12, the day he received Tupac Amaru’s letter, Areche sent
two priests with his response. One of them, Fernando Ramos Titu Atau-
chi, Rafael José Sahuaraura’s uncle, read it out loud to José Gabriel,
Micaela, their two sons Hipólito and Fernando, and Diego Cristóbal. It
angered Tupac Amaru so much that he had the two messengers arres-
ted.61 In contrast to most colonial documents that begin with a paragraph
of formulaic salutations, it opens in unusually straightforward fashion:
“I have just read the extensive letter that Your Honor sent me on the fifth
of this month that sought to convince me that you would stop hostilities
if I were to take certain measures.” He chided Tupac Amaru for casting
the rebellion as justifiable.62 Areche argued that Tupac Amaru was disin-
genuous or naïve not to recognize the gravity of his crimes and then con-
tended that he, the visitador, and the colonial system in general, did all
it could to improve the lot of Indians. In fact, he used a classic bureau-
cratic line in reference to corregidors’ abusive behavior: “it was about
to be fixed” (estava cerca de remediarse). He ridiculed Tupac Amaru’s
declaration that he had royal powers to punish corregidors and to take
other measures and stressed that the rebel leader had committed murder
in the case of Corregidor Arriaga. He pleaded with God to show Tupac
Amaru “his great crimes, to feel the blows, the calamities, the assaults,
the destruction, and sacrilegious acts that he and his people have com-
mitted against the Church (santuario), these destroyed provinces, and
obedience to the king.”63 Never losing an amicable yet cold or condes-
cending tone, he demanded that Tupac Amaru turn himself in to avoid
more bloodshed and dishonor.64 Tupac Amaru considered the letter “de-
lirious.” Commander del Valle, who found himself increasingly at odds
with Areche, also questioned its tone, believing that it voided any pos-
sibility of a negotiated solution.65
This correspondence gave little hint of the warfare raging south of
Cuzco. Little is known about the circulation of the letters other than
the obvious fact that Areche received Tupac Amaru’s, but both writers
sought to present their movement in the best light, attract the support
of the opposition, and test the resolve of the other. They also firmly be-
lieved in their prerogatives: Tupac Amaru as the defender of the indigen-
ous masses and heir of the Incas, Areche as the maximum representat-
ive of the Spanish, alongside (above, in his eyes) the viceroy. They both
prided themselves on their intellect and leadership abilities. Supporters
in both camps presumably wondered if writing long letters was the best
use of their time in light of the almost incessant fighting.
Areche’s correspondence also reflected how much Andean people
and topography exasperated him. On March 1, before leaving Cuzco, he
wrote Gálvez in Madrid that Indians believed that the rebellion “would
mean the end of the church, priests, the head tax, corregidors, reparti-
mientos, obrajes, mitas, customs houses, and chapetones and Europeans.
They also think that if they die in the action of crowning [the Inca],
they will resuscitate on the third day.”66 To Areche, the end of Spanish
rule and resurrection were equally absurd beliefs. Although he noted
mass desertions on the rebel side and the increasing reliance on coer-
cion—hangings and beheadings—to maintain discipline, clear signs for
him of rebel decline, he glumly reported Indians’ primitive Catholicism
and deep—but for him, false—memory of the Incas, “forgetting the op-
pression they suffered under them.” In his mind, Indians’ shallow reli-
giosity and reverence for the Incas would make them difficult to defeat
or to assimilate. Areche explained his shock and disappointment with
the widespread use of Quechua: “It pains me deeply to walk this land
without understanding what is spoken to me, despite the king’s repeated
insistence that the natives be taught Spanish.”67 Only a bloody upris-
ing forced a high crown official to visit the Andean hinterland and ex-
perience multilingual Peru. Areche not only censured Indians’ element-
ary Christianity and Spanish, but also blamed lax policies in Lima, spe-
cifically the viceroy’s inability to crush “insolent malcontents” as well as
those who refused to pay the royal treasury. Areche’s dislike for Viceroy
Jáuregui and his fervent opposition to Quechua, linked to the belief that
Spanish language and culture had to be imposed in the Andes, marked
the struggles within the Spanish camp and disagreements over policy in
the coming months and years.
 Capture
Del Valle’s retreat from Pucacasa frustrated Tupac Amaru—he thought
that he had been on the verge of routing the Spanish. It also led him to
believe that the royalists were vulnerable, their numbers and organization
neutralized by topography, weather, and guerrilla tactics. This led him to
send troops to Chumbivilcas, Cailloma, and Urubamba.68 Yet the Spanish
were hot on their heels. After delays crossing the river in Urcos and wait-
ing for the last columns to approach from Cuzco, in late March royalist
forces moved down the valley toward rebel headquarters. Rebel forces led
by Tupac Amaru harassed the Spanish with hit-and-run attacks, artillery
fire, and their one mobile cannon, from Urcos to Combapata. The fifth
royalist column, which had pushed to the southwest, confronted rebels
in Paruro, Cotabambas, and the upper provinces, defeating and killing
Parvina and Bermúdez. After skirmishes in Paruro, the fourth column
joined it.
In late March, as snow and hail began to fall in the higher peaks, the
royalists pushed closer and closer to the rebel base north of Tinta, in the
hills just above the valley where the Salca River feeds into the Vilcan-
ota. They recognized that they were outnumbered but also knew, from
deserters, that the insurgents were running low on supplies. Pumacahua’s
troops dislodged the rebels from advantageous positions on the moun-
tainside. On April 4, the royalist second column led by Lieutenant Col-
onel Villalta arrived, converging with del Valle’s column. That night, the
rebels attacked Villalta’s column, beheading four sentinels. A fifth fired
his gun and the suddenly awakened royalists rushed into battle formation.
Del Valle, however, ordered that they lie on the ground to lure the en-
emy into range. Once the rebel front line was almost on top of the hail-
covered soldiers, the royalists shot their muskets in unison, killing many
and causing the survivors to flee. The rebels left behind their five can-
nons.69 In open battle on relatively open, flat ground without the element
of surprise working for the rebels, the royalists now had the advantage.
Using their superior cavalry and weaponry, the colonial forces attacked,
moving quickly to surround the insurgents and force them into the valley.
Perhaps a deserter had informed them of the rebels’ strength and exact
location.70 A charge by black militia members again broke the rebel lines
and gunshots left “an infinite number of wounded” and hundreds dead.71
The royalists were on the offensive.
According to one report, the horrific bloodshed and the loss of can-
nons, weapons, and other supplies stunned Tupac Amaru, who was in
the midst of his troops.72 He raced on horseback and plunged into the
Vilcanota/Combapata River to save himself, nearly drowning. Royalists
took hours to cross the river—the rebels had destroyed the bridge—and
del Valle claimed that Tupac Amaru wrote a frenzied note to Micaela:
“Many brave soldiers are coming after us; we have no alternative but to
die.”73
The bulk of the royalist troops came through Combapata, where the
rebels had built their fort. Del Valle used five cannons and gunfire to
destroy the wall that the rebels had constructed, forcing the insurgents to
flee. Other than seven prisoners, del Valle found Tinta deserted. Among
the rebel leader’s belongings, they discovered a portrait of Tupac Amaru
on horseback in the midst of the Sangarará victory that Tupac Amaru or
Micaela had commissioned. To the consternation of authorities in Cuzco
and generations of historians, the royalists destroyed the painting,74
Enticed by the promise of a significant reward, royalists rushed south
after the rebel leaders. On April 7, soldiers trapped Micaela, two of her
sons, Hipólito and Fernando, and other family members as they sought
to escape toward La Paz via Livitaca. In hindsight, Micaela had waited
too long for Tupac Amaru. Some accounts claim that their decision to
take valuable but heavy treasure such as gold and silver delayed their de-
parture from Tinta and slowed down their escape. Micaela admitted hav-
ing three pairs of earrings, eleven rings, golden buckles, a golden neck-
lace, bits of gold, 600 pesos (en plata sellada), four boxes of gold, “a lot
of” silver, and clothing and textiles. The Spanish believed she hid much
more.75
Separated from Micaela since the March battles, Tupac Amaru fled
to Langui, the area south of rebel headquarters that they had always pro-
jected as their escape route. In Langui, Ventura Landaeta, one of Tupac
Amaru’s followers, insisted that he rest before continuing his retreat.
He also urged Tupac Amaru to stay and resist rather than run. Tupac
Amaru realized too late that it was a ruse. Landaeta and another trait-
or, Francisco Santa Cruz, restrained him with the aid of local women
and the local priest, Antonio Martínez, until mulatto militiamen, who
had tracked him since his escape in the Vilcanota River, seized him.
Tupac Amaru offered 200,000 pesos for his freedom but to no avail.
The soldiers quickly tied up the rebel leader.76 Just weeks after having
nearly routed the royalists in the snowy peaks, Tupac Amaru was now in
shackles.
A well-armed battalion transferred Tupac Amaru and about thirty
prisoners—the estimates vary—to Tinta. Authorities hanged at least
sixty-seven prisoners, lower-level followers, in the following days. Ter-
rified Indians watched these grisly rituals, praying to be incorporated in
the general pardon promised by royalist leaders.77 Royalists killed hun-
dreds and perhaps thousands more—the number cannot be verified. The
execution of Indians rarely left a paper trail, particularly in the towns
outside of the Vilcanota Valley. Unlike del Valle and Areche, who had
to inform Cuzco, Lima, and Madrid of their actions, lesser commanders
did not send formal reports and were disinclined to detail the slaughter
of the enemy. Spanish forces seized weapons, ammunition, food, silver,
and items reportedly taken from churches in Langui and Tinta. Rumors
lingered for years about a hidden treasure of gold and silver.78 Del Valle
calculated that he had seized two trunks full of papers, providing Areche
“all you need to find out about the origin of this raucous uprising.” One
commentator wryly noted that these sources might make his accomplices
in the city of Cuzco “lose sleep.”79
On April 8, Tupac Amaru wrote letters from Tinta to his cousin Diego
Cristóbal, Andrés Mendigure, and other commanders asking them to
turn over their arms and to trust del Valle. Few believed in his sincerity
and although common indigenous people turned themselves in, claim-
ing they had nothing to do with the uprising or had been forced to
fight, rebel officers did not fall for the trap.80 Rumors arrived that Diego
Cristóbal would attempt to rescue his uncle in the road from Urcos to
Cuzco and royalists reinforced the substantial and heavily armed troops
that watched over their prize captives, all of whom had their arms and
legs tied and chained. On April 14, with Visitador Areche in the lead,
the convoy reached Cuzco. The city, “crazy with happiness,” had been
celebrating for days. Around the clock church bells helped spread the
news.81 Behind royalist euphoria, however, lay trouble. Rebels sneaked
into Checacupe after it had been taken by the royalists, killing the local
priest, Spaniards, and women and children who apparently supported
the Spanish.82 The Spanish would greatly regret that Diego Cristóbal,
Andrés Mendigure, and Mariano Tupac Amaru had not been captured.
The rebellion was not over. Moreover, Areche sought to prevent del
Valle from taking credit for the capture and these two rivals increasingly
clashed. In the months to come, infighting would develop into a broader
split between moderates, who sought negotiations with the rebels, and
hard-liners, who believed exterminating the enemy and Andean culture
was the only solution. This clash would shape not only the outcome of
the rebellion but also the nature and fate of Spanish rule in Peru.
 7

Torment

THE TRIAL AND EXECUTION of Tupac Amaru, Micaela Bastidas, and their
inner circle combined the administrative formality that marked Spanish-
American justice and the public cruelty that characterized early modern
Europe. Overseen by Areche and the newly arrived Visitador Benito Mata
Linares, two hard-liners who would cast a long shadow on Cuzco and
Peru in the coming years, the trial sought to obtain as much information
as possible about the rebellion and to intimidate the rebels’ followers, real
or potential. The Spanish also wanted revenge. They executed the pris-
oners in brutal fashion in front of thousands, intending for the spectacle
to discourage the indigenous population from further subversion. In addi-
tion, they sought to erase the memory of the uprising, its leaders, and the
movement’s ideas, as symbolized in the burning of their bodies and the
dumping of the ashes into the Huatanay River.
These were formidable and perhaps contradictory objectives. The ritu-
al was ghastly and shocked the region. Yet while it certainly intimidated,
it failed to silence or make people forget. For many people in Cuzco, past
and present, the May 17 execution converted the rebels into martyrs rather
than ignored apostates and criminals. If Areche and Mata Linares believed
that the execution and those executed would be forgotten after 1781, they
were wrong. Even Peruvians with a foggy notion of national history have
heard of the execution. Today plaques from the Rotary Club and from
Cuzco’s municipality mark the location of the execution in the bustling
Plaza de Armas.
 Seeing My Countrymen and Women Distressed, Mistreated,
Persecuted
Colonial authorities followed standard legal practice, although taking
special steps because of the significance of the rebel leaders and the
perceived threat that sympathizers might attempt to free the prisoners.
Areche had gone to great lengths to assure the prisoners’ arrival in Cuzco,
worried about the rumors that Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru and Mariano
Tupac Amaru would attack. Areche met the convoy in Urcos, seeking to
claim credit for the capture. On April 14, with most of the main streets
of Cuzco shut off and closely guarded, the prisoners reached the Plaza
Mayor. Tupac Amaru, chained to a mule, his ankles shackled and his arms
tied behind his back, wore a velvet gown and a cross, as though part of an
auto-da-fé. His family members were instructed to say good-bye to one
another—they would not see each other again until the execution, as he
and his son Hipólito were kept in isolation.1 Micaela reportedly cried. A
realist, she had always understood the danger they faced and knew that
the Spanish would treat them harshly.2 Tupac Amaru remained in a cell
adjacent to the Plaza Mayor, in what had been part of the Jesuit holdings,
while the rest of the prisoners were sent to the former San Francisco de
Borja School, which had been converted into a jail, military headquarters,
and at this point a courthouse.
Areche and Mata Linares relied on ten local scribes and notaries to
organize the information and to keep precise records. They called upon
Cuzco lawyers to aid them and to serve as defense attorneys. Despite hun-
dreds of testimonies and the review of thousands of documents, as well
as complex legal debates about matters such as whether the death penalty
could be applied to minors and whether Indians required different legal
procedures, they moved quickly. They handed down verdicts for the nine
principal defendants in a month and for the sixty-nine others in less than
three months. More than a hundred prisoners were released without trial.3
Clearly, Tupac Amaru was the centerpiece and Micaela Bastidas an
important second. Prosecutors scrutinized the documentation found in
Tinta and elsewhere and also brought in dozens of witnesses and forced
defendants to testify against one another, the careo. The Spaniards and
creoles who served as Tupac Amaru’s scribes, discussed in Chapter 3,
played a particularly important role. Royalists trusted the testimony of
these creoles and Spaniards while these defendants themselves desper-
ately sought to counter accusations that they had willingly aided the
rebellion. The trial against Tupac Amaru, found in the famous legajo
33-Cuzco in Seville’s Archivo de Indias and fully transcribed in the
Colección documental del bicentenario de la revolución emancipadora
Tupac Amaru (Document Collection for the Bicentennial of the Eman-
cipating Revolution of Tupac Amaru), begins with documents announ-
cing his capture and the testimony dating from April 17 of Francisco
Molina, Francisco Cisneros, and other scribes and advisors. The trial
material includes his correspondence and decrees found on the rebels
or elsewhere. Prosecutors added documentation as it came to their at-
tention, breaking the strict chronological organization. Just as historians
would do in the following centuries, the prosecuting team pored over all
of the correspondence to and from Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas
to find out who supported the rebellion as well as its geographical exten-
sion and motives.
Mata Linares cross-examined Tupac Amaru on April 19. The defend-
ant identified himself as from Surimana, married to Micaela Bastidas,
the noble Indian kuraka of Pampamarca in charge of the jurisdiction of
Pampamarca, Tungasuca, and Surimana. He immediately denied that “he
had gone against the king or his Crown.” Tupac Amaru described his
conflicts with several corregidors and admitted his great frustration with
them. He had asked several of these authorities what would happen if the
reparto were abolished and they answered glibly, “You would all have
your head tax, the tribute, doubled.” In other words, even if the Span-
ish freed Indians from one levy, the reparto, they would compensate by
increasing another. He admitted that this exchange had led him to com-
plain to his wife, “What good is it for me to be Tupac Amaro if we can’t
do anything for our countrymen [paisanos]?”4 Mata Linares immedi-
ately asked him what he meant by this and Tupac Amaru rambled, “If the
kingdom were a hacienda and I had rights to it, and there were Indians
on it and I saw them treated badly, it would be necessary, as a descendent
of the Incas, to defend them so they are no longer treated badly; as such,
seeing my countrymen and women distressed, mistreated, persecuted, I
believed it was my obligation to defend them, to see if I could lead them
out of this oppression.”5
Mata Linares then asked him why he believed himself a legitimate
descendent of the Incas, who gave him this right, to which he responded
the Audiencia or high court. Mata Linares rebuked him, charging that
the Audiencia had made no such declaration. The questions continued on
April 20 and, after taking Saturday the 21st off, concluded on the 22nd.
Tupac Amaru remained evasive, providing names already known by the
Spanish and vague answers about with whom he had planned the upris-
ing and for how long. When Mata Linares accused him of challenging
the king’s troops, taking the law into his own hands, killing Spaniards,
and committing other crimes, Tupac Amaru insisted that he was simply
defending Indians.6
On April 21, Areche received a report from royalist commanders
Domingo Guerra and José Acuña in Tinta. Promising “their best efforts
in inquiring about the frenetic and audacious caudillo,” they included
detailed a list found in Felipe Bermudez’s house of “Spaniards in this
Province.” They also included their own list of the dead, captured, and
still-at-large rebel leaders.7 The list of Spaniards indicated that the rebels
had done intelligence work, tracking which Spaniards remained near
Tinta. The latter list cited twelve dead, four prisoners, and approximately
fifty “still to be captured” by the rebels. Prosecutors incorporated docu-
ments as they arrived.
On the 27th, the face-to-face confrontations with witnesses began.
The prosecutor asked them repeatedly how long Tupac Amaru had
planned the uprising and with whom, seeking information about his al-
lies in Lima and Cuzco. Tupac Amaru remained vague throughout the
one-month trial and while acknowledging his lawsuit in the Lima high
court and his acquaintance with people across the viceroyalty, he did not
confirm a long-brewing conspiracy or the support of others. He refused
to implicate people not already arrested or clearly associated with him
and insisted that his struggle sought to aid the King of Spain by correct-
ing injustices that corrupt officials participated in or abetted.8
At midday on April 27, a desperate Tupac Amaru wrote a note in
his own blood on a small piece of fabric from the lining of his shirt.
He gave it to the guard with instructions to get it to lieutenant José
Casildo. The note asked for a file to remove his shackles. He believed
that once unshackled, if he made it to the yard, the people of Cuzco
would come to his rescue. He estimated that he could then take the
city in two hours.9 He offered the guards on duty magnificent bribes of
gold and silver (nineteen large bags or zurrones of silver and ten ar-
robas, a total of over two hundred fifty pounds, of gold), hidden in an
estate outside of Tinta that only he could find—the two men who had
helped him bury the treasure, he claimed, were dead. He asked that they
help rouse royalist soldiers from Huamanga (an Andean area between
Cuzco and Lima) stationed in Cuzco, who might be convinced to aid
his escape. Tupac Amaru tried to sway the guards by insisting that his
first targets would be Visitador Areche, their commander, and the oth-
er “lying señores” of the barracks.10 The guard, who could not read
the note—it was barely legible and he was presumably illiterate—told
his commander and the following day Mata Linares interrogated Tupac
Amaru about it. The prisoner acknowledged the letter but denied that
he had threatened Areche and other Spaniards. That day, Tupac Amaru
consistently irritated Mata Linares by rejecting the major charges against
him.
Frustrated that Tupac Amaru would not incriminate himself and oth-
ers for subversion, homicide, theft, and other charges, and perhaps con-
cerned about further escape ploys, Mata Linares ordered on April 28
that he be tortured, el tormento de garrucha. While authorities routinely
hit and underfed prisoners, they had never put to use such an elaborate
device. In the pulley torture or strappado, victims are suspended from a
pulley on the ceiling via a rope attached to their wrists, their arms tied
behind their backs. They are dropped and lifted, weights suspended from
their legs adding to the agony. Developed by the medieval Inquisition,
its victims have included Machiavelli and defendants in the Salem witch
trials.11
 Garrucha
Elaborate forms of torture such as this were uncommon in highland Peru.
The Inquisition had been at the vanguard of implementing horrific forms
of bodily punishment, but the Holy Office did not have jurisdiction over
Indians and did not maintain much of a presence outside of Lima. Its act-
ive Lima office focused instead on Jews, Protestants, and witches. Provin-
cial cities and towns had stocks to punish and humiliate, while haciendas
and textile mills counted on their own jails, stocks, and other devices to
punish.
The lack of formal torture in Cuzco’s jails does not mean, of course,
that prisoners were not mistreated. Authorities frequently beat prisoners
and kept them hungry. Tupac Amaru’s half-brother, Juan Bautista, de-
scribed his mistreatment. When authorities arrested him, they jammed his
pinkies into the trigger guard of a musket and squeezed the trigger until
his fingers bled. They locked him in a filthy cell with common prison-
ers and constantly insulted and threatened him. The warden encouraged
the guards to hit him. As a prisoner, Juan Bautista Tupac Amaru was al-
ways hungry, surviving on bits of rotten meat that could not be sold at the
market.12 Yet even this abusive mistreatment did not approach the sadistic
level of suffering inflicted systematically on Tupac Amaru.
On April 29, Mata Linares entered Tupac Amaru’s cell. He asked him
to reconsider his refusal to name accomplices in Lima and Cuzco and
those with whom he had corresponded, and then posed more specific
questions: whether it was true that he had been planning the uprising for
five years; whether he had mentioned it when he took confession; if he
spoke out against repartimientos in Lima, fostering rebellion; and whether
Mariano Barrera had written to him about a revolt when he was in Lima,
mentioning that “four provinces are with us and we could move on to
Cuzco and destroy the Spaniards.” Authorities worried that if the rebellion
had roots in Lima—which it did not—it could revive even after the lead-
ers’ execution. Tupac Amaru only acknowledged that he had complained
to his confessor about corregidors’ “extortions” and mistreatment of Indi-
ans; the priests had instructed him to “leave everything to God.”13 Mata
Linares asked him several times to answer the questions, which Tupac
Amaru refused to do, and so the judge declared that the defendant’s ob-
stinacy forced him to resort to torture. He declared that if Tupac Amaru
had a leg or arm broken or if he died, it was his fault, not Mata Linares’s.
The executioner made Tupac Amaru change into a coarse robe and
tied his legs together and his arms behind his back. He tightly fastened
a thick rope to his wrists and ran it through a pulley on the ceiling. He
attached “one hundred pounds of iron or lead” to his legs and lifted him
about six feet off the ground.14 This puts all the pressure on the prison-
er’s internal shoulder sockets; in most cases, it dislocates them.15 Mata
Linares asked Tupac Amaru again about his accomplices, specifically
people whom he had written in Cuzco, and when he declined to answer,
the executioner hoisted him up near the ceiling and dropped him, catch-
ing the slack just before he hit the floor. According to one history of tor-
ture, “the shock to the body, of this suddenly terminated fall, was suf-
ficient to jar every bone, joint, and nerve in the system. In most cases
it entailed dislocation. The process was repeated again and again until
the culprit confessed or became unconscious.”16 In the case of Tupac
Amaru, it lasted for half an hour, thirty minutes of excruciating pain.
A clerk transcribed Tupac Amaru’s gut-wrenching screams and pleas
for mercy. Modern torture regimes do not provide such a record. The
moans, entreaties, and brief exclamations indicate a man in paralyzing
agony who could not complete a sentence. It begins: “ay, ay, ay, mercy
Lord, ay, ay, I am lost your lord [vuestra señoría], your lord, ay, ay, no
more, no, ay, more, the Indians for Holy Mary, your lord, your lord, ay,
ay, there is no more, I haven’t dealt with anyone, in the name of Holy
Mary’s rosary, take my life which has to be remedied, for Holy Mary,
ay, your lord will have to reckon with God, your lord for Holy Mary, ay,
merciful one, take my life which I haven’t had.…”
This constitutes the first five minutes or so of the torture session.
These pitiful moans and pleas for mercy continued, Tupac Amaru hois-
ted up and dropped down repeatedly, until “the clock on the table
signaled that half an hour had passed.”17 Tupac Amaru named no one
except the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and Joseph. The brutal, relentless com-
bination of the slow lift, the weight fully on his upper body, abrupt free
fall, and sudden stop presumably dislocated both his shoulders and prob-
ably broke some bones. One account sympathetic to the rebels written
just a few years later stressed how Tupac Amaru resisted giving names
or admitting his guilt and snarled at Areche: “You and I are the only ones
guilty for the bloodshed. You for oppressing this kingdom with excess-
ive and new taxes, and I for wanting to liberate it from this tyranny and
humiliation.”18 This account claimed that in a letter, Spanish witnesses
to the torture had stated, “It was a pleasure to hear the Indian Rebel’s
bones snap and crunch as the rope twisted.”19
 Unimaginable Violence
The questioning continued in early May. The Spanish did not torture
Tupac Amaru or any of the other defendants again.20 Tupac Amaru con-
ceded knowing people with whom he had corresponded, hardly a shock-
ing admission, and acknowledged in vague fashion his long-festering dis-
like for corregidors’ exploitation of Indians. He gave prosecutors almost
no valuable information. Micaela Bastidas used a different tactic. She
claimed that Tupac Amaru told her little about the uprising and that if she
had asked him, he would have told her to “go away” [pasear] or have
hit her. She stated that he had wanted to strike her several times and that
she was too scared to run away. Later in the trial she testified that Tupac
Amaru abused her verbally and physically, by whipping, kicking, strik-
ing, and slapping her and occasionally tying her to a post.21 Tupac Amaru
contradicted her (probably without knowing he was doing so), confirm-
ing that he consulted with her and admitting that “It’s certain that be-
fore the uprising he sometimes whipped, slapped, or beat her with a stick,
but not once it began.”22 She also stressed her ignorance and blamed the
Spanish and creole scribes for the incriminating communications. Un-
fortunately for this line of defense, virtually every testimony underlined
her vigor and skill as a commander and her leadership of the uprising.
Several claimed Bastidas was better or fiercer than her husband. Francisco
Molina said “She gives written and verbal orders with more rigor than
the Rebel”; Manuel Galleguillos testified that “her orders were stronger
than those of her husband and her desire was to kill all the Spaniards
with blood and fire”; according to Mariano Banda, “She gave more or-
ders than anyone.”23 The documentation—including dozens of her com-
munications, which she probably dictated to someone else—and the testi-
monies contradicted her strategy of casting herself as a secondary charac-
ter who was only following the orders of her violent husband.24 Her de-
fense lawyer requested that she be exempted from the death penalty, and
sent instead to a presidio in Africa.25 He was denied. With the exception
of Hipólito, Micaela and José Gabriel’s son, other defendants denied the
charges or blamed coercion. When asked about whether he sought a re-
bellion, Hipólito admitted, “It’s true that I have desired it.”26
One piece of evidence prompted additional questioning in the trial and
has intrigued analysts for centuries. Upon his arrest royalists found a pro-
clamation in one of Tupac Amaru’s pockets, styling him “Don Joseph the
First by the Grace of God, Inca of Peru, Santa Fe, Quito, Buenos Aires
and the Continent on these South Seas, Duke of the Superlative, Lord
of the Caesars and Amazons, with Dominions in the Great Paititi, Com-
missary Distributer of the Divine Piety Inheritance”.27 It stated that “our
council” had ascertained in multiple meetings that the “kings of Castile
have usurped the Crown from me and the dominion of our people for
nearly three centuries,” and have “imposed on our subjects unbearable
burdens of taxes, service, duties, customs, sales tax, monopolies, land
taxes, tithes, and fifths [quintos].… The administration of justice always
favors those who offer and pay the most.”28 The proclamation called for
no taxes to be paid to the “European intruders,” whereas the priesthood
should be “honored” with the tithe and other payments. It ended by de-
manding that it be posted in cities, towns, and villages throughout “his
dominion.” The proclamation reached Huarochirí outside of Lima, and
New Granada—present-day Colombia. Tupac Amaru, however, denied
writing it. He claimed that Micaela had mentioned it to him and thought
that it might have come from the mayor of the town of Marcapata.29 For
prosecutors, it was a sign that he sought “not only to rise up but also to
rule this vast kingdom.”30 They added this charge to the accusations.
Tupac Amaru became ill on May 2—probably from the effects of the
torture days before—and this, as well as his efforts to write supporters
and organize an escape, encouraged prosecutors to hurry. They wanted
him alive for the execution. He testified several more times, stressing
his work to defend Indians from the brutal and ultimately un-Christian
ways of corregidors and other authorities.31 José de Saldívar y Saavedra,
an additional prosecutor or fiscal, summarized the charges: homicide,
parricide—as Arriaga was the paternal authority of the area—and lèse-
majesté, the most heinous form of treason. He noted that these important
captures had not stopped the uprising and that nothing else could be
gained from interrogating Tupac Amaru, who had not provided useful
information “not only in the first interrogation but even during the gar-
rucha torture session, which, even though among the strongest sessions,
had no effect on him. Tenacious in his denial, he did not confess to any
of the accusations.”32
 Authorities instructed Tupac Amaru to hire a lawyer for the senten-
cing phase but when he said he did not have one, they named Miguel
Iturrizarra, a lawyer and priest. The defense attorney requested that
Tupac Amaru be absolved or that the punishment be lightened. Yet Itur-
rizarra recognized the “gravity” of the crimes and did not make a con-
vincing case for leniency. In general, the defense attorneys in all of these
cases did not question whether the defendants were guilty—they as-
sumed this—but instead sought to gain leniency in the sentencing.33
On May 9, prosecutors accused Tupac Amaru of propagating the
news of his uprising in London and Madrid, via a Jesuit. They referred
to an article published in London on October 6, 1780.34 The Jesuits had
been expelled in 1767 and many subsequently wrote piercing indict-
ments of Spanish rule from Europe. On October 6, 1780, the Chester
Chronicle and General Advertiser published reports seized from a Span-
ish vessel about the uprisings in Arequipa, Cuzco, La Paz, and Potosí in
the early months of 1780. Articles about Tupac Amaru would only sur-
face in the English press in July 1781.35 The prosecution was correct in
pointing out the attention to Peru in the English press, but erred in blam-
ing Tupac Amaru and in contending that the articles were about his re-
bellion. In the trial, Tupac Amaru continued to deny involvement and
failed to satisfy prosecutors’ quest for the names of more accomplices.
News that Tupac Amaru had again managed to write people in Cuzco
while in jail alarmed Mata Linares and others and set off another inquiry
into how he had done it and the nature of these contacts. The prisoner
had bribed two sentinels from the Huamanga division, Fermín Luque
and Lino Santiago, to give him pen and paper and to deliver his notes. In
the hastily written messages, he asked José de Palacios, Micaela Basti-
das’ cousin, for twenty-five pesos. He requested the same from Marcos
Carrillo, apologizing for his penmanship as he had to write with his left
as his right hand “was all broken,” as well as Bernardo Carrillo and Pas-
cual Carvajal. All of them refused to help, no doubt panic-stricken by
the arrival of this tangible evidence of possible rebel sympathies in the
midst of a highly publicized trial where the threat of a death sentence
lingered in the Cuzco air. When confronted with the evidence, Tupac
Amaru claimed that he was trying to get back money owed to him to
have something for his young son Fernando.36
 To these final inquiries Mata Linares added the question of whether
Tupac Amaru had promised his Indian followers that they would be re-
surrected if they fell as martyrs. Francisco Cisneros confirmed that the
rebel leader had insisted that they not fear death—he would resurrect
them.37 On May 14, Tupac Amaru again testified, this time declaring
who he owed and who owed him money, and how much. His list rambled
for several pages and included more than thirty people, indicating how
the Andean economy, particularly those in his profession as a muleteer-
merchant, relied on credit. He was cash poor but owned numerous
properties. He mentioned two houses in Tungasuca as well as single
houses in Surimana, Cuzco, and Pampamarca. His rural properties dis-
played the complexity of the late colonial land tenure system. These in-
cluded chacritas or small fields in numerous towns and a small hacienda
(“haciendita”) in Tinta that he had rented out to several people. The
small fields were essentially access rights while the hacienda presum-
ably, if it followed the normal pattern for the area, had numerous liens
and mortgages. He owned three hundred mules. He did not sign this
testimony, his last, because of a “disconcerted” wrist.38
On May 15, 1781 Visitador Areche pronounced his sentence. He un-
derlined that Tupac Amaru had led a “rebellion or general uprising by
Indians, mestizos, and other castes” planned for over five years and initi-
ated throughout the Peruvian viceroyalty and that of Buenos Aires, with
the intention of crowning himself king and liberator of “that type of in-
habitant whom he managed to seduce,” that is, Indians. Areche accused
him of Arriaga’s death and of attempted jailbreaks. Areche insisted on
the need for a rapid execution since many Indians were “full of super-
stitions, which lead them to think that the death penalty is impossible
for him due to the high nature of his character, believing him a descend-
ent of the main line of the Incas, as he called himself, and thus abso-
lute and natural owner of these dominions.” Areche denounced Indians
and other members of the “plebian castes” for having joined the uprising
due to their ignorance and naïveté and contended that “their implacable
hatred toward Europeans or even all white faces or pukacunkas as they
call them” led to “devastation, insults, horrors, robberies, deaths, rapes,
unimaginable violence, church desecrations, vilification of Spanish of-
ficials, and made a mockery of our most important weapon, excommu-
nication, as they considered themselves immune or outside its reach.”39
Areche firmly blamed Tupac Amaru and the leadership but also berated
Indians and other lower-class followers for their foolishness and distance
from Spanish ways, which allowed them to be seduced. In the coming
years, he would attempt to remedy this supposed gap between the worlds
of Europeans and of indigenous people, in brutal fashion.
Areche then detailed how Tupac Amaru had usurped power, declared
himself Inca, issued orders in the king’s name, interfered in tax collec-
tion, claimed falsely to protect the Church, imposed the death penalty,
and deceived his followers with the illusion that they would not die be-
cause he could resurrect them. The visitador highlighted Tupac Amaru’s
commission of a portrait of himself in Inca regalia with Sangarará as the
backdrop. He bitterly noted:

His pretension of royal descent … has made such an impression on the Indians that they
believe him, and as simpletons [en medio de su rudeza] they wrote and talked to him with
the utmost submission and respect, treating him as their Lord, Excellency, Royal Highness
or Majesty, coming from various provinces to render him proper obedience and submis-
sion, failing to honor the strict obligations of fidelity and religion that he, as well as all
subjects, should have toward their natural king. This is clear, painful, and evident proof of
the misplaced spirit with which that miserable class is governed, and also how little they
understand subordination and compliance according to the legitimate power of our adored
sovereign.40

In the eyes of Areche, a dishonest and subversive leader connived to gain

the support of the superstitious and backward masses.
Areche’s prose became more straightforward when he reached the de-
tails of the execution. Executioners would largely follow these precise,
macabre orders. After detailing the horrors to be enacted on Tupac
Amaru and his inner circle’s bodies and the confiscation or destruction
of their property and fields, he ordered that all members of his family
be brought to justice. Some participants had not been captured and many
distant relatives had not participated, some living far away from the rebel
center. However, they would not be freed from punishment. Blood ties
to Tupac Amaru made them guilty.41
Areche pledged a number of measures aimed at eradicating the
memory of the Incas. In fact, his measures went farther than this: they
sought to overturn the mode of government in place in the Andes since
the late sixteenth century, the Toledan Reforms. He prohibited people
from claiming descent from the Incas and recommended the abolition of
the kurakas office, the linchpin of colonial rule, calling instead for elec-
ted mayors who knew the Spanish language and customs. He prohibited
a long list of items: “pagan clothes,” stressing the images they contain
of the Sun, the Inca symbol; plays or acts that commemorate the Incas;
pututos or conch trumpets; mourning clothes that mark the passing of
“their deceased monarchs”; and the use of Inca in one’s name or signa-
ture. To fulfill this cultural project—a de-Incanization of the indigenous
Andean masses in order to “free them from the hatred that they have
against Spaniards”—he called for schools with strict dress and language
codes: “They shall be given a period of four years for the people to speak
fluently or at least be able to make themselves understood and to ex-
plain themselves in Castilian.”42 He closed by banning the manufacture
of cannons and demanding that those found in haciendas and textile mills
be confiscated, with strict punishment for anyone who disobeyed.43
The following day Areche pronounced measures aimed at keeping or-
der before, during, and after the execution. Tallow lamps had to remain
lit outside every house and no groups larger than four men or women
were allowed to congregate. He ordered that his decree be posted
throughout the city.44 In addition, he ordered that in the midst of the ex-
ecution, “no talk about a pardon should be heard, or anything else that
could rouse the people.” He threatened that anyone who violated this de-
cree would be executed, without trial.45 On May 16, Mata Linares in-
terviewed Tupac Amaru to see if he had anything to add to his “con-
fession.” The prisoner provided no new information and said that he
couldn’t sign the document because of his broken hand.46 Ecclesiastical
authorities lifted the excommunication, allowing the prisoners to take
last rites. It is unclear whether they did.47
Prosecutors also sentenced the creoles and Spaniards accused of hav-
ing passed over to the rebels, examined in Chapter 2. Banda, de la Mad-
rid, Escarcena, and Figueroa fled to Cuzco in January while Cisneros,
Galleguillos, Molina and Ortigoza turned themselves in to the Spanish
in late March or April 1781. All faced long trials. Figueroa stressed that
he had sabotaged the rebels’ arms, putting in bad screws in the muskets,
dampening gunpowder, and impairing the cannons whenever he could.
In fact, he took charge of the cannons in the siege of Cuzco and made
sure that they fired off target. He was the only one absolved. Ortigoza
was given azotes or lashes and banished to an unnamed foreign presi-
dio, which meant hard labor, for ten years. The others were banished
from between two to six years. Cisneros could not come up with the bail
money and almost had his sentence increased.48 Areche had used their
testimony in the trials against the rebel leaders but wanted them out of
Cuzco as soon as possible.
 The Death Knell of Spanish Rule?
On Friday May 18, executioners led Tupac Amaru and the other prisoners
out of their cells adjoining the Plaza Mayor, guarded by heavily armed
members of the mulatto and Huamanga militias. One observer noted that
the large crowd in the plaza remained quiet and included no Indians, “at
least in their typical dress; if there were any they were disguised in capes
and ponchos.”49 Perhaps Indians found the ceremony too excruciating to
watch or worried that the crowd could become violent and attack them.
Workers had erected gallows, at this point guarded by armed mulattoes.
Dressed in canvas sacks used to bring yerba mate from Paraguay, their
hands and feet tied tight, the prisoners were dragged behind horses, their
skin scraping on the cobblestone streets. A town crier declared, “This is
the justice that in the name of the King, our Lord, don José Antonio de
Areche imposes.… He who does it, pays for it [quien tal hace; que tal
pague).” Diego Verdejo, Antonio Oblitas (the black servant who had par-
ticipated in the hanging of Arriaga and possibly drew a portrait of Tupac
Amaru), Micaela’s brother Antonio Bastidas, and Antonio Castelo were
the first victims. They were hanged, their bodies dumped below the gal-
lows. Francisco Tupac Amaru (José Gabriel’s uncle) and Hipólito (Tupac
Amaru and Micaela Bastidas’s elder son) had their tongues severed before
they were hanged. Soldiers forced Micaela and José Gabriel to watch. To-
masa Tito Condemayta, at one point called Tupac Amaru’s “favorite,” was
taken to a low chair in front of the gallows.50 The executioner attached
an iron band to her neck, a garrote, and tightened it with a crank until she
asphyxiated in excruciating fashion. The metal garrote was a novelty in
Cuzco: “it was made for the occasion and we had never seen one here.”51
She was then hanged, to confirm her death.
Micaela was then led to the gallows. Executioners slashed her
tongue—some claim that she would not open her mouth and only after her
death was it cut. They then strapped her into the garrote. According to one
account, her neck was too thin for the garrote to work so the execution-
ers instead strangled her with a rope and kicked her until her death. While
historians disagree about the execution technique, everyone agrees that it
was agony.52
José Gabriel was forced to watch. Executioners then led him to the gal-
lows and cut his tongue. They tied his limbs to four horses in order for him
to be quartered, “a spectacle never seen before in this city.”53 The horses
pushed toward the plaza’s four corners but Tupac Amaru’s arms and
legs did not separate from his torso. Frustrated, Areche ordered him be-
headed. His youngest son, Fernando, screamed as his witnessed his fath-
er’s agony. In the words of the English geographer and traveler Clements
Markham, who visited Peru numerous times in the mid-nineteenth cen-
tury, Fernando “uttered a heart rending shriek, the knell of which contin-
ued to ring in the ears of those who heard it to their dying day. It was the
death knell of Spanish rule in South America.”54 Even the most hardened
royalist must have shuddered at this scene. The boy was made to pass by
the gallows and gaze at the bloody, severed cadaver. His age saved him
from the death sentence—he was ten. One witness described a sudden
gust of wind and a downpour that made people take cover when Tupac
Amaru expired. The observer continued, “this is why Indians say that
heaven and the elements felt the death of the Inca whom the inhuman
and impious Spaniards were killing with such cruelty.”55
The executioners detached the heads and limbs from all of the dead.
They burned José Gabriel and Micaela’s torsos in a bonfire on the Picchu
hill and dumped the ashes into the Huatanay River. Areche had precise
plans how to distribute the body parts, using them as a grisly warning
about the danger of sedition. Tungasuca received an arm from Tupac
Amaru and one from Micaela as well as Hipólito Tupac Amaru’s head;
Tinta, Tupac Amaru’s head; Pampamarca an arm from Antonio Basti-
das; Surimana, an arm from Castelo, whose other arm was sent to Pam-
pamarca.56
 The Second Stage
In the bloody spectacle, executioners tortured and annihilated the bodies
of the rebel inner circle. They aimed to demonstrate to the thousands
present and the multitude of people who would hear about it or see the
body parts the high cost of subversion and the extermination of the lead-
ership. Areche’s sentence also promised a vast campaign against the An-
dean culture rooted in the Quechua language and the memory of the Incas.
With the ghoulish executions, Areche sought to disseminate the idea that
the rebellion was finished, that the royalists had won.57 Yet the authorit-
ies knew that not only had they been fortunate in capturing these leaders
but that the uprising was far from over. Diego Cristóbal, Mariano Tupac
Amaru, and Andrés Mendigure moved their forces to the south, abandon-
ing the more conciliatory tactics of Micaela Bastidas and José Gabriel
Tupac Amaru, who consistently sought to gain support of middle sectors
and the Church and thus hemmed in violence. This concern did not bur-
den the second wave of leaders.
In addition, the rebellion had set an example and broken historic but
fragile codes of agreement and repression. Indians in small towns began
to resist authorities while others attacked more affluent villas. Some pre-
sumably understood the executions as proof that they should fight until
their death, that they had no possibility of surviving Spanish justice. By
May 1781, while the new leaders coordinated attacks and oversaw insur-
gent strategy, rebel followers took an increasingly independent path, feel-
ing less obliged to follow orders. They often took matters into their own
hands; violence surged from below. Despite Areche and Mata Linares’
best efforts, the gruesome ritual on May 18 was not a conclusion but the
beginning of a bloodier and even more confusing stage.
 8

The Other Side of the Lake

ROYALISTS CELEBRATED the gruesome death of the rebellion’s leaders.

Many people in the city of Cuzco believed that the bloody executions
meant the end of the uprising. They realized that some of Tupac Amaru’s
family had escaped, but remained confident that they would be captured
or simply slip away into the jungle and abandon the struggle. This would
not be the case. And troubling news also arrived from the far south, the
Lake Titicaca area and the Collao. There, a series of uprisings had upen-
ded Spanish rule. Indigenous rebels threatened much of Charcas (part of
present-day Bolivia), and the violence began to spread into Peru through
the Titicaca area. While many in Lima and Cuzco rejoiced at the death of
the rebel leaders, informed royalists knew that the Upper Peruvian upris-
ings could extend into Peru. In May 1781, peace was not at hand.
Royalists worried that the rebellion could paralyze Charcas, cutting
off Peru from the La Plata Viceroyalty, including the Potosí silver mines,
and the Pacific from the Atlantic Ocean. Or worse, the rebels in the
Collao could unite with the followers of Tupac Amaru, igniting a struggle
that would immediately stretch from Cuzco to Potosí, and potentially
much farther. But it was not only the extent of the uprisings but also the
nature of the aggression that was troubling. News reached Cuzco about
beheadings, punctured eyes, abused corpses, and other “butchery” by
bloodthirsty insurgents who sought to exterminate all Europeans. Build-
ing on centuries of obnoxious interpretations of Indian “depravity,” these
reports perhaps exaggerated. Nonetheless, the rebels in Upper Peru and
the area around Lake Titicaca showed little of the restraint that José Gab-
riel and Micaela had managed to impose on their followers near Cuzco.
The prospect of an increasingly bloody and protracted total war,
bolstered by an alliance between the Tupac Amaru forces and the
Kataristas, terrified royalists. The astounding, violent events taking place
in Upper Peru must be understood in order to comprehend the Tupac
Amaru movement.
 The Kataristas
From late 1780 until well into 1782, the Tupac Amaru and Katarista re-
volutionaries made intermittent efforts to unite, an alliance that royalists
sought to prevent at all costs. The efforts to create a Tupac
Amaru–Katarista coalition loom large in most accounts of the Tupac
Amaru uprising, including this one.1 While the uprising in Peru can be
spoken of in the singular, the Tupac Amaru Rebellion, Charcas was the
site of several related but not unified rebellions. In the Chayanta area
of northern Potosí, tensions between Indians and authorities escalated in
the late 1770s. Indians increasingly questioned their kurakas, corregidors,
and priests, underlining their corruption and declining legitimacy in local
society. In 1778, Tomás Katari, a humble Aymara from the Chayanta
area, argued these points in the name of the Macha village in the Buenos
Aires high court. Just like José Gabriel after his bitter experience in Lima,
Katari returned home disillusioned with the colonial legal system. The
nonviolent struggle stalemated and what had first been a negotiation and
then a court battle became an increasingly violent revolt in 1780, just
when events near Cuzco were boiling over into a mass uprising.2
On his return from Buenos Aires, Katari was imprisoned, freed by
angry villagers, and imprisoned again. On August 26, 1780, Indians from
throughout the region stormed the town of Pocoata and seized the corre-
gidor, Joaquín Alós, whom they exchanged for Katari. Late 1780 saw a
unique period of indigenous self-rule in Chayanta as Katari and his fol-
lowers reinvented relations between indigenous communities and the co-
lonial state. It did not last. Against the wishes of Katari, violence broke
out. In the community of Moscari, Indians killed their kuraka and exhib-
ited his head in the outskirts of the city of La Plata. In mid-December, a
militia chief, Juan Antonio Acuña, arrested Katari. Indians attacked the
convoy and Acuña quickly executed Katari. The attackers killed Acuña
and his entourage, leaving their bodies unburied and piercing Acuña’s
eyes.3
Katarista Violence

The uprising transformed from a utopic self-government experiment

into a fierce Indian-based struggle against colonial domination. Tomás
Katari’s brothers, Dámaso and Nicolás, assumed leadership of the upris-
ing. They formed a mass rebel army that swept through towns and com-
munities. Rebels targeted Spaniards and creoles as well as the symbols
and the mechanisms of colonial exploitation: haciendas, textile mills,
and mestizo villages. They coordinated with other communities and led
the siege of the city of La Plata in February 1781. Dámaso Katari ex-
pressed confidence that Tupac Amaru would aid their cause yet neither
the Katari brothers nor Tupac Amaru survived long enough to put an al-
liance into practice.4 Indians loyal to the Spanish captured Dámaso and
Nicolás Katari. Authorities executed Dámaso on April 27, 1781 in grisly,
public fashion in La Plata, and killed Nicolás on May 7, just weeks be-
fore Tupac Amaru’s death.
 Indians were not the only insurgents in Charcas. In the city of Oruro,
affluent creoles banded together with the lower classes and the indi-
genous peasantry to contest the power of Spaniards. While the creoles
owned nearby mines, the Europeans held power as merchants and fin-
anciers. The Oruro uprising resembled the hierarchical, multiclass soci-
ology of the Tupac Amaru rebellion. In February 1781, the rebels con-
trolled the city and surrounding countryside and frequently mentioned
Tupac Amaru. In the words of one historian, “this unprecedented inter-
racial alliance was built upon mutual expectations of Túpac Amaru’s ap-
proaching government. Creoles and plebeians, as well as Indians, knew
that the Inka had risen up and gone to war in Cuzco. Rumor had it that he
was nearing La Paz and before long would arrive in Oruro.”5 Frightened
royalists, of course, also had the Tinta rebels on their minds. One doc-
ument from the period nervously mentioned “the fatalities that occurred
in the province of Chayanta and Tinta with an edict issued by the insur-
rectionary Tupac Amaru in which he ordered all the corregidores and
chapetones [killed] because his intention was to leave not one remaining
in this nation.”6 In February 1781, however, tensions between the more
radical Indians and urban plebs on one side and the creoles on the oth-
er tore apart the Oruro coalition. Colonial forces brutally repressed the
rebels, including the “class traitor” creoles.7
The rebellion was not over. Beginning in February 1781, Julián
Apaza, an Indian from the community of Sicasica who assumed the
name Tupac Katari in honor of both Tupac Amaru and the Katari broth-
ers, led an uprising of Aymara communities around the city of La Paz.
He was such an obscure figure that the Spanish initially believed Tupac
Amaru was behind the violence.8 Once the Spanish understood that
Apaza—Tupac Katari—led the uprising, they ridiculed him for his social
background. One document deemed him “an Indian of very low condi-
tion, who had labored in the lowest occupations, being one of the poorest
of people during his life. He was of middling stature, with an ugly face,
somewhat deformed in his legs and hands.”9 He spoke Spanish poorly
(a feature that royalists derided but the Indian masses empathized with),
while childhood polio had made one leg shorter than the other and de-
formed his hands. Several accounts refer to his drinking habit. Wheth-
er this was true or fabricated as part of the Spanish propaganda attack
is unverifiable. Royalists cast Apaza as a misfit from the dregs of soci-
ety and, once his movement gained force, as a murderous barbarian.10
These characterizations must be treated critically, a reflection of the so-
cial hierarchies of the era and colonial paranoia. What is certain is that
Tupac Katari and the Tupac Amaru forces collaborated in the Lake Tit-
icaca area in 1781, seeking to forge a broad Aymara-Quechua or Collao-
Cuzco rebel coalition.
Some important differences between the two rebellions stand out.
The Katarista uprising was a constellation of overlapping revolts and
movements with different leaders and strategies. The Tupac Amaru re-
bellion evolved around José Gabriel, as the absolute leader and, upon
his death, as a guiding symbol. The different Katarista movements, with
the exception of Oruro, did not seek the multiclass coalition that Tupac
Amaru and Micaela Bastidas envisioned, but instead persecuted every-
one, Europeans and Americans, who they believed to be part of the now
illegitimate colonial system. Tupac Amaru lobbied and recruited creoles;
the Kataristas did not. Finally, the Tupac Amaru forces believed deeply
in the uprising as a return to the Incas, which they saw as a utopian time
of self-government and justice. The Incas did not play such an import-
ant ideological role in Charcas. While Cuzco had been the Incas’ center
of the universe, the Collao and beyond was more of a conquered area
during the Inca Empire. The Aymara did not hold the same glorified im-
age of the Incas as did Quechua people.11 So while the Amaristas and
Kataristas had much in common, representing the diversity of Andean
people, they also had different social bases, tactics, and objectives. These
would create tension and encumber the much-feared alliance.
In early 1781, Tupac Katari oversaw attacks in Sicasica, between
Oruro and La Paz, while his followers stretched the fighting all the way
to Lake Titicaca. In March, his forces began the siege of La Paz. Like
Tupac Amaru, Tupac Katari relied heavily on his wife, Bartolina Sisa, as
well as his sister, Gregoria Apaza. They collaborated in planning as well
as the attacks themselves.12 Katari corresponded with Diego Cristóbal,
and the two groups, but not the leaders, began to converge in the area
east of Lake Titicaca and north of La Paz. In March the Kataristas sup-
ported an attack on Puno from the south and also attacked Juli, Acora,
Ilave, and Chucuito. The attack on Juli left four hundred dead.13 Andrés
Tupac Amaru led the Tupac Amaru forces to the east of Lake Titicaca.
The two sides were not actually coordinating these attacks in the first
half of 1781. Each side knew of the whereabouts of the other and un-
derstood how strikes on multiple fronts enfeebled Spanish defenses, but
did not plan simultaneous actions. And tensions spread, impeding a co-
alition. For example, Diego Cristóbal rebuked Katari for assuming the
title of “Viceroy” and “Joseph King.” José Gabriel’s cousin believed that
the Cuzco rebels necessarily had to lead any coalition. Some sources hint
that Diego Cristóbal shared the Spaniards’ derision for Tupac Katari’s
social background. Katari resented this meddling and did not always
receive the Tupac Amaru emissaries in La Paz.14 These tensions and
disagreements about who should lead would continue. Yet the violence
around Titicaca in the first half of 1781 highlighted rebel strength in the
region and the new, dreadful forms of brutality.
 Titicaca
In the first months of 1781, Tupac Amaru rebels complained that Indians
in the uprising’s core area south of Cuzco had begun to resist their de-
mands for supplies and soldiers and even expressed doubts about Tupac
Amaru himself. The failed siege of Cuzco had apparently shaken the re-
solve of some rebel followers and demystified Tupac Amaru. Royalists
impeded attacks, and most importantly, captured the rebel leaders in
April. Yet the situation was very different farther to the south, the area
around Lake Titicaca extending into Upper Peru. There, insurgents had
royalists on the run and violence escalated. According to corregidor
Joaquín Orellana, the leader of Spanish forces, Indians ransacked towns,
killing all men, women, and children they considered “European.” The
Katarista and Amaru rebellions began to overlap. Violence escalated.
Quechua and Aymara Indians greatly outnumbered Spaniards in this
region, even more so when many Europeans, creoles, and mestizos fled
in late 1780. The Spanish could only count on local militias and small
battalions led by beleaguered corregidors, the defense that had done so
poorly against Tupac Amaru in late 1780. These units fared even worse in
1781. Those fleeing Collao brought stories to Cuzco about Indian rebels
beheading people, drowning children, mutilating bodies, and drinking the
blood of their victims. In addition to such lurid tales, Orellana passed
along accounts of rebels chasing desperate Spaniards on horseback for
miles and miles, people plunging into frigid Lake Titicaca to escape the
rebels, and groups of frantic Europeans and mestizos fleeing toward Are-
quipa.
There were three types of insurgents fighting in the Titicaca area: those
with ties to Tupac Amaru, those aligned with the Kataristas, and those
more independent, who recognized one or both of the rebel groups but re-
mained autonomous. These latter groups built on local hatreds and did not
necessarily heed Tupac Amaru’s calls to respect those people considered
neutral, primarily mestizos, women, and children. In general, these more
autonomous rebels sought to exterminate rather than defeat and disarm
the enemy. This more vicious form of combat, with less control by lead-
ers, would characterize the uprising in the coming year. From Cuzco
and well into Upper Peru, the fear of rebel atrocities and of an alliance
between the Tupac Amaru and Tupac Katari camps spread, intensified by
the increasingly wretched stories of murder and mayhem. A brief ac-
count of some of these battles gives an idea of the new brutality.
Orellana won a rare victory on February 16 in the bloody battle
of Mananchili, near Puno. The royalists benefitted from disagreements
between rebel commanders Andrés Ingaricona and Nicolás Sanca, who
had fought for Tupac Amaru in the Titicaca area since November 1780.
One account sneered that Sanca “who had transformed from a sacristan
and singer in the church choir to a colonel in Tupac Amaru’s army, com-
mitted terrible destruction everywhere he went.”15 Both royalists and
rebels slaughtered any opponent they could trap, and reports of atrocities
followed. Neutrality was just about impossible at this point, at least for
men, and, in contrast to the first months of the uprising, each side ex-
ecuted prisoners. Alarmed by these events, in late February 1781 Tupac
Amaru sent his trusted commander Ramón Ponce to the Titicaca area,
hoping to take Puno, put the insurgents under his mandate, and coordin-
ate with rebels in Upper Peru. José Gabriel himself had misgivings about
the autonomy of the rebel groups around Lake Titicaca and the new,
more brutal forms of violence.
On his way south, Ponce observed that many Indian towns and in-
dividuals supported the uprising but did not necessarily follow Tupac
Amaru’s orders. Around Cuzco, Tupac Amaru could expect his follow-
ers to obey; this was not the case farther south. For example, Ponce com-
plained that in the towns from Santa Rosa to Carabaya, “they [Indians]
had been fighting among themselves, without honoring your royal high-
ness and your royal decrees.”16 On March 5, Ponce despaired that insur-
gents from Carabaya, to the north of Lake Titicaca, showed no deference
to rebel leaders. He requested a decree from Tupac Amaru confirming
his authority, “so that the Carabaya folks aren’t so extreme in killing, in
destroying houses and haciendas, even slaughtering us and other towns,
intimidating Indians and Spaniards.”17 Ponce confronted Sanca, whom
he deemed a violent thief interested in plunder rather than social justice,
and complained that Katarista commanders killed indiscriminately, at-
tacking even Tupac Amaru’s followers.18 In early 1781, Tupac Amaru
counted on growing support in the south. Unlike in the Vilcanota Valley,
however, the rebels closer to Lake Titicaca and Upper Peru did not ex-
press their unwavering devotion to him, expected some autonomy, and
proved capable of attacking their allies as well as royalists. Relations
with the Katari commanders were particularly tense.19
Based in Puno, corregidor Orellana managed to hold off Ponce on
March 11 but then confronted an attack from the south, led by Pascual
Alaparita and Isidro Mamani, who identified themselves as supporters
of “Andrés Inca Tupac Katari,” from Charcas. Orellana and other royal-
ists understood that they faced multiple insurgencies, as rebels from the
north and the south arrived to aid local insurgents. Rebels besieged the
town of Juli, nearly destroying it: “Juli’s plaza and streets are flooded
with blood, cadavers strewn all over the place.”20 The priest of nearby
Zepita provided a long list of “minors and adults,” many of them with
Spanish surnames, beheaded by the rebels. The list included one nine-
year-old and nine other people who could not be identified because their
heads had not been recovered. Rebels threw children into the chilly lake
to drown them and did not spare priests or nuns. Orellana sent rafts out
later that evening to see if he could rescue anyone who had taken refuge
in the totora reed beds that cling to the Titicaca shore.21
According to Orellana, the scene in Chucuito after the March 18 at-
tack was even more appalling, “the worst horror seen since the Con-
quest.”22 When he entered this town, south of Puno and also on the
shores of Lake Titicaca, Orellana encountered at least two hundred cada-
vers: “No one who had any trace of European background was spared.”23
He saved five cowering, hungry survivors who had hidden for three
days. The rebels had reportedly placed all the heads of executed Spanish
women on the gallows in the main plaza. Orellana claimed that Isidro
Mamani, the leader of the attack, sat next to the gallows in a special
chair, declared himself governor, and posted a lampoon that proclaimed
both Tupac Amaru and Tupac Katari. Mamani forced Spaniards and
mestizos out of the San Francisco church in Chucuito and “ferociously”
executed them. He burnt down Chucuito (while the adobe bricks resist
fire, the thatched roofs do not) and nearby Desaguadero.24 After Mamani
failed in his initial attempt to take Puno, Indians in the town of Acora,
“scared about the punishment we were preparing for them,” captured
him in early July and handed him over to Orellana.25
Other testimonies provided additional shocking stories of Indian sav-
agery. In the town of Juli, troops found three cadavers on the gallows:
one kuraka with his heart removed; another dead kuraka tied upside
down, naked; and the latter’s wife left with no blood, inasmuch as “the
Indians drank it.” The same writer also claimed that Indians had not only
ransacked and burned down the Jesuit church in Juli but that they had
filled the church’s sacred glasses with their beheaded victims’ blood,
passing it around for everyone to drink.26 These stories echoed similar
ones from Charcas about how the Kataristas killed Europeans brutally
and drank their blood or ate their hearts. One commander in Chuquisaca
(modern Sucre, Bolivia) wrote that “the Indians don’t want peace, they
want to drink fresh, thick corn beer, chicha, out of skulls.27
Although in precise prose rather than with lurid sensationalism, these
writers also mention royalists beheading six captured spies in sight of
the rebels and executing ninety rebels they encountered. Just as rebel
extremists expanded the definition of European or pukakunka and
slaughtered them, royalists saw virtually all Indians as insurgents and,
if possible, killed them.28 The factors that increased violence are all
present: the Amaru and Katarista leadership was far away, unable to con-
trol its followers; the war had lasted for over six months, with the body
count mounting; and unlike Cuzco, the Titicaca area counted on less
of a Spanish (governmental or religious) presence. In this region, the
differences between Spaniards and Indians were starker and the groups
who could mediate between them—mestizos and acculturated Indians,
primarily—much less present, particularly after thousands fled. These
factors, as well as the crushing weight of colonialism in the region, help
“explain” the brutality. But why or how could an individual drink blood,
eat hearts, behead a captive? The brutal context can only partially clari-
fy.
These unverifiable horror stories had numerous effects in Cuzco.
They terrified Europeans and royalist soldiers, making recruitment for
the “southern campaigns” even more difficult. They also reinforced ef-
forts to cast the rebel as heathen apostates or barbarians who deserved
excommunication and severe punishment. In this sense, these stories sty-
mied efforts by José Gabriel and Micaela to maintain order, to present
their troops as disciplined, multiethnic soldiers fighting for the common
good in a fashion permitted within Spanish political practice. Tupac
Amaru could rightly contend that these were not his true followers. Yet
if he sought to control the area, which he did, he needed their support.
Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas could benefit from these rebels’ in-
creasing power but would also lose support because of the revulsion to-
ward their extreme violence.
The brutal fighting around Lake Titicaca resembled that of Upper
Peru much more than Cuzco. The rebels sought to kill kurakas, whereas
Tupac Amaru had understood them as potential allies. The insurgents
used their numbers and courage—several writers noted how they did not
seem to care about dying—to seize towns, kill, ransack. The widespread
belief that those martyred in battle would be resurrected emboldened the
insurgents. On the other side, the outnumbered Europeans (Spaniards
and creoles) could only survive if they remained united, recruited In-
dian followers, and used their firepower to ward off the large number
of rebels. Fusils and cannons, after all, were still effective in repelling
thousands. Nonetheless, European weapons were not always enough. In
towns such as Juli, Chucuito, and others, royalists begged for aid from
La Paz, Cuzco, Arequipa, and Lima, and described the region as virtually
defeated by April 1781. Even if the sanguinary tales of drinking blood
and eating hearts are set aside as exaggerations or propaganda, there was
no doubt that the rebels were dominating an increasingly vicious war in
the Titicaca area.
 The Siege of La Paz
The city of La Paz emerged in the eighteenth century as a commercial cen-
ter, an important stop in the economic circuits that stretched from Buenos
Aires on the Atlantic to Lima on the Pacific, with the ever-important Po-
tosí silver mine in the middle. This trans-Andean trade route actually con-
sisted of multiple overlapping circuits, from the interoceanic to the more
local production by indigenous people of foodstuffs for cities and towns.29
La Paz had a population of about 25,000 in the late eighteenth century,
rivaling Cuzco for primacy among Andean cities. Its unique topography
makes it ideal for sieges. Built into a bowl, actually a wide canyon that
holds the Choqueyapu River, the city center is surrounded by steep hills
that lead to plateaus that surpass thirteen thousand feet above sea level.
Like many Spanish-American cities, it was surrounded by a large wall,
with much of the indigenous population living on the outside or extramur-
os. In early 1780, royalist commanders had fortified the wall and added
trenches. Today, the appropriately named town of “El Alto” or “the Tall
One,” which stretches across the western plain above the city and consti-
tuted the traditional point of entry for people and goods, serves as the base
for frequent strikes that paralyze the city below. In fact, the Neo-Kataris-
tas who have led important and creative social movements in the last two
decades take their name and heroes from the 1780s.30
On March 13, 1781, tens of thousands of Indian rebels led by Tupac
Katari surrounded the city, impeding supplies from entering or people
from leaving, unless they joined the insurgents. After a few weeks, short-
ages struck even in this well-stocked city. Katari sent representatives to
negotiate, requesting that the towns’ people hand over their weapons as
well as corregidors, Europeans, and some authorities. The city leaders re-
fused. The indigenous population that lived outside the city’s walls largely
joined the rebels. While the siege literally divided the population into roy-
alists on the inside and rebels on the outside, relations between the two
sides fluctuated between accommodation and implacable hatred. One di-
ary hints that rebels allowed people they knew to get food, while sentries
even greeted acquaintances over the wall. Other entries, however, refer to
the rebels as bloodthirsty Indians. And relations worsened as time passed
and hunger loomed.31
 The two sides battled in April and May but to a bloody stalemate.
Royalists could not break the rebel lines, even when they charged and
killed hundreds with their artillery, while the insurgents could not take
the city center. Rebels entered periodically, destroying parts of the city’s
wall and burning sections of the city. They crept to the city’s walls in the
dark of night to take prisoners or attack sentinels. Royalists used their
firepower to ward off these nocturnal attacks. Tupac Katari himself ven-
tured to the city’s walls several times.
Within a few weeks, the confrontation turned into a siege—the rebels
focused on blocking supplies. Hunger spread and by the second half of
April, the city’s residents had turned to cats, dogs, mules, and even leath-
er for their meals. Hundreds died of hunger or from the illnesses that
spread among the famished population.32 As occurred in Tupac Amaru’s
attack of Cuzco, a royalist soldier pretended to aid the rebels with their
artillery and actually sabotaged it.33 In May the rebels allowed an Indian
market to function just outside of the city’s wall. Some citizens braved
the possibility of enemy fire and the highly inflated prices to buy des-
perately needed food. The rebels grabbed a few prisoners but no royalist
commander took the bait.34 Desperation, hunger and its soul mate dis-
ease took hold throughout the city. By mid-June many residents wanted
to capitulate, believing that their fate in the hands of the rebels could not
be worse than starving to death. Cadavers littered the streets. On July 1,
however, after 109 days, Commander Ignacio Flores arrived with well-
armed troops who broke the siege. Rebels did not confront them, but in-
stead moved to a higher peak. Delighted by the arrival of Flores, many
in the city worried that the Indian rebels would strike again. They were
correct. This was only the first siege of La Paz.
By the middle of 1781, royalists in Cusco and Lima looked to the
south with anguish. The Tupac Amaru rebellion had not been defeated,
and news arrived from the Titicaca area and Charcas about wave after
wave of insurgency and increasing violence. The succession of disturb-
ances and uprisings dating from 1778 threatened to isolate Peru from Po-
tosí and the rest of the Rio de la Plata viceroyalty or, far worse, to burst
into Peru and unite with the leaders of the second phase of the Tupac
Amaru uprising. Del Valle and others understood that the region between
Lake Titicaca and the city of La Paz was largely in rebel hands. The ter-
rain proved just as inhospitable for Spanish forces as the Peruvian side
of the lake had, while insurgents used violence with greater frequency
and kurakas had less sway over their communities. Peruvian authorities
and much of the population fretted about a bloody caste war that could
stretch from Buenos Aires to Lima. These fears would only worsen in the
course of 1781. Royalist commanders understood that they had to con-
front the Titicaca-area rebels, those led by Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru
and those linked to the Kataristas. They dreaded this operation. They
were right to do so.
 9

Southern Campaigns

BY LATE MAY 1781, Tupac Amaru’s and Micaela Bastidas’s heads, limbs,
and other body parts hung from posts for public display in Tinta, Tun-
gasuca, Pampamarca, and other rebel hotbeds. Spanish victory seemed
assured. The Spanish counted on thousands of soldiers formed into syn-
chronized columns, which rammed through rebel lines and seized the
leaders. Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas had not so much directed the
rebellion as personified it. They made all major decisions and their fol-
lowers fought in Tupac Amaru’s name, that of the last Inca. People in
Cuzco celebrated victory over the barbaric rebels. Their optimism was un-
derstandable.
However, defeating Tupac Amaru’s followers after his death proved
difficult, costly, and frustrating. In hindsight, royalist optimism was over-
confidence. The Spanish forces quickly saw their position as conquering
victors on horseback degenerate into that of hungry, ragged soldiers
marching on foot up and down the stark Andes, fearful of rebel attacks
and aware that indigenous people loathed them. Their numbers dimin-
ished as soldiers deserted at every turn, and supplies, problematic from the
beginning, dwindled as they moved farther and farther away from Cuzco.
Violence escalated as the fighting moved toward the Lake Titicaca area.
Moreover, the troubling news about the Katarista rebellion, the siege of
La Paz, and the brutality in the towns near Lake Titicaca terrified the
royalists. The optimism prompted by the capture and executions faded
quickly.
The rebels employed guerrilla tactics, harassing royalists at night or
in quick hit-and-run attacks. They took advantage of the region’s topo-
graphy, using the steep, glacier-topped hills to torment the royalists with
boulders and then to regroup. The Spanish commanders, trained to fight
in the open plains of Europe, to wage the type of campaign in which Na-
poleon would excel (and Tolstoy would portray in War and Peace), com-
plained bitterly about the rebels’ strategy of using the hills. Moreover,
the new insurgent leadership struggled to prevent their own fighters from
viciously attacking people deemed Spanish, a term often meaning all
non-Indians. Violence on both sides intensified. Neither rebels nor roy-
alists took prisoners; massacres, the killing of dozens or hundreds of
unarmed people, became more common than military confrontations.
Another tactical change also frightened royalists. The young rebel lead-
ers proved willing to starve out the enemy, sieging several towns and
cities for months. La Paz would not be the only prolonged siege. Vi-
olence spiraled and royalist soldiers understood that they could expect
no mercy. Hungry and panic-stricken, they deserted en masse.
The southern campaign or second phase that began with the May
1781 executions in Cuzco did not only pit royalists against rebels. Intern-
al struggles emerged in both camps that altered the course of the uprising
and in fact shaped Peru for decades. Once the Spanish found themselves
mired in the Lake Titicaca area, with rebel numbers and ferocity on the
increase, they began to fight among themselves, blaming one another for
losses and the inability to finish off the insurgents. As is usually the case,
these battles combined personal clashes and individuals’ concern over
self-advancement (or survival) with broader ideological differences, in
this case the nature of Indians and Spanish rule in the Andes. Royalist
leaders disagreed about how to end the rebellion, censuring their oppon-
ents within the colonial forces for military defeats, while lobbying and
underlining their own achievements in long letters and memos to Mad-
rid. The clash between royalist moderates and hard-liners helps explain
the odd twists and turns taken in the second phase of the uprising.
On the rebel side, no such clear division emerged. Instead, the move
from Cuzco to Puno signified a transformation from the relatively cohes-
ive movement led by Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas to something
more like a coalition overseen by Diego Cristóbal, Andrés, and Mariano.
They commanded their own forces but also counted on independent
groups fighting in the Titicaca area. Commanders such as Isidro Mamani
and Pedro Vilca Apaza emerged from the bloody battles of early 1781.
Mamani, for example, had overseen the siege of Chucuito in which
dozens of Europeans were killed. Although committed to the Tupac
Amaru forces, these commanders remained autonomous and could not
completely control their “soldiers,” local indigenous men and women.
These individuals defined the enemy in much broader terms than Tupac
Amaru and Micaela had, and were more prone to violence. Although
a direct relative of Tupac Amaru’s, Diego Cristóbal did not have the
prestige and experience to demand that they fight under his aegis.
Moreover, the name and legacy of José Gabriel Tupac Amaru did not
carry the same weight in the Collao as it did for the indigenous people of
Cuzco. Rebel soldiers remained loyal but increasingly independent.
 Pacification?
Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru, Mariano Tupac Amaru, and Andrés
Mendigure had separated from José Gabriel and Micaela just before their
capture and immediately assumed the leadership, with Diego Cristóbal
at the head. They were shockingly young: Diego Cristóbal twenty-six
years old, Mariano eighteen, and Andrés Mendigure seventeen. All three,
however, counted on blood ties that bolstered their standing among rebel
forces. Diego Cristóbal and Tupac Amaru were cousins, their fathers the
brothers Miguel Tupac Amaru and Marcos Tupac Amaru. Documents and
historians often refer to him as José Gabriel’s brother, or half-brother, a
term Diego Cristóbal himself used in official documents.1 Mariano was
José Gabriel and Micaela’s son. Andrés had rebel ties on both sides. He
was the son of Cecilia Escalera Castro, frequently called Cecilia Tupac
Amaru and considered a cousin by José Gabriel, and Pedro Mendigure, a
rebel leader himself and Micaela’s cousin. Andrés increasingly used the
last name Tupac Amaru instead of Mendigure. Miguel Bastidas, Micaela’s
much younger brother, also accompanied them. One of the rare descrip-
tions depicted Diego Cristóbal as thin with a large nose and mouth and
small eyes. It lauded his Spanish and deemed him very serious and cap-
able.2 Other documents from the period stressed the leaders’ youth and
surprising ability as commanders.
How could such young men take over a massive rebellion at a critical
juncture? Like Tupac Amaru himself, their work as muleteers and traders
had given them contacts throughout the region and prepared them to live
on the move. In addition, the three of them had tagged along on trips
across the Andes and into towns and small communities when José Gab-
riel fulfilled his duties as kuraka. As members of the Tupac Amaru-
Bastidas clan, they counted on prestige among Indians, particularly in the
rebel hotbed along the Vilcanota basin and toward Lake Titicaca. Diego
Cristóbal wrote Spanish well, although not as stylishly as his cousin.3
They were young, but well prepared. There were also no other candidates.
No commander emerged alongside José Gabriel and Micaela and most of
their inner circle consisted of family members. After the leaders’ capture,
the rebels who did not find themselves in chains agreed that these young
men had to take over. And as kin to the soon-to-be martyred rebel leaders,
Diego Cristóbal, Mariano, and Andrés understood that they had no al-
ternative—the Spanish wanted to capture and kill them.
Diego Cristóbal, Mariano, and Andrés moved quickly, initially hop-
ing to free the rebel leaders, their family. A week after the devastating
capture of Tupac Amaru, Micaela Bastidas, and their inner circle on
April 6, Diego Cristóbal and Andrés led an unsuccessful attack on the
town of Layo. Days later, however, on April 18, they routed a royalist di-
vision in the town of Langui, where Tupac Amaru had been caught. In a
preview of things to come, del Valle reported that Diego Cristóbal called
for the assassination of all “whites and mestizos of any age or gender
and the punishment of all the priests.” Del Valle contrasted this with José
Gabriel, “who had treated them with respect and consideration due to
their elevated character.”4 The Spanish commander also complained that
thousands of royalist troops deserted, “because of their extreme love for
their families and the desire to return to their houses to gather the har-
vest.”5 Many royalist soldiers assumed that with the capture of the lead-
ers, their mission was completed. Both bloodshed and desertions would
continue. April meant autumn in the southern hemisphere, time for the
harvest and to prepare for the cold highland winter. Yet the war did not
wane but instead intensified.
Despite the desertion of many royalist soldiers, rebels concluded that
liberating the heavily guarded captives would be impossible and instead
moved their operations south. In his southern excursion in late 1780,
José Gabriel Tupac Amaru had found great support in the area north of
Lake Titicaca while the Tupac Katari movement had much of the area
stretching from the lake to La Paz and beyond in arms. Diego Cristóbal,
Mariano, and Miguel Bastidas initially set up rebel headquarters in the
town of Azángaro, just north of Lake Titicaca, in the abandoned house
of Diego Choquehuanca, the affluent kuraka who had spurned Tupac
Amaru’s offer and supported the royalists.6 En route, the rebels recruited
soldiers and other followers, including a few priests. They continued to
fight in the name of Tupac Amaru and to invoke the support of the king
of Spain and other elements of their predecessor’s “platform.” Andrés
moved to the east of Titicaca to lay siege to the town of Sorata. They
knew the region well and counted on all-important contacts, since Diego
Cristóbal had accompanied his cousin, Tupac Amaru, in the November
1780 southern campaign while Andrés and Mariano had worked the area
in their muleteer trips. This second phase in many ways continued the
first southern campaign, but with new leaders.
Del Valle, Areche, and other royalist leaders did not have experience
in the Titicaca region or the Collao. In November 1780, the early phase
of the uprising, they were still in Lima, while Cuzco municipal author-
ities and religious leaders had not left the city, relying instead on corre-
gidors, with some reinforcements from La Paz and Arequipa, to battle
the rebels. The royalist commanders viewed this region, unknown to
them, with trepidation. They had spent weeks trekking from Lima up the
Andes to Cuzco and they complained bitterly about the sheer peaks, re-
lentless cold, and logistical challenges. The commanders had found the
indigenous rural people hostile to their “requests” for food, shelter, and
recruits, and to the repression of the uprising. Both del Valle and Areche
despaired at the weak presence of the colonial state and of the Spanish
language in the Andes and understood that most of the rural population
in Cuzco—even those who remained neutral—preferred the rebels to the
royalists. On all these fronts, the Collao was significantly more daunting
for the colonial army.
The Titicaca basin is higher and colder than Cuzco, its food reserves
scarcer, and its pasture areas more isolated. The route from Cuzco to
Puno moved from the green Vilcanota Valley, the heart of rebel territory,
to La Raya, the breathtaking mountain pass over 14,000 feet above sea
level that separates Cuzco and Puno, and then into the arid, almost lun-
ar Titicaca basin where rebels could use the towering mountains to am-
bush and hide. In cultural terms, Spaniards saw the Titicaca inhabitants
as even less acculturated and more truculent than Cuzco’s indigenous
people. While some Spanish could laud the Incas and maybe even their
descendants, they saw the Aymara people as backward, devoid of the
royal tradition of Cuzco and its “Inca Kings.”7 In practical terms, the
coastal troops suffered mightily as the altitudes soared well beyond two
miles above sea level. Even if they had become somewhat accustomed
and overcome the initial misery of soroche, their hearts would pound,
heads ache, and noses sometimes bleed during every hike over a moun-
tain pass. Some soldiers coughed up blood—they had pulmonary ed-
emas. Furthermore, the news arriving from Charcas about multiple up-
risings and sieged cities fed their fear. European commanders dreaded
the expedition to the Collao.
 At the Crest of the Highest Peaks
After turning over his invaluable prisoners in April, the royalist com-
mander del Valle headed south, to chase the new rebel leaders. Diego
Cristóbal and company had moved the campaign south, near Lake Titic-
aca where José Gabriel had been so well received in November 1780. To
the great frustration of the Spanish, the rebels would remain mobile. Del
Valle knew that contrary to royalist gloating and overconfidence, the ex-
pedition would be difficult; his unease proved prophetic. The campaign
started poorly and did not improve. After losing thousands of men in
Langui—far more to desertion than battle wounds—del Valle returned to
Sicuani to recover and recruit and from there moved toward Lake Tit-
icaca. He left Pumacahua’s forces behind to pursue any flare-ups in the
former core area.8
En route to the Collao, del Valle came across Indians who shouted from
the hills that they were not “cowards like the people of Tinta” and prom-
ised to fight until the end.9 Del Valle managed to take some prisoners who
told him that the town of Santa Rosa was a rebel hotbed. He entered the
town on April 15, 1781 and ordered every adult male to congregate in
the plaza. To the horror of those assembled, his deputies executed every
fifth man, the quintado, twenty in all. While del Valle contended that this
bloodshed in Santa Rosa had successfully intimidated potential rebel sup-
porters, critics claimed that it had victimized innocent people and discour-
aged Indians from surrendering.10 The priest of Sicuani wrote that del
Valle had taken the lives of a seventy-year-old man and an Indian who had
fought for the royalists. Indians “took to the hills,” harassing del Valle’s
rearguard.11
Skirmishes continued as del Valle moved toward Puno. On May 5, roy-
alist troops led by Gabriel de Avilés, the future Viceroy of Peru, killed
hundreds of rebels near the town of Nuñoa. As usual, the account of the
slaughter was laconic, citing the number of dead and nothing more. Co-
lonial soldiers killed some of the rebels in the midst of battle and sub-
sequently slew all they captured. Avilés did not take prisoners. Victories
or massacres such as these, however, did not turn the tide. Rebel num-
bers increased and, as the struggle pushed south, the terrain became harsh-
er. Even those people they assumed were allies could turn on them. The
priest of the town of Asillo, José Maruri, greeted them outside of his
deserted town but they arrested him for his support of José Gabriel, find-
ing documentation to prove it.12
Rebel forces led by Pedro Vilca Apaza confronted del Valle outside
of Asillo, in Condorcuyo. A ladino (Spanish-speaking Indian) from
Muñani, just north of Lake Titicaca, Vilca Apaza had a long history of
confronting abusive kurakas. In 1762, for example, he had tangled in
the courts with Diego Choquehuanca, the patriarch of the kuraka clan
who would subsequently oppose Tupac Amaru. By 1781, Vilca Apaza
was a major rebel figure in the area north and west of Titicaca and in-
to Upper Peru.13 Waving flags and playing drums and trumpets, the in-
surgents “who appeared to count on more than one hundred thousand
men,” according to one hyperbolic account, intimidated royalist troops
with screams and insults. A Lima squadron attacked the rebels in the
open plain but they fought back and killed fifteen soldiers. Royalist In-
dian troops from Anta and Chinchero, part of Pumacahua’s forces who
had rejoined del Valle, shouted a promise of a pardon if they surrendered.
The rebels responded that their goal was to take Cuzco “and free their
idolized [idolotrado] Inca.”14 The royalists attacked in four groups the
next day, May 7, seeking to force the insurgents down the back side of
the mountain. Taking advantage of their cannons and fusils, the royalists
claimed to have killed over six hundred rebels and wounded many more.
The insurgents’ courage shocked del Valle. He provided two ex-
amples to show how different they were from the “simple” and “pusil-
lanimous” Indians defeated by the conquistadors in the sixteenth cen-
tury; del Valle sought to show that his struggle was even more epic than
that of the conquistadors. One Indian pulled a spear out of his chest
with his own hands and continued to fight until he died. When a royalist
pierced a rebel in the eye with a lance, the victim counterattacked with
such ferocity and determination that only the intervention of another sol-
dier could save the royalist. The account labeled the victory a miracle.15
Although the royalists secured mules, horses, food, and other supplies
left behind, their mood did not improve as they moved into Azángaro,
the largest town north of Lake Titicaca and the rebel base until just days
before. They found it deserted except for the priest’s assistant, who told
them that he had been forced to destroy the church’s holy vessels as the
rebels repeatedly threatened to profane the church and steal its jewels.
The rebel leaders had moved elsewhere and local Indians had escaped
to the hills, adding to the rebels’ ranks. Mestizos and whites had fled to
Puno or even Cuzco and Arequipa. In addition, on May 11, rebels am-
bushed del Valle’s troops in the high pass of Puquinacancari. Men and
women tricked the troops into believing they were asking for a pardon
when in fact insurgents pushed boulders from above and slung rocks at
them, the rebels’ weapons of choice. Their courage again shocked del
Valle as many of them fought until death or threw themselves over cliffs
rather than be captured.16
At this point, early May 1781, Diego Cristóbal was nearby, moving
between Carabaya and the region’s most important city, Puno, which
rebels had surrounded. They remained mobile in order to recruit follow-
ers, gather supplies, and avoid the Spanish. In contrast to the first phase,
the insurgents did not have a natural base to compare with José Gab-
riel and Micaela’s well-protected house. The rebels’ mobility frustrated
the Spanish. Some people reported that Diego Cristóbal had slept at a
lover’s house, only about five miles from the royalist Paruro column
led by Isidro de Guisasola. Del Valle wrote bitterly that, “without a
doubt, we would have captured them if the Paruro column had pursued.”
He subsequently punished Guisasola. Del Valle believed that followers
were massively abandoning the rebels but noted incredulously that “in
the towns they pass through the insurgents tell the people that they
are in pursuit of lions, tigers, and other ferocious animals to devour
the Spanish army; barbarous, out-of-touch fantasies that the idiots of
these wretched, unfortunate lands somehow believe.”17 His idea of rebel
desertions seemed to be wishful thinking; his concerns about the rebels
successfully recruiting with the promise of obliterating the Spanish were
not off the mark.
Del Valle’s remark about wild animals never seen in the Americas
reminds us about the novelty of the bloodshed and the range of under-
standings of warfare. Sources provide a few glimpses of these unique
interpretations. The Lampa corregidor, Vicente Oré, expressed his impa-
tience with Indian recruits who did not understand firearms. Some of the
recruits refused to hold a musket, worried that it might conceal “a hidden
poison.” Oré did not clarify whether the poison endangered the shoot-
er or the target. His impatience expressed both an ethnocentric disdain
for Indians as well as the fact that the vast majority of Indians had never
seen a firearm, except perhaps in a parade or a painting.18
Pedro Quispe, a Tupac Amaru supporter from an Indian community
near Sicuani and renowned as a curandero or healer for livestock, used
his skills to ward off the royalists. He burned the bones of about ten
Spaniards he and his comrades had killed and mixed the ash with the
charred remains of dog, fox, and cat teeth. Quispe then spread it around
apachetas or sanctuaries in the upper passes. After blowing it into the air,
he chanted a request that it neutralize “hail, frost, and mestizos.” Quispe
believed that this potion would turn any royalist who stepped on it into
ash.19 Although the accounts of the fighting focus on the clash between
the royalists’ ground war and the rebels’ more mobile tactics, they also
provide glimpses of how indigenous people understood warfare and em-
ployed local forms of knowledge.
Del Valle also lamented that he not seen a single man in the trail on his
long trek into the Collao, “all are at the crest of the highest peaks, their
fields sterile and deserted. The towns burnt down, churches closed with
no spiritual activity as the priests, who have destroyed the sacred vessels
because of their fear that the barbarous rebels will profane their temples,
have joined me, worried that they will suffer the outrages and calamit-
ies that others of their class have suffered.” Communications between
columns had become difficult. Indians in Santiago de Pupuja had cut off
the ears, nose, and hands of one royalist messenger, who carried a letter
from Commander Francisco Cuellar.20
Del Valle and his troops had been hungry, cold, and miserable since
leaving Sicuani. As the altitudes increased, agricultural land diminished.
Troops from both sides had ransacked estates and markets and many
peasants and estate owners had not planted or had learned to hide their
valuable food, meat, and other supplies. As the Incas had shown, the
harsh altiplano requires elaborate storage systems. The war had demol-
ished these. In an August 8, 1781 letter, del Valle complained that the
paltry salary he offered his troops was not enough even for food, par-
ticularly “in these deserted and sterile parts [paises]; the towns I passed
through were burnt to the ground, the people having fled to the snow-
covered peaks with their livestock, horses, grains, and possessions.” He
admitted that he had to “become a good thief” to feed his troops. Even
then, they survived on boiled or roasted lamb and mutton, with salt the
only seasoning. This diet made his troops so ill with bloody dysentery,
they could barely walk.21
Many Indians that del Valle and other royalist commanders “re-
cruited” fled back to their towns. Those he had brought from Lima did
not have this option—it was too far. These troops, mostly blacks and
mulattoes, many dragooned off the streets and from bars, suffered from
the altitude, the relentless chill, the terrible and insufficient food, and
exhaustion. Those who were professional soldiers could not offer their
families in Lima anything. These soldiers, who remained anonymous
even in death, faced a relentless guerrilla war waged by highly motiv-
ated, mobile fighters. They were miserable.
Royalists had run out of “alcohol or balms” and had to rely on urine
to treat wounds. They also did not have anyone to fix their weapons. Del
Valle’s troops “couldn’t stand it when they were so close to their homes,
family, and fields; others couldn’t bear the lack of uniforms or clothes,
the cold, the hunger, and the other chores of warfare, to the point that
they hated military service so much that they would prefer to desert and
face the risk of being killed by the enemy.”22 Finding fresh recruits was
almost impossible. Indians and mestizos who lived near Cuzco “hid in
the sheerest, most hidden hills” to avoid military duty.23 Del Valle and
his troops were despondent as they moved toward Lake Titicaca, with
autumn rapidly becoming winter.
Moreover, in late April 1781 Indians in the upper provinces near José
Gabriel and Micaela’s core area rose up in support of Diego Cristóbal.24
Reports also arrived of subversive activity in Tucumán in northwest Rio
de la Plata (part of present-day Argentina), in Chile, and in New Granada
(present-day Colombia). In Tucumán, Jujuy, and Salta, Rio de la Plata’s
Andean north, as well as northern Chile, rebels struck Spanish forces,
invoking the Katari movement.25 In New Granada, creoles and others
took to the streets to criticize tax increases and demand greater polit-
ical autonomy. They organized in a común or common, and thus took
the name comuneros. The events in Cuzco had kindled their rebelli-
on.26 Authorities in distant Mexico, in Izúcar de Matamoros in Puebla,
“evoked fear of another Tupac Amaru uprising.”27
 The depleted Spanish columns approaching Lake Titicaca not only
faced insurgents all around them and throughout Upper Peru but in the
area they had just passed in their “pacification” campaign and to the dis-
tant south and north. Panic can be detected in del Valle’s corresponden-
ce. He felt surrounded, concerned that the more distant uprisings would
impede the arrival of the reinforcements he needed and even mean rebel
victory. On May 16, del Valle set out after the young leaders with his
own column. At this point, he sought to expel or even capture the leader-
ship, liberate Puno from the siege, and cut off ties with insurgents in Up-
per Peru. None of these tasks proved easy; in fact, he failed on all fronts.
 The Siege of Puno
On the northern shores of Lake Titicaca at almost thirteen thousand feet
above sea level, Puno constituted the most important city in the area. Res-
idents oversaw the nearby silver mines of Cancharani and Layacayata and
participated in the active trade route that connected Lima and Cuzco with
Potosí and Rio de la Plata. Estate owners and indigenous communities
raised sheep primarily for their valuable wool. In fact, soldiers from both
sides subsisted largely on lamb and mutton, crippling wool production for
at least a decade.28 Puno also served as an administrative center, linking
Peru and Upper Peru. While its corregidor, Joaquín Antonio de Orellana,
had abandoned Puno when the uprising erupted in October 1780, he re-
turned to defend the city and the region in January 1781. He proved to be
a brave commander who left vivid testimony of his forays throughout the
region and his stubborn defense of Puno against several sieges.
Orellana moved constantly throughout the Titicaca area, attempting to
recruit, raise funds, and defend towns from the rebels. He complained fre-
quently about the lack of support from La Paz, Arequipa, and Cuzco and,
in late 1780, was disappointed when Areche went directly to Cuzco rather
than taking a long detour to Puno. Coordinating among the corregidors
of local provinces such as Azángaro, Carabaya, and Chucuito proved dif-
ficult, as rebels blocked communications and intimidated the local pop-
ulation. A corregidor-led war council met several times in December
1780 and seesawed between optimism about the arrival of reinforcements,
weapons, and money, and pessimism about what increasingly seemed like
an unwinnable total war. Puno’s mestizo and white population called for
an evacuation several times, while Orellana endeavored to make it the
royalist refuge in the Titicaca area.
Events in Chucuito, the province along the southwest side of Lake Tit-
icaca and today part of Peru’s border with Bolivia, alarmed royalists and
others in the area. For contemporaries and historians, these attacks led
by Tupac Katari commanders Isidro Mamani and Pascual Alarapita epi-
tomized two chilling changes in the nature of the conflict: the overlap-
ping of the Katari and Amaru forces and the mass killing of civilians
by the rebels. In mid-March the rebels took the town of Pomata. Days
later, on March 25, over seven thousand rebels attacked the town of Juli,
killing, according to one estimate, four hundred Spaniards, creoles, and
mestizos. Commander Orellana found “the plaza and streets flooded
in blood, with cadavers strewn everywhere.” Indian rebels ransacked
houses and churches.29 The insurgents attacked Chucuito on April 3,
trapping its militia leader, Nicolás Mendiolaza. According to several
reports, they killed up to one thousand people, burning Mendiolaza
alive and beheading hundreds, and destroyed most houses and churches.
Chucuito was far bloodier than any other battle since Tupac Amaru had
begun the rebellion seven months earlier.30 Accounts mentioned rebels
throwing children into frigid Lake Titicaca to drown, chopping women’s
heads off and piling them on the gallows, and, in Juli, drinking the blood
of dead women.
In March, Orellana rushed back to Puno, dodging several ambushes.
Royalist spirits tumbled when, en route to Puno, they entered the town
of Icho and found that rebels had beheaded indigenous women due to
their husbands’ support for the Spanish.31 Rebels surrounded Puno—the
Katari forces to the south and those of Diego Cristóbal to the north—in
late March and attacked on April 10. Orellana had prepared the city well,
building fortresses, digging trenches, and arranging cannons. He sta-
tioned militia units outside the city and had his gunners prepared to shoot
from the towers. Pascual Alarapita and Isidro Mamani recruited for the
rebels to the south and east of Lake Titicaca. Indians of the town of
Acora, however, seized Mamani and handed him over to the royalists.32
Nonetheless, rebels from Azángaro, Lampa, and Carabaya—all virtually
deserted towns—combined with those of Chucuito to attack Puno. Orel-
lana used his cannons, guns, and cavalry well, and staved off these re-
peated attacks in April.
On May 7, Diego Cristóbal appeared on the bluffs to the west of
Puno. On the following day he dislodged royalist Indians from the
Azogue hill, the source of azogue or mercury that looms over the city,
chasing them into the Santa Barbara fortress. The rebels surrounded the
city, cutting off supply lines. Orellana described the ensuing attack as
“unbelievable for anyone who did not witness it.”33 The corregidor used
his firepower, trenches, and fortresses to ward off the rebels, who greatly
outnumbered the royalists, but was shocked to see that they had brought
crowbars to pry apart adobe walls. The insurgents set houses on fire (the
roofs had plenty of flammable material) and used the sounds from their
weapons and instruments, as well as gut-wrenching screams, to intim-
idate. Attacks continued for several days; some rebel groups pushed to-
ward the main plaza while others assaulted the weapons depot on the
outskirts. Diego Cristóbal tried to lure the royalists out of the relative
safety of the city by sending groups just outside of the short line of fire
from fusils and cannons, but Orellana refused to take the bait. On the
morning of May 12, royalists happily reported that Diego Cristóbal had
departed, leaving behind a parasol he used for the sun. The rebel lead-
er apparently had decided against an extended siege in which his forces
would starve out the Puno residents or deprive them of water. Other
groups continued the fight but could not take the city. Orellana received
a letter from del Valle dated May 19 that reinforcements were on their
way.34 Food was running low.
Del Valle faced constant ambushes and skirmishes in his approach
to Puno from Carabaya. Two of his commanders, corregidors Manuel
Castilla and Francisco Laisequilla, returned toward Cuzco to confront
disturbances in their provinces of Paruro and Chumbivilcas. Authorities
there claimed that the Indians in the upper elevations were taking ad-
vantage of the chaos to steal livestock. They also recognized these
groups’ opposition to Europeans and their desire “to take advantage of
the freedoms offered them by their sacrilegious leader, who they vener-
ate.”35 New reports arrived of rebel activity in the peaks of Urubamba,
Calca y Lares, Paucartambo, and Quispicanchi.36 Despite the execution
of Tupac Amaru and his entourage, royalists did not control Cuzco and
del Valle had to dilute his already stretched forces.
Del Valle reached the outskirts of Puno on May 24. To Orellana’s dis-
may, he refused to enter the city and instead sent Colonel Gabriel de
Avilés. Del Valle worried that the rebels had set a trap and would return
once he entered Puno. Orellana insisted that they attack the enemy in
their retreat toward Chucuito, to the south. Del Valle again declined. Un-
certain of what to do, and leery that the rebels would attack Puno once
again with even greater numbers, Orellana called for a meeting or junta
on the twenty-fifth. Its participants believed that the fate of the Spanish
in South America depended on their meeting.37
Del Valle offered Orellana one hundred armed men as reinforcements
to defend Puno. The corregidor immediately rejected this as ridiculously
insufficient—he had barely survived the previous sieges and his supplies
were dangerously low. Moreover, the rebels were getting stronger, and
locals’ resolve weaker. Orellana insisted that del Valle recognize Puno’s
importance and make it his headquarters.38 Del Valle, however, had little
confidence that his troops could hold the city. The freezing weather,
gory battles, dwindling supplies—which meant scrimping on meals, uni-
forms, and pay—had intensified desertion among his troops. He had left
Cuzco with 15,000 soldiers yet four months later less than 10 percent
remained. On May 25, he wrote, “we are down to eight hundred men,
almost all from Lima. Accustomed to that city’s sweet weather, they can
no longer bear to suffer from the bitter frosts that get worse every day, a
discomfort made much worse by the fact that many are barefoot and their
clothes ragged; we are low on bread and they are so used to this staple
that this shortage bothers them greatly. In addition, our tents have gaping
holes.”39 May is winter in the Collao, meaning cold days and painfully
frigid nights, particularly for soldiers in tattered uniforms and tents, ac-
customed to milder weather. Temperatures drop even more in June, July,
and August.
The May 25 junta included del Valle’s key commanders: Gabriel de
Avilés, Joaquín Valcárcel, Matías Baulen, the Marques de Rocafuerte,
Gaspar de Ugarte, José Acuña, Antonio Vivas, and José de Lagos. With
the situation in Puno ominous and news arriving from every direction
about the latest skirmishes, the royalist leaders argued energetically and
bitterly. The participants felt that the fate of the Peruvian viceroyalty re-
lied on their decision; they also knew that outnumbered by increasingly
belligerent Indians who by and large supported the rebels, their lives
were at risk. Del Valle described the situation and his decision not to
make a last stand in Puno in bleak terms: his troops were unhappy, tired,
hungry, and undisciplined; the provinces in La Paz and Buenos Aires
were up in arms; he did not count on enough troops to even make it to La
Paz; they faced not only mass desertions but even the disgrace of defeat;
that while the siege of La Paz had ended (which was not true), Cuzco
confronted a similar threat and, as part of Peru, deserved this group’s
particular attention. He cast the decision as one between retreating to
Cuzco or Arequipa in order to obtain supplies and troops and to rest in
the middle of winter or pushing on to La Paz, an option he rued. Ac-
cording to Lagos, who was incensed by the proceedings, Avilés voted
for Arequipa or Cuzco, Valcárcel insisted on Arequipa, and Vivas, Gas-
par de Ugarte, Baulen, and Rocafuerte preferred Cuzco. Baulen presen-
ted an expedition to Upper Peru as suicidal: the rebel provinces en route
to La Paz contained three hundred thousand men who had the canyons
and peaks covered. He contended that “not even a thousand fusils could
push through this force.”40 Ugarte and Vivas seconded him.
Lagos rebutted. He recognized that the rebels had slaughtered whites,
“la gente blanca,” and killed seven hundred people in Chucuito, but ar-
gued that with reinforcements, the royalists would have the upper hand.
When they had counted on two thousand men, six hundred fusils, four
cannons, and sixty thousand cartridges and the Indians had only sticks
and slingshots, “they had not feared a thing. WHY NOW?”41 He main-
tained that retreating would be a disgrace and that they could hold Puno,
as they had done so far, and then move victoriously toward La Paz. La-
gos argued that they needed to terminate the “contagion” and that the
loss of the region, the “throat” that connected Lima with Charcas, would
be catastrophic, crippling tax revenues, mining, and trade. He reminded
them that Spain was virtually at war with England and that reinforce-
ments were on their way from Lima and Buenos Aires. Lagos criti-
cized the other members’ “panicky fears” and invoked the “first con-
quistadors” as models. He contended that if they fled to Cuzco, retaking
the Puno area “would cost the king years, millions of pesos, and much
bloodshed.”42 Only Acuña, the corregidor of Cotabambas, backed La-
gos. The junta voted to return to Cuzco, granting Puno’s inhabitants three
days to prepare.
Orellana described the “great pain” he felt from the order to evacuate
and the “confusion, disorder, and sobbing” that the news prompted
among Puno’s residents. He destroyed his cannons so that the rebels
couldn’t seize them.43 On May 27, even sooner than del Valle had stated,
approximately 8,000 men, women, and children began the long, chilling
journey to Cuzco, including about 1,000 royalist soldiers and 1,246 loyal
Indian honderos or slingers. A much smaller contingent headed for Are-
quipa.44 Lagos and Orellana reported that rebels assaulted stragglers
and ventured close to steal supplies. They attacked twice, killing “many
women, children, and some men” cruelly.45 Conditions could not have
been much worse: low on supplies, they faced rebel attacks at every
turn. Members of Puno’s middle class, merchants and small landowners
primarily, had just abandoned their property; some of the oldest mem-
bers and the ill did not survive the harrowing journey over snow-covered
mountain passes and through narrow canyons. Diego Cristóbal presum-
ably could have stopped the exodus by blocking the passages throughout
the mountainous journey, especially around La Raya. He also could have
slaughtered them by attacking in unison. He did not. Perhaps he took
pity on them; he also might have understood that their trek and arrival in
Cuzco would bolster rumors about rebel domination in the south.
The exhausted group reached Cuzco forty days later, on July 2.
Viceroy Jáuregui himself cited a letter from del Valle that described his
soldiers’ wretched conditions: “Most were dressed in rags, their legs un-
covered and their feet bare, the majority sick, weakened by three months
of surviving on nothing but unseasoned roasted sheep.”46 They were
down to 1,449 officers and soldiers and the wounded “filled Cuzco’s
hospitals.”47 The civilians were in worse shape. They had withstood the
sieges of Puno and had to leave the bulk of their belongings there. They
had lost many of their loved ones on the journey. By the time they arrived
in Cuzco they suffered from lice and a variety of illnesses, and were
taken immediately to the city’s hospitals.48 Viceroy Jáuregui referred to
them as “the gimpy, the blind, and the wounded.”49
Del Valle himself was ill and requested that he be relieved. Nonethe-
less, he provided a thorough report on what a new offensive in the Collao
required. He believed that Diego Cristóbal might return to Tinta and at-
tack Cuzco. Del Valle demanded four thousand fresh troops, arguing that
his were exhausted and that mixed-race (pardos) and free blacks from
Lima were “worthless” due to their inability to acclimate to the altitude.
He stressed how the shortage of food, uniforms, and other supplies had
hampered his campaign, and also recognized the escalation of rebel vi-
olence. He wrote, “It is not easy to explain the rebels’ mortal hatred, not
just toward Spaniards but to all those whose skin color makes them look
like one, as seen in the cold-blooded cruelty with which they have killed
people in the Collao, [targeting] all people with any trace of whiteness in
their face, without exceptions for sex or age.”50
 The ill and dejected soldiers and the downtrodden Puno residents
demonstrated to everyone who saw them on their long trek that del
Valle’s expedition south and the subsequent evacuation of the Lake Tit-
icaca area had been a stinging defeat for the Spanish. The situation
had changed dramatically in a few months. The battalions that had cap-
tured Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas impressed everyone with their
manpower, precision, and firepower. Less than two months after the
leaders’ execution, however, the remnants of these troops returned to
Cuzco hungry and poorly dressed, with no victory to speak of since the
April capture. Cuzco residents heard from the Puno refugees about the
royalist officers’ indecision and bickering and, in contrast, the rebels’
strength, courage, and confidence. Stories of sieges, massacres, and es-
capes across the high plains around Lake Titicaca alarmed locals. The
two most prominent Spanish authorities in Cuzco, José del Valle and
Antonio Areche, quarreled and exchanged blame, deepening a division
among the Spanish that would shape events in the near future.
 Fear Rather than Desire
On June 29, Areche wrote to Viceroy Jáuregui from Cuzco to explain his
despair—“tears pour from my heart about the depopulation of the famous
village of Puno”—and to present an alternative. He also sought to lay the
blame squarely on del Valle’s shoulders. Areche painted a bleak picture
of abandoned churches throughout the Collao and Indians losing the little
respect they had for Europeans. Without churches and Indian submis-
sion, Spanish colonialism in the Andes was unthinkable and would rap-
idly disintegrate. From Quito to beyond Potosí, all along the great chain
of mountains that served as South America’s backbone, the Church had a
much greater presence than the colonial state. Far more indigenous people
had met a priest than a bureaucrat. Majestic churches laden with stirring
baroque art graced the towns of the Andes, while the local state, the mu-
nicipalities, had meager offices, if any at all. Although not a great friend
of the church—he blamed it for the uprising—Areche recognized its over-
whelming importance in the Andes.
Areche criticized del Valle for not taking control of the areas that he
entered, but recognized that rebel supporters fled quickly, taking to the
impenetrable hills. However, Areche rejected del Valle’s excuse that he
had lacked supplies: “If his troops temporarily did not have food, shoes,
and other goods, it is the commanding officer’s fault for not requesting
them and planning adequately.”51 Areche called for starving the rebels
out, by preventing them from harvesting potatoes, corn, and coca, imped-
ing their incursions into towns in search of food, and isolating them from
their supply of salt. Beyond this vague plan, he stressed del Valle’s incom-
petence, calling for a new military head.52
Del Valle repeatedly justified his actions by stressing the miseries he
faced and the impossibility of victory with hungry, cold, and undiscip-
lined troops, in harsh terrain. In a long letter to Viceroy Jáuregui from July
12 that sought to rebut Areche’s criticism, del Valle described the bitter
cold and snow that killed many of their mules and limited pastureland for
the surviving pack animals. His beasts of burden as well as his troops had
been hungry. He also lamented the lack of kindling and firewood in an
area well above what is usually considered the tree line. Del Valle com-
plained about the growing number of desertions among his soldiers, be-
moaning the loss of weapons when they fled, but recognized that it was
nearly impossible to retain troops in harsh conditions when they did not
have enough food or adequate uniforms and tents. Del Valle also em-
phasized the rebels’ use of hills as points of refuge, recognizing, in ef-
fect, what would subsequently be known as guerrilla warfare (from the
Spanish for “small war”): hit-and-run attacks in which insurgents took
advantage of their mobility and knowledge of the terrain. Del Valle em-
phasized here and elsewhere how the rebels retreated into hills, escaping
from royalists. He noted bitterly that “there’s not a hill that can cut off
these Indians.”53
In another July letter to Viceroy Jáuregui, del Valle underlined the
rebels’ tenacity and hatred for the Spanish. He described how “Indians
of the upper peaks” [cerros] rejected his offer to pardon them if they
gave up their struggle: “they called us the rebelling thieves and said that
we should ask them for a pardon; they’ve become so haughty that they
think fear rather than desire to enforce the king’s order forces us to of-
fer peace.”54 This anticipated another tenet of what would be known as
guerrilla warfare: that insurgents had greater motivation or desire than
their repressors. It also expressed the rebels’ continual belief that they
rather than the royalists represented the king and the defense of justice
and order.
Areche and del Valle sniped at each other constantly for years, with
Areche continuing even after del Valle’s death on September 4, 1782. It
was personal—they disliked each other; each wanted to blame the other
for the Puno debacle and to claim the honor of seizing Tupac Amaru and
Micaela Bastidas. For example, in a letter to Gálvez, Areche complained
bitterly that del Valle had received credit for Tupac Amaru’s capture “in
Nuestra Gaceta” and “un capítulo de Cádiz.” Areche contended that he
had led the charge and Indian troops and had captured the rebel inner
circle, not del Valle, who was “too slow.”55 In mid-1781 Areche was lob-
bying to take over operations, claiming that he could retake Puno with
one thousand reinforcements from Arequipa, more troops from the Cal-
lao division, and one thousand muskets. The viceroy thanked him for his
input but told him that the army commander (del Valle or his unnamed
successor) would be in charge of any campaign. Jáuregui also declined
to send more troops from the coast, due to the threat of attack by the
British. Areche took this as a betrayal and began to deride him in his fre-
quent missives to Gálvez in Spain.56 He refused to meet with the viceroy
when he returned to Lima in August 1781 and made it his mission to take
over the antiinsurgency campaign, disparaging del Valle and the Viceroy
at every possibility.
This conflict remained extremely personal—the accusations become
harsher and harsher—but also reflected a deepening divergence over
what actions needed to be taken. Areche, despite his criticism of the
Santa Rosa executions and his occasional calls to understand the rebels,
believed that del Valle had been too soft. He called for stricter policies
that would isolate and even starve out the rebels and their supporters. Del
Valle, Jáuregui, and other Cuzco leaders such as Bishop Moscoso con-
tended that these tactics would not work, that the rebels controlled the
area stretching from Cuzco to La Paz and could resist a new royalist of-
fensive. They sought some type of negotiation.
While this feud evolved from personal vitriol to programmatic dis-
agreement about military policy, events around Lake Titicaca became
even more disturbing. Not only had the same battalions that had captured
Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas failed to defend Puno let alone cap-
ture Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru, but the rebels had become more
violent and fought on multiple fronts. Royalists faced two organized
groups, those led by Diego Cristóbal and those from the La Paz area led
by Tupac Katari, as well as the fierce local uprisings not controlled by
the leadership. News about the siege of La Paz terrified city dwellers
throughout Peru. At the same time that del Valle, Areche, and Jáuregui
sent nasty memos about one another and sought to pull rank, the rebelli-
on threatened to extend well into the Rio de la Plata viceroyalty. Royal-
ists had much more to fear than the loss of Puno.
 Each and Every Indian
Colonial authorities understood that by mid-1781 insurgents were using
greater violence against more and more people. They also realized that the
rebel leaders had less control over insurgent fighters. Both changes pet-
rified them. A letter from Arequipa dated May 2, 1781 summarized the
situation in the Upper Peru (“Chuquisaca, Sicasica, Carcoto.”) in the fol-
lowing terms: “There is no Tupac Amaru there: furthermore, there is no
true Katari, as the first one died and his successor is an insult to his name
(‘UN INSULTANTE’); but this doesn’t matter. Each and every Indian de-
clares himself a Tupac Amaru and he who wants to stand out among them
for his insolence uses this name.”57 In fact, the writer implied that it did
matter—every Indian was potentially a murderous insurgent and even a
leader.
In contrast to the first phase, rebels attacked priests. Diego Cristóbal
and the other leaders sought to prevent their followers from harming
clerics, but had little ability to do so as the rebel center moved away
from Cuzco. He also reacted harshly to clerics who disobeyed him. In an
August 19, 1781 letter, the rebel leader rejected Father Miguel Morán’s
explanation why his parish could not support the uprising: “Your Excel-
lency is trying to cover up with frivolous excuses, as if I were not aware of
everything that occurred in Indian Peru [indiana del Perú]; you can only
give these excuses to the Puka kunka thieves while I, as a noble Inca, am
immune to such rhetoric.” He demanded that the priest stop intimidating
and obstructing Indians, underlining that he could not be deceived and had
thousands of troops to punish royalists.58
In June 1781, on his return to Cuzco, José del Valle sent a list of
twenty-three priests who had been victims. He began with the story of
don Sagardia, parish priest of San Taraco in Azángaro. Insurgents burned
down his parish house and stole his belongings “for having completely
opposed the rebels’ orders.” Another priest, don Josef Travitaru, had tried
to impede the circulation of insurgent orders and decrees “to stop this can-
cer” and requested the corregidor’s aid. The corregidor (presumably Orel-
lana) led a slaughter of fifty or sixty rebel “captains, judges, command-
ers, and colonels” in the town of Samán, near Azángaro. Both priests only
survived by fleeing to Puno.59 The list described priests and their aides
who had been robbed, beaten, imprisoned, dragged by horses, humiliated
in numerous ways, stripped, whipped, and threatened. Several watched
as the rebels killed their relatives and others had been taken prisoner to
Tinta, presumably in the first months of the uprising. Del Valle listed
three priests killed by rebels, all from remote parishes: Juli, in La Paz
bishopric, Ocongate in the upper provinces, and Paucartambo, toward
the jungle. Rebels dragged a priest’s assistant from Lampa to the gal-
lows, but del Valle could not confirm whether he was hanged.
The commander closed his solemn report by describing how rebel
procedures had changed. When entering a town, they tied up the priest
and his aides, threatening to kill them. In contrast, in late 1780 Tupac
Amaru had customarily met with the local cleric, requesting his support
and using the church steps for his speeches.60 At the onset of the up-
rising, Bishop Moscoso had instructed his priests to stay behind in their
parishes to proselytize against the rebels, insisting that they would be
safe. By mid-1781, this was no longer the case.
As del Valle led the humiliating exodus of Puno residents to Cuzco,
Diego Cristóbal consolidated his base in Azángaro and sought to move
southeast and link with the Tupac Katari uprising. Andrés Tupac Amaru
had taken charge of the area east of Lake Titicaca. With Vilca Apaza
he oversaw the siege of Sorata, capital of Larecaja and part of the La
Paz bishopric (part of modern-day Bolivia), from May through August.
Thousands of rebels surrounded the town, which contained two thousand
refugees from Lampa, Carabaya, and other nearby towns and cities.61
Although organized into companies and possessing weapons, the pop-
ulation ran low on food within weeks. After delegates met with rebels
they were allowed to purchase some products, but Father José Eustaquio
Caravedo lamented that the inhabitants relied on “the meat of mules,
dogs, cats, mice and other filthy animals.” He labeled the rebels “pir-
ates.”62
Fearing that they would be slaughtered, the besieged residents of
Sorata refused to surrender. In early August, Andrés Tupac Amaru de-
vised a plan to flood the town into submission. Diverting three rivers,
he built a dam on the peaks above the town and opened it on August
5. The flooding water broke the town’s barricades and neutralized its
defenses. Rebels, including Andrés and Mariano as well as Gregoria
Apaza, the sister of Tupac Katari, poured in. Accounts vary on the
bloodshed. Those sympathetic to the Spanish describe rapes and wanton
slaughtering of anyone of European descent or appearance. Others con-
tend that rebels killed Europeans but pardoned creoles and mestizos.
Andrés Tupac Amaru forced European women to chew coca, wear Indi-
an clothing, go barefoot, and call themselves Collas or Indians.63 From
here Andrés took his forces toward La Paz, the site of an even more hor-
rific siege.
 10

The Pardon and the Cease-Fire

THE SITUATION WAS BLEAK for royalists in late August 1781. Rebels had
surrounded the city of La Paz once again and Tupac Amaru and Tupac
Katari forces seemed on the verge of a momentous alliance. The Amarista
rebels controlled the Lake Titicaca area and counted upon strong pockets
of support from Puno to Cuzco as well as in what became northern Chile
and Argentina. As seen, rebels also struck New Granada. The insurgents’
guerrilla tactics exasperated royalist commanders while the threat of long
sieges and even caste war terrified residents of towns and cities. News
about the starvation, dehydration, and slaughter in Sorata and La Paz had
spread and more and more Europeans and mestizos fled, taking refuge in
Lima, Arequipa, or Buenos Aires. Royalist commanders saw their best
battalions collapse, changing from well armed, disciplined columns into
ragged, hungry soldiers who sought the first opportunity to desert. These
commanders had largely given up recruiting local indigenous people.
At the same time that the two rebel movements overlapped in the
Lake Titicaca area and joined forces in the second siege of La Paz, di-
visions among the Spanish worsened. Visitador Areche bombarded Lima
and Madrid with hundreds of letters and memos belittling del Valle’s
failed campaign. He added Viceroy Agustín Jáuregui to his defamation
campaign when Jáuregui refused to accept the visitador’s interpretation
of why the royalists had stalled in the months after the capture of Tupac
Amaru and declined to name Areche as del Valle’s replacement. This in-
fighting appeared to supply one of the prerequisites, according to gener-
ations of theorists, of a successful revolution: the division of the ruling
classes.1 In a mountainous area that seemed designed for guerrilla tactics,
a unified, multicultural (Quechua and Amaru) movement backed by the
majority of Peru’s population confronted the divided, increasingly pess-
imistic Spaniards. The revolution seemed imminent.
Confusion reigned. Royalist commanders and corregidors shared the
pessimism that circulated among their followers. In somber letters and
memos, they made clear their belief that the events of this period,
mid-1781, would decide the fate of Peru and perhaps even Spanish con-
trol of South America. They were correct—the events were epic and de-
cisive. If the Tupac Amaru and Katarista forces united, the rebels would
control the vast Andean area stretching from Cuzco to Potosí. They
could redouble their attacks on royalist holdouts (such as Cuzco), en-
gulf the important city of Arequipa, and cripple tax collection and trade
routes between Buenos Aires and Lima. The insurgents would perhaps
then set their sights on these two cities. Much of the population, particu-
larly Spaniards and creoles, fretted that the starvation and dehydration of
the La Paz siege and the butchery of Lake Titicaca would become stand-
ard practice. They not only worried about dying, but doing so in brutal
fashion. At this point, the fate of the rebellion hung in the balance: could
the rebels align, take La Paz, and spread south, north, east, and west, or
could the Royalists make a final stand? Royalists did not fight to regain
a town or stop an advance; they fought to survive.
The struggle or struggles, however, took an absolutely unexpected
and decisive turn in September and October 1781. Curiously, this trans-
formation has received far less attention than the story of Tupac Amaru’s
capture and the mass executions. These events not only altered the
course of the uprising but shaped Spanish policy and ideology in the
Andes for decades. In fierce paper battles, Royalists debated about how
to reconquer Peru and what to do with the indigenous population. These
debates and the implementation of new forms of government and con-
trol, casting aside a two-hundred-year-old system, would weigh on Peru
well past independence in the 1820s.
 La Paz: Every Indian Now a Rebel?
In La Paz, royalists managed to break the siege in July only to lose control
a month later. The situation was horrific: people in the city were starving
and losing hope. Commander Ignacio Flores’s arrival on July 1, 1781 had
dislodged the rebels, bringing respite to the tens of thousands trapped
within the city walls. Residents cheered their liberators and desperately
searched for food and medical assistance. They could not venture too far
from the city center, however. Rebels moved to the surrounding peaks and
bluffs and continued their hit-and-run tactics. Survivors were able to eat,
to bury or at least dump the dead outside the city walls, and to restore a
bit of order in their residences. But calm did not return.
Thousands of Flores’s troops deserted in July. Worried about his vul-
nerability, Flores fled La Paz on August 4, leaving a company of veteran
soldiers behind. On August 7, rebels attacked but could not break royalist
lines. The second siege began. One witness, don Juan Bautista de Zavala,
estimated more than fourteen thousand dead in the two sieges: most from
hunger, some from bullets, and “still others [who] were beheaded by the
rebels in the fields that many attempted to cross, even though they knew
that the rebels would not show mercy if they looked Spanish in any way.”2
He observed ruefully that “Every Indian is now a rebel, all die happily for
their Inca King, all have forgotten God and his holy law.”3 Toward the
end of August, Andrés Tupac Amaru, Miguel Bastidas, and other Tupac
Amaru commanders arrived in La Paz. The much-feared alliance of the
(new) leaders of the Tupac Amaru and Tupac Katari movements seemed
imminent.
Tensions emerged, however, between the two camps. Andrés and the
others set up their base in El Alto while the Tupac Katari forces con-
centrated in Pampajasi, on the opposite side of the city.4 Andrés and his
collaborators were well-educated Spanish and Quechua speakers from
Cuzco, 325 miles away. They fought in the name of the Incas, a Cuzco-
based civilization and empire that had subjugated the Aymara people. In
contrast, Tupac Katari was a humble Aymara speaker who saw La Paz as
his base and resented the outsiders. His qualms increased when Andrés
became romantically involved with Gregoria Apaza, Tupac Katari’s sister.
Moreover, one of Katari’s commanders, Tomás Inga Lipe, passed over
to Andrés Tupac Amaru’s side, prompting infighting. In late August,
the Tupac Amaru forces temporarily detained Katari. Andrés instructed
Tupac Katari to call himself governor rather than viceroy, seeking to lim-
it his power.5 Nonetheless, the two rebel sides managed to organize an
effective second siege of La Paz.
In early October, Andrés Tupac Amaru tried to repeat his triumph in
Sorata and dammed the Choquepayu River in order to flood La Paz. He
believed that the raging waters would crush the royalist defenses and
break the defenders’ spirit. This time, his project failed because a retain-
ing wall broke before the water could be diverted into the bowl of the
city. The rebels succeeded, however, in blocking supplies from enter-
ing La Paz, so that hunger and illness spread once again throughout the
city. Survivors told stories of parents watching their children and spouses
watching their spouses crumple over and die of malnutrition “without
the strength to even moan.” Alongside the dying and the dead, “walking
skeletons” scavenged for food. People ate dogs that had survived feed-
ing on the cadavers; some accounts hint at cannibalism.6 The sounds of
the besieged city also tormented those trapped inside, as the screams of
rebels threatening to attack the town mixed with the pathetic groans of
children and adults begging for food. The stench from rotting bodies and
feces as well as the pain from hunger and stomach ailments from the
meals of boiled weeds made life even more miserable.7 In early October,
rebel representatives met with the city’s leaders, demanding surrender.
Fearful of mass slaughter such as that in Sorata, La Paz’s patriarchs re-
fused. On October 15, however, desperate with hunger, the city leaders
decided to abandon the city if military reinforcements did not arrive in
the next few days.8 At this point, followers of Tupac Katari controlled
much of the region from La Paz to Lake Titicaca and, to the south, to-
ward Potosí.
On October 17, Commander José de Reseguín reached La Paz with
ten thousand troops (virtually every soldier who could be dragooned
around Buenos Aires) and food, breaking the siege once again. For many
it was too late. Thousands lay dead within the city walls. Andrés Tupac
Amaru handed over operations to Miguel Bastidas and fled to Azángaro.
He presumably preferred the hit-and-run tactics that had worked so well
in recent months to a single confrontation with a well-armed royalist
contingent. Tupac Katari resisted initially, taking to the hills above the
city, but days later sought to join forces again with Miguel Bastidas.
They failed to thwart Reseguin’s offensive and the great alliance and
rebel control of La Paz shattered.9
Royalists took the offensive in Upper Peru, retaking the city of Oruro
and attacking rebels in Cochabamba and other important towns. The in-
surgency collapsed where it began, Chayanta.10 Royalist commanders
offered an amnesty to rebel supporters who gave up the struggle. Tupac
Katari’s followers began to abandon him and a prominent Amarista com-
mander, Miguel Sonco, declared his support for the Crown and recruited
in Chucuito, a place that had been a rebel hotbed. Tupac Katari rejec-
ted the amnesty and the option of turning himself in to the royalists, but
learned with horror that thousands of his followers had accepted it in
early November.
Royalists claimed that Katari and Miguel Bastidas, who remained in
the area, had broken the agreement (the amnesty offer that Katari never
signed or accepted). Betrayed by one of his own followers, Tupac Katari
was captured on November 9. He was drawn and quartered in La Paz
on November 15, a method that recalls the brutality against José Gab-
riel. Triumphant royalists displayed his head and body parts throughout
the Titicaca area.11 Royalist commanders executed dozens of his follow-
ers, including, a year later, his wife, Bartolina Sisa, and sister, Gregor-
ia Apaza.12 Miguel Bastidas (Micaela’s much younger brother) presen-
ted himself for a pardon and after years of trials was sent to prison in
Spain.13 Violence and insubordination would continue in Charcas for
months and years, even though the royalists had executed the leaders and
defeated or disarmed the core rebel groups.
 Shipwrecked Heart
In his final weeks, Tupac Katari watched some of his most trusted allies
and thousands of his followers turn over their arms. Weeks after being on
the verge of taking La Paz, his movement was on the run and in disarray.
Yet developments on the other side of Lake Titicaca, in Lower Peru, must
have been equally shocking and painful for him. At the same time that
Katari was desperately trying to preserve the rebel hold on La Paz and
rebuild the rebellion, the Tupac Amaru leaders were negotiating with the
Spanish.
Del Valle had returned to Cuzco in July 1781 convinced that the Span-
ish would soon lose the war. Indians massively supported the rebels, who
took advantage of the mountainous terrain, using guerrilla tactics against
the miserable royalist soldiers. The increasing violence against anyone
considered a European caused panic and exodus. People who could be
labeled European because of their wealth, skin color, or clothing fled the
area. The Spanish strained to supply the troops; del Valle’s soldiers had
fought much of the campaign with ripped shoes and tents and insufficient
food—they were frostbitten and hungry. While the seventy-year-old del
Valle was no doubt attempting to explain his failure in the south, he cor-
rectly believed that the insurgents had the upper hand.
Del Valle thus proposed an amnesty for all rebel supporters. Citing as
precedent the partial pardon granted in December 1780, del Valle wrote
the viceroy on August 8, 1781 to suggest an amnesty for all fighters ex-
cept the rebel leaders. He later amended the proposal to include leaders
if they accepted the armistice. The viceroy consulted with his advisors
and added a one-year exemption from the head tax, the tribute, in order
to make it more enticing for taxpaying Indians. The fact that no tax col-
lector dared attempt to collect the head tax anywhere in southern Peru
made this a painless, symbolic gesture, although it reassured Indians that
they would not subsequently be charged for the period’s tribute. In a sub-
sequent justification of his actions, the viceroy argued that the execution
of José Gabriel had only strengthened the rebels: “It seemed like they
tried even harder to commit atrocities; above all, every day a new lead-
er emerged, making it impossible to exterminate this class of people with
weapons, without also destroying the kingdom itself.”14 Jáuregui signed
the amnesty or indulto on September 12. Corregidor Francisco Salcedo
delivered it to Diego Cristóbal in Azángaro.15
Visitador Areche initially agreed with the amnesty plan, but as his re-
lations with del Valle and Jáuregui worsened he became more and more
critical. In fact, he moved from tepid supporter to heated opponent. Since
del Valle’s humiliating return to Cuzco in July, Areche had campaigned
with hundreds of letters and memos against the commander. He blamed
del Valle for the defeat in Puno and tried to take credit for the capture of
Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas. Areche believed that as visitador he
deserved more power than the viceroy and the right to oversee the mil-
itary campaign. He took advantage of the amnesty to cast del Valle and
Jáuregui as spineless failures who preferred to negotiate rather than de-
feat or exterminate the rebels.
Earlier in 1781, Jáuregui had written letters that supported Areche’s
harsh sentence against Tupac Amaru, Micaela, and others but also hinted
at differences of opinion. For example, in a June 13, 1781, letter to
Areche he insisted on the need to gain the support of kurakas and the
benefits of moderation rather than authoritarian measures, lamenting “so
much spilling of blood.”16 Jáuregui agreed with Areche that Indians
needed to learn Spanish, be evangelized, and indoctrinated into
European customs, but argued that doing it all at once would be coun-
terproductive. Citing his experience in Chile, Viceroy Jáuregui made it
clear that acculturation (which involved learning Spanish, becoming a
good Catholic, and abandoning traditional culture) required a deliber-
ate, methodical plan.17 Areche held very different views. In an April 30,
1781 letter to José Gálvez, he contended that “these Americans require
just terror rather than sweetness.” In other words, Indians would only
change through force.18 Areche believed that the viceroy’s call for mod-
eration was a sign of weakness and would fail if put into practice. His
contempt for del Valle and the viceroy gushed from his incessant letters
and memos.
Areche repeatedly questioned del Valle’s decision to evacuate Puno
and his ability as a commander. The viceroy earned his wrath by not
naming him to replace del Valle and by not meeting him when he visited
Lima in August 1781.19 The amnesty angered Areche but his initial ob-
servations focused on procedure: the visitador criticized the viceroy for
not consulting with the Real Audiencia, the High Court. The fact that the
viceroy had not discussed the proposal with him also greatly frustrated
Areche. These initial concerns turned into a much harsher criticism as
the months passed. Areche wrote an astonishing number of letters and
memos to Gálvez as well as to Jáuregui, del Valle, and Bishop Moscoso
to prove his point. One historian labeled his writing at this point “logor-
rheic,” that is, involving a pathological excess of words.20 Del Valle took
his arguments farther, blaming Peru’s problems on the reforms imposed
by Areche and other Bourbon Reformers. He pointed out that “the new
taxes and the rigorous and irreverent way in which they are exacted have
provoked a notorious negative impact throughout America.”21
In the final months of 1781, Viceroy Jáuregui and Commander del
Valle were much more concerned with Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru’s
reaction to the amnesty offer than with Areche’s ranting. The rebels were
on the offensive and news from the other side of Lake Titicaca alarmed
royalists in Lima and elsewhere. Del Valle wrote Diego Cristóbal on
October 10 in a respectful yet threatening tone. He reminded him of what
had happened to his cousin José Gabriel, Micaela Bastidas, and others,
underlining that Diego Cristóbal and the other young leaders were in
danger of a similar fate. Commander del Valle asked that Diego Cristóbal
accept the amnesty offer, posted throughout the Andes.22
Diego Cristóbal answered from Azángaro on October 18th, in a mo-
mentous letter that del Valle must have opened with great apprehension.
The rebel leader confirmed that he had received the amnesty offer. He
blamed the uprising on abusive authorities in the Americas who dis-
obeyed His Majesty Charles III, particularly “the thieving corregidors.”
Diego Cristóbal noted that in previous wars Spanish authorities had
offered peace but then broken their promise, making Andean people cyn-
ical and wary.23 Nonetheless, while blaming chapetones (a derogatory
term for Spaniards, infrequently used in the uprising) who bled the An-
dean people “in the name of the king, Our Lord” for the violence, Diego
Cristóbal agreed to the amnesty.
The rebel leader admitted that he accepted to save his family and his
own life. However, he questioned del Valle’s role in José Gabriel Tupac
Amaru’s execution, arguing that his cousin should have been sent to
Lima or to Spain so the viceroy or the king “would have learned the truth
about the crimes of the evil Europeans.”24 He added, “I suppose that you
all, accomplices in the iniquities of the evil Europeans, did this to hide
the truth.” Diego Cristóbal claimed that “the fear of death did not make
him hesitate,” but lamented that the offer had not been made earlier.25
Diego Cristóbal accepted the amnesty offer but defended what he and his
cousin had done. He never wavered in his belief that he and his cousin
upheld justice and the king’s authority.
Numerous reasons explain Diego Cristóbal’s stunning decision to ac-
cept. He had his doubts about the Amaru-Katarista alliance. Relations
between the two rebel camps had always been tense, and the failed siege
of La Paz ruptured the coalition. Moreover, Cuzco and his home region
of the Vilcanota concerned Diego Cristóbal much more than Charcas;
perhaps (this is speculation) he was simply not that interested in a trans-
Andean uprising. Spanish fears that the struggle that had already moved
from Potosí to Cuzco would extend until it stretched from the Atlantic to
the Pacific Oceans—from Buenos Aires to Lima—were perhaps unfoun-
ded; the second wave of Amarista rebels might not have had such a gran-
diose vision. Diego Cristóbal was younger than his cousin. He had not
traveled to Lima and had not read Garcilaso de la Vega, an important im-
petus for the widely circulated idea of a return of the Incas under Tupac
Amaru’s leadership. Simply put, Diego Cristóbal might very well have
taken charge of the uprising, replacing his soon-to-be-martyred cousin,
in order to continue a Cuzco-based struggle against unbearable corre-
gidors, abuse, and exploitation. He did not necessarily envision a mass,
trans-Andean revolution.
More mundane reasons also influenced him. The tens of thousands
of dead in the sieges of La Paz no doubt weighed on him. His cousin,
whom he venerated, had not wanted to take Cuzco violently, over count-
less dead bodies. Moreover, Diego Cristóbal was exhausted and scared.
While he had driven del Valle out of Puno and seemed to have the upper
hand, he knew that he was only one effective trap away from impris-
onment (and he knew what that meant) or one good musket shot from
death. The Spanish victory in La Paz, as well as a large battalion organ-
ized by Ramón Arias that was en route from Arequipa to the Lake Tit-
icaca area in October, concerned him. He recognized that his family and
inner circle had already paid a high price. Perhaps Diego Cristóbal also
feared that his rebel base would slip away once the rainy season ended
and the harvest began in early 1782 or that, conversely, his followers
would become more radical and irrepressible. After more than a year of
fighting and six months as absolute leader, a time when he had always
been on the move and had lost much of his family, the offer of peace and
a return to Pampamarca must have sounded enticing.
The viceroy and Inspector del Valle recruited Bishop Moscoso to con-
vince Diego Cristóbal that the Spanish meant well and that the armistice
was in everyone’s interest. They worried that the rebel leader might
renege or that his followers would simply reject the offer. They also
knew that a minor misunderstanding could prompt a skirmish and re-
newed fighting; they had to be diplomatic. In a November 3 letter, the
bishop called Diego Cristóbal and Mariano “my sons” but also reprim-
anded them for the rebellion.26 Diego Cristóbal trusted the bishop, and
his letters to him are personal and heartfelt. In a November 5, 1781 letter
to Moscoso, at a point when he had nominally accepted the amnesty but
remained in Azángaro, Diego Cristóbal insisted that the corregidors, bad
kurakas, and other misguided authorities had caused the uprising. Diego
Cristóbal returned to his cousin’s argument that these authorities’ abus-
ive behavior (forcing their charges to work on Sundays, for example)
hindered Indians from becoming good Christians. He insisted that “these
inhuman men are the cause of this rebellion” and compared the rebel
struggle with that of the “Hebrews.”27 Diego Cristóbal denied that he
was the organizer of the rebellion, maintaining that he was simply trying
to halt the bloodshed.
In letters from late 1781 and early 1782, Diego Cristóbal employed a
respectful tone but made it clear that he was still in charge of the Puno
area and expected involvement in how the amnesty would be implemen-
ted. For example, he encouraged the bishop to fill any vacant parishes
as soon as possible and mentioned that he, as rebel commander, had as-
signed some priests to parishes, an unprecedented move in the colonial
Andes. Kurakas from Azángaro, Orurillo, and Asillo wrote to Moscoso
to echo the rebel leader. They decried how their priests had mistreated
and then abandoned them, forcing the kurakas and their Indians to turn
to “our Governor Don Diego Christoval Tupac Amaro for protection.”28
 In these letters, which he signed as Don Diego Christobal Tupac
Amaru Inga, the rebel leader admitted his fear to the bishop. In Novem-
ber he pointed out that Spanish soldiers were congregating in Arequipa
and that corregidors, particularly Francisco Orellana of Puno, wanted to
behead all Indians over seven years old. Diego Cristóbal noted that some
Spanish were already living in peace with Indians but begged Moscoso
to prevent the Spanish from breaking their promises made to all Indians
as well as the rebel leaders.29 On January 3, 1782, he admitted to the
bishop that the months of tension over the amnesty and all of the con-
tradictory advice and rumors he received had made him “desperate,” his
heart “like a shipwreck.” He thanked the bishop for his support, which
had calmed him, and promised to meet with the Spaniards on January 20.
Diego Cristóbal asked the bishop to help release his sister, Cecilia Tupac
Amaru, from jail in Cuzco, arguing that she should be covered by the
amnesty.30 Father don Antonio Valdez wrote to the bishop on January 3
and confirmed that the swirl of rumors and divergent opinions (“a vari-
ety of news, always so melancholic”) had bewildered Diego Cristóbal
and given him second thoughts. Valdez insisted that only Moscoso could
convince the rebels to meet with the Spanish.31 Diego Cristóbal was ter-
rified that he was putting his life and that of his followers in danger, jeop-
ardizing all that the rebels had won. He was not mistaken.
The bloody execution of Tupac Katari on November 15 troubled
Diego Cristóbal. In a December 5, 1781 letter to del Valle, he explained
that he had “countless reasons to be cautious” (sobrados fundamentos
para los recelos). He immediately described Commander Reseguín’s
“betrayal” of the peace agreement, citing Tupac Katari’s “destruction
from the force of four horses” and the imprisonment of dozens of his fol-
lowers on trumped-up charges about plans to renew the rebellion. In this
letter, Diego Cristóbal also demanded that if he were to face charges, that
he be tried in the higher courts, under the king’s supervision. The news
from La Paz had made Diego Cristóbal and many of his followers skep-
tical and nervous.32
Opposition to the cease-fire also came from royalists. Mata Linares,
Tupac Amaru’s judge and Areche’s firm ally, disapproved of the corres-
pondence between the bishop and the rebel. As other hard-liners would
insist in the coming months and years, Mata Linares contended that the
rebel leader did not merit any form of deference and that negotiations
with the rebels and the potential recognition of certain rights granted
them undue power and distinction. Mata Linares deemed this foolish and
dangerous. He emphasized not only that it was a bad precedent but that
Diego Cristóbal did not have control over his followers and would not
be able to guide them toward disarming. He lamented the rebel leader’s
“tyranny and bloody spirit.” (genio sanguinario).33 Mata Linares and
Areche had begun their campaign to sabotage the ceasefire.
Bishop Moscoso responded to Diego Cristóbal’s concerns about roy-
alist troops by noting outbreaks of rebel violence and indigenous dis-
obedience in both the Lake Titicaca area and Tupac Amaru’s original
base in the highlands above Tinta. He insisted that royalists also had
reasons to be wary. Reports also arrived about rebel actions in
Paucartambo, the coca-producing area between Cuzco and the Amazon
basin. The bishop implied that royalists would only disarm when rebels
did. Moscoso reassured the rebel leader, however, that he would do
everything in his power to protect the lives of Indians and the Tupac
Amaru dynasty.34 The next step in the amnesty was a meeting between
royalist and rebel leaders. Both sides worried that the other would break
the truce and use the meeting to slaughter the enemy and capture
weapons.
Diego Cristóbal had many reasons for concern. The execution of
Tupac Katari on November 15 distressed him, as did reports of brutal
royalist repression. The news from Charcas strengthened the argument
of his followers who did not trust the Spanish and wanted to reject the
amnesty. Diego Cristóbal also worried about the large Arequipa-based
royalist force led by Ramón Arias, which by the time it had reached
Lampa numbered six thousand soldiers, as well as several of the Lake
Titicaca corregidors who had proven to be dogged opponents of the
rebels. Their strength made Diego Cristóbal reluctant to meet, since he
worried that they would crush his forces quickly if it were a trap.35 Des-
pite these concerns, the two sides agreed to an initial meeting between
Diego Cristóbal and Ramón de Arias on December 9. Arias’s soldiers re-
mained nervous and at midnight on the eighth jumped out of their tents
and grabbed their guns when they heard the sound of enemy soldiers. It
was a false alarm—just some of their own men moving about. In fact,
Diego Cristóbal did not show up and asked for a few more days.
Diego Cristóbal sent a Franciscan friar to arrange the meeting for the
twelfth. On that day, jittery Spanish troops again became alarmed when
the rebels surrounded the hills above the meeting place. Both sides sent
representatives, priests, to determine an exact meeting spot. Arias finally
met with Diego Cristóbal and requested that he hand over his support-
ers’ weapons. Dressed elegantly in velvet pants and a lamé coat, with a
golden buckle and dress sword and a gold-tipped staff, the rebel leader
insisted that he would only do so with Commander del Valle and Bish-
op Moscoso present. Diego Cristóbal promised to fulfill the terms of the
amnesty but made several demands: that the same corregidors not be
allowed to return; that Arias’ forces leave the area, in order to protect
the little livestock that remained; and that they hand over Indian prison-
ers. The meeting ended with handshakes, flag waving, and both armies
shouting “Long Live the King” and firing their rustic cannons.36
They met again the following day, December 13, in order to exchange
prisoners. A royalist commander opened a bottle of alcohol and took the
first drink to prove that it was not poison. Diego Cristóbal took a small
sip. Arias invited Diego Cristóbal to share a meal the following day, but
the rebel leader declined. Andrés Tupac Amaru remained leery, believing
that it was a “trap, as they had done with the La Paz commander [Tupac
Katari].”37 The royalists left unarmed officers with the rebels as security
and the two sides met again to discuss “pacification.” Diego Cristóbal
insisted that he would only sign a treaty with creole officers, not Span-
iards. Arias rebutted that many of the Spaniards were fine men but gran-
ted Diego Cristóbal his wish. The meeting became tense when Diego
Choquehuanca, the Azángaro kuraka, approached. The rebels had killed
two of his sons and forced the remainder of the family to flee to Are-
quipa. They now used Choquehuanca’s house in Azángaro as their base.
Diego Cristóbal demanded that Choquehuanca stop staring and denied
any blame for his family’s woes. Choquehuanca’s brother, a priest, de-
manded that both sides calm down. They managed to sign a paper in
which each side promised not to harm Indians or Spaniards and to al-
low everyone to circulate. Once the paper was signed, Diego Cristóbal
pledged to bring the royalists some meat if they pledged not to slaughter
any of the few milk cows left. The rebel leader demonstrated great con-
cern about the state of the region’s livestock, understanding that local
people would starve without cows, sheep, and llamas. After the custom-
ary “Long Live the King” and gunshots signaled the end of the meeting,
Diego Cristóbal handed over a few prisoners.38
At this point, Viceroy Jáuregui, del Valle, and Moscoso worried that
the bloody execution of Tupac Katari would break the rebels’ already
weak resolve. They therefore insisted that Arias respect and even show
deference for Diego Cristóbal. For example, Arias accepted Diego
Cristóbal’s demand that the corregidor of Lampa, Vicente Oré, be ex-
cluded from the post. Oré, in turn, had heard from authorities in the Tit-
icaca area that the rebels’ submission was a farce and they would soon
slaughter royalists. For Oré as well as Areche and other hard-liners, his
termination was a reprehensible slap in the face to a veteran command-
er, a sign that the viceroy and his followers did not understand the situ-
ation and would play into the rebels’ hands. Oré ridiculed the agreement
with Diego Cristóbal and exclaimed: “We cannot watch patiently as we
become slaves of the Indians. We have lost hope of returning to our
houses.”39 Oré was bitter, and eager to unify the opponents to a negoti-
ated peace. While he exaggerated his pessimistic view of the situation,
he did capture the fact that relations between Indians and Europeans had
changed dramatically. Going back to his house, in both the real and meta-
phorical sense, would be difficult if not impossible.40
Divisions among the Spanish increased toward the end of 1781; an
important faction of officers protested vehemently against negotiations.
They believed that the rebels would break the armistice and slaughter
them. One royalist, for example, wrote in January 1782 that “the rebel-
lion continues with greater tenacity, particularly in Chucuito and Chu-
lamaní.” He criticized Arias for “fooling himself, just like all the oth-
er commanders who have come to the Sierra [offering clemency], all
they’ve done is strengthen the rebellion. In the eyes of Indians, our clem-
ency just highlights Spanish weakness or cowardice and while our army
is sleeping in Lampa, the rebels are exterminating the few Spaniards who
remain in Chucuito.”41
Diego Cristóbal had followers who told him the same thing about the
Spanish. These skeptics pleaded with him to continue the fight. Loy-
alists and insurgents were asked to pardon those who had been attack-
ing them weeks before. Indians were supposed to trust royalists while
mestizo, creole, and Spanish townspeople had to put their faith in the
rebels. Each side had large, powerful factions that opposed the amnesty.
Royalists reported new outbreaks of violence, exaggerating or inventing
in some cases, and many believed that Diego Cristóbal himself would
break the treaty or would fail to control his more violent followers. On
the other side, many rebels believed that the agreement was either a trap
or simply a terrible mistake. They could not comprehend handing over
their arms when they were dominating the southern Andes. They grieved
over the execution of Tupac Katari, hoping that it wasn’t a sign of their
fate. Negotiations continued, however, and the two sides agreed to meet
in Sicuani, back in José Gabriel Tupac Amaru’s base area, on January
20, 1782, the day of Saint Sebastian, a soldier-saint venerated in Spain
and in the Andes.
Both sides negotiated the 1782 encounter with elevated demands and
great wariness if not outright pessimism, a challenging combination for
any act of diplomacy. The royalists demanded that the rebels demon-
strate their submission to the Crown and confirm their disavowal of vi-
olence. Rebels expected authorities to exhibit their respect for the Tupac
Amaru dynasty and to reform or replace the corregidor system. The con-
text could not have been tenser: tens of thousands of dead, a devastated
economy, and large factions, perhaps the majority, on both sides who be-
lieved that continued fighting was inevitable and even preferable. It was
not just a matter of ironing out details, offering guarantees, handing over
weapons, and convincing the skeptical. In eighteenth-century Peru, polit-
ics were highly ritualistic. Protocol needed to be followed about where
to meet, what to sign, and how to celebrate or recognize. For example,
whether the rebels would eat at the same table as the royalists proved to
be an important question. A gaffe could lead to a disagreement that could
overturn the cease-fire. Both sides acted cautiously.
Bishop Moscoso and Commander del Valle, accompanied by over one
thousand five hundred soldiers, reached Sicuani on January 17, 1782.
En route, they freed Diego Cristóbal’s sister, Cecilia Tupac Amaru, from
the San Jerónimo jail. They bought her expensive clothing, but she re-
fused to wear it, contending that she was in mourning, eight months after
the mass executions in Cuzco. This was one of many signs that the vi-
olence of the previous twelve months would not be quickly forgotten
or forgiven and that peace would not be easily attained.42 Their journey
began in the towns on the outskirts of Cuzco that had aided the royalists
in the siege of Cuzco but then descended into the Vilcanota Valley, to
the towns and communities that had been Tupac Amaru’s base and the
center of fighting in the first stage. The corregidor of Tinta, Francisco
Suárez Salcedo, met them in the new Fort Charles III. This imposing
new building loomed over the Vilcanota Valley, an intimidating site in an
area where no standing military had existed until the rebellion began less
than eighteen months before. They had to wait nervously until January
26 for the rebel leader and his entourage to arrive.
Diego Cristóbal explained that he had been forced to delay his depar-
ture from Azángaro as his followers begged him not to leave, worried
that he would fall prey to an ambush and leave them defenseless. En
route, from Azángaro over La Raya to Sicuani, Indians expressed their
opposition to the agreement, “as they did not trust the Spanish.”43 In-
dians in Santa Rosa, punished brutally by the Spanish for their support
of Tupac Amaru, cried and pleaded with him not to go. Others in Calca
y Lares as well as Larecaja and Pacages promised him five thousand
soldiers and ample food and supplies if he would take up arms again.44
After passing La Raya, Diego Cristóbal sent representatives to the royal-
ist camp with letters demanding proof that it was not a trap and that the
Spanish were acting in good faith. Corregidor Salcedo, on good terms
with Diego Cristóbal, reassured him that the route was safe and the
agreement sincere. He went so far as to order his soldiers to unload their
guns.
Diego Cristóbal met Bishop Moscoso at his campsite outside of
Sicuani on January 26, 1782. They embraced. Bishop Moscoso accom-
panied him to meet del Valle. Diego Cristóbal handed the commander a
note pledging his surrender while del Valle and the bishop stressed the
favorable terms of the armistice for the rebels.45 Soldiers from both sides
watched nervously, following instructions not to use their weapons under
any circumstance. Commanders worried that the act of one panicked sol-
dier could prompt a confrontation and break the truce. The leaders sealed
the pact with festive meals and numerous masses, with Diego Cristóbal
reiterating his respect for the Crown and acceptance of the armistice,
and Spanish authorities guaranteeing his safety and that of his followers.
Bishop Moscoso lifted the excommunication that weighed so heavily on
Diego Cristóbal and the other leaders. Rebel followers nervously entered
Sicuani and when one royalist soldier, the mestizo Matías Pérez, called
some of them alzados or rebels and insulted them, del Valle quickly
moved to punish him. In fact, Bishop Moscoso and Diego Cristóbal
themselves intervened to prevent Pérez’s execution.46
Royalists grumbled about how well the bishop, del Valle, and other
proponents of the amnesty treated the rebels. On January 29, 1782, Bish-
op Moscoso confirmed Diego Cristóbal and Manuela Tito Condori’s
marriage. They had married in Azángaro, but for the Spanish, the mar-
riage was not valid due to the excommunication and the context. Del
Valle was the godfather of the wedding and Corregidor Salcedo paid for
an elaborate wedding. Tito Condori was from Pitumarca, near the rebel
center, and she and much of her extensive family was with the insur-
gents from the beginning. They followed Diego Cristóbal and the other
second-phase leaders to the south in 1782, the point when she and Diego
Cristóbal fell in love. Unlike Micaela, Manuela apparently did not lead
troops or oversee logistics.47
Critics saw the wedding and all the attention paid to the couple ex-
cessive, an affront to royalists.48 One anonymous but lengthy report from
September 1782 also complained that the bishop had allowed Diego
Cristóbal to stay in a room adjacent to his and treated him with great
affection. The writer also lamented that Areche, Major Joaquín Valcár-
cel, Corregidor Salcedo, and other authorities had danced a traditional
dance, cachua, with the bride and groom in the streets of Sicuani and that
the bishop had seated Tupac Amaru’s sister, Cecilia, at the same table
as Spanish and Church dignitaries. These and other “insults” or breaches
of etiquette constituted “unseemly indulgence with the rebels” with the
conclusion that “the government’s excessive humanitarianism with the
rebels is why pacification has taken so long.”49 The agreement and en-
suing rituals in Sicuani infuriated many royalists.
In the following days and weeks, tens of thousands of Indians reached
Sicuani to confirm their acceptance of the amnesty, thirty thousand ac-
cording to Moscoso.50 On February 20, 1782, Viceroy Jáuregui called
for celebratory masses, lanterns, and bell ringing in Lima to celebrate
the peace.51 Andrés (Tupac Amaru) Mendigure arrived in Sicuani weeks
later to confirm his acceptance of the amnesty. Inspector del Valle, Bish-
op Moscoso, and Viceroy Jáuregui were ecstatic. On the brink of defeat
months before, they had disarmed the rebels and implemented a truce
with seeming speed and ease.
But trouble lurked. Convincing all rebel supporters to abandon the
cause would not be easy. Much of the region’s indigenous population be-
lieved that they had had the upper hand and that the Spanish could not
be trusted. Conversely, landowners and authorities such as corregidors
were reluctant to return to the area. They worried that any spark would
set off a new uprising and understood that the old economic and politic-
al system, even with a seemingly favorable truce, was gone. Moreover,
Visitador Areche remained furious about his exclusion from the nego-
tiations in the previous months and stepped up his lobbying campaign.
He collaborated with skeptical authorities such as the Lake Titicaca cor-
regidors and others opposed to the amnesty and collected any informa-
tion he could find about possible rebel treachery and new outbreaks of
violence. He flooded his friend José Gálvez in Madrid and the Madrid
court with denunciatory letters about the deference and alarming priv-
ileges granted to the rebels as well as the troubling signs of violence on
the horizon. The fight was not over.
 11

The Rebellion in Limbo

PEOPLE RECEIVED NEWS of the cease-fire with shock, glee, dismay, and dis-
belief. Many rejoiced with the end or at least suspension of bloodshed and
the possibility of a return to normality. The viceroy’s call for bell ringing,
masses, and ceremonies in Lima did not go unheeded—people celeb-
rated.1 A war that seemed to have no end suddenly appeared to have one.
However, important factions on both sides bitterly opposed the agreement
and believed that peace would not or should not hold. Hard-line royalists
thought that the rebels needed to be defeated militarily and that negoti-
ations and conferences such as the events in Sicuani foolishly and naively
recognized the rebels as equals. They saw the entire process as humiliat-
ing and futile, because they expected the rebels to break the agreement.
Leading figures in Cuzco and Lima thus sought to sabotage the agree-
ment from the day it was signed. On the other side, many Indians believed
that Diego Cristóbal had made a grave error. They did not trust the Span-
ish and felt that they, the rebels, had the military advantage when Diego
Cristóbal accepted the offer. Many lobbied him to return to arms; others
simply did not heed the agreement and kept fighting.
The situation was unprecedented. Even the rebellion’s first stage and
the fighting itself had antecedents, although on a much smaller scale. An-
dean people had revolted before, attacking customs houses, expelling au-
thorities, and experimenting with alternative political arrangements. Most
Indians in the Cuzco and Titicaca areas had participated in or witnessed
some form of insubordination. But no one had ever experienced a mass
pardon, with rebel leaders and followers abandoning the struggle and
Spanish forces disarming. Nobody had a script.
 Diego Cristóbal returned home to Pampamarca but as what—a hero,
a villain, or an afterthought? Would he continue as a leader or return to
life as a muleteer in the Vilcanota Valley? He and the other rebel leaders
had to negotiate basic questions such as their income—would the colo-
nial state grant them a pension and return confiscated land? The treat-
ment Diego Cristóbal received from Indians only deepened the uncer-
tainty: many venerated him while others scorned him. On the other side,
many Spaniards rejoiced over the agreement, hoping that violence would
cease, that the economy would recover, and that things would go back as
much as possible to what they had been. Hard-liners, however, despised
the cease-fire and sought to sabotage it. They not only wanted to over-
turn the agreement, but to imprison the Tupac Amaru leaders and rid the
area of them. In reports and memos that moved back and forth between
the rebel red zone of the upper provinces, Cuzco, Lima, and Madrid,
these opponents lambasted the cease-fire, stressing the rebel leaders’ hy-
pocrisy, their followers’ insolence, and the many dangers the agreement
and the tense context posed to Spanish rule in Peru. In doing so they
retooled notions about Indians’ purported backwardness, the ideological
core of Spanish colonialism. Royalist foes of the amnesty stressed In-
dians’ blind willingness to follow seditious leaders and the concomit-
ant need for force on the part of the colonial state, ideas that endured
and shaped Indian-state relations in the coming decades. Important fac-
tions from both sides conspired against the cease-fire, backstabbing their
former allies, even before it was signed. The peace agreement did not
mean tranquility; it barely meant peace.
 The Return
Andrés Mendigure and Mariano Tupac Amaru had not attended the
Sicuani signings, but soon made their way toward Cuzco. Andrés reached
Sicuani on March 1 to present himself to del Valle and to recognize the
cease-fire. Once Andrés took an oath of fidelity, Father José Gallegos ab-
solved him from the excommunication. Andrés promised to hand over the
movement’s cannons and other weapons. Different concerns haunted the
two sides: the rebel leaders worried about their exclusion from the Cath-
olic Church while royalist officials made sure that the rebels relinquished
their firepower. Mariano presented himself to military officials in La Paz
and then returned to Sicuani.2
Authorities released Juan Bautista Tupac Amaru, José Gabriel’s thirty-
five-year-old half brother, from jail in Cuzco. Imprisoned days after José
Gabriel, he suffered in captivity as common prisoners taunted him and au-
thorities limited his food, stole his goods, pocketed the money sent to feed
him, kept his cell filthy, and beat him on occasion. He complained that one
blow left a permanent scar. When he was paraded around Cuzco on a mule
shortly after his brother’s execution, soldiers whipped him. Juan Bautista
said that “what was most notable to me was that these men felt a type
of pleasure in my hardship, my mistreatment, and even found it funny,
just like the Conquistadors who hunted down Indians with their dogs for
fun.”3 He observed bitterly that when he was as a prisoner even Indians
treated him with “unbearable disdain.” Juan Bautista explained that those
who believed themselves closer to the Spanish because of their skin color
or economic condition were particularly pitiless.4
Sentenced to ten years of exile and hard work at a presidio, his freedom
caught him by surprise. He claimed that Visitador Areche wanted him
dead, while Colonel Gabriel Avilés (a Spanish commander who later in
1782 would replace José del Valle as General Inspector) defended him;
the latter won, at least temporarily. Juan Bautista’s hardships, however,
were far from over. Jail had left him in such bad shape that it took him six
days to walk the forty-five miles (fourteen leagues) home, much longer
than the norm in this era. En route, he and his wife had to confront the
taunts of royalists. With his family decimated and their land and other
goods expropriated, they barely had enough to eat or clothe themselves.
Unlike the rebel leaders, Juan Bautista did not receive a pension, and he
complained that his friends abandoned him. His odyssey, as we will see,
would continue, taking him to Spain, Africa, and back to South Amer-
ica.5 Nonetheless, he spent most of 1782 in Pampamarca, struggling to
adjust and make ends meet.
Accompanied by the Tinta corregidor, Francisco Salcedo, Father An-
tonio Valdés, and twelve dragoons or light cavalry, Diego Cristóbal
Tupac Amaru and a small group of intimates returned to his hometown
of Tungasuca in late February 1782. Authorities hoped that he would
settle his affairs and proceed to Lima, where he would be separated from
the rebel base and easier to follow, but he resisted this idea. His family
members and acquaintances embraced him, still shocked by the turn of
events. They had expected him either to die in battle or to return as a
victorious hero, not accompanied by colonial authorities proclaiming a
truce. His wife, Manuela Tito Condori, mistrusted the Spanish and im-
plored Bishop Moscoso to protect her family, describing her situation as
“darkness, confusion, and anguish.” Marcela Castro Puiucahua, Diego
Cristóbal’s mother, wrote that the family would not go to Lima, as many
authorities encouraged them to do, but rather to the “bishop’s mansion.”6
They put their trust in the bishop.
Salcedo convinced Diego Cristóbal to visit some of the more recal-
citrant towns of the provincias altas. On March 29, a little more than a
month after the Sicuani signing, Diego Cristóbal ventured into José Gab-
riel Tupac Amaru’s most dependable base, an almost fully monolingual
Quechua region of towering snow-covered peaks, where many had not
accepted the cease-fire. For Salcedo and Valdés, this excursion demon-
strated that the cease-fire could succeed; they sent glowing reports about
Diego Cristobal’s efforts and Indians’ willingness to abandon the fight.
Critics of the cease-fire, by contrast, believed that these events demon-
strated that Indians still dangerously idolized Diego Cristóbal and were
waiting for him to signal a return to arms.
In Combapata, Diego Cristóbal persuaded Indians to come down from
the peaks, las punas, where they had taken refuge during the rebellion.
This was significant—Indians taking to the punas was a synonym, for
the Spanish, of insurgency, of the guerrilla tactics that had so dogged
them in the last eighteen months, and of Indians’ distancing themselves
from colonial structures. Descent or bajar de las punas was therefore
a metaphor for submission or at least the acceptance of the cease-fire.
With great relief, Salcedo described how when they came into town, In-
dians attended mass, bowed to the Spanish flag, elected new authorities,
and pledged their support for the king.7 In fact, shouts of “Long Live the
King” filled the air. Diego Cristóbal tried to convince the Combapata In-
dians to return everything they had expropriated during the uprising, par-
ticularly livestock, and to attend Mass. The encounter between recalcit-
rant Quechua Indians and Diego Cristóbal and his entourage could have
taken place in the sixteenth-century Conquest. Some officials in Cuzco
remained skeptical, however, as rumors circulated that trouble was brew-
ing in the high peaks and that the day before Diego Cristóbal had visited
Combapata, rabble-rousers had recruited more people and committed vi-
olent acts.8
Diego Cristóbal and the others persuaded Indians from his wife’s ho-
metown of Pitumarca to return to their town, which was abandoned and
overgrown with vegetation. Salcedo and Diego Cristóbal assured the
local population, which had massively supported the uprising, that they
were safe. They gave Indians from other key towns such as Lauramarca,
Ocongate, Calca, and Paucartambo similar assurances. The Indians in
turn asked Salcedo to accompany them to their towns, to make sure
that corregidors and other authorities fulfilled the promised pardon and
cease-fire. In this highly polarized area, both sides believed that the other
was likely to seek bloody revenge. Valdés and Salcedo understood that a
small incident could spark new confrontations and even a full-scale re-
bellion.9
Salcedo and Diego Cristóbal had to confront the delicate issue of
naming authorities. They understood the danger of a vacuum of power
but also knew that the question of whether to rename the same corregidor
or loyal kuraka or to find replacements more acceptable to the Indian
majority could polarize the area, resurrecting the divisions that marked
the violence of the previous two years. In these early months, they appar-
ently decided on a case-by-case basis. The first was perhaps the greatest
challenge: José Gabriel Tupac Amaru’s cacicazgo of Tungasuca, Pam-
pamarca, and Surimana. Salcedo convinced Diego Cristóbal not to as-
sume the position in order to remain “independent of the government.”
The rebel leader accepted, although unhappily according to Salcedo, “as
he’s used to being in charge.”10
The town of Checacupe presented a particular challenge. Local Indi-
ans widely despised their kuraka, Aronis (no first name given in the re-
cords), who had remained loyal to the Crown in the midst of the fight-
ing. Diego Cristóbal and Salcedo did not want to anger the majority, but
they wanted to recognize Aronis’s efforts. They came up with a diplo-
matic solution, naming his son as the new kuraka.11 At this point, in late
March, Salcedo proposed that they continue to Calca, the Sacred Valley,
and then proceed to the Titicaca area to implement the pardon. Inspector
General del Valle, however, requested that they return to Cuzco, which
they did.12 Salcedo and Valdés presented their mission as a success, an
important step toward pacification. Hard-liners had a very different in-
terpretation.
Tensions flared in the upper provinces after their departure. In late
March, rival kurakas of the towns of Ocongate and Lauramarca, Andrés
Quispe and Felipe Espinoza, came to blows, bringing hundreds of Indi-
ans as backup. Quispe and four hundred Indians killed Espinoza and took
refuge in the glacial peaks that soared above Ocongate. Quispe’s faction
would not lay down their arms for months, pledging to fight the Spanish.
One particular incident gave pause to those who believed that peace had
returned. An Indian from the town of Pitura, a Quispe supporter, assaul-
ted and robbed a woman on her way to Cuzco. The anonymous assailant
sneered, “You and the rednecks (pukacuncas) believe that just because
we accepted the amnesty, that you will end up laughing.”13 Obviously,
he did not believe that the insurgency had ended. Del Valle sought the aid
of Diego Cristóbal to disarm them. Quispe and his followers, however,
did not go away.
These initial months reassured Diego Cristóbal and the other leaders
that their worst fears had been ungrounded—they had not been deceived,
detained, or executed once they left behind their troops and began hand-
ing over weapons. Authorities encouraged but did not oblige them to go
to Lima. For supporters of the cease-fire, this initial period had bolstered
their optimism. Events outside of the Vilcanota Valley, however, brought
disturbing news that enraged and energized the hard-liners who opposed
the amnesty. The fighting continued.
 Diego Cristobal’s commander, Pedro Vilca Apaza, had rejected the
cease-fire, insisting that it was a trap. He returned to Azángaro in early
1782 and fought in the area north of Lake Titicaca, Muñani and Putina.
Although many of his troops abandoned him to accept the pardon, those
who remained ransacked estates and towns and used hit-and-run tactics
to confront royalist troops. News about Vilca Apaza confirmed to the
already doubtful that the cease-fire was an illusion and that the rebels
could not be trusted.14 However, the Arequipa troops led by Ramón Ari-
as arrived in the area in late March and separated Vilca Apaza from the
bulk of his fighters. An anonymous Spaniard from Lampa captured him
on March 29. Spaniards accused him of stealing silver and gold, which
he denied. On April 8, executioners attached his limbs to four horses and
when they could not dismember him, they doubled the number. The ex-
cruciating dislocation of his legs and arms did not kill him, so his tor-
menters strangled him with a rope and stabbed him. He has become a
folk hero in the Azángaro area, the “indomitable Puma.”
His death mortified Indian people yet did not satisfy hard-liners. In-
transigent royalists believed that Vilca Apaza proved that the rebellion
was not over and that only repression could end it.15 One Spanish com-
mander, Raimundo Necochea, who became the Quispicanchi corregidor,
accused Diego Cristóbal of surreptitiously aiding Vilca Apaza by at-
tempting to impede the Arequipa Battalion from reaching the Lake Tit-
icaca area.16 Authorities captured another rebel commander who did
not accept the cease-fire, Melchor Laura, in February. His testimony
heightened royalists’ concern about Tupac Amaru’s followers. Laura de-
clared that he had refused the pardon because of his “love for Tupac
Amaru” and that he only sought to control the province of Chucuito for
Tupac Amaru. They executed him.17
Battle Areas near Lake Titicaca

Royalists in La Paz moved to the north to extinguish any remnants

of the uprising. Their brutal, effective campaign eased the concerns of
many of their followers, making many pause to wonder why del Valle
could not have used similar tactics and gained similar results in his ex-
pedition from Cuzco to Puno in 1781. Some colonial officials, however,
worried that commanders used too much force and that the ruthless-
ness would backfire. Even the official narrative, usually a laconic list
of success after success, victory after victory, captured the brutality and
wanton violence. The Arequipa battalion, which had met with Diego
Cristóbal and then captured Vilca Apaza, converged with other battalions
in La Paz and moved toward the hills above Juli. Sebastián Segurola op-
erated from La Paz to Caracoto, and del Valle and Orellana mobilized
in Carabuco and Mocomoco. In his account, Segurola describes meeting
some resistance but overcoming it quickly, leaving behind one hundred
fifty dead. Royalists were not taking prisoners; they assumed that all In-
dians were dangerous rebels. On April 22, near Collana, they killed “five
or six hundred enemies, of both sexes” without taking any losses, num-
bers that indicate mass detentions and firing squads rather than a con-
frontation.18 The pockets of rebels who resisted with whatever weapons
they still had infuriated the royalist troops. In the eyes of Segurola, this
explained atrocious acts or “excesses,” such as killing a woman about
to give birth (seizing the fetus from the womb so it could be baptized
before dying) or swinging another pregnant woman against a boulder to
kill her. The genocide included infanticide. To Segurola’s surprise, the
rebels did not surrender or flee. Royalists burned down the town of Me-
capata, sparing only the country homes and estates of prominent La Paz
residents.19
Troops entered the town of Coní, and executed “eight Indians and
some children before burning most of the town down.” There they freed
captives taken by the rebels in the sieges of Sorata and La Paz. Ari-
as and other commanders pardoned some relatives of rebel leaders, al-
though these seem to be exceptions—the campaign relied on brutality as
it spread from La Paz toward Lake Titicaca and to the northeast. Bish-
op Moscoso wrote to Viceroy Jáuregui to express his concern about the
bloodshed, but the campaign continued. By May 1782, royalists had de-
feated the rebels north of La Paz and brutally punished those suspec-
ted of aiding the insurgents and Indians.20 They looked to the triangle
between La Paz, Lake Titicaca, and the Yungas to the northeast with sat-
isfaction; Tupac Amaru’s core area to the south of Cuzco, however, wor-
ried them.
 Weddings, Funerals, Pensions, and Convents
The rebel leaders struggled to find their place in post-rebellion Cuzco.
They had no precedent or model and their family’s patriarch, José Gabriel,
had been executed. They received alarming news from Upper Peru and
were treated in confusing fashion in Cuzco, ranging from disdain to ven-
eration. While the scorn from some Indians and hatred from royalists
stung, the veneration could get them in trouble. Moreover, in mid-1782,
each of them became entangled in controversies that demonstrated not
only that they were human but very young. Each incident struck a nerve
as well with royalists, increasing their angst over the presence of Diego
Cristóbal, Andrés, and Mariano in the Cuzco region.
Tensions escalated because the rebel leaders expected the colonial
state and church to honor their family or at least recognize their royal
Inca bloodlines. Rituals such as weddings, baptisms, and funerals sanc-
tioned honor and prestige in colonial Peru. Their opponents understood
the Tupac Amaru clan to be common Indians or disgraced subversives
rather than distinguished kurakas and firmly believed that after the cease-
fire the former rebel leaders did not deserve any type of public recognition
or deference. The rebels thought otherwise.
Resentment over Diego Cristóbal and Manuela Titu Condori’s wed-
ding and the treatment granted them by corregidor Francisco Salcedo and
del Valle smoldered. When they had a son, Salcedo delayed the baptism
until November 4, the day of San Carlos, in order to name him in honor
of King Charles III as well as Salcedo himself. In fact, they baptized him
Carlos Francisco Diego Manuel Mariano del Carmen in the new Sicuani
Royal fort, with Salcedo serving as the godfather.21 The infant passed
away on November 17. One historian asked whether “the little prince”
might have been poisoned.22 Hard-liners criticized Salcedo as well as
Bishop Moscoso for permitting a grandiose funeral in the Sicuani church.
An honor guard that included not only the parents and the godfather but
also dozens of soldiers and priests accompanied the small casket from the
fort to the town of Sicuani. Critics led by the tireless Areche saw this as
yet another sign of undue respect to the rebels.23 Authorities subsequently
accused Salcedo of commissioning a portrait of the infant, found in the
possession of the Pampamarca priest and José Gabriel Tupac Amaru in-
timate, Antonio López de Sosa. They charged Salcedo with “criminal de-
ference” and he lost his position as corregidor in 1783.24
Diego Cristóbal and Andrés’s aspiration to honor their relatives also
irritated authorities. Diego Cristóbal sought to exhume the remains of
his cousin, José Gabriel, from the common grounds of the San Francisco
church and bury him properly, in a more honorable place. Authorities
had incinerated his torso, dumping the ashes in the Huatanay River,
but displayed his head and limbs throughout Cuzco. These apparently
ended up in the San Francisco Church. On August 27, 1782, with the
support of Bishop Moscoso, Diego Cristóbal held a stately funeral for
his cousin. Areche condemned this ceremony, “as though it were for a
royal person,” censuring the bishop, the viceroy, and Diego Cristóbal.25
Andrés sought to move the remains of his father, Pedro Mendigure,
from the section of the cathedral allotted to criminals and lowlifes to
a vault. (In the late eighteenth century, most people were buried in
churches—cemeteries emerged decades later.) Church officials granted
Andrés his request, which other authorities criticized, understanding the
request as a disturbing sign of bad faith and dangerous intentions. They
did not want to grant any type of honor to the rebel martyrs nor designate
a place where they could be mourned.26
Mariano Tupac Amaru got himself in trouble by falling in love. He
sought to marry Maria Nieves Paita (or Payta), from Sicuani, who was
pregnant, presumably with his child. Authorities, specifically corregidor
Salcedo, deemed her a zamba, or part black, and a prostitute, pointing
out her two out-of-wedlock children and concubinage with other Cuzco
men. Diego Cristóbal also opposed the union, concerned about his fam-
ily’s lineage. Salcedo invoked the 1776 Real Pragmática or Royal Prag-
matic that compelled anyone under the age of twenty-five to have their
parents’ approval to marry and restricted interracial marriages. Salcedo
also implied that he did not want the Tupac Amaru clan to reproduce.27
Authorities arrested Paita and placed her in Cuzco’s Santa Catalina con-
vent.
On September 19, 1782 Mariano and eight accomplices liberated
Paita from the convent, dumbfounding witnesses. They threatened the
nuns at the doors with their sabers, menacing anyone who tried to in-
tervene, and took her out a side door.28 Authorities rapidly detained her,
however, and transferred her to the Santa Clara convent. The stunning
news spread quickly. Mariano’s romantic escapades infuriated Bish-
op Moscoso and proved to those opposed to the cease-fire that the
rebel leaders could not be trusted. The paper trail on María Paita ends
here—we know nothing about her fate or her pregnancy.29
As is so often the case, disputes about money accompanied those re-
garding sex, love, and marriage. The Spanish chided the rebels for hid-
ing vast amounts of silver and troves of livestock and other stolen prop-
erty. Royalists wrote among themselves about a hidden treasure secreted
away by the Tupac Amaru clan and demanded that Diego Cristóbal re-
turn the silver supposedly stolen in Sorata.30 They also complained about
the pensions granted to the rebel leaders. Viceroy Jáuregui agreed to
1,000 pesos a year for Diego Cristóbal and 600 each for Andrés and
Mariano. The viceroy justified the payments in the following terms:
“having selected softness and sweetness to induce them toward obedi-
ence to His Majesty, this system [payments] seems justified in order to
achieve the provinces’ absolute pacification, showing them the humanity
with which they are treated and royal beneficence.”31 Areche disagreed,
contending that this was an affront to all royalists and a waste of precious
revenue. He included this point in his disparaging letters and memos to
Madrid and ultimately gained the attention of the king. Bishop Moscoso,
on the other hand, saw the payments as a small investment for peace.
And even collecting the money proved problematic. In March, Diego
Cristóbal refused to sign a receipt for his pension because it was made
out to Diego Cristóbal Condorcanqui—he demanded that it include
Tupac Amaru. Royalists wanted to eliminate that royal last name.32
Throughout 1782 and early 1783, they accused rebel leaders of organiz-
ing the masses, showing disrespect to the Crown, hiding stolen treasures,
and leading disreputable private lives.
News of these curious events as well as other incidents reached far
beyond Cuzco, even crossing the Atlantic. Supporters and opponents of
the cease-fire lobbied authorities in Cuzco, Lima, and Madrid. Areche
incorporated his venomous complaints about the pardon into his incess-
ant letters and memos to Spain, which previously had focused on de-
riding del Valle and claiming the honor of capturing José Gabriel. In
October 1781, before Diego Cristóbal even had agreed to the cease-fire,
Areche labeled the pardon “exorbitant.”33 His opposition hardened as
the months passed. In a May 29, 1782 letter to José Gálvez, his ally and
pen pal, he labeled Diego Cristóbal “insolent” and argued that the am-
nesty had reinforced the rebel leader’s belief that he was the “descend-
ent of the emperors or Incas.” Areche ridiculed the rebels’ weapons and
strategy and contended that they only responded to threats; conciliation
would not work. He then returned to his previous obsession: that del
Valle received credit for the capture of José Gabriel whereas he had led
the charge.34
Jáuregui provided Madrid a much more positive summary of the early
1782 events and the prospects for peace, complimenting the work of
Diego Cristóbal in the upper provinces. He explained the pension gran-
ted to the rebel leaders as a reasonable expenditure to keep them out of
trouble. The Court returned the letter with a telling note in the margin,
dated February 10, 1783: “The king read this letter with consternation
due to the fact that pensions were granted to these infamous and sacrile-
gious rebel chiefs without due process, necessity, or a motive that could
excuse excess that sets such a bad example.… His Majesty deems that
in very reserved form the viceroy and Visitador Escobedo be instructed
firmly, yet without alerting the public and thus discrediting that weak and
poorly advised government [Peru], to find the way to amend such a great
error, and attempt to have Diego Cristóbal and his two nephews safely in
Lima, which should have been the first priority after they surrendered.”35
A note from Madrid dated February 27, 1783 underlines the king’s
dismay about the “distinctions” granted the rebel leaders. The king’s an-
onymous scribe explained that if they, Indians in general, became too
proud, “they would become what we were for them in the time of the
Conquest.” In the name of the king, the writer complained about the cel-
ebrations for the cease-fire, the publication of the decree, the fireworks,
and solemn mass, maintaining that the rebels did not deserve such hon-
ors and that these events broke protocol.36 Although soon to be replaced
in Peru, Visitador Areche had gained the ear of the court in Madrid in
the long paper war that stretched through 1781 and 1782. His ire at this
point focused on the deal struck with Diego Cristóbal and company.
 As Long as There Are Tupac Amarus in Peru …
In mid-1782, both supporters and opponents of the amnesty in the royalist
camp agreed that Diego Cristóbal, Mariano, and Andrés posed a danger
if they remained in Cuzco. The two sides, moderates and hard-liners, dis-
agreed fiercely about the solution, however. Moderates such as Bishop
Moscoso and Viceroy Jáuregui contended that the young rebels needed
to go to Lima in order to separate them from the Indian masses, whom
they understood as still dangerously subversive at worst and, at a minim-
um, impressionable. These authorities recognized that it would be easi-
er to monitor the rebel leaders’ activities in the capital. Hard-liners, on
the other hand, wanted to exterminate the Tupac Amaru lineage. They be-
lieved that the rebel leaders were buying time to initiate another bloody
uprising and that as long as they were alive they posed a great danger.
Hard-liners led by Areche did not, however, seek to deport them to Spain
or send them to presidios—they wanted to kill them, to rid the world of
the Tupac Amaru bloodline. The paper war over the amnesty escalated as
both sides lobbied Lima and Madrid.
Why had moderates lost confidence in the prospects of the rebel lead-
ers staying in Cuzco? The death of an important ally, Commander del
Valle, on August 26, 1782 weakened them. He passed away in an exped-
ition to the towering hills above Calca. Whereas for his critics del Valle
embodied the failures of a supposedly feeble counterinsurgency campaign
and was a key culprit in the rebellion’s resurgence, for moderates and
rebels alike he had become a trusted commander who believed that ne-
gotiations rather than warfare would bring peace. Gabriel Valdés replaced
del Valle. But what swayed Moscoso was his belief that a misunderstand-
ing or an inopportune act by a rebel follower or the rebel leaders them-
selves could escalate into a rupture of the cease-fire and renewed fight-
ing. Although furious about the Santa Clara convent escapade, he did not
believe that the rebel leaders sought to rebuild their movement and begin
fighting again. Nor did the bishop think that baptizing Diego Cristóbal’s
son, paying the leaders a pension, or showing respect for Andrés or Mari-
ano constituted unacceptable deference that could spark new tensions.
What worried him was the possibility that hard-liners could convert these
or a different incident into a confrontation that would sabotage the am-
nesty.
 A decade later, when he was battling charges that he had aided the
rebels, Moscoso wrote that he understood that the departure of Diego
Cristóbal and his two cousins would “leave those provinces without cau-
dillos or patrons, whose mere presence could inflame the always ardent
spirit of those Indians [Naturales].”37 In this defense, Moscoso stressed
that Viceroy Jáuregui was the author of the pardon and that he, Mo-
scoso, oversaw its implementation out of “prudence” rather than “com-
passion.”38 Although Moscoso downplayed his role in supporting the
pardon at this point, in 1788, it is indisputable that in 1782 the bishop
wanted to remove Diego Cristóbal and company from Cuzco in order to
prevent an incident that could shatter the cease-fire. In July 1782 Mo-
scoso wrote Viceroy Jáuregui that getting the rebel leaders out of the area
“is the business of the day.” Nonetheless, he applauded the success of the
amnesty (indulto).39 Corregidor Salcedo labeled getting the rebel leaders
to Lima “a priority.”40
Hard-liners, in contrast, had no hesitations about the use of violence
to separate the rebel leaders from Cuzco. Commanders such as Orellana,
Flores, Segurola, and Necochea saw threats of new outbreaks every-
where and grumbled that rebel leaders still had a mass following and that
the indigenous people had showed no contrition. Their numbers were
bolstered when Jorge Escobedo y Alarcón replaced Areche as Visitador
General in June 1782.41 At every opportunity this group expressed their
opposition to the amnesty.
In May 1782, Commander Avilés wrote to the viceroy to alert him
about disturbing events in the Azángaro area and closer to Cuzco. He
claimed that it was absolutely necessary to “get the Tupa Maros out of
these provinces due to the incredible affection and passion that Indians
hold for them.”42 Matías Baulen, the corregidor of Cuzco and lieuten-
ant colonel of the militias, explained that Tungasuca was a particularly
dangerous home for Diego Cristóbal since it was isolated and difficult to
monitor. He asserted that Indians continued to hail the rebel leader and
offer him “tributes and adoration,” to the point that a “terrible storm”
could be unleashed and Europeans exterminated. Baulen called for the
insurgent leaders to be “yanked out of their beloved nest, but without
too much noise.”43 Around the same time, Baulen wrote another letter to
the viceroy providing numerous reasons why he believed that the Tupac
Amaru family would not “remain quiet” in Tungasuca: the town brought
back memories of their perfidious past; its isolation allowed them to pon-
der; it was several leagues away from Sicuani and thus the corregidor
could not follow their actions; it was an unpopulated area; and the people
there had abandoned their loyalty to the king.44
The bishop of La Paz, Gregorio Francisco de Campos, wrote in June
to express his extreme pessimism: “As long as there are Tupac Amarus
in Peru there will be no tranquility (sosiego).” He argued that the en-
tire family should be sent to Spain. The bishop contended that Diego
Cristóbal had acted with “iniquity, treachery and bad faith” and called
Andrés “a cruel monster” for his role in the death of Spaniards in Sorata.
Campos maintained that although women and children begged for mercy
with tear-filled eyes, Andrés slaughtered them anyway due to “this At-
tila’s implacable hatred, his desire to exterminate everyone, to take over
this kingdom, and to allow the Devil to return to control these domin-
ions.”45
These writers based their views on their experience in the brutal
battles of late 1781, their ensuing hatred for the Tupac Amaru clan, and
their belief that rebel fury would soon rekindle in Tungasuca and the
Sicuani area. They did not trust the rebels. Other hard-liners highlighted
disturbing events in 1782, after the cease-fire was signed, to support their
argument that the Tupac Amaru clan had to be exterminated. They be-
lieved that a dangerous conspiracy was brewing in the upper provinces,
particularly around Marcapata and Ocongate, which could spark a new
phase of insurgency. They also identified other signs of disobedience and
potential indigenous subversion. These events, real or invented, changed
the course of Peruvian history.
 Fire and Barbarous Straw
The evidence on the unrest comes primarily from royalists and needs to be
read critically. Hard-liners eagerly sought a pretext to sabotage the cease-
fire. Areche and others read reports of Indians gathering and furtive mes-
sengers going back and forth from Pampamarca and Tungasuca with a
certain glee—the uncovering of a conspiracy could undo the cease-fire
and force the viceroy and Bishop Moscoso to the side. Moreover, after
two years of vicious fighting, anxiety ran high, and many Spaniards saw
any sign of indigenous resistance (a hint of defiance or even the refusal
to show deference) as a portent of an impending revolt. They saw Indian
belligerence everywhere.
Yet the accounts do not sound like fabrications or ridiculous exaggera-
tions. The uprising had ended abruptly, far too soon for the droves of in-
digenous people who believed that victory was imminent, that the Span-
ish were on the ropes, that radical change was at hand. Many followers
reproached Diego Cristóbal for having signed the amnesty. Furthermore,
many indigenous peasants, even if they did not seek the continuation of
the uprising, refused to accept a return to the old ways of Spanish dom-
ination, such as Indian submission or abuse by outsiders. They believed
that the uprising, no matter how it concluded, had earned them increased
rights. People understood the peace treaty in different ways, and after its
signing local struggles erupted or reignited—about the naming of local
authorities, land, taxes, the role of the Church, and the other grievances
that had sparked the Tupac Amaru and other uprisings. In an area torn by
a brutal guerrilla war for over a year, which had ended on terms not accep-
ted by all sides, multiple tensions and misunderstandings remained. These
could spiral into confrontations; the cease-fire and amnesty disliked by
many remained fragile.
One other feature suggests that these conspiracies were not just royalist
fabrications or delusions. They had an odd, quixotic nature that repro-
duced one of the characteristics of late eighteenth-century indigenous up-
risings in the Andes: the creative search for a model or a platform. The
instigators claimed to fight in the name of Diego Cristóbal and saw him
as their leader. His critics claimed that Diego Cristóbal was the master-
mind; defenders said that he had not participated and in fact did not know
about the conspiracies. The instigators expressed broad veneration for
“the Inca” and incorporated material elements from the uprising such as
flags, banners, and velvet sashes. The conspiracy described by local of-
ficials in the upper provinces and relayed by anxious yet pleased author-
ities to Lima and Madrid was just unique enough and contained enough
verisimilitude that it was probably true.
Throughout 1782 and early 1783, authorities reported numerous signs
that the rebel leaders and followers had not accepted the cease-fire and
were planning to resume the fight. They pointed to Indians’ veneration
for Diego Cristóbal, proof not only that Indians remained hopeful about
renewed fighting but also that the Tupac Amaru leaders, by accepting
and even fostering this respect, had acted in bad faith and ultimately
planned to strike again. In September 1782 a local judge in Pomacan-
chi, the textile town just to the north of Pampamarca that José Gabriel
Tupac Amaru had ransacked in the first days of the uprising, complained
that “birds, lambs, and eggs” could not be found in the market because
people were stockpiling them to give to Diego Cristóbal and his mother:
“We can just about say they idolize them.” This authority warned that
“the idolatry will not stop until the idol, Diego Cristóbal, is separated
from these brutes; the fire will remain lit and even spread because of the
barbarous straw [pajas bárbaras] that surrounds him.”46
In the coming months and years, royalists would develop this meta-
phor of smoldering ashes in a perilously combustible situation, explain-
ing the danger as due to Indians’ rusticity and veneration for the Inca
past as well as the rebel leaders’ treachery and haughtiness. In September
1782, Commander Avilés glumly noted that in the upper provinces, des-
pite the leaders’ seeming submission, “the Indians still venerate them.”47
In the same month, a royalist commander observed with disapproval that
when a poor Indian saw Andrés Tupac Amaru [Mendigure], he kneeled
down in honor.48 The loquacious corregidor Baulen denounced Indians
who “see Diego Cristóbal as a superior man and offer him homages
suitable only for a deity.” Baulen argued that this respect had filled the
young rebel leader with vanity, haughtiness, and pride and heightened
his hypocrisy.49 For royalists, these signs of reverence confirmed that the
danger of the rebellion had not faded.
They also found evidence that Indians of the upper provinces collab-
orated with Diego Cristóbal in a plan to renew fighting. In June 1782
corregidor Necochea accused Andrés Mendigure of building a house
with a chapel, a refuge, in a “secret place” called Coñamuro above Ocon-
gate. Necochea believed that Andrés and his followers were biding time
before striking again.50 An Indian, Alejo Quispe, had told one of Ne-
cochea’s trusted friends that Andrés had instructed Indians of the Pam-
pamarca and Labramarca area to disobey Necochea’s commands and re-
quested that they build him a house. Someone else told Necochea that a
defiant Indian woman named Buenaventura Antequera had shouted that
the pukakunkas who came from the town of Urcos to sell their goods
needed to be told that the land was not theirs but the Indians’, as they
had “defeated them in war.” She instructed Indians not to give up their
weapons to any authority, because they had struggled so hard to gain
them.51 Necochea explained that these rumors worried him because the
Tupac Amaru family frequented the area and because dangerous former
rebels remained active.
Alejo Quispe testified through a translator that when in Ocongate and
Lauramarca to buy sheep, he had heard an Indian council member, a
regidor, tell the Coñamuro mayor that Andrés Mendigure and Diego
Cristóbal Tupac Amaru, “our little father [nuestro Padre chiquito],” had
ordered local Indians not to recognize Necochea as the corregidor of
Quispicanchi and to disobey his representatives. The rebel leaders ex-
plained that they, “Inca Diego Tupa Amaro” and Andrés Mendigure,
were lying low until the Spanish dropped their guard. The rebel leaders
needed the house built for them in a secure place such as Coñamuro to
“commit their treachery.” Quispe continued that the Indians of the area
had faith in their “Inca” or “king.” Diego Cristóbal would aid them and,
in return, had instructed them not to obey priests and corregidors. The
local Indians declared that with “our king” [Diego Cristóbal], the pukak-
unkas would never defeat them. Quispe, an illiterate forty-six-year-old
man, claimed that he reported this as soon as he arrived in Ocongate.
The Indian mayor of Ocongate, Manuel Caguana, testified on July
23 that Andrés Mendigure had been in his town ten days earlier to
obtain wood for the building. The mayor confirmed that the regidor,
Esteban Mamani, had told him about “Inga Chiquito [the little Inca]
Andrés Mendiguri Tupa Amaro” and that Andrés had ordered them not
to obey Necochea. Mamani then stated that Andrés had gathered two
hundred Indians in the kuraka’s house in Lauramarca and given a speech
in which he ordered them not to obey Necochea. The rebel leader re-
quested their patience until Inspector del Valle returned to Lima “and
then all the pukakunkas and mestizos will pay with their lives, we will
possess everything, all of the wealth that is found everywhere.” Mamani
claimed that Andrés did this in the name of Diego Cristóbal, who had
determined that Coñamuro was the best place for the house and chapel.
Andrés told the gathered Indians that Diego Cristóbal would send written
instructions, including orders that priests not overcharge for burials. The
Indians “threw their hats [monteras] in the air, yelled ‘Long Live our
Inca, Long Live our King,’ ” and pledged to defend him with their lives.
Mamani closed by claiming that the rebel followers had hidden their fu-
sils, daggers, sabers, and other weapons in nearby valleys “with the in-
tention of rising up again once Inspector del Valle leaves for Lima.”52
Necochea led a group to Coñamuro in early September and razed the
building that Indian workers had begun.53
The accusations need to be read carefully. One feature makes
Quispe’s testimony dubious—he repeats almost line by line the summary
that Necochea gave of the conspiracy. It seems that the illiterate Quispe
was told to confirm what Necochea had reported and did not present
his own version. In trials, testimonies almost invariably differ in details
and focus; in this case, they were virtual duplicates. Necochea presum-
ably could have asked Quispe to recite what the corregidor had already
written the day before. Not surprisingly, the humble indigenous man fol-
lowed orders. However, the accusations could be true. The Indians of
Ocongate and Lauramarca had actively supported the rebels and would
have rejoiced at the presence of Andrés Mendigure. The rebel leader, in
turn, would have probably appreciated the veneration and have stoked
the insurgent dreams of those around him with his mere presence. On
the other hand, he might simply have been building a second home and
have been falsely accused due to specious rumors or the fabrications
of the corregidor, who aimed to strengthen his grasp on the rebellious
Quispicanchi province. Hard-liners in Cuzco and Lima eagerly sought
such news in order to bolster their argument that Diego Cristóbal and the
other leaders needed to be detained in order to prevent a new uprising.
 Officials subsequently accused Diego Cristóbal of instigating the
problems in the upper provinces during his pacification visit in March
1782. Fernando Iguilus, an illiterate Spaniard from Ocongate, claimed
that the Indians “from Ocongate to Marcapata have not accepted the par-
don with good faith.” He contended that during this March visit Diego
Cristóbal had surreptitiously told a large group of Indians to gather
their weapons and wait for him in Lauramarca, ready for battle. Diego
Cristóbal promised them that they would become “owners of the hacien-
das and Spaniards’ land,” redistributed to the ayllus, the traditional units
of Andean political and social life. He also vowed the abolition of the
corregidor office, to be replaced by a local judge in every town, one of
José Gabriel’s promises. Diego Cristóbal requested that they remain vi-
gilant and defend him if he were in trouble.54 Iguilus added that in the
conversations he overheard, Indians expressed great hatred toward Span-
iards and love toward Tupac Amaru.
Other Spaniards testified in late 1782 that in March Diego Cristóbal
had instructed Indians to have their weapons ready to defend him. He
reminded them what he had done for them and promised to abolish cor-
regidors and redistribute land. Felipe Mendoza, a Spaniard from Ocon-
gate, stated that Diego Cristóbal told a group of Indians not to work on
haciendas as the Spanish owners could get “blacks or other castas” to
do the work.55 Esteban Grados, also a Spaniard from Ocongate, declared
that Diego Cristóbal demanded that the Indians not do free service labor,
pongo, for anyone, including priests.56
In September, Inspector General Avilés wrote the viceroy that the
Tupac Amaru clan had active supporters in the upper provinces and that
even though the Tupac Amaru leaders had accepted the pardon, the Indi-
ans there “still venerate them.” He answered the question of how Diego
Cristóbal had proselytized and rabble-roused in his March pacification
campaign when in the company of Salcedo and, for a time, del Valle.
Avilés clamed that the sneaky rebel leader took advantage of Francisco
Salcedo’s monolingualism, exhorting his Indian followers in Quechua
in front of the uncomprehending corregidor.57 Avilés insisted that they
needed to get Mariano, Andrés, and Diego Cristóbal out of Cuzco but
that they had limited options. The three rebel leaders rejected Bishop
Moscoso and Salcedo’s pressure to go to Lima and insisted on remain-
ing in the Vilcanota Valley, where they had family and an income. If re-
moved by force, however, Indians would rise up in a mutiny. Further-
more, Avilés worried that the young rebel leaders could simply disap-
pear, escape from surveillance, and perhaps resurrect the uprising in the
south or elsewhere.58
It is unclear whether Diego Cristóbal told his supporters in the upper
provinces to prepare for a new uprising. Perhaps he simply acknow-
ledged their support and his frustration with the cease-fire. Indians might
have understood this as a suggestion that the rebellion was not over. Or
the Spaniards who testified might have interpreted indigenous restless-
ness and renewed tension as a sign that Diego Cristóbal had encour-
aged the Indians. This would have reflected the widespread belief among
Spaniards that Indians could not act, let alone organize, on their own,
but would follow loyally. The testimonies are second- or thirdhand and
the people who testified about Diego Cristobal’s supposed invocations or
the Spaniards who overhead Indians talk about it could have misunder-
stood, exaggerated, and even fabricated. What is true without a doubt is
that the Indians of the upper provinces around Ocongate and Lauramarca
remained mobilized throughout 1782. The rebellion had not ended for
them, or at least was not going to end on terms that returned Indian-
Spanish relations to the status quo.
One of the Spaniards who testified about Diego Cristobal’s supposed
rabble-rousing explained that in mid-1782 “the Indians of that area [the
upper provinces] are as arrogant and dangerous as they were in the time
of the rebellion, and they don’t let any Spaniard go by. The only dif-
ference with the pardon is that they aren’t killing people any more, al-
though they are willing to continue their excesses.” He also noted that
they were still armed.59 Authorities did not invent these rebels in the
upper provinces—they were there, waiting for their Inca. One account
described Andrés Quispe leading Indians from Ocongate, Cañamuro,
and Andamayo, insisting that they not be fooled by the pukakunkas and
that they keep their weapons.60 In the hills above Catca, Quispe’s fol-
lowers detained an Indian councilman from the Muñacpata ayllu. They
told him that only Tupac Amaru, who they held for their “true Inca,”
could give orders and name authorities. They mentioned that Mariano
Tupac Amaru was in Marcapata and that they awaited orders from Diego
Cristóbal. These rebels concerned authorities even though controlling
the upper provinces, an indigenous area that was not central to the re-
gional economy, was not their top priority. What the colonial officials
sought, however, was proof of ties to the Tupac Amaru leadership.61
 Rebels in the City of the Kings
Colonial authorities agreed by the latter part of 1782 that it would be easi-
er to monitor the rebels and prevent ties with Indian rebels if they could be
induced to relocate in Lima.62 Viceroy Jáuregui sent passports (a mediev-
al term referring to permission to pass through city gates or portes) in June
and spent the final months of 1782 attempting to convince them to come
down to Lima. He believed that compelling them could spark a new up-
rising; his uncompromising opponents believed that it was just one more
case of weakness on his part. Finding themselves adrift in Cuzco, young
Mariano and Andrés finally decided to go in December. Diego Cristóbal
delayed his decision.
Inspector General Avilés wrote that Mariano and Andrés requested 500
pesos each for expenses in the trip as well as 500 to pay for mules. He
complained that they both liked to spend money and, on a more omin-
ous note, described the arrival of “an incredible gathering of people” to
see them off. Avilés explained that this proved the “control their family
still had in this city [Cuzco], which is presumably even greater in the
provinces.” Avilés was convinced that “these individuals can’t remain in
Peru.”63
Indians conveyed their adoration for the two young rebels throughout
the long journey to Lima, observed closely by authorities. The night be-
fore their departure, a crowd gathered in Cuzco to wish them well; in the
village of Caicai, Indians showed their respect by taking off their hats and
kneeling, despite the presence of Avilés; admirers pressed to meet them
in every town and city. For nervous authorities, these were signs that the
rebels continued to conspire and that Indians remained seditious. These
encounters also indicated that the danger had spread far beyond Cuzco,
from the Inca capital to the viceregal capital.64
Mariano and Andrés met Viceroy Jáuregui in Lima on January 4, 1783.
While demanding that they be supervised carefully, the Viceroy believed
that their arrival confirmed that peace would continue. In contrast, hard-
liners such as Avilés and Mata Linares worried instead that the viceroy
and others treated the young rebel leaders too well. They thought that this
treatment not only raised their confidence but increased their status in the
eyes of others, and that conspiracies would soon spread. These officials
also fretted that in Lima they would meet with other malcontents.
 Testimonies about Mariano and Andrés’s time in Lima provide a por-
trait of young men enjoying themselves, meeting a variety of people, and
trying to find a place in this city of fifty thousand. This would be a typ-
ical experience for provincial youth in any new city, yet each encounter
took on great significance, or multiple meanings, because of the con-
text: authorities watched the former rebel leaders’ every move. Viceroy
Jáuregui himself noted the dangers: “This city is loaded with Indians
within its walls as well as in the surrounding provinces,” and worried
that they could hatch a new conspiracy.65 The young rebels stayed at
the School for Kurakas, (el Colegio del Príncipe), located in the Indi-
an quarter in the eastern part of the city. One witness described going
to the roof of the school to play around and drink a traditional nonalco-
holic beverage—horchata—and other refreshments in the midst of the
Lima summer. But authorities reported more suspicious meetings such as
that with a mirror maker, Felipe Tupa Inga, who told the young men that
they had made a mistake coming to Lima and that new uprisings were
on the horizon. Another visitor told Andrés and Mariano that they had
been “foolish [zonzos] for not proving capable of defending José Gab-
riel.” The son of a prestigious Indian family from nearby Yauyos, don
Vicente Ninavilca, was in their room to pick up a guitar when he de-
clared that he would defend Indians with his life if new abuses emerged.
Authorities accused the young men of receiving and sending documents
and letters, describing a cloak-and-dagger atmosphere. Ninavilca him-
self denied writing “important things” and claimed that he was just jot-
ting down some verbs when witnesses saw him.66
The courts scrutinized their activities in Lima. Their lives in the City
of the Kings seem to reflect the same pattern as in Cuzco: some people
venerated them and others chided them for having given up the struggle.
While struggling to find a place in the postrebellion society, they also
enjoyed themselves a bit. At one point Andrés asked Vicente Ninavilca
to write a letter to his mother, as the post was leaving soon for Cuzco.
He instructed Ninavilca to write her: “Don’t be upset, the viceroy has
treated us well, offering to help us establish ourselves. It’s best that
Diego Cristóbal come soon to finish all of these matters.” Andrés would
soon learn that his optimism was misplaced.67
 In February 1783, while Andrés and Mariano were still learning
their way around Lima, Corregidor Necochea uncovered another revolt
or conspiracy around Marcapata in highland Cuzco. He had arrested
Santos Guaygua, a rebel and kuraka who had never recognized the
cease-fire, and learned that rebels from Azángaro were approaching
the upper provinces. Necochea beheaded Guaygua and exhibited his
head throughout the area.68 According to numerous, confusing accounts,
rebels from Azángaro led by Andrés Condorpuse and Guaygua, reached
Marcapata in late January 1783. Condorpuse and his son, who took the
names Simón and Lorenzo Condori, wore a black felt sash with silver
embroidery and a cross in the middle that they claimed had been given to
them by Inga Tupac Amaru, presumably Diego Cristóbal. Although they
maintained that their forces came from Azángaro to the south, in the trial
Simón Condori identified himself as a tailor from Chilca, Pitumarca, in
Tupac Amaru’s home base. In Marcapata, the Condoris declared to the
assembled Indians that more troops were waiting at the Ausangate glaci-
er, a sacred place or huaca for Andean people, and that Mariano would
arrive from Lima. The town’s priest tried to intervene but the crowd
overlooked his entreaties to reject the rebels. Officials reported that “In-
dians” had threatened market women and stolen livestock.69 Condori re-
portedly told people in Marcapata that even more troops were waiting in
the towns above Paucartambo and that Diego Cristóbal would join them
in the time of Carnival. They were arrested days after their fiery speech
in Marcapata.
The Spanish found letters and documents from Diego Cristóbal and
Mariano recognizing Simón Condori as their representative and granting
him power. For the Spanish, this was proof of an alarming conspiracy.
The rebel leaders, however, denied having produced the documents and
implied that the Spanish had planted them.70 In his trial, Simón Condori
declared that he had received the sash from Mariano Tupac Amaru’s ser-
vant, Diego Quero, who in turn claimed that he received the papers and
other materials he handed over to Condori from someone named Juan
Laya. These accounts frustrated the investigators’ efforts to uncover a
direct link with the Tupac Amaru leaders. Lorenzo Condori, however,
maintained that his father had met Mariano Tupac Amaru, who had told
the elder Condori “I’m off to Lima with little Andrés. Pray day and night
that we return safely; if I die, Andrés will return, if he dies, I will re-
turn.” Lorenzo Condori contended that Mariano instructed Simón Con-
dori to be the commander of the new uprising.71 Mariano denied know-
ing Lorenzo but remembered Simón Condori for his role in the earlier
phase of the uprising in Azángaro.72
The flare-up in Marcapata seems believable. Lake Titicaca and the
upper provinces were the last hotbeds of rebel support. Insurgents from
the south would have found comrades in the peaks about the Vilcanota
Valley. Whether the Condoris had the support of Diego Cristóbal,
Andrés, and Mariano is unclear. The evidence seems tenuous. Nonethe-
less, it did not matter. In the eyes of the hard-liners, they had sufficient
evidence to show that trouble was brewing throughout Peru: the conspir-
ing cousins in Lima, the defiant Diego Cristóbal still in Cuzco, armed
rebels in the upper provinces, and Indian followers throughout the vice-
royalty. Authorities acted swiftly.
 12

Ordered by the Catholic King

BY EARLY 1783, authorities wrote each other with growing frequency and
urgency about the rebels. They had succeeded in luring two of the three
leaders to Lima and now carefully monitored their activities as well as any
sign of violence or subversion in southern Peru. Viceroy Jáuregui deman-
ded more information from Visitador Escobedo, who came down from
Cuzco to Lima on February 15 with documentation about the rebels’ bad
faith and the imminent danger of more insubordination. The hard-liners
had taken charge.
Escobedo’s documents typified the two-faced language characteristic
of trumped-up charges or a dubious official story: certainty tinged with
doubts in a clear attempt to preempt accusations of wrongdoing. Escobedo
reiterated the necessity of imprisoning the rebels, listing a number of
charges and outlining the benefits that their incarceration would bring. Yet
he also pointed out the need to have a trial, in order to justify the arrests
and to thwart accusations that the royalists had broken a signed agree-
ment.1 Escobedo called for the arrest of the three leaders and many others;
the focus was on the leadership.
On February 25, 1783, Viceroy Jáuregui instructed Inspector General
Gabriel de Avilés to bring Diego Cristóbal to Cuzco for questioning and,
unless something went wrong, to arrest him. Writing from Lima, Viceroy
Jáuregui explained: “To dispel right away suspicions that could arise
about our breaking the terms of the pardon, it would be most convenient
to conduct a trial against the prisoners.”2 Hard-liners and even the vacil-
lating Viceroy Jáuregui wanted to arrest and execute the leaders, but they
understood that a trial, no matter how dubious, was necessary in order
to lessen condemnation in Peru and Spain. Yet the following day a let-
ter from Corregidor Necochea arrived, providing details about the Mar-
capata uprising. The corregidor relayed the information about the sim-
mering upheaval in the upper provinces provided—under duress or even
torture—by Santos Guaygua before he was quartered and by Andrés
Condorpuse (Simón Condori), who Necochea had captured but not ex-
ecuted. This news was the icing on the cake, or to use Mata Linares’s
phrase, “came from Divine Providence,” and the viceroy lost no time in
ordering the arrest of Andrés and Mariano in Lima and Diego Cristóbal
in Cuzco.3
Authorities detained Andrés and Mariano in Lima on the night of
February 26. Hours later, a messenger left Lima for Cuzco with instruc-
tions to make the 725-mile trip, which crossed peaks of over thirteen
thousand feet above sea level, in six days. Even with horses and mul-
tiple messengers (using what had been the Inca chasqui system), it was
an arduous journey.4 In Cuzco, worried that Diego Cristóbal would res-
ist or flee, authorities devised a ruse. They presented the military con-
tingent that moved from Cuzco toward Sicuani as an honor guard that
would accompany the newly named bishop of Arequipa, Friar Miguel de
Pamplona, who was arriving from Tucumán in Rio de la Plata. Necochea
arrested Diego Cristóbal, his wife Manuela Tito Condori, and mother
in Tungasuca on March 14, apparently without incident. Hours later,
authorities detained Cecilia Tupac Amaru, Diego’s sister and Andrés’s
mother, in Sicuani. On March 16, 1783 heavily armed troops brought
the chained prisoners into Cuzco, in a somber ritual that must have re-
minded the city’s population of the arrival of José Gabriel and others in
April 1781. Some of the population celebrated; others silently mourned
and wondered what had happened, how events could have taken such a
turn for the worse.5
Corregidor Salcedo, perhaps trying to overcome his image as a de-
fender of the rebels, arrested seventy-five suspected accomplices. The
list reads like a convoluted kinship chart: sons, daughters, grandchildren,
sisters, brothers, aunts, uncle, cousin, daughters-in-law, and so on.
Salcedo also captured Diego Ortigoza, accused of being Diego
Cristóbal’s confidante, as well as other nonrelatives believed to have
held military positions in the uprising.6 Corregidors continued to arrest
people in the following weeks, including any member of the extended
Tupac Amaru clan they could find. Inmates overcrowded the jails of
Cuzco and authorities decided to hold the trial there rather than in
Lima, concerned about the transfer of hundreds of prisoners to the coast.
Escobedo deemed the leaders’ arrest “our most important victory to date.
Thanks to it, the king ensures his realm, which otherwise, as many loyal
and wise men have told the viceroy, would be forever vulnerable.”7 Roy-
alists believed that they had defeated the rebellion—they were correct.
They also thought that they could implement far-reaching policies that
would prevent any further subversion, convert Indians via coercion in-
to Spanish-speaking, loyal citizens, and shatter their ties to the Inca past
and the insurgent present. This proved much more difficult.
 Mata Linares and the Trial
Viceroy Jáuregui placed Mata Linares in charge of the trial. Unlike the
1781 prosecution of José Gabriel and his inner circle, this time they ar-
raigned hundreds of defendants. Mata Linares himself recognized that in
the month he was granted to conclude the trials, he could not “in terms of
the principal case against Diego and his family, get a firm grip [fijar pie]
on anything substantial.”8 The accusation repeated the litany of dubious
claims made by royalists throughout 1782: the three rebel leaders had re-
ceived suspicious visitors and had been treated as Incas; they had sought
to build a refuge in Marcapata and reignite the uprising; they had honored
their convicted and executed family members and led sordid private lives;
they had not returned stolen goods and had gold, silver, and weapons hid-
den somewhere; and they had supported Condorpuse and other rebels in
the upper provinces.9 The trial reiterated these charges ad nauseam, stress-
ing that Diego Cristóbal had not respected the pardon and had acted in
bad faith. The prosecution called in witnesses and had the accused testify
against one another. They did not allow extended testimonies or rebuttals.
With the trial, the prosecutors sought to confirm and disseminate the re-
ports or rumors about the rebel leaders’ misdeeds and the subversive spirit
still brewing in the area. and to dampen potential accusations that they, the
colonial authorities, had broken the terms of the pardon. Although Mata
Linares and others followed basic protocol, the sentences were foregone
conclusions and the rushed trials a farce.10
On May 31, 1783, prosecutors sentenced Diego Cristóbal, his mother
Marcela Castro, his wife Manuela Tito Condori, and Lorenzo and Simón
Condori to death, although ultimately they did not execute Tito Condori.
Bishop Moscoso and Corregidor Salcedo lobbied to lighten the sentence
but to no avail.11 Mata Linares and the rest of the prosecution team man-
aged to make Diego Cristóbal’s death even more gruesome than that of his
cousin, José Gabriel. Around 10:00 a.m. on July 19, 1783, he, his mother,
and the Condoris were dragged behind pack animals, their arms and legs
bound, from the jail to the Regocijo Plaza while a town crier called out
their crimes. Crowds jeered them and the cobblestone streets tore at their
skin. Soldiers lined the plaza to prevent any disturbance and to witness the
death of the rebel leader. All of the military force headquartered in Cuzco
was present: the city’s infantry, cavalry, and light cavalry regiments made
up primarily of militia members, as well as the Callao regiment. Their
commanders and local authorities also observed.12 Executioners Felipe
Quinco and Pascual Orcoguaranca first hanged Lucas Jacinto and
Ramón Jacinto, tried separately for their participation in the Marcapata
events.13 They then dropped the Condoris from the gallows. Quinco and
Orcoguaranca cut Marcela Castro’s tongue off before hanging her. Diego
Cristóbal was forced to watch the bloody spectacle of his mother’s death.
Just before he was dragged to the gallows the town crier, one Lorenzo
Quispe, bellowed “This is the justice ordered by the Catholic King, our
Lord (may God protect Him)” and then repeated the charges. The execu-
tioners had built a fire next to the gallows and used burning hot pincers
to rip the flesh off Diego Cristóbal’s chest. The atenaceado or scorch-
ing pincers had been one of the mainstays of the Inquisition. The exe-
cutioners then dragged Diego Cristóbal—bleeding profusely and in ut-
ter agony—to the gallows and hanged him. The town crier dared anyone
to remove the dangling rebels from the gallows—no one took the chal-
lenge.
Around 4:00 p.m. the executioners quartered the bodies. Diego
Cristóbal’s sentence ordered that his “body will be quartered and his
head taken to the town of Tungasuca, one arm to Lauramarca, the other
to the town of Carabaya, one leg to Paucartambo, the other to Calca, and
the rest of his body shall be put on a pillory on the road to this city’s
water tank. All his property shall be confiscated … and his houses des-
troyed and his fields salted.”14 Authorities displayed the Condori heads
and limbs in Marcapata, distant Azángaro, the Ausangate glacier, and
other towns. Ausangate had been a refuge for rebels; it also constituted a
revered, symbolic place for Andean people, a site for pilgrimage.15 Mar-
cela Castro’s head was exhibited on a pike in San Sebastián, just outside
of Cuzco toward the Vilcanota Valley, and her other body parts were dis-
played in Sicuani, Urcos Bridge, Pampamarca, Ocongate. Executioners
incinerated her torso in a fire in the main plaza and “threw her ashes in-
to the air.”16 Avilés and Mata Linares explained: “Monuments to their
excesses will remain in the areas where Diego Cristóbal and his accom-
plices displayed their bloodthirsty nature, as fragments of their cadavers
will be distributed there.”17 A week after the execution, with the news
perhaps having reached Lima but certainly not Madrid, the King signed
a royal order decreeing that Diego Cristóbal and his cousins be sent to
Spain alive. To the satisfaction of Avilés and Mata Linares, it was too
late.18
Authorities decided to try Mariano and Andrés in Lima, perhaps fear-
ing a return trip to Cuzco. In their March 1783 testimonies, Mariano
and Andrés recognized Felipe Velasco Tupa Inca Yupanqui’s (often
shortened to Felipe Tupa Inca) visits to their room in Lima and his disap-
pointment that they had disarmed. He had chastised them for accepting
the royalists’ offer, assuring them that “now is the time to rise up because
the province of Huarochirí, those around Lima, and that of Cajamarca [to
the north] will be ours soon.”19 Prosecutors ordered Tupa Inca’s arrest
but he snuck out of Lima and made it to the Andean area of Huarochirí,
just to the east. Tupa Inca called for locals to rise up against the Spanish.
He claimed to be following “his cousin” José Gabriel Tupac Amaru,
whom he believed either alive, presumably in the jungle, or alive in spirit
in Diego Cristóbal. A Spanish commander, with three other Spaniards
and a black slave, reached Huarochirí and imprisoned Tupa Inca on June
2. On their return, they stumbled upon fifteen hundred rebels, and barely
escaped. They continued to Lima and a larger group left the viceregal
capital to confront the nearby rebels. They arrested Tupa Inca’s com-
mander, Ciriaco Flores, and eight accomplices.
The rapid investigation confirmed that Tupa Inca, a Lima mirror
maker with no real blood ties to the Tupac Amaru family, had met with
Mariano and Andrés and boasted of grandiose plans to resurrect the up-
rising in Lima’s Andean backyard. Tupa Inca personified widespread
discontent over the breakdown of the pardon and anger at both the roy-
alists for their treachery and the second wave of rebel leaders for being
duped. In their testimonies, Tupa Inca and Flores also noted their belief
that José Gabriel Tupac Amaru was alive—his execution was a royalist
fabrication. Scores of supporters trusted that José Gabriel and perhaps
Diego Cristóbal continued the struggle in the “Gran Paititi,” a mythical
place in the Amazon jungle.20 On July 7 executioners hanged Tupa Inca
and Flores in Lima’s Plaza Mayor (today’s Plaza de Armas), displaying
their heads and limbs in this walled city’s gates. Their subordinates were
forced to watch the execution, many of them receiving lashes, and sent
to presidios in Africa, Valdivia, Chile, and Callao. Tupa Inca’s “concu-
bine” and another woman involved were sentenced to ten years in a con-
vent and banned from Lima.21

The Distribution of Rebel Body Parts

 The Huarochirí events confirmed to hard-liners the dangers of further
Tupac Amaru–inspired violence and the need to take drastic action. Even
in Andean towns hundreds of miles from Cuzco, local indigenous people
knew that authorities had broken the ceasefire agreement, an action they
saw as royalist treachery. In March 1783 Mata Linares and Avilés wrote
to Jáuregui and Gálvez to explain how the events in Huarochirí had justi-
fied a harsh, swift sentence against Diego Cristóbal: “In Huarochirí, they
made the Indians believe that the late José Gabriel had been crowned in
the Gran Paititi. [With our sentencing], they have irrefutable proof that
this perverse subject [Diego Cristóbal] is dead and they will finally aban-
don the crazy hope that they had for this family, seeing them as their lib-
erators.”22 Mata Linares and Avilés insisted that Diego Cristóbal’s death
be publicized throughout Peru and beyond.
 To Lima and Beyond
Unlike 1781 Cuzco authorities tried dozens of supporters and family
members in 1783—they moved far beyond those executed on July 19. In
the midst of the trials, Mata Linares put aside his normally intransigent
rhetoric about the dangerous laxity of Peru and his tireless efforts to
eradicate subversion, and admitted that he could not keep track of the
prisoners arriving in Cuzco. He acknowledged that many were innocent,
or simply guilty of having blood ties to Tupac Amaru, and that he did
not have enough proof to try them. On May 12 Mata Linares wrote to
Necochea and Salcedo to demand a better accounting system to “avoid
confusion, which prevents us from imposing the proper punishment and
might lead to mistaking the prisoners with the innocent.”23 He mentioned
a total of 133 prisoners and divided them into two groups, 57 “Indians,
Spaniards, and mestizos” for whom he had little documentation regarding
their role in the uprising and he believed mostly innocent, and 73 mem-
bers of the extended Tupac Amaru family. (The discrepancy in the num-
bers, 133 and 130, might have been caused by deaths, escapes, or counting
the Condori father and son separately, as guilty but not family.) Mata Lin-
ares called for leniency with those he believed innocent (or at least he
could not prove guilty) in order to demonstrate “the king’s pity,” and re-
commended that the members of the Tupac Amaru family other than those
executed in July be taken to Lima, to rid the region of their dangerous
presence. He suggested that they could be escorted to Lima without too
much cost, bringing peace to Cuzco and resurrecting its economy, and
from there shipped to Europe when the war with England ended and the
seas were safe.24 At this point, in mid-1783, Spanish authorities correctly
believed that the conflict with England, part of the American Revolution-
ary War, would soon end.
Mata Linares freed dozens of prisoners who he considered innocent,
including a couple of Spaniards who shouted “Long Live the King” when
released.25 In September, Escobedo provided a list of the sentences: sev-
en people executed, twelve immediately banished or exiled from Peru (in-
cluding Diego’s wife, who gained a last-minute reprieve from her death
sentence), and sixty-one family members sent to Lima.26
On October 6 seventy-eight prisoners, including sixteen nonfamily
members, left for Lima, guarded by 100 soldiers. The contingent included
seventeen children (four months to nine years old); thirty-five women,
most elderly; and twenty-six adult men, including one man in his eighties
and, according to Juan Bautista Tupac Amaru, his 125-year-old uncle.
The journey to Lima was always grueling, but for people of all ages
weakened by months of incarceration and mistreatment, forced to travel
in chains and without sufficient food, water, and shelter, it was a death
march.27 Juan Bautista, José Gabriel’s half brother, provided a detailed
account of the trip’s horrors. The Urcos corregidor had tricked him over
a meal at some point in March and taken him prisoner to Cuzco, his
second stint in jail. Surprised that he was not included in the July 19,
1783 executions, Juan Bautista spent seven months imprisoned, hungry,
and filthy. Before departing, guards chained the prisoners’ hands and feet
and paraded them around the main plaza to jeers of “rascals, traitors,
you should pay for it.”28 Among a crowd Juan Bautista calculated at six
thousand, one individual displayed remarkable kindness. The anonym-
ous man somehow gave Juan Bautista a horse, which provided for a bet-
ter journey. The other prisoners were on beaten-down mules. Each time
they fell, their chains chafed their skin and the guards’ bayonets forced
them back up.
Juan Bautista described relentless hunger, thirst, and cruelty. His
mother, Ventura Monjarras, died of dehydration, the guards spurning her
pleas for water. They arrived in Lima after forty days, but their fate did
not improve. Guards jammed them into a dungeon in the Callao fort, “the
most melancholy place imaginable,” and kept them tied to a chain that
ran through it. The guards continued to torment them in numerous ways.
Their via crucis, particularly that of Juan Bautista, was not over.29
The official documentation also portrays a miserable trip, due not to
Spanish cruelty but rather to the challenging terrain between Cuzco and
Lima and the lack of cooperation by both local authorities and the pris-
oners. The convoy took the Cuzco-Abancay-Huamanga-Ica route, and
misfortune and desperation struck in the latter half, once they passed
Huamanga. On November 5 Commander Jacinto Iriarte sent a desperate
note to his commanding officer, “I am on the Royal Highway with troops
and the prisoners, and I don’t know exactly where we are, our cargo
has been lost, and the prisoners are sick. We don’t have water, food, or
mules.”30 The group had been stuck for four days near Castrovirreyna, in
the breathtaking mountain passes that tower between the desert coast and
Huamanga. Several mules had died (an indication of the route’s severity)
and indigenous muleteers had fled with many others. The group ran out
of water and had to break through the rocky soil to unearth a small, pu-
trid puddle.
A priest of the nearby town of Tambillo arranged for a tobacco trader,
Pedro Villanueva, to rescue the lost and hungry contingent from the high
peaks called San Martín. Villanueva tracked the lost group with his 100
mules. The priest underlined their desperation, noting that the coastal
troops simply could not withstand the arid, two-mile-high mountain
passes.31 He brought them horses and meat and arranged for the group
to recover in Tambillo. Two prisoners died in the frigid weather and one,
Bernardo Castro, escaped, causing further delays and harsh punishment
for several guards. Commander Iriarte noted that Castro was married and
had children in Tinta and missed them greatly. Iriarte blamed the fiasco
on the fact that the corregidor of Castrovirreyna was ill and his substitute
had not arranged for fresh mules and supplies along the route. Even after
their rescue and arrival at Ica, the group had to confront the summer sun
as they moved north up the desert coast. After delays and the death of six
prisoners, they reached Lima around November 22.32
The Prisoners’ Journey: Cuzco-Lima and Callao-Europe

Viceroy Jáuregui confirmed the July 26, 1783 royal order to send the
surviving rebel leaders to Spain. He wanted neither leniency nor more
executions, and after the Huarochirí scare he agreed with the hard-liners
about the need to remove the entire family. In March 1784 the Lima
Audiencia or High Court sentenced Mariano, Andrés, Juan Bautista, and
Fernando to ten years of hard labor in a Spanish presidio to be selected
by the king. The viceroy insisted that they not be sent to Africa or any
other presidio outside of Spain, because they might escape and spread
their subversive message.33 The war with England had limited the num-
ber of ships leaving Callao for Europe, however, causing a huge backup
of cargo, above all precious metals. In desperate need of revenue, au-
thorities in Spain demanded that their counterparts in Peru send as much
gold and silver as quickly as possible once it was feasible. After numer-
ous delays, two warships, El Peruano and the San Pedro de Alcántara,
left Callao on April 13, 1784. Dockworkers overloaded both ships. The
San Pedro de Alcántara carried almost double its normal load, including
600 tons of copper, 153 tons of silver, and 4 tons of gold.34 Tito Condori,
Diego Cristóbal’s widow, could not board because of an illness, perhaps
tuberculosis, and died in Peru in March 1785.35 Juan Bautista, Mariano,
and twenty-seven other prisoners as well as the renowned French botan-
ist Joseph Dombey traveled on the Peruano.36
Juan Bautista provided a graphic description of the dreadful journey.
The prisoners were chained together on deck, with nothing but “an old
poncho” and a sheep hide to protect them from the sun, rain, and cold.
They were so hungry that they scrambled to grab the bones that their
shipmates threw at their feet. Illnesses spread, particularly scurvy, due
to malnutrition and the lack of vitamin C, and one evening the two men
tied to Juan Bautista died. The sadistic crew took hours to remove them.
When prisoners complained to the commander, he threatened to tie them
to the cannons. They gained a temporary reprieve when two French pris-
oners, who were enlisted to fix the broken rudder, demanded that the
chains be removed from all of the prisoners; the mates clamped them
back on as soon as the repair was finished. Juan Bautista noted that when
“one of my little nephews” died in agony of colic, the Spanish only
laughed or remained indifferent.37 Juan Bautista was not exaggerating.
By the time the ship had reached Rio de Janeiro, Mariano Tupac Amaru
had died, along with fifteen others, including four minors. Crewmen pre-
sumably dumped Mariano, José Gabriel and Micaela’s son and one of
the leaders of the rebellion’s second stage, into the Atlantic Ocean. Two
others passed away in Brazil, before the ship left for Spain.38
In four months in Rio the crew tied the prisoners to the mainmast (pa-
lo mayor) during the day and left them chained to the foremast at night.
They continued to do this on the voyage across the Atlantic. Their com-
mander worried that a British ship might board and free the prisoners,
which made the crew even more abusive. A guard offered the hungry
Juan Bautista some crackers and when he returned with his treasure hid-
den in his ragged hat, he fell from his old spot that the guard had booby-
trapped, breaking two ribs. His chest ached the rest of his life. Juan
Bautista also pointed out the Spanish hypocrisy about religion. The crew
prohibited the prisoners from praying, which Juan Bautista interpreted as
a way to reinforce the notion that they were inferior, not true Catholics.
They reached Cádiz on March 1, 1785. Of the twenty-nine prisoners that
left Lima in 1784 on the Peruano, only four were alive in 1788.39 Juan
Bautista was so weak that soldiers had to carry him to his cell in the San
Sebastián castle. His troubles were far from over.40
Shockingly, the San Pedro de Alcántara expedition was worse.
Chilean naval officials would not let the man-of-war anchor in the port
of Talcahuano because they worried that Fernando Tupac Amaru (José
Gabriel and Micaela’s youngest son) would subvert Indians and mes-
tizos. Commander Manuel Fernando de Montoya decided to return to
Callao. While still on the Pacific side of South America, sixteen of the
forty-one prisoners had died due to vile conditions. Departing for the
second time on December 21, 1784, the overloaded ship made it across
the Atlantic, after stops in Concepción, Chile and Rio de Janeiro. The
ship had numerous leaks and the crew had to use the pumps around
the clock. Disaster struck on February 2, 1786. The man-of-war ship-
wrecked near Peniche, Portugal, north of Lisbon. Andrés Tupac Amaru
and seventeen other prisoners died while up to six prisoners survived,
including Fernando. The Spanish claimed to have lost over 7.5 mil-
lion pesos in gold and silver. Forty divers paid by the Spanish govern-
ment worked around the clock for four years after the shipwreck to re-
cover the gold, silver, and copper, the largest diving enterprise up to
that point in European history.41 Documents about the prisoners on both
ships tumbled overboard in the wreck and authorities in Cádiz scrambled
to identify the prisoners already held there and those arriving from Por-
tugal.42 In recent decades archeologists discovered the graves of the
dead who either washed up on shore or were retrieved from the ship.
Europeans had individual graves; the political prisoners were dumped in
a pile, their chains still on many of them.43
Authorities sent the surviving prisoners to jails and presidios in Spain.
Fernando, who at the age of ten had witnessed the brutal execution of his
parents Micaela and José Gabriel, reached shore after the shipwreck and
wandered around for three days before turning himself in. He spent three
years in a miserable, humid cell in Cádiz. In 1787, at the age of sixteen,
he petitioned the king for his release. He or his lawyer noted that his only
crime was being the son of his father, and that as a child, “he had no
broader knowledge of the world other than what he learned from chasing
butterflies, imbibed in this and other childhood activities.”44 The follow-
ing year he was interned at a school in Getafe and made clear that he did
not want to become a priest. Not surprisingly in light of his years of im-
prisonment, the terrible journey to Spain, and the traumas he endured, he
suffered various ailments and died in Madrid on August 19, 1798. Even
the innocuous documents about his education and possible employment
reminded the reader, “This subject is the son of the principal author of
the past revolutions of Peru, Josef Gabriel Tupacamaro. He was sent to
Spain to remove from Peru the memory of those events as well as the
only inheritor of his father’s rights.”45
Juan Bautista’s woes continued, although he ultimately had the satis-
faction of frustrating the royalists’ vow to rid the Americas of all Tupac
Amaru family members. His memoirs, written in the 1820s in Argentina
just after independence, cast the Spaniards as relentlessly brutal. During
his thirty-nine months in the San Sebastián castle, “I have no memory
of a single Spaniard showing any human sign.”46 He was then sent to
Ceuta, Spain’s northern African outpost. He lived in this presidio just
across the Strait of Gibraltar from Spain with an exploitative silversmith
and survived on a small pension. His memoirs only provide bits of in-
formation about these years, particularly his efforts to educate himself
and the abuse he received, from Spaniards and even an indigenous per-
son. In one passage, he notes his difficulties with the Spanish language.47
In 1813 he met his guardian angel, Marcos Durán Martel, an Augustini-
an priest imprisoned for his participation in an uprising in Huánuco, Peru
in 1812.
In 1820, after the Liberal Revolution, the Spanish courts freed many
prisoners from las américas. After a fall that left him with more broken
ribs and prompted numerous delays, the eighty-year-old Juan Bautista
embarked for Argentina on July 3, 1822, aided by Durán Martel and the
Maltese-Argentine naval hero Juan Bautista Azopardo.48 The Argentine
government, independent since 1816, granted him a pension and suppor-
ted his efforts to write his memoirs. One of Argentina’s founding fathers,
Manuel Belgrano, considered him as a possible Inca king under his 1816
Inca Plan to install an Inca monarchy. For some, the Incas and the Tupac
Amaru rebels constituted alluring historical symbols that countered colo-
nial or Hispanocentric visions of the past. In 1821, a five-act play, Tupac
Amarú [sic], had opened in Buenos Aires, portraying Juan Bautista’s half
brother as a heroic victim of Spanish brutality. However, opponents ri-
diculed efforts to link the nascent Argentina with the ancient Inca past
and the Tupac Amaru uprising. Journalists dismissed Belgrano’s plan as
“a monarchy in Indian sandals” and “a monarch with dirty shoes.”49 Juan
Bautista died in Argentina on September 2, 1827, at the age of eighty-
five. He never made it back to Peru.50
 Machines
By the time the prisoners had been forced onto the warships in April
1784, Cuzco found itself with new authorities. Mata Linares remained
as Cuzco’s first intendant in a new administrative system inaugurated in
1784 and Escobedo y Alarcón had replaced Areche as visitador. Eight in-
tendancies were created, with that of Puno transferred to Rio de la Plata.
The idea was to count on authorities closer to local society than the vice-
roy and his court in Lima yet less abusive and corrupt than the corre-
gidors, who were replaced by subdelegates. In order to discourage shady
pacts between officials and locals, the intendancy program pledged ad-
equate salaries for the intendants and subdelegates.51
In a region devastated by two years of vicious guerrilla warfare and
counterinsurgency, in which hard-liners had finally defeated moderates
within the royalist campaign as well as the rebels, mass trials and execu-
tions might seem the logical modus operandi in the mid-1780s. The Span-
ish had proven themselves capable of using extraordinary means—legal
and not so legal—against subversives, while authorities such as Bishop
Moscoso who preferred more conciliatory methods had lost power. The
savagery of the war and the vitriolic language of the victors would suggest
mass repression, a bloodbath of thousands of Indians. Nonetheless, au-
thorities did not stage mass trials against Indian suspects, nor did they
condone extrajudicial executions. Violence reignited now and again in the
Vilcanota Valley and indigenous fighters returned to their communities
defeated, facing the jeers of royalists and the disfavor of the courts, but
they were not jailed or killed en masse.
Numerous explanations can be found. Spanish authorities were re-
lieved and even ecstatic but also apprehensive—they knew they had just
barely won and that tensions simmered. While officials in Cuzco and
Lima could bluster about the victory and a supposed return of indigenous
subordination, they understood that local power relations remained fra-
gile. Pushing too hard could prompt a dangerous reaction by the defeated
but bitter and defiant Indian masses. Authorities used any association with
Tupac Amaru to weaken Indians’ lawsuits but indigenous people also em-
ployed carefully presented threats of renewed violence to bolster their
demands. Colonial officials did not hold all the power.52 After the ini-
tial thrill of convincing the rebel leaders to accept the ceasefire and then
capturing them after sabotaging it, authorities understood that mass trials
were not feasible or desirable.
But another explanation has to be considered for the absence of mass
trials or even executions—Spanish disdain for Indians. Mata Linares,
whose writing rarely had any ambiguity or subtlety, believed that with
the leadership dead or exiled, the rebel followers, real or potential, would
not act. He wrote on May 31, 1783, “Since the imprisonment of Diego
Cristóbal Tupac Amaru and his family, Indians are more submissive,
which is natural since Indians do not have heads and are incapable of
independent thoughts and can be said without exaggeration to be ma-
chines.”53 Despite a massive uprising that had led to tens of thousands of
dead, Mata Linares was not deeply concerned about another indigenous
uprising. In his view, without leaders, the indigenous people were not
a threat. Mata Linares presumably thought that Indians deserved brutal
punishment for their insubordination, but that it was not an indispens-
able preventive measure.54 Mata Linares believed, however, that Spanish
administration or control of Peru had deteriorated greatly, and he found
many culprits; above all, lax authorities, wayward priests, and conniv-
ing creoles. In his mind, they had mismanaged Peru to such an extreme
that Spanish rule was in danger. Moreover, tax revenues continued to
plummet, greatly concerning Madrid in this time of almost incessant
European warfare. For Mata Linares and his allies, this mismanagement
had fostered Indians’ autonomy and minimal assimilation, which lay at
the heart of their disobedience. Mata Linares had plans to punish creoles
and to force Indians to assimilate. These would greatly alter Peru and
even the Americas, but not in the ways he expected.
The Spanish implemented a fierce campaign against Andean culture,
the memory of the Incas, and the uprising itself. In his May 15, 1781 sen-
tence against José Gabriel, Micaela Bastidas, and other members of the
inner circle, Areche not only designed the brutal execution in Cuzco’s
main plaza but also, in the words of Clements Markham, ordered that
Tupac Amaru’s “houses were to be demolished, all his goods to be con-
fiscated, his relations to be declared infamous, all documents relating to
his descent to be burned by the common hangman, all dresses used by
the Incas to be prohibited, all pictures of them to be seized and burned,
the representation of Quichua dramas was forbidden, all musical instru-
ments of the Indians to be destroyed, all Indians to give up their nation-
al costumes and to dress henceforth in the Spanish fashion, the use of
the Quichua language was prohibited, and the reading of the history of
the Incas by Garcilaso de la Vega was forbidden.”55 The sentiments ex-
pressed in these harsh measures, the hatred and the desire to extermin-
ate the Tupac Amaru clan, only deepened in the coming months, as the
Spanish counterinsurgency campaigns to the south stalled or even failed.
A royal decree (real cédula) dated April 27, 1782 confirmed the meas-
ures against Inca music and culture and also stipulated that the position
of kuraka would no longer be hereditary.56 Areche began a campaign to
eradicate Andean culture and the pact between indigenous people and
the colonial state that dated from the late sixteenth century. Mata Linares
attempted to implement the campaign.
These policies sought to dislodge any trace of the Incas in the Cuzco
region and to assimilate the Quechua people into Spanish customs and
language by force. Simply put, this was cultural genocide, and they
failed. The Spanish did not have the resources to force Indians to switch
languages, to abandon Quechua. Areche and others could blame priests
for allowing Quechua to slip into Mass and other rituals and could devise
plans to punish non-Indians who did not impose Spanish on indigen-
ous people, but they could not compel the majority of Cuzco’s popula-
tion to give up their mother tongue and shift to Spanish monolingual-
ism.57 In fact, Areche and others presented no plan to indoctrinate or
assimilate other than the abolition of Quechua, Inca customs, Garcilaso
de la Vega, and so on. The fact that Areche was called back to Spain in
1782 (departing Peru in 1783) and eventually prosecuted for his heavy-
handed policies, which some in Madrid believed sparked the uprising,
certainly weakened the anti-Indian crusade.58 Nonetheless, Mata Linares
remained in Cuzco until 1787 and shared Areche’s passion for extirpat-
ing all things Inca from the Andes.
Mata Linares could not implement Areche’s draconian vision. The ex-
planation can be found not in administrative shifts (the replacement of
a particular authority), but instead in the lack of resources committed
by the Spanish to such a radical transformation, and to Indians’ res-
istance. The extirpation of all things Inca, including the Quechua lan-
guage, would have required massive resources and a fundamental re-
structuring of Andean society. It was probably doomed from the begin-
ning—eliminating a major linguistic group, an entire culture with deep
roots that preceded the majestic Incan Empire (1250–1550), would daunt
even the most ambitious imperialist—but especially if the metropolis
showed little interest. Despite the alarmist reports about how Indians’
autonomy had nearly cost Spain its South American holdings, Madrid
expressed lukewarm support for the project.
Two decades later, in 1805, a Cuzco authority sought to understand
a recent uprising in Cuzco, that of Aguilar and Ubalde. He cited Mata
Linares, who had been in Spain since 1803, and reiterated what Mata
Linares considered the four principal causes for Andean subordination:
“the superstitious obedience and blind love” that all Indians hold for any-
one who claims to descend from the Incas; tensions between creoles and
Spaniards; “the excessive hold that the Church had on those dupes [in-
cautos]”; and abuses by priests as well as corregidors. The writer called
for a number of reforms that echoed those of Areche and Mata Linares.59
The letter showed that the radical cultural reforms proposed by Areche
and Mata Linares in the early 1780s had floundered and were not in place
in 1805.
The late 1782 and early 1783 repression of the Kataristas in Upper
Peru, who remained armed and defiant, had been brutal, with thousands
dead. Yet in Cuzco commanders had not embarked on any kind of mass
slaughter, in part because the fighting there had largely stopped. To tor-
pedo the amnesty, they had uncovered looming conspiracies rather than
true uprisings. In the trials Cuzco authorities targeted the entire Tupac
Amaru family, executing or expatriating them. They had also unleashed
an unremitting campaign against the Quechua language and the memory
of the Incas. On this front, they failed. But one other group remained, be-
sides the rebel leadership and the mass supporters: the middling creoles,
mestizos, and even Spaniards who had reportedly aided the rebellion.
Authorities prosecuted them with passion and patience. Some of the tri-
als lingered for more than a decade.
 Supporters
The question of how Tupac Amaru did it, how a small-town kuraka and
his wife masterminded an uprising that spread throughout Peru, bedeviled
the Spanish. The prospect of traitors in their midst particularly worried
them. After the initial wave of rushed prosecutions in 1783 that led to the
grisly executions in Cuzco and mass deportations to Spain, Mata Linares
scrutinized alleged creole supporters of the rebellions. On the one hand,
this reflected the royalists’ belief that Indians were incapable of organiz-
ing such a mass movement. Authorities such as Mata Linares could not
conceive of indigenous people, including kurakas such as Tupac Amaru
and his wife, planning, recruiting, and unifying—they assumed there had
to be other masterminds. On the other hand, the trials against creoles
evolved from the tensions in 1782 when hard-liners and moderates fought
over who was at fault for the rebel expansion. Now firmly in power, the
revenge-seeking hard-liners persecuted those who had lobbied for more
conciliatory tactics, which they interpreted as an indication of rebel sym-
pathies.
Mata Linares was an obstinate reformer who believed that the Amer-
icas needed urgent reorganization. The rebellion’s aftermath offered an
ideal opportunity. In 1781, after the capture of José Gabriel, he wrote
that many factors contributed to the disloyalty of Spanish subjects in the
Americas, but chief among them were “corregidors and priests’ extor-
tions, the division between creoles and Europeans, the lack of education
among the youth, and the fact that this America is so ecclesiastical.”60 He
was a regalist who believed that the Church should be firmly under the
control of the Crown. In this informative letter to José de Gálvez, Mata
Linares described how corregidors and priests teamed up to exploit In-
dians, with little supervision from other authorities. Although critical of
corregidors—an office in the midst of being abolished—he was harsher
toward priests: “The corregidor might initiate the destruction of the Indi-
an but the priest finishes him off.”61 After describing how corregidors and
others exploited Indians, Mata Linares blamed priests for the uprising,
contending that if all priests had been good subjects, the rebellion would
have never happened. Moreover, he argued that priests were to blame
for Indians’ adhesion to pre-Hispanic or Andean religion and their weak
grasp of Catholicism. For Mata Linares and other hardline reformists, this
lack of acculturation, a task handed over to priests in the sixteenth cen-
tury, explained Indians’ ignorance and thus mistrust of Spanish ways.
While he and other Bourbon Reformers sought to remedy these broad
structural problems through a series of administrative changes, in the
trials that he oversaw from 1781 until 1787 he focused on unmasking
and punishing prominent people who he believed had supported Tupac
Amaru. They were, by and large, creoles and priests.
With the support of Commander Avilés, the new visitador general
Jorge Escobedo, and, from the side of the Church, the archdeacon Simón
Ximénez Villalva, Mata Linares investigated and tried the notary José
de Palacios, the lawyer Julián Capetillo, Bishop Moscoso, and the three
brothers Antonio, Gabriel and Gaspar Ugarte. As seen earlier, he also
oversaw the prosecution of Fathers Puente, López de Sosa, and Maruri.
No one could accuse Mata Linares of being lax in his prosecution efforts.
For example, he had the penmanship of the letters to and from Tupac
Amaru during the siege of Cuzco evaluated to see if it matched with any
well-known Cuzco notaries, whether Palacios or others.62 Prosecutors
accused Capetillo and Palacios, who was a cousin of Micaela Bastidas,
of corresponding with the rebel in the midst of the uprising. The trial re-
flected royalists’ concern about enemies within the upper ranks of the
city of Cuzco and their belief that Indians led by a kuraka family could
not have undertaken such a bold and successful enterprise. While con-
firming that Palacios and Tupac Amaru had long been friends, the pro-
secution did not prove that Palacios and Capetillo had supported the re-
bellion and absolved both.63
The trial against the Ugarte clan lasted for years, both displaying
and accentuating the divide between the uncompromising reformers and
prominent Cuzco creoles. Wealthy landowners and holders of the presti-
gious alfarez real, the position of chief ensign, the Ugarte clan had inter-
married with other important families and also had blood ties with Inca
royalty dating from the sixteenth century. They sat at the top of Cuzco
society. The accusations initially centered on a letter that Tupac Amaru
had sent Antonio Ugarte at the beginning of the uprising, dated Novem-
ber 22, 1780. He referred to the Ugarte brothers as “cousins” and city
leaders (principales) in a tone that was both welcoming and threatening.
The Ugartes’ blood ties with Inca nobility no doubt fortified José Gabri-
el’s view of them as family. Gabriel Ugarte’s older daughter was known
as the “Coya” or “Inca Queen” and a pasquinade posted just before the
uprising declared, “Prepare yourself, Ugarte, because we want to crown
you.”64 The Tupac Amaru letter never reached the Ugartes; nonetheless,
it caused them nearly a decade of legal problems.65 In testimony under
duress, Tupac Amaru claimed not to remember the letter and hinted that
perhaps his scribes had written it without telling him. The text perturbed
authorities during the rebellion and for years afterwards. It suggested
that insurgents could be found not only in the hills—in Indian ayllus and
communities—but also in the better residences of the city of Cuzco.
Rivalries also played a role. Cuzco’s corregidor, Matías Baulen, au-
thor of the most alarmist memos regarding Diego Cristóbal and the sup-
posed rupture of the indulto, sought the alfarez real position for his
brother Antonio. Gaspar Ugarte had held it since 1780.66 Moreover,
Ugarte’s sister-in-law, María de la Concepción Rivadeneyra, the prioress
of the Santa Catalina convent, was accused of having an affair with the
prior of Santo Domingo. Bishop Moscoso intervened, only to be accused
of also having romantic ties to the nun.67 The trial in Lima’s Audien-
cia dragged on from 1783 to 1786, with the Ugarte brothers the recip-
ients of venomous anticreole insults. The evidence was minimal, other
than the letter that they never received, and the prosecution appeared to
persecute them simply for being prestigious creoles who had ties to the
rebels (they admitted meeting Tupac Amaru before the rebellion), great
prestige among a broad section of Cuzco society, and a distaste for some
of the reforms imposed by Areche, Escobedo, and company. Although
they were not found guilty, the court banished them to Spain. The trial’s
cost and the departure of the three brothers broke the family economic-
ally.68
Bishop Moscoso already had enemies when he arrived in Cuzco in
1779 to become bishop. Prominent Spaniards had disliked the decision
to name a creole rather than a European to the prestigious position. His
conflict with corregidor Arriaga in early 1780, just months before Ar-
riaga’s hanging would launch the rebellion, earned him more adversar-
ies. Arriaga’s nephew, Eusebio Balza y Verganza, presented a book-
length accusation against the Bishop in 1782, La verdad desnuda or The
Naked Truth, alleging that the bishop supported the Tupac Amaru rebels
and led a dissolute private life, specifically alleging a taste for young wo-
men and nuns. As this book has shown, Moscoso was an implacable and
effective opponent of the rebels. They could not overcome his strategy of
maintaining priests in rebel-controlled areas and excommunicating the
leadership, which neutralized the insurgents’ claims of working with-
in the system and their expectation of support from Madrid and even
God. Nonetheless, his support for the pardon and his proximity to Diego
Cristóbal earned him the wrath of Areche and, even more so, Mata Lin-
ares.69 In 1783, echoing the accusations of La verdad desnuda, Mata
Linares initiated a trial in Lima’s high court, to evaluate whether the
bishop “had any influence in the recent commotion.”70
Bishop Moscoso fought the charges for almost a decade. In 1784, he
left Cuzco to plead his case in Lima and two years later he departed
for Spain to lobby in Madrid. This Arequipeño would never return to
Peru. His case was aided by the death of Charles III on December 14,
1788, and his replacement by King Charles IV, who sought to termin-
ate the countless lingering trials that bloated Spain’s legal and political
systems. The retirement of José de Gálvez from the Council of the In-
dies also apparently helped him.71 In March 1789 Moscoso presented a
248-page defense, focused on the twenty-two accusations against him,
specifically his participation in conspiracies before the outbreak of the
Tupac Amaru rebellion and his purported hand in the death of corregidor
Arriaga (nine accusations), his role in the Tupac Amaru uprising (el-
even), and his treatment of and possible “illegitimate friendships” with
members of the Santa Catalina convent (two). The paper trail is aston-
ishing. A 1980 document collection that published part of the proceed-
ings against him found primarily in Seville’s Archivo de Indias ran to
736 pages.72
In his defense, Moscoso counters each accusation and insists that all
of them were based on insinuations and gossip rather than hard proof.
He underlines his role in the repression of the first stage, adding the
testimony of prominent people who seconded him, and justifies his sup-
port for the pardon. He stresses Peru’s terrible situation in late 1781,
the danger that the rebels would exterminate all Europeans and capture
churches, and cites an axiom—“Pardon the multitude to save the nation.”
Months after handing in his long defense, Moscoso received the presti-
gious position of Archbishop of Granada and was granted the Gran Cruz
de Charles III (Great Cross of Charles III) for his work defending the
Crown in the Tupac Amaru rebellion. He remained in Granada until his
death in 1811, embroiling himself in controversies about women’s de-
cency, supporting the French over the English in Spain’s persistent wars,
and building an estate in the town of Víznar adorned with art alluding to
Cervantes and the Andes.73
The trials of the Ugarte brothers and Bishop Moscoso damaged their
reputations, nearly bankrupted them, and forced them to leave Peru for
Spain. Even if they outlasted their accusers, they paid an enormous cost.
There are multiple ironies in these long, bitter disputes. In these tri-
als as well as those against Diego Cristóbal and company, Mata Lin-
ares, having already taken care of the rebel leadership, pounced upon
the two social groups he believed responsible for Peru’s maladies: in-
subordinate creoles and priests. He believed these individuals supported
the rebellion and that the social groups they represented allowed it to
spread. Yet this book has shown the opposite: that creoles by and large
did not accept José Gabriel and Micaela Bastidas’s invitation to join in
a proto–national uprising and that Cuzco’s gentry—fearful of the radic-
al consequences of a rebel victory and conscious that royalist repression
would be brutal—fought against the rebels in the siege in early 1781.
Moreover, the Church led the opposition against the rebels, and Mo-
scoso’s tactics—relying on priests as informants and as a fifth column,
and weakening the rebels’ claim of legitimacy through excommunica-
tions—worked brilliantly. In his self-defense, Bishop Moscoso stressed
that people had called him “the reconquistador of Peru”; he was not ex-
aggerating.74 While the Ugartes did not have as strong credentials, their
trial cast them as symbols or proxies of Cuzco’s creole elites. Despite
Areche and Mata Linares’s rhetoric, these groups had remained loyal to
the Crown with minor exceptions.
The ironies do not end there. The defendants went to great lengths
to defend their reputations, to challenge the notion emerging from the
lengthy trials and spreading among gossipy local society in Cuzco and
Lima that they had supported the insurgents and hindered their repres-
sion. They ultimately won (or at least were not found guilty), although
at a great cost. Yet the accusations that they found so distasteful and so
damaging in the 1780s were transformed, decades and even centuries
later, into an accomplishment or a badge of honor. While in the 1780s
members of the Ugarte family rued Mata Linares’s obstinacy and des-
pised the trials, their descendants in independent Peru might have seen
their ancestors as early heroes of Peruvian independence.
Readers of the voluminous trial transcripts—the fundamental source
for scholars of the rebellion—rapidly get the impression that important
creoles and members of the church hierarchy aided the rebels, or would
have if they had been able. Mata Linares and Areche’s paranoid in-
terpretation of the rebellion, based on their profound misgivings about
creoles and priests, oozes from the archival record. José Gabriel’s invoc-
ations for a multiethnic coalition also support this view: he very much
sought respectable allies. Therefore Moscoso and to a lesser extent the
Ugartes could become heroes in postcolonial Peru. Because a few priests
did support Tupac Amaru and because La verdad desnuda and the long
trial harangued Moscoso for his rebel inclinations, many interpretations
deemed the role of the church in the rebellion ambiguous or unclear and
highlighted patriotic heroes such as father López de Sosa. The trials that
extend beyond a thousand pages, the astonishing paper trail, seem to
confirm that the role of creoles and the Church in the uprising are open
questions, subject to debate, which in fact are resurrected periodically in
scholarly discussions and remain at the core of the Tupac Amaru histori-
ography. By ruining the reputations of Moscoso, the Ugarte family, and
others in the gloomy years after the uprising, Mata Linares provided the
prime material for their conversion into patriotic heroes after the inde-
pendence of Peru in the 1820s.
 Conclusion
The Legacy of Tupac Amaru

COUPLED WITH THE KATARISTA uprisings, the Tupac Amaru rebellion

stretched from Cuzco to Potosí, with copycat revolts occurring elsewhere
in South America. Like all revolutions, it swept people into its vortex: as
rebels or royalist fighters, as victims or targets of repression, as refugees.
After the initial months, it became nearly impossible to remain neutral.
People in southern Peru had to choose a side or flee and tens of thousands,
including those who did not sympathize with either the rebels or the roy-
alists, lost their lives.
Tupac Amaru demanded that his followers limit their attacks to ex-
ploitative Spaniards, corregidors, and their defenders. Royalists, in turn,
pursued those deemed rebels, indigenous fighters. Both sides, however,
abandoned these restrictions in the course of the rebellion, widening the
definition of the enemy, and thus who should be killed. Rebels attacked
anyone considered part of the Spanish colonial world—including those
who only spoke Spanish or wore European clothing—while royalists tar-
geted all indigenous people. Not only did violence intensify but the bru-
tality became increasingly horrific: beheadings, ritual killings, rapes, and
public executions.
The Tupac Amaru rebellion changed Peru indelibly and had important
repercussions in South America and across the Atlantic. In the aftermath
of the uprising, authorities imposed stern measures that aimed to punish
and assimilate the indigenous population and to erase ties with the Inca
past. They also sought to silence discussion about the rebellion, to cover
up what had happened, and to impede collective memory. Both the admin-
istrative/cultural reforms and the silencing of the 1780–1783 events ini-
tially succeeded. Reformers shattered the colonial system in place since
the 1570s, in their eyes restoring Spanish control in the Andes. They
also prevented public discussions and commemoration of the upris-
ing. This success, however, proved fleeting. The radical administrative
changes buckled under their own weight and the core issue these reforms
targeted—the role of indigenous people in Peru—remains contentious
today. They did not solve this “problem” in the short- or the long term.
Nor did they succeed in silencing discussions or impeding the memory
of the uprising. People began to remember the uprising in different ways,
and José Gabriel and Micaela Bastidas resurfaced in curious places and
moments, in Peru and far beyond, as martyrs, heroes, and paradigms.
The struggles over forgetting and remembering the uprising—the ulti-
mate phase of any war, the battles over memory—continue today.
 The Embers Remain
The royalists in charge of Cuzco after the rebellion did not prosecute
the thousands of Indians suspected of rebel sympathies, but instead initi-
ated a wide-ranging campaign against Andean culture and the collective
memory of the Incas. They understood that mass trials would prove com-
plicated, costly, and very likely counterproductive. They also believed
that Indians were “machines” in the words of Mata Linares, mere fol-
lowers with no initiative of their own. So instead of prosecution, officials
sought to extirpate the memory of the Incas and to force Indians to aban-
don the Quechua language, a cornerstone of their indigenous culture.
The campaign built on brisk reformist winds from Spain, particularly
efforts to control the Catholic Church and to homogenize religious prac-
tices. It also reflected the impression that authorities’ vitriolic tirades
about the sorry state of the Andes had made in Madrid. In searching for
a cause for the uprising, Areche, Mata Linares and even Bishop Moscoso
blamed Indians for being insufficiently European (or too Indian), ulti-
mately blaming wayward authorities, especially creoles and priests, for
allowing Peru’s indigenous people to remain autonomous.
Although the visitador and the judge on the one side and the bishop on
the other clashed during the uprising, and Moscoso faced a decade-long
legal struggle over his alleged support for the rebels, they agreed that In-
dians were too attached to the Incas and too detached from the Spanish.
They rued the persistence of Inca dress, songs, and dramas as well as the
predominance of Quechua, taking priests to task for their failure to con-
vert and assimilate. In their correspondence as well as reports to Lima and
Madrid, these authorities underlined the sorry state of Spanish rule in the
Andes. Moscoso called Cuzco “a Babylon.”1 Mata Linares ranted incess-
antly about Cuzco and its inhabitants. He considered the Andes “rough
and disagreeable” and claimed that people in Cuzco were either “traitors
or cowards.”2 These complaints about Indians’ stubborn hold on the past
and refusal to learn Spanish developed, improbably, into a broad-reaching
policy. The paper war between hard-liners and moderates not only shaped
royalist tactics during the war but also molded programs and policies after
the massive rebellion.
The postrebellion assimilationist campaign or cultural genocide failed.
Reforms could not eradicate Quechua or Andean culture, nor could they
assimilate the Andean masses into the Spanish-Catholic world. Nonethe-
less, Areche’s measures changed relations between Spain and the Andes.
The draconian measures terminated the two-republics system imposed
by Viceroy Toledo in the 1570s. This system granted Indians a degree
of cultural, political, and economic autonomy in return for their des-
ignation as separate and inferior subjects and the obligation of heavy
head and labor taxes. Under the Toledan system Indians were allowed
to speak Quechua, remember the Incas, maintain ethnic kurakas, con-
trol communal land, and enjoy other rights as long as they paid the head
tax, worked in the mines under the dreadful mita, and pledged obedi-
ence to the king and the Church. Dating from the middle of the eight-
eenth century, the Bourbon Reforms had chipped away at this “colonial
pact,” replacing indigenous authorities with Europeans and raising taxes
and labor demands. These changes prompted the ire of Indians as well
as mestizos, Europeans, and the multiracial castas, fostering the riots,
revolts, and smaller uprisings that preceded Tupac Amaru. Nonetheless,
the administrative reforms prior to 1780 had only destabilized the deep
structures of Indian-colonial state relations. The rebellion and its after-
math smashed them.
Even as the former system, the two republics, disintegrated under the
pressure of the post–Tupac Amaru repression and policy changes, no
clear replacement or alternative emerged. In other words, the reforms
were more destructive than constructive; they obliterated the system im-
plemented by Toledo in the late sixteenth century but did not create a
coherent successor. Venomous postrebellion fury and extreme anti-In-
dian notions rather than careful planning guided the changes, dooming
them. Eliminating a language spoken by millions and assimilating the
indigenous population almost overnight were unattainable fantasies, par-
ticularly if Madrid did not intend to invest in Peru and if the Catholic
Church lacked bilingual priests. This failure meant that many questions
regarding the place of Indians in the colonial Andes remained unclear;
uncertainty and disagreement reigned. From 1780 until independence in
the 1820s and beyond, Andean people—authorities, the indigenous, and
those in between—debated and struggled about the legitimacy of noble
Indians, the role and succession of kurakas, the continuation of the mita,
and the weight of taxes on indigenous people. The unfeasible or inap-
plicable post–Tupac Amaru policies, along with the winds of change ar-
riving from distant France, Iberia, and—by 1800—other parts of Span-
ish America, converted these local disputes into raging struggles about
Spanish rule.3
The failure of the post–Tupac Amaru cultural project, which, if suc-
cessful, would have been a virtual cultural revolution, should not be ex-
aggerated. Anti-Quechua diatribes and plans continued to emerge. For
example, in 1798 Father José Fernando Baeza lobbied to “extinguish”
the Quechua language and to prevent Indians from gaining Spanish liter-
acy. He explained, “Anyone who has carefully and attentively observed
Indians’ character and temperament knows that education [la ilustra-
ción] makes them haughty. Just them knowing how to read and write
is enough to disturb the peace. José Gabriel Condorcanqui, alias Tupac
Amaro, would still live with tranquility in his hut and he would not have
caused irreparable damage, if it weren’t for the School for Indians in
this city [Cuzco], where the Indians who deem themselves noble are
educated, and thus would not have drunk from the poison that is Gar-
cilaso de la Vega.”4 Father Baeza proposed forcing mestizos who spoke
Quechua to pay the Indian head tax and contended that Spanish wo-
men fostered Quechua by not imposing Spanish on their maids and other
domestic servants. Spiteful anti-Indian sentiments persisted. The harsh
Areche reforms might have collapsed rapidly, but anti-Indian attitudes
did not.
Mata Linares and others largely succeeded in ridding the area of rep-
resentations of the Incas and of Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas
themselves, as well as limiting other forms of remembering and celeb-
rating the Incan Empire. The battles over paintings are particularly re-
vealing. In April 1781 Bishop Moscoso oversaw the removal of The In-
cas of Peru from the San Francisco school for the children of noble Indi-
ans, where Tupac Amaru had studied, and in the church of Curahuasi in
Abancay. He deemed it a “prudent precaution” because “these gentiles
[the Incas] have made such an impression on the Indians, always prone
to such a memory.”5 Authorities destroyed the portraits of Tupac Amaru
and many other paintings, although a few survived, above all those in
houses or estates that escaped the vigilant eye of the state.6 Moreover,
officials often did not destroy the paintings but simply allowed artists to
paint over them. Modern specialists have uncovered, literally, several co-
lonial paintings with allusions to noble Indians, the Incas, or even Tupac
Amaru himself, which in the decades after the uprising had been covered
by religious themes. Authorities failed to rid the area of all pictorial ref-
erences to the Incas and their descendants, but destroyed the vast major-
ity.7
The measures succeeded in making references to Tupac Amaru,
Micaela Bastidas, and the uprising taboo in Cuzco in the following dec-
ades. The public executions, the decade-long trials against Bishop Mo-
scoso and others, and the antisubversive hubris of Mata Linares meant
that for years afterward, Indians, mestizos, and creoles worried about ac-
cusations of harboring rebel sympathies. In the legal system, these in-
sinuations—no proof was necessary—could damage a case; people hid
their support for the uprising.8
It was not only fear, of course, that discouraged people from discuss-
ing the uprising. No group looked back at it with pride and satisfaction.
For the Spanish, it had been a terrible shock, a costly one in terms of hu-
man lives, expenditures, cohesion, and legitimacy. They knew that they
had barely held on and did not gloat. For Indians, the brutal executions
symbolized a painful defeat. In the heady days of late 1780, when Tupac
Amaru and Micaela Bastidas led tens of thousands of troops in the siege
of Cuzco, or in late 1781, when Diego Cristóbal, Andrés, and Mariano
seemed unstoppable in the high plateau around Lake Titicaca, Indians
felt that the rebels had been on the verge of victory. (Some realized this
with dread or disappointment—it should not be forgotten that not all In-
dians supported the uprising.) Both episodes ended with their leaders’
severed body parts displayed on pikes or hung from trees as macabre
warnings; estate and textile mill owners as well as unpopular officials
soon returned. At best, Indian supporters saw the rebellion as a tragic
near miss. Mestizos and others caught in the middle recalled the threat
of violence from both the rebels and the royalists and the high toll the
uprising took on the regional economy and daily life.
Officials often grumbled that the prospect of more violence or even
the return of some member of the Tupac Amaru family had not disap-
peared. For example, in July 1783 Cuzco’s corregidor, Matías Baulen,
wrote, “The embers remain from the recent fire and it’s not impossible
that they heat up again, even among those people who seem to have the
best temperament. This riffraff [chusma] works on first impressions.”9
For some people, such as Baulen, the lingering impression that anoth-
er uprising was possible, perhaps just around the corner, indicated that
repression had not gone far enough; for others, the Spanish hard-liners
had been excessive, imperiling Spanish control of the Andes. Yet these
were rumors or private musings. Repression managed to silence public
discussion and expressions of nostalgia or veneration for Tupac Amaru
for decades. This would change. Despite the effort to construct “official
silence,” the voices of Tupac Amaru’s supporters rose to praise him, to
construct an alternative path from his memory.10
What did Tupac Amaru mean for broader political alignments in
Peru? In a landmark publication in 1972 that burst the bubble of the flag-
waving 150th anniversary celebrations of Peruvian independence (inde-
pendence was declared in 1821 but the Spanish were not defeated un-
til 1824), Heraclio Bonilla and Karen Spalding underlined that Tupac
Amaru had intimidated creoles and other non-Indians and discouraged
them from supporting Andean-based uprisings. These historians sugges-
ted that the events of the 1780s widened the coast-Andes breach and
gave Lima-based creoles, already much more conservative than their
brethren in “peripheral areas” such as Buenos Aires or Caracas, more
reason to vacillate over the struggle against the Spanish that erupted
in the early 1800s.11 The irony stands out—Bonilla and Spalding ar-
gued that a mass uprising that was at that time, the 1970s, being por-
trayed as the precursor of Peruvian independence had actually weakened
or delayed the rupture with Spain. Decades of subsequent research on
the lower classes and politics in the independence period have amended
or fine-tuned this uncompromising interpretation, highlighting the role
that the lower classes played in regional movements and stressing differ-
ent types of popular politics. Nonetheless, the gap between coastal inde-
pendence movements and Andean people was immense, fortified by the
coastal elite’s terror of marauding Indian guerrillas.12
The rebellion demonstrated the high cost of an uprising to creoles
and mestizos: insubordination and violence by the lower orders, on the
one hand, and brutal repression by authorities, on the other. It alarmed
the nonindigenous population and increased the already considerable rift
between the coast and the highlands. The uprising culminated in the an-
nihilation of the Tupac Amaru clan, other kurakas, and tens of thou-
sands of Indians. The repression thus exterminated or at least intimid-
ated future rebel leaders and followers, dampening the prospect of fu-
ture Cuzco-based insurgencies.13 However, the violence also ruptured
the historic pact between Indians and the colonial state and proved to
thousands of survivors that the Spanish should not be tolerated. Incanism
did not perish, and during the wars of independence and beyond intellec-
tuals and others expressed an appreciation for the Inca Empire and tim-
idly proposed it as a possible national symbol.14 The Tupac Amaru re-
bellion both delayed and hastened independence from Spain: it widened
the Andean-coastal gap and underscored to the upper classes and others
the high cost of insurgency, but also ruptured the Toledan system that
had been the bedrock of colonial rule for 200 years.
Tupac Amaru and his movement did not become heroes, models,
icons, or points of reference for the leaders of the wars of independence
in Peru from 1808 to 1824. Tupac’s name surfaced from time to time, as
both a hero and a villain, but not, until many years later, as a constant
refrain. In 1814, the creole intellectual José Baquíjano y Carrillo wrote,
“Indians are tenacious in preserving resentment … they lament the atro-
cious execution of Diego Tupac Amaru in 1780 [sic], after he had handed
over his weapons, accepted the pardon, sworn to it inside a Church.”15
Yet the rebels in Peru in 1814, based in Cuzco and led by, among
others, Tupac Amaru’s nemesis Pumacahua, did not fight in José Gab-
riel or Micaela’s name.16 Tupac Amaru became a national symbol—but
only decades or even centuries later. We can assume Tupac Amaru and
Micaela remained larger-than-life heroes to vast numbers of indigenous
people in Cuzco and beyond. But we will probably never know for cer-
tain. If indigenous voices are normally rare in the written record, in the
bleak post–Tupac Amaru decades, Indian peoples retreated into stony si-
lence in the extant archives.17
In 1783 a junta of three distinguished authorities in Madrid reviewed
the 1781 cases against José Gabriel and others to evaluate whether the
procedures, sentences, and punishments were acceptable. They chided
the judges (without naming Mata Linares or Areche) for cutting José
Gabriel’s tongue while he was alive: this was not permitted according to
the laws of Castile or of the Indies. They also questioned the burning of
the bodies and the spreading of their ashes as well as some of the actions
taken against minors. The three judges called for “prudence” in the ban-
ning of kurakas and Inca clothing and theater, noting that it was prefer-
able to get rid of “everything that makes the Indians remember their an-
tiquity and gentile past, but with political caution and in such a way that
the intentions and ends of these policies are not easily seen.”18 They un-
derstood that the war was now being fought in the realm of memory, in
how Tupac Amaru was remembered and how effectively they could si-
lence indigenous supporters. In a marginal note in a copy of the junta’s
findings, which questioned some of the tactics and procedures but gen-
erally supported the sentences and cultural repression, a Madrid court
scribe scribbled, “In light of the enormity of these crimes and the other
circumstances that intervened in this case, the king approves what was
done with the cadavers, for public terror and as a lesson.” [para terror y
escarmiento público].19
In arguably the first historical account of the uprising, in 1816 the Ar-
gentine priest, Gregorio Funes, wrote in his multivolume Essay on the
Civil History of Buenos Aires, Tucumán, and Paraguay, “Through the
force of terror, the Ancien Régime treated the writing and even the dis-
cussion [discurso] about the rebellion as a conspiracy against the state.
They wanted these events to be erased from memory, even that of the
oppressed, or at least that they only remain in the oppressors’ conscien-
ce.”20 It would be decades until Spanish writers overcame official silen-
cing and began to criticize Spanish brutality and cast Tupac Amaru in a
new light.21 Depicting the uprising as an isolated conspiracy, the Spanish
had done a remarkable job in silencing discussion about it.
But Tupac Amaru resurfaced in curious, unexpected places. In 1802,
in the waning moments of the Haitian Revolution, Jean-Jacques Dessa-
lines, the commanding general of the Haitian Revolutionary Army and
at this point the governor-general, deemed his forces “the Army of the
Incas” and “Sons of the Sun.” The invocation of Tupac Amaru and Peru
made sense. Just two decades earlier, the overwhelmingly indigenous
rebel army had nearly dislodged Spain from its South American hub, in-
venting a new revolutionary framework. Events in the Caribbean were
equally shocking and momentous. Haitian slaves were in the midst of
toppling French colonialism and Atlantic slavery, on an island at the cen-
ter of the sugar economy.22 Around 1810, gaucho rebels fighting the
Spanish in the area north of Buenos Aires, in present-day Uruguay, as-
sumed the name Tupamaros.23 And the prospect of a Tupac Amaru lead-
ing another uprising outside of Peru concerned authorities for decades.
In 1790, a Madrid court official requested that the governors of Guyana
and Venezuela investigate whether two nephews of Tupac Amaru had
sneaked into the Dutch territory of Surinam. The official asked them to
find out if the two men were hiding among the fugitive population “and
whether they had contact with Indians, and whether these natives look at
the nephews with consideration.” They were not found.24 For decades,
perhaps even centuries, authorities in Cuzco, Lima, and beyond worried
about the resurgence of Tupac Amaru or his followers.
 Memory and Legacy
In 1965, Peruvian poet Antonio Cisneros wrote in “Tupac Amaru Releg-
ated”:
There are liberators
with long sideburns
who saw the dead and wounded brought back
after the battles. Soon their names
became history, and the sideburns
growing into their old uniforms
proclaimed them founders of the nation.

Others with less luck have taken up

two pages of text
with four horses and their death.25

Written almost fifty years ago, the poem contrasts the well-known milit-
ary heroes of the wars of independence, all of European descent, lauded
and pictured in museums and textbooks, with the overlooked (or “less
lucky”) martyr of Pampamarca.
Tupac Amaru, however, is no longer the forgotten figure he once was.
Young Peruvians can identify him as well (or as poorly) as they can the
major figures of the Wars of Independence (1808–1824) or the martyrs
of the War of the Pacific (1879–1882), Cisneros’s liberators with side-
burns. Historians have turned their attention to the events of 1780–1783,
and Tupac Amaru has become an international symbol of resistance and
even a dark-skinned, pony-tailed icon.
Two guerrilla groups named their movements after him: the
Tupamaros in Uruguay (1960–1974) and the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary
Movement in Peru (1980–1997).26 My students gasp when they learn
that the rapper Tupac Amaru Shakur was named after the Cuzco rebel.
In 1972, Afeni Shakur (formerly Alice Faye Williams), a member of the
Black Panther Party in the United States, was acquitted on conspiracy
charges (as part of what is known as the Panther 21). She changed her
infant’s name from Lesane Parish Crooks to Tupac Amaru Shakur. He
was less than a year old, born on June 16, 1971. The last name honored
her husband and Tupac’s stepfather, Mutulu Shakur, himself a promin-
ent black nationalist. “Tupac Amaru” referred to the Peruvian revolution-
ary.27 Tupac wore the name proudly, emblazing it as “2-Pac” on his
chest, in one of his many tattoos. Handsome, gifted, and shot down in
his prime, Tupac Shakur became an international symbol of resistance,
“a global barometer of youth malaise.”28 Both Tupacs, José Gabriel and
Shakur, died martyrs, with their popularity or fan base growing post-
mortem.
The increased prominence of Tupac Amaru, his transformation from
just another rebel to an international symbol, can be traced to one curious
and momentous period in modern Peruvian history, the left-leaning mil-
itary regime of Juan Velasco Alvarado (1968–1975). The Velasco gov-
ernment converted the Andean insurgent into its major symbol, em-
blazoning his image on banners, posters, coins, bills, and publications.
Tupac Amaru became the face of the extensive agrarian reform that the
Velasco regime enacted. A supposed Tupac Amaru quote, “campesino,
el patrón ya no comerá tu pobreza” (“Peasant, the master will no longer
feed from your hunger”) became the government’s leading slogan for
land reform; Velasco’s speechwriter invented it.29
Tupac Amaru meshed well with how the Velasco government sought
to present itself: as a defender of Andean indigenous peasants (the bene-
ficiaries of the agrarian reform) and as nationalists confronting foreign
imperialists (gringo oil companies rather than Spaniards). The Velasco
government published multivolume document collections on the Tupac
Amaru uprising and sponsored works of poetry and music and art com-
petitions. Building on nationalist scholarship, Velasco ideologues cast
Tupac Amaru as the precursor to the Peruvian War of Independence.30
As Cisneros’s poem underlines, until this acclamation of Tupac Amaru,
Peru’s national heroes had either been foreign liberators (the Argentine
San Martín and the Venezuelan Bolívar) or coastal men of European des-
cent.
The iconography and diverse political uses of Tupac Amaru have a
long history. Such an account would have to move from newly founded
Argentina—which seriously debated the crowning of an Inca King in
1816, staged a five-act play, Tupac Amarú, in 1821, and received Juan
Bautista Tupac Amaru in 1822—through different political and ideolo-
gical movements and schools of thought in Peru in the last two centuries.
Various political groups—not just guerrillas—have claimed him, and the
city of Cuzco celebrates Tupac Amaru as a heroic native son. In 1950,
Cuzco’s City Council, the San Antonio Abad University, and the Rotary
Club installed a plaque in Tupac Amaru’s honor in the Plaza de Armas,
near where he and his intimates were kept captive and executed. Sever-
al other plaques and small monuments in the plaza commemorate Tupac
Amaru and the uprising while, after decades of debate, in 1980 work-
ers installed a massive statue of José Gabriel on horseback in a large,
somewhat barren plaza less than a mile from the city center.31 In Cuzco
and beyond, Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas have inspired artists,
sculptors, playwrights, poets, and novelists, with varying results.32
Despite the appropriation of his image and the outpouring of studies,
Tupac Amaru, Micaela Bastidas, and their movement have not entered
the pantheon of North Atlantic revolutions. Scholars and the textbooks
they write have long focused on the creation of the United States and the
French Revolution, more recently incorporating the Haitian Revolution
(1791–1804) into a grand narrative of the Era of Revolutions. There are
reasons to consider the Andean insurgency alongside these better-known
revolutions. The territorial expansion of the Tupac Amaru and Katarista
rebellions surpassed that of the American Revolution, while the death
toll—100,000—approximated Haiti’s 150,000. The rebels rethought and
tried to reinvent the colonial, Andean world, putting Spanish control
of the Andes on the brink. They patched together a variety of ideolo-
gies, particularly Incan revivalism, Christian egalitarianism, and Span-
ish “buen gobierno,” though largely excluding elements of the Enlight-
enment. One obvious reason that historians do not consider the Tupac
Amaru Rebellion in the same breath as these more famous revolutions is
that it lost—Tupac Amaru and his comrades in arms did not topple the
Spanish. Moreover, while the Haitian revolutionaries confronted slavery
and the transatlantic sugar economy, thus mobilizing a multinational re-
actionary coalition that fought the revolution and independent Haiti for
decades, the Andean rebels attracted far less international attention.33
Nonetheless, the Tupac Amaru rebels fashioned a fascinating and com-
plex movement with novel guerrilla tactics that, although ultimately de-
feated, changed the Andean and Atlantic world indelibly.
The allure of the memory of Tupac Amaru is not limited to scholars
and well-read leftists. In 1980, an eleven-year-old Quechua-speaking
boy, whose family had been forced to flee Ayacucho because of the Shin-
ing Path violence, told an anthropologist, “Tupac Amaru fought for us
because they worked the Indians too hard. He fought, struggled, killed
many Spaniards. This is how Indians fight today. They have told me
that he hasn’t died. He’s alive and will never get old. They say he rides
around on horseback. He lives in the high peaks, but we never see him.
He rides hidden, like the wind. That’s what they say.”34 For this boy and
many, many others, Tupac Amaru continues present.
A depiction of Tupac Amaru in 50 sol bill in 1977. (Author’s collection)
Micaela Bastidas. (Augusto Díaz Mori, c. 1980, Pinacoteca Municipal Ignacio Merino, Municip-
alidad Metropolitana de Lima)
The execution of Topa Amaro, 1572. (Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, El primer nueva corónica
y buen gobierno, 1615/1616. Copenhagen, Det Kongelige Bibliotek)
Inca Bridge. (From George E. Squier, Incidents of Travel and Exploration in the Land of the In-
cas [1877])
A letter by the captive Tupac Amaru written in his own blood. (Archivo de Indias, Cuzco, Leg.
33)
Garrote reenactment. (Inquisition Museum, Lima, Peru, photo by José Ragas)
A 1964 painting of Tupac Amaru’s quartering. (Author’s collection)
Sicuani Fort, built in the rebellion’s aftermath. (Archivo de Indias, mapas y planos)
Francisco Goya’s Shipwreck, presumably inspired by the 1786 San Pedro de Alcántara, which
killed many prisoners, including Andrés Tupac Amaru. (Album/Art Resource, NY)
Manuela Tupac Amaru. A member of the Betancur family, which claimed descent from Tupac
Amaru (I), she was not related to José Gabriel Condorcanqui. The image was covered up by a re-
ligious painting after the rebellion and only uncovered when taken in for restoration in the late
twentieth century. (MALI-Museo de Arte de Lima)
Juan Velasco Alvarado and Túpac Amaru, c. 1970. (International Institute of Social History, Am-
sterdam)
Tupac Amaru in a 1957 Mexican comic book. (Author’s collection)
CHRONOLOGY OF THE REBELLION

NOTES

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

INDEX
 Chronology of the Rebellion

1738 José Gabriel Condorcanqui, Tupac Amaru II, born in Surimana

1744 Micaela Bastidas Puyucahua born in Pampamarca
1759–1788 Reign of Charles III, King of Spain, oversees Bourbon Reforms
1760 Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas marry
1760s & 1770s Period of increasing number of revolts in Andean communities
1772 The alcabala (sales tax) increases from 2 percent to 4 percent
1774 Customs Houses (aduana) are established in Cochabamba; revolts ensue
1775–1783 American Revolutionary War
José Antonio de Areche is named inspector (Visitador General) by the
1776
Spanish Crown, arrives in 1777
1776 The alcabala is again increased, from 4 percent to 6 percent
1776 Upper Peru becomes part of the new Viceroyalty of Rio de La Plata
1777 The first revolt against the La Paz Customs House, in late October
1777 Tupac Amaru litigates in Lima
1778 Tomás Katari goes to Buenos Aires seeking justice for his people
1778 Crown orders corregidors to collect the 6 percent alcabala
1779 Tomás Katari is arrested, leading to widespread protests
1779 Coca, previously exempt, becomes subject to the 6 percent alcabala
1780 January 1, riots in Arequipa over Customs House
Lampoons appear in Cuzco shortly after Arequipa riot warning against Cus-
1780
toms House
1780 In March, riot attacking the La Paz Customs House
1780 Katari rebellion begins in late August
In November, José Gabriel Tupac Amaru’s rebellion erupts with the capture
1780 (November 4) and execution (November 10) of Corregidor Antonio de Ar-
riaga
 Late December/early January, Tupac Amaru forces surround Cuzco but nev-
1780–1781
er enter it
Tomás Katari killed; his brothers Nicolás and Dámaso continue the struggle
1781
until they too are killed
April 7, Tupac Amaru captured in Langui; Micaela Bastidas, their two sons
1781 Hipólito and Fernando, and Tomasa Tito Condemayta captured en route to
Livitaca
May 18, Tupac Amaru, his wife, and others are executed in the main plaza
1781
of Cuzco; Diego Tupac Amaru has assumed leadership of the rebellion
1781 Tupac Katari (Julián Apaza) puts La Paz under extensive siege
1781 In November, Tupac Katari is captured and executed
Bartolina Sisa and Gregoria Apaza, the wife and sister of Tupac Katari, are
1782
executed
July 19, Diego Tupac Amaru is brutally executed along with his mother and
1783
others
Fernando, son of Tupac Amaru and Micaela Bastidas, is sent into exile in
1784
Spain
1789–1799 French Revolution
1791–1804 Haitian Revolution
War of Independence in Peru (independence proclaimed in 1821, Spanish
1811–1824
defeated in 1824)
Juan Bautista Tupac Amaru freed from Spanish jail (Ceuta), settles in Ar-
1820–1822
gentina until his death in 1827
 Notes

Abbreviations

ADC Archivo Departamental del Cuzco

AGI Archivo General de Indias
CBC Centro Bartolomé de Las Casas
Colección Documental del Bicentenario de la Revolución Emancipadora de
CDBRETA
Túpac Amaru
CDIP Colección Documental de la Independencia del Perú
CEMHAL Centro de Estudios la Mujer en la Historia de América Latina
CNDBRETA Comisión Nacional del Bicentenario de la Rebelión de Túpac Amaru
CNDSIP Comisión Nacional del Sesquicentenario de la Independencia del Perú
HAHR Hispanic American Historical Review
IEP Instituto de Estudios Peruanos
Leg. Legajo
PUC Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú
RAH Real Academia de la Historia (Madrid)
UNMSM Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos

Introduction

Epigraphs: Gregorio Funes, Ensayo de la historia civil de Buenos Aires, Tucumán y

Paraguay, 2nd ed., vol. 2 (Buenos Aires: n.p., 1856), 229–230; Modesto Basadre, Riquezas
peruanas (Lima: Imprenta de la Tribuna, 1884), 96.
1. Because this story involves many members of the Tupac Amaru family, I will rely on first
names. I follow the colonial form and do not put an accent on Tupac (Túpac).
2. His uncle Julián de Arriaga was a member of the Council of Indies and his brother owned
ships. See Antonio de Arriaga, “Relación de méritos,” 1771, AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041.
 3. The two main accounts vary in their details. Melchor de Paz publishes an account that says
that Arriaga grabbed a gun, while López de Sosa states that he tried to escape in a ravine. Mel-
chor de Paz, Guerra separatista: Rebeliones de Indios en Sur América, la sublevación de Tupac
Amaru: Crónica de Melchor de Paz, ed. Luis Antonio Eguiguren, 2 vols. (Lima: n.p., 1952),
1:231–236; López de Sosa’s testimony appears in AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80.
4. Eulogio Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui (II) virrey interino del Perú (Pamplona, Spain:
Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institución Príncipe de Viana, 1979), 51.
5. Ward Stavig and Ella Schmidt, eds., The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions: An Antho-
logy of Sources (Indianapolis, Ind.: Hackett Publishing, 2008), 62–63.
6. For López de Sosa’s explanation of why he gave him confession, see CDBRETA, I,
108–109 (Lima: CNDBRETA, 1980).
7. See AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 31; another copy of this source is found in AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80.
8. Lillian E. Fisher summarizes the few descriptions of his attire. L. E. Fisher, The Last Inca
Revolt, 1780–1783 (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1966), 30–31.
9. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, testimony by doña Ignacia Sotomayor.
10. CDBRETA, I, 508, document from don Miguel Martínez, priest and vicar of Nuñoa and
Santa Rosa.
11. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, testimony by doña Ignacia Sotomayor.
12. Zudaire, Don Agustín, 53.
13. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, testimony by Antonio López de Sosa. The translation of this rare
Quechua phrase in the archival documentation was an international enterprise. In Seville, Luis
Miguel Glave double-checked my transcription, and Janett Vengoa, Rosalia Puma Escalante, and
Zoila Mendoza offered their Quechua skills.
14. “Informe de un clérigo sobre Tupac Amaru,” 1781, Lilly Library, Indiana University. An
almost identical quote can be found in Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:259–260.
15. Divisions in the church included those between regulars (the mendicant orders such as the
Dominicans and Franciscans) and seculars as well as those between the episcopal bureaucracy
and the parish priests.
16. Lillian Fisher wrote the competent The Last Inca Revolt in 1966; I prefer the English geo-
grapher Clements Markham’s vivid overviews from the 1850s and 1860s. The Polish-Argentine
Boleslao Lewin published several deeply researched works in Spanish in the 1950s that have
stood the test of time well. A Jewish refugee from Hitler’s Europe, Lewin makes implicit paral-
lels between antifascist resistance in Europe and the mass indigenous uprising in the late eight-
eenth century. Yet his La rebelión de Tupac Amaru is now fifty years old, more than six hundred
pages long, and out of print. When people ask for a recommendation, I would mention these as
well as the works of Peruvian authors but usually stress the need to consult a number of books
and articles. Fisher, The Last Inca Revolt; Clements R. Markham, Travels in Peru and India
(London: John Murray, 1862), 134–180; Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 3rd ed.
(Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967), 276–285.
17. Two examples that helped greatly in this book: Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy, Un siglo de re-
beliones anticoloniales: Perú y Bolivia 1700–1783 (Cuzco: CBC, 1988) (also available in Eng-
lish: Rebellions and Revolts in Eighteenth Century Peru and Upper Peru [Cologne: Bohlau Ver-
lag Köln Wien, 1985]); Neus Escandell-Tur, Producción y comercio de tejidos coloniales: Los
obrajes y chorrillos del Cuzco 1570–1820 (Cuzco: CBC, 1997).
 18. The Colección Documental de la Independencia Peruana (CDIP) originally was to have
106 volumes but ended up with 86 (confusingly divided into tomos and each of these subdi-
vided into volúmenes). CDIP (Lima: Comisión Nacional del Sesquicentenario de la Independ-
encia del Perú, 1971–1976); see tomo II, La Rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 4 vols. (1971–1972).
The Colección Documental del Bicentenario de la Revolución Emancipadora de Túpac Amaru
(CDBRETA) published five document collections (I, II, III-I, IV-II, V-III), one “anthology,”
and one collection of articles from a conference (Lima: CNDBRETA, 1981–1982). On Velasco,
see Leopoldo Lituma Agüero, El verdadero rostro de Túpac Amaru (Perú, 1969–1975) (Lima:
UNMSM, 2011); on the rising interest in social movements in the Vietnam era, see two influen-
tial edited volumes: Steve Stern, ed., Resistance, Rebellion, Consciousness in the Andean Peas-
ant World, 18th to 20th Centuries (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1987), particularly
Stern’s introductory essay, “New Approaches to the Study of Peasant Rebellion and Conscious-
ness: Implications of the Andean Experiment,” 3–28; Friedrich Katz, ed., Riot, Rebellion, and
Revolution: Rural Social Conflict in Mexico (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1988).
The Colección Documental and the Colección del Bicenenterio are not the only document
collections. For example, Pedro de Angelis published an important set in 1836 in Buenos Aires.
Pedro de Angelis, Documentos para la historia de la sublevación de José Gabriel de Tupac
Amaru, cacique de la provincia de Tinta, en el Perú (Buenos Aires: Imprenta del Estado, 1836),
most of which was reproduced by Manuel de Odriozola without citing Angelis. Odriozola, Docu-
mentos históricos del Perú en las epocas del coloniaje despues de la Conquista y de la independ-
encia hasta la presente, vol. 1 (Lima: Tipografía de Aurelio Alfaro, 1863). Others have followed.
No guide exists that indicates what is published where and so I often spent days on a document
in Seville that I later learned was already reproduced. I’ve followed a simple rule: I cite what I
read, whether from an archive or from a document collection.
19. Juan José Vega and Daniel Valcárcel wrote multiple books on the uprising. See Juan José
Vega, José Gabriel Túpac Amaru (Lima: n.p., 1969); among the dozens of books by Valcárcel,
many of them repetitive, see Carlos Daniel Valcárcel, Túpac Amaru, el revolucionario (Lima:
Moncloa-Campodónico, 1970).
20. The Spanish preoccupation and indeed obsession with José Gabriel Tupac Amaru and
Micaela Bastidas left a rich trove of information that permits detailed studies such as this one to
be written. Authorities in Madrid, Lima, and Cuzco closely examined their activities prior to the
uprising to comprehend how and why they rebelled, who supported them, and for how long they
had planned an uprising. These obsessed authorities were correct, of course, in that the lives of
José Gabriel and Micaela Bastidas up until 1780 enable us to begin to understand the course of
the rebellion, its ideology, followers, strengths, and weaknesses. The biographies not only illu-
minate the nature of urban and rural Cuzco, but also that of Peru and the politics of Spain itself.
21. I have benefited greatly from the document collection Túpac Amaru y la Iglesia: Antolo-
gía (Cuzco: Comité Arquidiocesano del Bicentenario Túpac Amaru, 1983).
22. While a list of good narrative histories could go on for pages, I’ve been inspired by UC
Davis colleagues who believe that good history and good writing are the same thing: Arnie
Bauer, Ari Kelman, Andrés Reséndez, and Alan Taylor in particular.
23. Stathis N. Kalyvas, The Logic of Violence in Civil War (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2006), 10.
 24. The term is usually applied to a more modern era, ranging from the U.S. Civil War to the
two world wars, when the nation-state could use the products of industrialization to mobilize and
slaughter. Nonetheless, some have used the concept for the Napoleonic Wars (1803–1815), and
I have found it germane. I only use the more common term in Latin America, “caste war,” to
refer to royalist or civilian panic that the rebellion was turning into an Indian-based war of ex-
termination. The literature is massive. I found particularly useful David Silvey, “Total War,” in
Encyclopedia of Warfare, ed. Gordon Martel (London: Blackwell Publishing, 2011); David A.
Bell, The First Total War: Napoleon’s Europe and the Birth of Modern Warfare as We Know It
(Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2008). On caste war, see Terry Rugeley, Rebellion Now and
Forever: Mayas, Hispanics, and Caste War Violence in Yucatán, 1800–1880 (Palo Alto, Calif.:
Stanford University Press, 2009); Michael T. Ducey, A Nation of Villages: Riots and Rebellions
in the Mexican Huasteca, 1750–1850 (Tucson: The University of Arizona Press, 2004), chapter
6.
25. Wayne Lee, Barbarians & Brothers: Anglo-American Warfare, 1500–1865 (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2011); Peter Silver, Our Savage Neighbors: How Indian War Trans-
formed Early America (New York: W. W. Norton, 2008). On violence and daily life in Latin
America, see William Taylor, Drinking, Homicide, and Rebellion in Colonial Mexican Villages
(Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1979); Sonya Lipsett-Rivera, Gender and the Nego-
tiation of Daily Life in Mexico, 1750–1850 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2012).
26. O’Phelan Godoy, Un siglo.
27. On violence in Cuzco, see Ward Stavig, The World of Tupac Amaru: Conflict, Community,
and Identity in Colonial Peru (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1999); Charles F. Walker,
Smoldering Ashes: Cuzco and the Creation of Republican Peru, 1780–1835 (Durham, N.C.:
Duke University Press, 1999).
28. For comparing and contextualizing the violence of the uprising, I have benefitted from
Ben Kiernan, Blood and Soil: A World History of Genocide and Extermination from Sparta to
Darfur (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2007); Christian Gerlach, Extremely Violent
Societies: Mass Violence in the Twentieth-Century World (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2010); Steven Pinker, The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Has Declined (New
York: Penguin Books, 2012). Specifically on the Andean uprisings, see Nicholas Robins, “Geno-
cide and the Great Rebellion of 1780–1782 in Peru and Upper Peru,” Journal of Genocide Re-
search 7, 3 (2005): 251–375.
29. On empathy, see Pinker, The Better Angels, 59–128.
30. The debate about whether modernity or the “civilizing project” hinders or fosters violence
continues. To take two prominent examples, Pinker argues that it hinders violence, while Jared
Diamond contends that it fosters it. Pinker, The Better Angels; Jared Diamond, The World Until
Yesterday: What Can We Learn from Traditional Societies (New York: Viking, 2012).
31. Mark Fiege, The Republic of Nature: An Environmental History of the United States
(Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2012), 10–11, is excellent on the formative role of ideas
of nature.
32. Markham, even with his Victorian-era blinders, presents stirring summaries of Andean
geography. Markham, Travels, as well as Clements R. Markham, A History of Peru (Chicago:
Charles H. Sergel 1892); on economy and era in the Titicaca region, see Nils Jacobsen, Mirages
of Transition: The Peruvian Altiplano, 1780–1930 (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1993).
33. A nice analysis can be found in Thomas Cummins, “A Tale of Two Cities: Cuzco, Lima
and the Construction of Colonial Representation,” in Converging Cultures: Art and Identity in
Spanish America, ed. Diane Fane (New York: Brooklyn Museum, Harry N. Abrams, 1996),
157–170. On late colonial Cuzco, see Magnus Mörner, Perfil de la sociedad rural del Cuzco a
fines de la colonia (Lima: Universidad del Pacífico, 1978); Walker, Smoldering Ashes.
34. John Murra developed the term “vertical archipelagos.” John Murra, Formaciones econ-
ómicas y políticas del mundo andino (Lima: IEP, 1975).
35. For calculations on genocide, see Kiernan, Blood and Soil.

1. The Andes in the Atlantic World

1. See José Antonio del Busto Duthurburu, José Gabriel Túpac Amaru antes de su rebelión
(Lima: PUC, 1981), 34; John Rowe, “El movimiento nacional inca del siglo XVIII,” in Tupac
Amaru II-1780, ed. Alberto Flores Galindo (Lima: Retablo de Papel, 1976), 13–66, esp. 27–30
(pointing out that it was Garcilaso de la Vega who transformed “Thupa” or “Tupa” to “Tupac”);
Carlos Daniel Valcárcel, La familia del cacique Túpac Amaru (Documentos existentes en la ig-
lesa de Pampamarca), 2nd ed. (Lima: UNMSM, 1979). I thank Zoila Mendoza for help with
Quechua.
2. Héctor Oliva, Pasajes a América: La vida desmesurada de cinco catalanes (Barcelona:
RBA Libros, 2007), 246–248.
3. Del Busto Duthurburu, José Gabriel Túpac Amaru, is excellent on his childhood.
4. Juan José Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 2 vols. (Cuzco: Municipalidad del Qosqo,
1995), is very good on his finances; see also John H. Rowe, “La fecha del nacimiento de José
Gabriel Thupa Amaro,” Historia y Cultura 5 (1971): 187–191.
5. Enrique Tandeter and Nathan Wachtel, “Prices and Agricultural Production: Potosí and
Charcas in the Eighteenth Century,” in Essays on the Price History of Eighteenth-Century Latin
America, ed. Lyman Johnson and Enrique Tandeter (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico
Press, 1989), 201–275, esp. 241; Luis Miguel Glave and María Isabel Remy, Estructura agrar-
ia y vida rural en una región andina: Ollantaytambo entre los siglos XVI y XIX (Cuzco: CBC,
1983). The climate study on Upper Peru by Prieto and Herrera indicates that the years around
1780 were cold and dry. María del Rosario Prieto and Roberto G. Herrera, “Clima y economía en
el área andino: El Alto Perú y el espacio económico regional a fines del siglo XVIII,” in Estudios
sobre historia y ambiente en América, ed. Bernardo García Moreno and María del Rosario Pri-
eto, vol. 2 (Mexico City: El Colegio de México/Instituto Panamericano de Geografía e Historia,
2002), 55–80.
6. On muleteers and trans-Andean traders, the key work is Luis Miguel Glave, Trajinantes:
Caminos indígenas en la sociedad colonial, siglos XVI/XVII (Lima: Instituto de Apoyo Agrario,
1989). On Tupac Amaru’s debts, see David Cahill, “Crown, Clergy, and Revolution in Bourbon
Peru: The Diocese of Cuzco, 1780–1814” (PhD diss. University of Liverpool, 1984), 213.
7. Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy has long worked on this subject. See her Kurakas sin sucesiones:
Del cacique al alcalde de indios, Perú y Bolivia 1750–1835 (Cuzco: CBC, 1997); see also David
T. Garrett, Shadows of Empire: The Indian Nobility of Cusco, 1750–1825 (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 2005), 183–210.
8. Del Busto Duthurburu, José Gabriel Túpac Amaru, 54–56; Jorge Cornejo Bouroncle, San-
gre andina: Diez mujeres Cuzqueñas (Cuzco: H.G. Rozas Sucesores, 1949), 29–108; Jorge
Cornejo Bouroncle, Tupac Amaru, la revolución precursora de la emancipación continental
(Cuzco: Universidad Nacional del Cuzco, 1949), 599–601. Esquivel y Navia refers to this priest,
noting his death on June 5, 1746, an argument that Del Busto discounts. Diego de Esquivel y
Navia, Noticias cronológicas de la Gran Ciudad del Cuzco, 2 vols. (Lima: Biblioteca Peruana de
Cultura, 1980), 2:348. See also Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 2:284.
9. The documentation on Micaela Bastidas is scarce, particularly when compared to her hus-
band. This might be partially explained by the Spanish burning her belongings after her trial but
is also due to the fact that an illegitimate daughter received less official attention than a litigious
kuraka. Renata Fernández Dominguez, “Micaela Bastidas en la Historia, Literatura, y Cultura
Peruana: Análisis de sus Reconfiguraciones Discursivas” (PhD diss., University of Kentucky,
2005); Mariselle Meléndez, Deviant and Useful Citizens: The Cultural Production of the Female
Body in Eighteenth-Century Peru (Nashville, Tenn.: Vanderbilt University Press, 2011), 11–40;
Sara Beatriz Guardia, “Reconociendo las huellas: Micaela Bastidas y las heroinas de la Independ-
encia del Perú,” in Las mujeres en la independencia de América Latina, ed. Sara Beatriz Guardia
(Lima: CEMHAL, 2010), 31–47; Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros; Víctor Angles Vargas,
José Gabriel Túpac Amaru (Cuzco: n.p., 2004), 115–133. For the marriage certificate, CDIP, II,
2, 19.
10. Clements R. Markham, Travels in Peru and India (London: John Murray, 1862), 135–136.
11. Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 2:288.
12. The literature on gender in colonial Peru has improved greatly in the last decade. Standout
works in English include Jane Mangan, Trading Roles: Gender, Ethnicity, and the Urban
Economy in Colonial Potosí (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2005); Karen Graubart,
With Our Labor and Sweat: Indigenous Women and the Formation of Colonial Society in Peru,
1550–1700 (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2007); Kimberly Gauderman, Women’s
Lives in Colonial Quito: Gender, Law, and Economy in Spanish America (Austin: University of
Texas Press, 2009); Ward Stavig, The World of Tupac Amaru: Conflict, Community, and Identity
in Colonial Peru (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1999). I have also drawn from my own
observations and the reading of criminal trials.
13. Markham, Travels in Peru and India, 136. Don Pablo Astete, Tupac Amaru’s contem-
porary, gave this description to General William Miller in the 1830s, who passed it along to
Markham. The quotation has been frequently used in Spanish-language works, although many
fail to cite Markham. In his 1890 diccionario biográfico, Manuel de Mendiburu does not cite
the English geographer (but mentions Astete) and reproduces this quote with some significant
omissions and additions. Manuel de Mendiburu, Diccionario histórico-biográfico del Perú, bk.
8 (Lima: Imp. De Torres Aguirre, 1890), 109–110.
14. “Relación de los acontecimientos de Tinta y Lampa, en el reino del Perú, con motivo de
las sublevaciones de los indios en el año de 1780,” Boletín de Historia y Antigüedades, órgano
de la Academia Nacional de Historia, Bogotá, 11 (1917), 657–673. I worked from a transcription
by John Rowe, kindly provided by Pat Lyon.
 15. J. H. Elliott, Empires of the Atlantic World: Britain and Spain in America 1492–1830
(New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2006), 294.
16. Elliott, Empires, 303–305; surprisingly, we do not have a modern biography of Gálvez.
See H. I. Priestley, José de Gálvez, Visitor-General of New Spain, 1765–1771 (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1916).
17. Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 3rd ed. (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967). One
Peruvian Jesuit requested that the English aid the rebels, to no avail. Juan Pablo Viscardo y
Guzmán, “Propuesta al cónsul inglés en Livorno para que ayude a Túpac Amaru,” in Raúl Fer-
rero, El liberalismo peruano (Lima, Tipografía Peruana, 1958), 74–75.
18. On the role of the Bourbon Reforms in the uprising, see Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy, Un siglo
de rebeliones anticoloniales: Perú y Bolivia 1700–1783 (Cuzco: CBC, 1988); John Fisher, “La
rebelión de Tupac Amaru y el programa imperial de Carlos III,” in Túpac Amaru II, ed. Alberto
Flores Galindo (Lima: Retablo de Papel Ediciones, 1976), 107–128; Alberto Flores Galindo, In
Search of an Inca: Identity and Utopia in the Andes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2010), chap. 5.
19. For an overview, see John R. Fisher, Bourbon Peru, 1750–1824 (Liverpool: Liverpool
University Press, 2003).
20. John Rowe, “Genealogía y rebelión en el siglo XVIII,” Histórica 6, no. 1 (1982): 74–75.
On the reparto, see the documents in Ward Stavig and Ella Schmidt, eds., The Tupac Amaru and
Catarista Rebellions: An Anthology of Sources (Indianapolis, Ind.: Hackett Publishing, 2008),
30–32.
21. See O’Phelan Godoy, Kurakas sin sucesiones; Brooke Larson, “Caciques, Class Structure
and the Colonial State in Bolivia,” Nova Americana 2 (1979): 197–235; and Núria Sala i Vila,
Y se armó el tole tole: Tributo indígena y movimientos sociales en el virreinato del Perú,
1780–1814 (Lima: IER José María Arguedas, 1996), among many others.
22. Francisco A. Loayza, Genealogia de Tupac Amaru (Lima: Librería e Imprenta D. Miran-
da, 1946). For an important recasting of these trials, see Cahill, who overcomes generations of
hagiographic and nationalist views that always sided with Tupac Amaru. David Cahill, “Looking
for an Inca: The Marquesado de Oropesa Litigation (1741–1780) and the Roots of Rebellion,”
Jahrbuch fur Geschichte Lateinamerikas 41 (2004): 137–166.
23. The anonymous “Relación histórica” argues the opposite—that the case gave him an in-
flated idea of his social standing. “Relación histórica del principio, progresos y estado de la subl-
evación de José Gabriel Tupac-Amaru. En cuatro décadas,” in Documentos para la historia anti-
gua de Bolivia sacados de la biblioteca de J. R. Gutiérrez: sitios de la Paz y el Cuzco 1780–1781,
ed. J. R. Gutiérrez (La Paz: Imprenta de la Unión Americana, 1879), 117–151, esp. 119. Gutiérrez
believes the author might have been Tadeo Medina, a Cuzco official.
24. Charles F. Walker, Shaky Colonialism: The 1746 Earthquake-Tsunami in Lima, Peru, and
Its Long Aftermath (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2008).
25. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1049. This contains the trial against Montiel and rich information on
Tupac Amaru’s ties in Lima.
26. The literature is vast. See Harold Livermore’s introduction to Garcilaso de la Vega, Royal
Commentaries of the Incas and General History of Peru (Austin: University of Texas Press,
1966), xv–xxxi; José Durand, “El influjo de Garcilaso Inca en Tupac Amaru,” COPE 2, no. 5
(1971): 2–7, an argument he developed in many other publications.
 27. John Rowe, “El movimiento nacional Inca en el siglo XVIII,” in Tupac Amaru II, 11–66.
28. Cited in Kenneth Mills, William B. Taylor, and Sandra Lauderdale Graham, Colonial Lat-
in America: A Documentary History (Wilmington, Del.: SR Books, 2002), 394, which examines
an eighteenth-century portrait of the Inca martyr. The authors provide an excellent summary of
the memory of Tupac Amaru I, 390–394. On prophecies about the return of the Incas propag-
ated by Sir Walter Raleigh and cited in certain editions of the Royal Commentaries, see Rowe,
“El movimiento nacional,” 25–32. See also David Brading, “Inca Humanist,” The First America:
The Spanish Monarchy, Creole Patriots, and the Liberal State, 1492–1867 (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 1991), 255–272.
29. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 77. A Cuzco authority called the Royal Commentaries the backbone of
“the rebel Josef Tupac Amaru’s entire education and reading.” AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 29, Moscoso to
Areche, 13 April 1781.
30. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1042.
31. Quoted in Del Busto Duthurburu, José Gabriel Túpac Amaru, 95. See also AGI, Lima,
Leg. 1044, about people suspected of having been hosts of Tupac Amaru in the City of Kings.
AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 32, also has information.
32. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, testimony by López y Sosa.
33. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 32; this is repeated by Mariano de la Banda, CDBRETA, V, 157.
34. Del Busto Duthurburu, José Gabriel Túpac Amaru, 109–115. His December petition to
Viceroy Guerior is found in Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions,
20–24. The testimonies found in AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 32, have many references to Huarochirí.
35. Fisher, Bourbon Peru 1750–1824, 162.
36. Ibid., 162–163; see also O’Phelan Godoy, Un siglo, chap. 4.
37. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1044. On 1777 see Flores Galindo, In Search of an Inca, 102–103.
38. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1044.
39. On Santa Rosa, the prophecies, and much more see Ramón Mujica Pinilla, Rosa limensis:
Mística, política e iconografía en torno a la patrona de América (Lima: IFEA, Fondo de Culture
Económica, Banco Central de la Reserva, 2001).
40. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1044.
41. Ibid.
42. ADC, Colección Vega Centeno, bolsa 3, “Expediente relativo a las representaciones
hechas en el año de 1779 a Don Ildefonso Mendieta Justicia Mayor de Tinta quejándose del Re-
belde José Gabriel Tupac Amaro.”
43. Ibid. Here Mata Linares noted the need to “suffocate [dissidence] in the root.” He put
into place severe repressive measures aimed at preventing any further uprisings. See also David
Cahill, “Genocide from Below: The Great Rebellion of 1780–82 in the Southern Andes,” in Em-
pire, Colony, Genocide: Conquest, Occupation, and Subaltern Resistance in World History, ed.
A. Dirk Moses (New York: Berghahn Books, 2008), 403–423, esp. 411–12.
44. Charles F. Walker, Smoldering Ashes: Cuzco and the Creation of Republican Peru,
1780–1835 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1999), 29–30.
45. Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 158.
46. David Cahill, “Taxonomy of a Colonial Riot: The Arequipa Disturbances of 1780,” in Re-
form and Insurrection in Bourbon New Granada and Peru, ed. John R. Fisher, Allan J. Kuethe,
and Anthony McFarlane (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1991), 255–291.
 47. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1039, letter from April 20, 1780.
48. O’Phelan Godoy, Un siglo, 214.
49. Cahill, “Crown, Clergy, and Revolution,” 223; his summary of the Farfán de los Godos
Conspiracy (also called the Plateros) is found at 216–224. See also Walker, Smoldering Ashes,
30–33.
50. Charles Walker, “Prólogo,” in Juan Manuel Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada con-
tra los artificios de la calumnia (Lima: Biblioteca Nacional, in press).
51. On Moscoso, see Gustavo Bacacorzo, Don Juan Manuel de Moscoso y Peralta, ubicación
en el proceso de la independencia Americana (Lima: UNMSM, 1982); Leon J. Campbell, “Rebel
or Royalist? Bishop Juan Manuel Moscoso y Peralta and the Tupac Amaru Revolt in Peru,
1780–1784,” Revista de Historia de América 86 (1978): 139; Luis Durand Florez, “El caso
Moscoso,” Actas del Coloquio Internacional ‘Túpac Amaru y su tiempo’ (Lima: CNDBRETA,
1982), 491–493; Walker, “Prólogo.”
52. Cited by Durand Florez, “El Caso Moscoso,” 495. For the accusations against Moscoso,
see Francisco Loayza, ed., La verdad desnuda o las dos faces de un obispo: Escrita en 1780 por
un imparcial religioso (Lima: Los pequeños grandes libros de Historia Americana, 1943). Mo-
scoso published his own defense in Inocencia justifacada.
53. Loayza, La verdad desnuda, 240–246.
54. The best summary of the confrontation is Luis Miguel Glave, “Canas 1780: El año de la re-
belión,” in Desde afuera y desde adentro: ensayos de etnografía e historia del Cuzco y Apurímac,
ed. Luis Millones, Hiroyasu Tomoeda, and Tatsuhiko Fujii (Osaka: National Museum of Ethno-
logy, 2000), 61–93; the quote is from 79.
55. AGI, Leg. 80. For Arriaga’s accusation, see ADC, Colección Vega Centeno, bolsa 3
(Coporaque October 1780, inventory of Father Puente’s goods). See also Luis Miguel Glave,
Vida, símbolos y batallas: Creación y recreación de la comunidad indígena, Cuzco, siglo xvi–xx
(Lima: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 2002), 117–152; Stavig, The World of Tupac Amaru,
250–254; Túpac Amaru y la Iglesia: antología (Cuzco: Comité Arquidiocesano del Bicentenario
Túpac Amaru, 1983), 165–200.
56. CDBRETA, V, III, 132, testimony of José Esteban Escarcena.
57. Flores Galindo, In Search of an Inca, develops this extensively.
58. John Leddy Phelan, The People and the King: The Comunero Revolution in Colombia,
1781 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1978); Walker, Smoldering Ashes, 21–23.

2. From Pampamarca to Sangarará

1. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, testimony of Father Ildefonso Bejarano, January 1781.
2. Cited in Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 3d ed. (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967),
545.
3. The lack of evidence does not mean that the women camp aides (called soldaderas in other
instances) did not exist. It probably reflects blindness to women’s role and all domestic service,
even in the midst of a bloody rebellion.
4. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, testimony of Father Ildefonso Bejarano, January 1781. On weapons,
see Juan José Vega, Historia general del ejército, El ejército durante la dominación española
del Perú, tomo III, vol. 1 (Lima: Comisión Permanente de Historia del Ejército del Perú, 1981),
499–507.
5. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596, refers to the cross as obligatory; for the cross and embroidery, see
CDBRETA, V, III, 89–90, testimony of José Coyo and Pascual Sirena.
6. CDBRETA, IV, II, 15, testimony of Micaela Bastidas, December 13, 1780. See also
CDBRETA, IV, II, 39, December 15, 1780, where she again refers to the cross.
7. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596, testimony of don Thadeo Fisona. They also frequently carried red
flags. See Vega, Historia general, 481–483.
8. Juan José Vega, José Gabriel Túpac Amaru (Lima: Editorial Universal, 1969), 48–55; see
also Jorge Cornejo Bouroncle, Tupac Amaru, la revolución precursora de la emancipación con-
tinental (Cuzco: Universidad Nacional del Cuzco, 1949), 156; J. R. Gutiérrez, ed., Documentos
para la historia antigua de Bolivia sacados de la biblioteca de J. R. Gutiérrez: sitios de Paz y el
Cuzco 1780–1781 (La Paz: Imprenta de la Unión Americana, 1879), 122.
9. Bishop Moscoso mentions this salary. He calculated that Tupac Amaru counted on ten thou-
sand Indian combatants and six hundred mestizos. CDIP, II, 2, 277, Moscoso, November 17,
1780.
10. CDBRETA, III, I, 84–85, testimony by Montecinos.
11. Víctor Angles Vargas, José Gabriel Túpac Amaru (Cuzco: n.p., 2004), 83–84; Melchor de
Paz, Guerra separatista: Rebeliones de Indios en Sur América, la sublevación de Tupac Amaru:
Crónica de Melchor de Paz, ed. Luis Antonio Eguiguren, 2 vols. (Lima: n.p, 1952), 1: 247–248,
“Carta del Coronel de las Milicia de Azángaro,” mentions Cabrera’s narrow escape. On the re-
gion’s obrajes, the key work is Neus Escandell-Tur, Producción y comercio de tejidos coloniales:
Los obrajes y chorrillos del Cuzco 1570–1820 (Cuzco: CBC, 1997).
12. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from don Joseph Albares y Nava, n.d.
13. This is reminiscent of the 1536–1537 siege of Cuzco, when the Incas misunderstood the
importance of writing and allowed Spanish messages to reach Lima. See John Hemming, The
Conquest of the Incas (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1970), 215–216.
14. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from don Joseph Albares y Nava, n.d.
15. CDBRETA, V, III, 126, testimony of José Esteban Escarcena. For another example in
which Tupac Amaru called for the abolition of all taxes and exactions other than the head tax,
see his January 17, 1781, decree in CDBRETA, III, 1, 110, from Tinta.
16. CDBRETA, V, III, 126, testimony of Escarcena.
17. From Escarcena’s testimony, CDBRETA, V, III, 126–127; also in Lewin, La rebelión de
Túpac Amaru, 445.
18. CDIP, II, 2, 258–259, letter from Tupac Amaru, November 12, 1780.
19. CDBRETA, V, III, 140–141, testimony of Escarcena.
20. This might have been an echo of Garcilaso de la Vega, who stressed the Inca’s firm treat-
ment of offenders. Garcilaso de la Vega, Royal Commentaries of the Incas and General History
of Peru (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1966), 96–99.
21. CDBRETA, V, III, 140–141, testimony of Escarcena.
22. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 537, letter from Miguel Martínez, Santa Rosa, November 14, 1780.
See also CDBRETA, V, III, 123–124, testimony of Escarcena, who before reaching Tungasuca
had heard that Tupac Amaru had received a “royal decree” from Madrid allowing him to kill ab-
usive corregidors and carry out radical reforms.
 23. CDIP, II, 3, 149–154, letter from Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru to Bishop Moscoso,
November 5, 1781, quote from 151.
24. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1042, testimony of Friar Juan de Rios Pacheco, Mercedarian. He claimed
that Tupac Amaru wrote on pieces of canvas to sneak messages into Cuzco.
25. CDIP, II, 2, 270–271, letter of November 15, 1780.
26. CDIP, II, 2, 272–273, document from Diego Chuguihuanca [sic], November 16, 1780.
27. Ward Stavig and Ella Schmidt, eds., The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions: An
Anthology of Sources (Indianapolis, Ind.: Hackett Publishing, 2008), 69–70; original document
in CDIP, II, 2, 274.
28. CDIP, II, 2, 271, letter from Tupac Amaru, and 274, “Edicto,” November 15, 1780.
29. Gutiérrez, “Relación histórica del principio, progresos y estado de la sublevación de José
Gabriel Tupac-Amaru. En cuatro décadas,” in Documentos para la historia antigua de Bolivia
sacados de la biblioteca de J. R. Gutiérrez: sitios de la Paz y el Cuzco 1780–1781, ed. J. R.
Gutiérrez (La Paz: Imprenta de la Unión Americana, 1879), 122.
30. Carlos Aguirre provides an excellent overview of slavery in Peru in Breve historia de la
esclavitud en el Perú: Una herida que no deja de sangrar (Lima: Editorial del Congreso del
Perú, 2005), 22. The percentages come from Alberto Flores Galindo, Aristocracia y plebe: Lima
1760–1830 (Lima: Mosca Azul, 1984), 100.
31. See Jean-Pierre Tardieu, El negro en el Cuzco: los caminos de la alienación en la segunda
mitad del siglo XVII (Lima: PUC, 1998); Frederick Bowser, The African Slave in Colonial Peru,
1524–1650 (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1974).
32. I use “it does not appear” because perhaps such a link can be uncovered—I did not find it.
The literature is vast. For an incisive overview, see David Brion Davis, Inhuman Bondage: The
Rise and Fall of Slavery in the New World (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006).
33. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 2:93.
34. Flores Galindo, Aristocracia y plebe; Charles F. Walker, Shaky Colonialism: The 1746
Earthquake-Tsunami in Lima, Peru and Its Long Aftermath (Durham, N.C.: Duke University
Press, 2008).
35. Aguirre, Breve historia de la esclavitud; Christine Hünefeldt, “Los negros de Lima
1800–1830,” Histórica 3 (1979): 17–51. The liberation of slaves became standard practice in the
Wars of Independence.
36. Peter Guardino makes this point for nineteenth-century Mexico. “La identidad nacional y
los afromexicanos en el siglo XIX,” in Prácticas Populares, Cultura Política y Poder en México,
Siglo XIX, ed. Brian Connaughton (Mexico City: Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana-Iztap-
alapa/Juan Pablos, 2008), 259–301.
37. CDBRETA, III, 1, the record of an emergency city council meeting on November 12,
1780, 69–72, quote from 69.
38. CDBRETA, I, 96–97, junta to Moscoso, November 14, 1780.
39. See the scathing letter by Bishop Moscoso about the junta’s internal disputes, July 20,
1782, in CDIP, II, 3, 329–346, esp. 337. He made similar charges in a November 29, 1780, letter,
CDBRETA, 1, 173–177.
40. David Cahill, “Crown, Clergy, and Revolution in Bourbon Peru: The Diocese of Cuzco,
1780–1814” (PhD diss., University of Liverpool, 1984), 258–259.
41. CDIP, II, 3, 337, letter from Moscoso, July 20, 1782.
 42. Cahill, “Crown, Clergy, and Revolution,” 256; for documentation, see CDBRETA, 1,
95–96.
43. CDBRETA, 1, 81–87, document from November 13, 1780, quotes from 83.
44. CDBRETA, 1, 81–87, document from November 13, 1780. Moscoso wrote López de Sosa
that same day, requesting that he persuade Tupac Amaru to “halt his efforts, which are desolating
all the towns where he passes.” AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, letter dated November 13, 1780.
45. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1: 246.
46. Ibid.; also Gutiérrez, Relación histórica, 120.
47. Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 447–553; Túpac Amaru y la Iglesia: antología
(Cuzco: Comité Arquidiocesano del Bicentenario Túpac Amaru, 1983), 212–215; Alejandro
Seraylán Leiva, Historia general del Ejército Peruano, III, 2, “Campañas militares durante la
dominación española” (Lima: Comisión Permanente de Historia del Ejército del Perú, 1981),
609–612; Walker, Smoldering Ashes, 36–39.
48. CDBRETA, 1, 421–424, testimony of Bartolomé Castañeda, November 20, 1780.
49. CDBRETA, I, 424, testimony of Bartolomé Castañeda; on the key and communion, see
Gutiérrez, Relación histórica, 119–121.
50. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:246–247.
51. CDBRETA, I, testimony of Juan de Mollinedo, 429–434, quote from 432.
52. CDBRETA, I, testimony of Juan de Mollinedo, 433.
53. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1586. These documents come from Mollinedo almost a decade later to
gain recognition for his aid to the royalists.
54. CDBRETA, I, 433–434.
55. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1042, testimony of Friar Juan de Rios Pacheco, Mercedarian.
56. Ibid.
57. These actions are taken from the sentence against her. CDBRETA, IV, II, 73–75, May 15,
1781, from Visitador General Areche.
58. Of course, many scholars have examined their inner circle. See Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy,
Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales: Perú y Bolivia 1700–1783 (Cuzco: CBC, 1985); David
Cahill, “Genocide from Below: The Great Rebellion of 1780–82 in the Southern Andes,” in
Empire, Colony, Genocide: Conquest, Occupation, and Subaltern Resistance in World History,
ed. A. Dirk Moses (New York: Berghahn Books, 2008), 403–423; Magnus Mörner and Efraín
Trelles, “A Test of Causal Interpretations of the Túpac Amaru Rebellion,” in Resistance, Rebel-
lion, and Consciousness in the Andean Peasant World, 18th to 20th Centuries, ed. Steve J. Stern
(Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1987), 94–109. CDBRETA III, 1, 3–6, a decree by
Areche dated March 8, 1781, has a list of rebel supporters excluded from a pardon.
59. The first quote is in AGI, Lima, Leg. 1042, from November 20, 1780, published in
CDBRETA, III, I, 4; the Micaela quote is in AGI, Lima, Leg. 1042, letter from Micaela Bastidas
to Señores gobernadores don Agustin y don Lucas Nuñez de la Torre y don Mathías Canal, Tun-
gasuca, December 7, 1780.
60. For a good example, see the letters from Villalba to Areche blaming both creoles and
priests, claiming that the Church “was the only culprit of all the damage.” AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041.
61. CDBRETA, III, 1, 259–261; several other testimonies confirm this. For example,
CDBRETA, III, 1, 261–262, court testimony by Isidro Toera and Domingo Pérez León.
 62. On Inca revivalism, messianism, and millenarianism, see, among many, Flores Galindo,
In Search of an Inca; Jorge Hidalgo Lehuede, “Amarus y cataris: Aspectos mesiánicos de la re-
belión indígena de 1781 en Cuzco, Chayanta, La Paz y Arica,” Chungará 10 (1983): 117–138;
Jan Szeminski, La utopía tupamarista (Lima: PUC, 1983).
63. CDBRETA, III, I, 4–5.
64. In Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 84–89, dated January
9, 1781; also in CDIP, II, 2, 395–401. Tupac Amaru owed de la Madrid money from his 1777 trip
to Lima. See testimony of Juan Antonio Figueroa, April 27, 1781 (who also mentions Micaela
Bastidas’s reliance on Quechua). CDBRETA, IV, II, 53–54; also Eulogio Zudaire, Don Agustín
de Jáuregui (II) virrey interino del Perú (Pamplona, Spain: Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institu-
ción Príncipe de Viana, 1979), 77–78.
65. In Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 85.
66. Ibid., 88. I have altered the translation slightly.
67. CDBRETA, III, I, 284, letter from Tupac Amaru to Micaela Bastidas, November 26, 1780.
68. CDBRETA, V, III, 137–138, testimony of Escarcena.
69. For example see the testimony by Bernardo de la Madrid, who mentions translators when
discussing with her as she spoke the “Indian language.” CDBRETA, IV, 2, 51, April 27, 1781.
70. Juan José Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros (Cuzco: Municipalidad del Qosqo, 1995),
1:78; see also O’Phelan Godoy, Un siglo, 229.
71. CDBRETA, V, III, 147, testimony of Escarcena, January 19, 1781.
72. AGI, Lima, Leg. 80, trial of Father Ildefonso Bejarano.
73. CDBRETA, IV, II, 324.
74. See CDBRETA, V, III, 151, Banda’s testimony; also mentioned by Francisco Molina,
CDBRETA, III, 1, 10. Banda mentions that Palacios encouraged Micaela to go first to Lampa, to
confront the Arequipa forces, and to then return to Cuzco, where taking the city would be “easy,”
153. This is an early use of the term gamonal, which in the nineteenth century became a synonym
of omnipotent landowners who exploited the Andean peasantry.
75. CDBRETA, V, III, 315–320. I have not seen more on these attempts.
76. CDBRETA, V, III, 374, testimony by Galleguillos, n.d.
77. O’Phelan Godoy, Un siglo, 243–257.
78. In their classic works on eighteenth-century social movements, both Flores Galindo and
O’Phelan Godoy provide numerous examples. Flores Galindo, In Search of an Inca; O’Phelan
Godoy, Un siglo.
79. David Garrett, Shadows of Empire: The Indian Nobility of Cuzco, 1750–1825 (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2005).
80. Cited by Luis Durand Florez, Introduction, CDBRETA, IV, II, XII.
81. Cahill, “Genocide from Below,” 413.
82. Like other creoles, they defected after the failed siege of Cuzco and the catastrophic battle
outside of the city, in Saylla, where royalists demolished the troops lead by Antonio Castelo.
Despite his insistence that he and his family had turned on the rebel, Antonio Castelo was ex-
ecuted alongside José Gabriel. Cahill, “Genocide from Below,” 414–416; Vega, Túpac Amaru y
sus compañeros, 37–72. For Andrés Castelo’s trial, see CDBRETA, III, 1, 519–550. For that of
Vicente Castelo, who was absolved, see CDBRETA, V, III, 501–545.
 3. A World without the Catholic Church?

1. Eulogio Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui (II) Virrey Interino del Perú (Pamplona, Spain:
Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institución Príncipe de Viana, 1979), 126. Parts of this chapter were
included in Charles Walker, “ ‘When Fear Rather than Reason Dominates’: Priests Behind the
Lines in the Tupac Amaru Rebellion (1780–1783),” in Facing Fear: The History of an Emotion
in Global Perspective, ed. Michael Laffan and Max Weiss (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University
Press, 2012), 54–73.
2. David Cahill, “Crown, Clergy, and Revolution in Bourbon Peru: The Diocese of Cuzco,
1780–1814” (PhD diss., University of Liverpool, 1984), 42–46.
3. For a recent overview, see Gauvin Alexander Bailey, The Andean Hybrid Baroque: Con-
vergent Cultures in the Churches of Colonial Peru (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame
Press, 2010). For a wonderful set of essays, see Ramón Mujica Pinilla, ed., El Barroco Peruano,
2 vols. (Lima: Banco de Crédito, 2002–2003).
4. For a sample of the fees, see Ward Stavig and Ella Schmidt, eds., The Tupac Amaru and
Catarista Rebellions: An Anthology of Sources (Indianapolis, Ind.: Hackett Publishing, 2008),
15–16. On the church and economy, see Kathryn Burns, Colonial Habits: Convents and the Spir-
itual Economy of Cuzco Peru (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1999).
5. Nicolas A. Robins, Priests-Indian Conflicts in Upper Peru: The Generation of Rebellion,
1750–1780 (Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 2007); Ward Stavig, The World of Tupac
Amaru: Conflict, Community, and Identity in Colonial Peru (Lincoln: University of Nebraska
Press, 1999). The archives are loaded with relevant documents; see Tupac Amaru y la Iglesia for
some rich examples.
6. Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy, “‘Ascender el estado ecclesiástico’: la ordenación de indios en
Lima a mediados del siglo XVIII,” in Incas e indios cristianos: Elites indígenas e identidades
cristanas en los andes coloniales, ed. Jean-Jacques Decoster (Cuzco: CBC-IFEA, 2002),
311–329; Charles F. Walker, Shaky Colonialism: The 1746 Earthquake-Tsunami in Lima, Peru
and Its Long Aftermath (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2008), 156–185.
7. Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 74–75; original in CDIP,
II, 2, 275. My translation incorporates a few words excluded by Stavig and Schmidt.
8. Summarized in Carlos Daniel Valcárcel, Túpac Amaru, el revolucionario (Lima: Moncloa-
Campodónico, 1970), 157, where the quote is found; Cahill deems the junta “fissiparous”
and convincingly shows that the bishop took over. Cahill, “Crown, Clergy, and Revolution,”
254–256.
9. Boleslao Lewin argued vehemently in the 1950s and 1960s about the essential role of the
Church, particularly Bishop Moscoso, in the defeat of the rebellion. See Boleslao Lewin, La re-
belión de Túpac Amaru, 3rd ed. (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967), 248, for a summary of his views.
Peruvian authors such as Carlos Daniel Valcárcel and Jorge Cornejo Bouroncle were more cir-
cumspect about Moscoso. Cahill, “Crown, Clergy, and Revolution,” chapter 5, smartly discounts
the interpretation of Moscoso as a rebel supporter.
10. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from the town of Yauri, December 2, 1780.
11. Testificación del R. P. M. Fr. Pedro de la Sota, Provincial en el Real Convento de la
Merced del Cuzco, in Juan Manuel Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada contra los artificios
de la calumnia (Lima: Biblioteca Nacional, in press), 98–105, esp. 99. See also Rolena Adorno,
“Images of Indian Ladinos,” in Transatlantic Encounters: Europeans and Andeans in the Six-
teenth Century, ed. Kenneth Andrien and Rolena Adorno (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1992), 232–270.
12. CDIP, II, 2, 716, testimony of Micaela Bastidas, April 22, 1781.
13. Quoted in Cahill, “Crown, Clergy, and Revolution,” 203, who provides much evidence
about his religiosity and even traditionalist views. For examples of how the rebels were not op-
posed to the Church, see AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041; CDBRETA, III, 16–17.
14. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista: Rebeliones de Indios en Sur América, la sublevación
de Tupac Amaru: Crónica de Melchor de Paz, ed. Luis Antonio Eguiguren, 2 vols. (Lima: n.p,
1952), 1:292. Letter from January 10, 1781.
15. CDIP, II, 3, 352–353, edicto of December 13, 1780, Tungasuca. Also in CDBRETA, IV,
II, 14–15.
16. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1030. See also AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, about Acomayo, Rondocan, and
Pirque.
17. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, testimony of don Domingo de Escalante. It was to his advantage to
claim that he did not know about the excommunication, and prosecutors seemed to believe him.
18. CDBRETA, III, I, 17–18, summarizes key points of Juan Esteben Escarcena’s testimony.
19. CDBRETA, III, 1, 111.
20. CDBRETA, III, 1, 19.
21. Cited in Emilio Garzón Heredia, “1780: Clero, elite local y rebelión,” in Entre la retórica
y la insurgencia: Las ideas y los movimientos sociales en los Andes, siglo XVIII, ed. Charles
Walker (Cuzco: CBC, 1996), 245–271, quote from 249.
22. Garzón Heredia, “1780,” 250. Cited in AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 66.
23. “Informe Relacionado del Cabildo del Cuzco,” (1784), in CDIP, II, 1, 97–148, quote from
114–115. I first consulted this in the Mata Linares Collection, Academia de Historia, Madrid.
24. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, anonymous letter to Don Joseph Domingo de Frías, secretario
Señor Don Francisco Xavier Delgado, December 10, 1780.
25. Several of the testimonies collected in the wake of the rebellion supporting Moscoso
stressed how his decree had prompted desertions among the enemy. For example, see the testi-
mony of Manuel de Mendieta, Dean of the Cathedral, in Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justi-
ficada, 89–90.
26. Key here are Robins, Priests-Indian Conflicts in Upper Peru, and Stavig, The World of
Tupac Amaru.
27. CDBRETA, III, I, 38–39, anonymous letter to Tupac Amaru, Calca, December 16, 1780.
28. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:280. Pumacahua was chastised for these actions
but not punished. This account highlights the impact of the excommunication.
29. Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada, 99, testimony by Friar Pedro de la Sota.
30. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from Bishop Moscoso to Viceroy Jáuregui, December 21,
1780.
31. Ibid. On November 14, 1780, the junta in Cuzco wrote to the bishop to request that he
maintain priests in Tinta and Quispicanchi, to provide information about the rebels. They also
asked that he censure the rebel in order to discourage his followers. CDBRETA, I, 96.
 32. “Informe Relacionado del Cabildo del Cuzco,” (1784), in CDIP, II, 1, 97–148, quote from
114. See also testimonies in Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada.
33. Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada, 90.
34. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from Moscoso to Antonio Areta, December 9, 1780.
35. Ibid.
36. Ibid.
37. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, “Causas contra varios curas por las rebeliones del Perú,
1785–1795,” is the key source for this section, including the trial against Juan de Luna and the
February 10, 1781, letter from Juan de Luna to Micaela Bastidas.
38. Ibid.
39. Yet as will be seen, this would change and rebels targeted priests, quite violently, particu-
larly in the south.
40. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, testimony of Domingo Escalante.
41. Grave fear constituted a valid excuse from censure “if the law is ecclesiastical and
if it’s nonobservance will not militate against the public good, the Faith, or the authority of
the Church.” See Canons 125, 2, 1324, 1325, and 1620, http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/
06020b.htm, accessed July 9. 2012. For an overview, see James A. Coriden, An Introduction to
Canon Law, rev. ed. (New York: Paulist Press, 2004), 3–32; John P. Beal, James A. Coriden, and
Thomas J. Green, eds., New Commentary on the Code of Canon Law (New York: Paulist Press,
2000), 179–180, 1542–1544, 1727–1730. Revised in 1917 and 1983, the Code emerged from the
late medieval period and was the guiding framework of the 1780 trials.
42. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, trial of don Antonio Chaves. The letter to Tupac Amaru is from
Sicuani, January 20, 1781.
43. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, letter from Yanaoca, December 26, 1780.
44. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80. Escalante was absolved in June 1782.
45. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, no date specified in sentence, 1782.
46. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80. For a letter from Gallegos to Bastidas, see CDIP, II, 2, 324, Decem-
ber 9, 1780.
47. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, letter from Bishop Moscoso, November 25, 1780.
48. Ibid.
49. Their activities are nicely summarized by David Cahill, “Crown, Clergy, and Revolution,”
241–245, quote from 241.
50. CDIP, II, 2, 304, letter from November 26, 1780.
51. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80, letter from Bejarano to Tupac Amaru, December 1, 1780.
52. These trials are found in AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80.
53. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 80.
54. Sources mention that Tupac Amaru usually had a priest alongside in his military cam-
paigns, but these priests are not named. López de Sosa and Bejarano did not venture far from
Pampamarca in late 1780 and 1781.
55. Volume 2 of the Colección documental del bicentenario de la revolución emancipadora
de Tupac Amaru (CDBRETA) focuses on the Moscoso trials. Most of this is from AGI, Lima,
Leg. 74–79, a stunningly large paper trail.
56. Francisco Loayza, ed., La verdad desnuda o las dos faces de un Obispo: Escrita en 1780
por un imparcial religioso (Lima: Los pequeños grandes libros de Historia Americana, 1943).
Miguel de Arriaga and Don Eusebio Balza de Berganza claimed that Arriaga was owed 170,000
pesos upon his death, a debt they hoped to recover. They suggested that in compensation they be
allowed to import slaves to Peru through Buenos Aires. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041.
57. Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada (Madrid: L.M. Vendero de Valero, 1790?);
thanks to the generosity of Patricia Lyon, who gave me access to the late John Rowe’s excellent
library. Also Raphael José Sahuaraura Titu Atauchi, Estado del Perú. Códice escrito en 1780 y
que contiene datos importantes sobre la Revolución de José Gabriel Túpac Amaru por Raphael
José Sahuaraura Titu Atauchi, ed. Francisco Loayza (Lima: Los pequeños grandes libros de His-
toria Americana, 1944); Estado del Perú in CDIP, II, 1, 331–415. On the Sahuaraura family, see
Javier Flores Espinoza, “Estudio,” and Teresa Gisbert, “Texto Explicativo,” in Don Justo Apu
Sahuaraura Inca, Recuerdos de la Monarquía Peruana o Bosquejo de la Historia de los Incas
(Lima: Fundación Telefónica del Perú, 2001).
58. On the Church in late colonial Spanish America, see David Brading, Church and State
in Bourbon Mexico: The Diocese of Michoacán 1749–1810 (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1994); Pamela Voekel, Alone Before God: The Religious Origins of Modernity (Durham,
N.C.: Duke University Press, 2002); Gabriel Paquette, Enlightenment, Governance, and Reform
in Spain and Its Empire 1759–1808 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011). I discuss the impact
of regalism in Walker, Shaky Colonialism.
59. The report by the Spanish military officers, Jorge Juan and Antonio de Ulloa, prompted
much debate about the “decadent” nature of the Church. Jorge Juan and Antonio de Ulloa, Dis-
course and Political Reflections on the Kingdom of Peru, ed. John TePaske (Norman: University
of Oklahoma Press, 1978), 280–316. First published in Spanish with the tantalizing title “Noti-
cias secretas …”
60. AGI, Lima, Leg. 187, letter from Areche to José Gálvez, June 23, 1781.
61. This is David Cahill’s line of argument in his important dissertation. Cahill, “Crown,
Clergy, and Revolution.”

4. The Rebellion Goes South

1. Eulogio Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui (II) virrey interino del Perú (Pamplona, Spain:
Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institución Príncipe de Viana, 1979), 144–146. See also AGI,
Cuzco, Legs. 75 and 76, for documents. Juan Manuel Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada
contra los artificios de la calumnia (Lima: Biblioteca Nacional, in press), testimony by Soto,
99–100. For the city’s preparations, see Carlos Daniel Valcárcel, Túpac Amaru el revolucionario
(Lima: Moncloa–Campodónica, 1970), 172–175.
2. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 145.
3. J. R. Gutiérrez, ed., Documentos para la historia antigua de Bolivia sacados de la bibli-
oteca de J. R. Gutiérrez, sitios de la Paz y el Cuzco 1780–1781 (La Paz: Imprenta de la Unión
Americana, 1879), 123.
4. Agustín de Jáuregui, Relación de gobierno, Perú (1780–1784), ed. Remedios Contreras
(Madrid: CSIC, 1982), 170; Leon Campbell, The Military and Society in Colonial Peru,
1750–1810 (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1978), 113–115.
 5. I have helped hundreds of students with soroche upon arrival in Cuzco—I tell them to rest.
The soldiers did not have this luxury. I learned from John West, High Life: A History of High-
Altitude Physiology and Medicine (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998); on Peru, see an ex-
cellent recent study, Jorge Lossio, El peruano y su entorno: aclimatándose a las alturas andinas
(Lima: IEP, 2012).
6. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 147–149, 158–161; Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de
Túpac Amaru, 3rd ed. (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967), 454–455; Jáuregui, Relación de gobierno,
170–174. At one point they considered a more southerly route through Arequipa.
7. Areche to corregidor de Abancay, December 11, 1780, Peru-1780, Lilly Library, Indiana
University.
8. John R. Fisher, Bourbon Peru, 1750–1824 (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2003),
168–169; Víctor Peralta Ruiz, “From Indiano Bureaucrats to Afrancesado Politicians in the Span-
ish Bonapartist State: The Cases of Azanza and Mata Linares,” in Napoleon’s Atlantic: The Im-
pact of Napoleonic Empire in the Atlantic World, ed. Christophe Belaubre, Jordana Dym, and
John Savage (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 177–197. Mata Linares’s extensive papers are found in the
Real Academia de la Historia, “Colección Mata Linares,” which proved very illuminating for this
study. For a catalogue, see Remedios Contreras, Catálogo de la Colección Mata Linares (Mad-
rid: Real Academia de la Historia, 1970).
9. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 147–151; Campbell, Military and Society, 113–117;
these letters are featured prominently in the ensuing chapters. Although Areche and Mata Linares
would subsequently be implacable hard-liners in the repression of the revolt (and, in general, the
Andean people), Areche did not initially believe that it amounted to much. He claimed, “Indians
don’t have the spirit or resolve [constancia].” Cited in Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 151.
10. CDIP, II, 2, November 25, 1780, “Edicto a los moradores de Lampa.” It is datelined “Tun-
gasuca,” but this was often done with documents written on the trail.
11. For the “five or six days quote,” see CDIP, II, 2, 305, November 26, 1780. On his concerns
about the five corregidors, see CDIP, II, 2, 322, December 1, 1780; see CDBRETA, V, III, 290,
about kurakas. For a summary, see Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 127.
12. Garcilaso de la Vega, Royal Commentaries of the Incas and General History of Peru
(Austin: University of Texas Press, 1966), 109–114, quote from 111. Other chapters describe the
Inca’s glorious subjugation of the Collao as well. Augusto Ramos Zambrano, Puno en la rebelión
de Túpac Amaru (Puno: Universidad Nacional Técnica del Altiplano, 1982), 78–87.
13. For example, see book 3, chapter 6, which describes how the Collas (people of the Collao)
fought with “great pertinacity and blindness” against the fourth Inca Maita Capac, whose reign
began around 1290. Royal Commentaries, 145–147, quote from 147.
14. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 537, from Provincia de la Plata, Audiencia de Charcas, “Méritos y
servicos del Corregidor que fue de Carabaya Don Miguel de Urbiola.”
15. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 537.
16. “Relación del cacique de Puno, de sus expediciones, sitios, defensa y varios … (Joaquín
de Orellana),” in Pedro de Angelis, Documentos para la historia de la sublevación de José Gab-
riel de Tupac-Amaru, cacique de la provincia de Tinta, en el Perú (Buenos Aires: Imprenta del
Estado, 1836), 60–103, esp. 60–65.
17. “Relación histórica del principio, progresos y estado de la sublevación de José Gabriel
Tupac-Amaru. En cuatro décadas,” in Gutiérrez, Documentos, 117–151, see 126. This account
contends that the “precipitated” flight of the corregidors who faced “only Tupac Amaru and his
3,000 troops” had been “criticized in this city [Cuzco].” Clearly, Orellana and the other corre-
gidors had a very different view of Tupac Amaru’s strength and troop numbers.
18. Ramos Zambrano, Puno en la rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 77–78.
19. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 537.
20. Alejandro Seraylán Leiva, Historia general del Ejército Peruano, III, 2, “Campañas mil-
itares durante la dominación española” (Lima: Comisión Permanente de Historia del Ejército del
Perú, 1981), 614.
21. Ramos Zambrano, Puno en la rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 65–67.
22. Ibid., 81–99, quote from 82; see also Gutiérrez, Documentos, 124–126.
23. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596, testimony about observer by don Pedro de la Vallina, coronel del
regimiento.
24. Gutiérrez, Documentos, 126, describes children dying of hunger in their mothers’ arms.
25. Gutiérrez, Documentos, 124–126.
26. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 172–173; document from AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 33.
27. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 537, “Méritos y servicios de Don Diego Choquehuanca, coronel del
Regimiento de Infanteria de los Naturales de esta provincia de Azángaro y cazique del pueblo de
este nombre.”
28. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 537, “Méritos y servicios de Don Diego Choquehuanca.” See also
Gutiérrez, Documentos, 126–128. On the Choquehuanca family, see David T. Garrett, Shadows
of Empire: The Indian Nobility of Cusco, 1750–1825 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2005).
29. Garrett, Shadows of Empire, 191. Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy, Kurakas sin sucesiones: Del
cacique al alcalde de indios, Perú y Bolivia 1750–1835 (Cuzco: CBC, 1997).
30. Clements R. Markham, A History of Peru (Chicago: Charles H. Sergel and Co., 1892),
200–201. Markham mistakenly says Azángaro, where Tupac Amaru did not reach. See Augusto
Ramos Zambrano, Tupamarus, Vilcapazas, Cataris, Ingariconas (Arequipa: Instituto de Estudi-
os Pukara, 2009), 48–50.
31. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, December 11, 1780.
32. Ramos Zambrano, Puno en la rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 89–90.
33. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041.
34. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596. The letter is unsigned but apparently from Father Joseph Eusta-
quio de Canavedo, of Vilque.
35. Ramos Zambrano, Puno en la rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 89–90.
36. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, Capellan Santiago de Ortega (?), Lampa, December 13, 1780.
37. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596, Gutiérrez Sonco’s undated testimony.
38. Ibid., Manuel Chuquipata’s undated testimony.
39. On his itinerary, see Ramos Zambrano, Tupamarus, 117.
40. CDIP, II, 2, 329–330, December 6, 1780.
41. “Informe de un clérigo sobre Tupac Amaru,” 1781, Lilly Library, Indiana University.
Renata Fernández Dominguez cites a different version of this quote in her dissertation, “Micaela
Bastidas en la histora, literatura y cultura peruana” (PhD diss., University of Kentucky, 2005),
89. Fernández Dominguez also analyzes the discourse about Micaela.
 42. CDIP, II, 2, 343, December 10, 1780. More of Micaela’s letters can be found in
CDBRETA, IV, 2, 78–88
43. CDIP, II, 2, 302, November 23, 1780.
44. CDIP, II, 2, December 8, 1780, 337–338.
45. CDIP, II, 2, 361–364, December 20, 1780; also in AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 76. The information
about Micaela comes from a series of letters found in CDIP, II, 2. For a selection of letters to her,
see Francisco Loayza, Mártires y heroinas (documentos inéditos del año de 1780 a 1782) (Lima:
Imprenta D. Miranda, 1945), 18–42.
46. CDBRETA, IV, II, 11, testimony of Manuel Galleguillos.
47. Ibid.
48. CDIP, II, 2, 355–356, December 16, 1780. He claimed that the people of Acomayo were
uncontrollable, acting “like wild beasts.”
49. CDIP, II, 2, 355, December 16, 1780.
50. CDIP, II, 2, 357, December 16, 1780.
51. CDIP, II, 2, 357, Micaela Bastidas to Señores Gobernadores, December 15, 1780.
52. CDIP, II, 2, 329–331, December 6, 1780, Micaela Bastidas to Tupac Amaru.
53. Jorge Cornejo Bouroncle, Sangre andina: Diez mujeres Cuzqueñas (Cuzco: H.G. Rozas
Sucesores, 1949), 109–136; Juan José Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 2 vols. (Cuzco:
Municipalidad del Qosqo, 1995), 2:409–412.
54. CDBRETA, III, 1, 493–494, Tomasa Tita Condemayta to Tupac Amaru, November 12,
1780.
55. CDIP, II, 2, Tomasa Tito Condemayta to Tupac Amaru, November 30, 1780, 321; ibid.,
340–341 (letter from Tomasa Tito Condemayta to Micaela Bastidas, December 9, 1780), also in
CDBRETA, III, 1, 491.
56. CDIP, II, 2, Tomasa Tito Condemayta to Micaela Bastidas, n.d., 341.
57. CDIP II, 2, December 20, 1780, Moscoso to Areche, 361–364; December 21, 1780, Mo-
scoso to Viceroy Jáuregui, 365–368. The “throat of the viceroyalty” quote is from 363.
58. CDIP, II, 2, 327.
59. The copies of this letter found in Seville, the AGI, and published in the CDIP do not in-
clude the confession. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 32; CDIP, II, 2, 332–333; ADC, Vega Centeno, No. 11,
1780. A guide to the Vega Centeno collection has been published. Imelda Vega Centeno, Cos-
tumbres indígenas, administración de bienes y normas eclesiásticas (s. XVI–XIX) (Cuzco: CBC,
2004), see 283 for this document.
60. ADC, Vega Centeno, No. 11, 1780.
61. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 146.
62. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, number provided by the Guayllabamba priest. See also
CDBRETA, I, 184–186, Moscoso to Jáuregui, December 22, 1780.
63. “Relación histórica,” Documentos, 128–129.
64. Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy, Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales: Perú y Bolivia,
1700–1783 (Cuzco: CBC, 1988), 235–237; Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy, La gran rebelión en los
andes: De Túpac Amaru a Túpac Catari (Cuzco: CBC, 1995), 47–68.
65. CDIP, III, 8, 408–416, “Relación de los Méritos y Servicios del Coronel Don Mateo Pu-
machahua, cacique y gobernador del pueblo de Chinchero,” quote from 411.
66. CDIP II, 1, 117, “Informe Relacionado del Cabildo del Cuzco, 1784.”
 67. “Relación histórica,” Documentos, 127; “Informe Relacionado,” 117–119; see also Mel-
chor de Paz, Guerra separatista: Rebeliones de Indios en Sur América, la sublevación de Tupac
Amaru: Crónica de Melchor de Paz, ed. Luis Antonio Eguiguren, 2 vols. (Lima: n.p, 1952),
1:277; CDBRETA, I, 237–240, letter from Moscoso to Areche, December 22, 1780.
68. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041; also “Informe Relacionado,” 120.
69. I thank Donato Amado for his geographical help. The quote is from Moscoso y Peralta,
Inocencia justificada, 102.
70. On the importance of the Apurimac bridge, see various documents in AGI, Lima, Leg.
1041; also ADC, Vega Centeno, No. 11, 1780, “copia de una carta de la mujer del rebelde
Tupamaro,” December 1780; CDIP, II, 2, 328; see also CDIP, II, 2, 350. Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy
stressed the importance of royalist kurakas from the Sacred Valley. De Túpac Amaru a Túpac
Catari, 47–68.
71. Silver, Our Savage Neighbors, is particularly important on this. Peter Silver, Our Savage
Neighbors: How Indian War Transformed Early America (New York: W. W. Norton, 2009).
72. Although Szeminski erred, in my mind, in framing this in terms of a somewhat ahistoric
Andean mentality, he shows how the rebels both expanded the definition of the enemy and jus-
tified violence against them. Jan Szeminski, La utopía tupamarista (Lima: PUC, 1983); see also
Szeminski, “Why Kill Spaniards? New Perspectives on Andean Insurrectionary Ideology in the
18th Century,” in Resistance, Rebellion, and Consciousness in the Andean Peasant World, 18th
to 20th Centuries, ed. Steve J. Stern (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1987), 166–192.
73. “Relación histórica,” 128–129. Vega stresses how this rebel violence hurt their prestige
and recruiting elements. Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 1:129–132.
74. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, Cuartel Gral. del Cuzco, December 22, 1780 (received in Lima
January 14, 1781).
75. CDIP, II, 2, 316 and 317.
76. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from Tupac Amaru, Tungasuca, December 23, 1780.

5. The Siege of Cuzco

1. In fact, the main path to Sacsayhuaman is called Cuesta Amargura, or Bitter Slope, because
so many Indians were hurt when rolling the massive stones down to build the cathedral.
2. Charles F. Walker, Smoldering Ashes: Cuzco and the Creation of Republican Peru,
1780–1835 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1999), 10–13; Paul Gootenberg, “Population
and Ethnicity in Early Republican Peru: Some Revisions,” Latin American Research Review 26,
no. 3 (1991): 109–157; Víctor Peralta Ruiz, En pos del tributo: Burocracia estatal, elite regional
y comunidades indígenas en el Cuzco rural (1826–1854) (Cuzco: CBC, 1991). On “thousands”
of Indians supplying the city, see Concolorcorvo, El Lazarillo. A Guide for Inexperienced Travel-
ers between Buenos Aires and Lima, tr. Walter D. Kline (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1965), 204.
3. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041.
4. Clerics again proved to be key informants. For example, AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, begins,
“Acaba de informarnos …”
5. CDIP, II, 1, 120–123, “Informe Relacionado del Cabildo del Cuzco, 1784.”
 6. CDBRETA, 1, 301, Moscoso to Reverendo Padre, Santo Domingo, December 31, 1780. He
pointed out that “precautions are always favorable.”
7. Juan Manuel Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada contra los artificios de la calumnia
(Lima: Biblioteca Nacional, in press), 99–101 (testimony of Mercedarian Pedro de la Sota).
8. Leon G. Campbell, The Military and Society in Colonial Peru, 1750–1810 (Philadelphia:
American Philosophical Society, 1978), 112. Moscoso continued to demand money from con-
vents in January; see his command on January 7, 1781, CDBRETA, I, 316–317; see also Mo-
scoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada.
9. Campbell, The Military and Society in Colonial Peru, 111–112; Eulogio Zudaire, Don
Agustín de Jáuregui (II) virrey interino del Perú (Pamplona, Spain: Diputación Foral de Navarra,
Institución Príncipe de Viana, 1979), 150–151. The city council also boasted that their measures
in mid- to late November had forced Tupac Amaru to “extend himself” and proceed south before
attacking the city. Nothing else indicates, however, that this factored into his decision. “Informe
relacionado,” 104–113.
10. Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 3rd ed. (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967), 455;
L. E. Fisher, The Last Inca Revolt, 1780–1783 (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1966),
120.
11. J. R. Gutiérrez, ed., Documentos para la historia antigua de Bolivia sacados de la bibli-
oteca de J. R. Gutiérrez: Sitios de la Paz y el Cuzco 1780–1781 (La Paz: Imprenta de la Unión
Americana, 1879), 126–127.
12. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from Ignacio de Santiesteban Ruiz Cano to Junta de Guerra,
December 19, 1780.
13. A carga or load is usually estimated at 120 liters. The challenging Andean terrain might
have reduced each load, or at least what each mule carried. I thank Ramiro Flores Guzmán for
help on this question.
14. On the majeños, see Zoila Mendoza, “Performing Decency: Ethnicity and Race in Andean
‘Mestizo’ Ritual Dance,” in Music and the Racial Imagination, ed. Ronald Radano and Philip
Bohlman (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 231–270.
15. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, testimony of Agustín Herrera.
16. Perhaps the intended date was Saturday, December 30. On the devotion to the Virgin Mary
on Saturdays, see “Saturdays and the Immaculate Heart of Mary,” www.mariancatechist.com/
formation/mary/saturdays/index.html (accessed 2/18/11).
17. AGI, Lima, 1041, testimony of Agustín Herrera.
18. Ibid.
19. Ibid.
20. AGI, Lima, 1041, testimony of Jorge Masías.
21. The historian Juan José Vega argues that Micaela Bastidas lost patience with Tupac Amaru
and began the march on Cuzco days before his return to Tungasuca. However, she quickly lost
control of the Quechua masses that had urged her to depart and did not get far before they stopped
and waited to rejoin the troops led by Tupac Amaru. His argument, based on scant documenta-
tion and relying heavily on assumptions about her “impulsive” nature, possible depression, and
misunderstanding of the rebellion’s “continental extension,” is not persuasive, but it highlights
differences between the two leaders and within the camp. Juan José Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus
compañeros, 2 vols. (Cuzco: Municipalidad del Qosqo, 1995), 1:127–139; 2:306–320.
 22. Gutiérrez, Documentos, 130. Padre de Sota also uses this number. Moscoso y Peralta, Ino-
cencia justificada, 101.
23. The sources do not discuss these “rabonas,” the women who accompanied the rebels. In
general, all of the troops were simply deemed “Indians” and thus not discussed.
24. CDIP, II, 1, 113–115, “Informe Relacionado.”
25. CDIP, II, 2, 376, 377 (two documents). He had written a similar note on December 21,
1780, about “Indians and Spaniards, who had stayed behind in Sicuani.” CDBRETA, III, 1, 293,
December 1, 1780, Tupac Amaru to Don Basilio Morales and Eugenio Figueroa. On Maruri, see
Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 2:375–377.
26. CDBRETA, III, I, 296, December 30, 1780.
27. CDIP, II, 2, 380.
28. CDIP, II, 2, 383.
29. Ibid.
30. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596, “quaderno 3, Testimonio formado sobre el alzamiento de la pro-
vincia de Tinta.”
31. Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 1:147; for more on Castelo see David Cahill,
“Genocide from Below: The Great Rebellion of 1780–82 in the Southern Andes,” in Empire, Co-
lony, Genocide: Conquest, Occupation, and Subaltern Resistance in World History, ed. A. Dirk
Moses (New York: Berghahn Books, 2008), 403–423.
32. Alejandro Seraylán Leiva, Historia general del ejército Peruano, tomo III, vol. 2, “Cam-
pañas militares durante la dominación española” (Lima: Comisión Permanente de Historia del
Ejército del Perú, 1981), 615–617.
33. For de la Madrid’s version, see CDIP, II, 2, 395–401, which sheds light also on how the
letters were received by Moscoso. For the letters, see Pedro de Angelis, Documentos para la his-
toria de la sublevación de José Gabriel de Tupac Amaru, cacique de la provincia de Tinta, en el
Perú (Buenos Aires: Imprenta del Estado, 1836), 18–24.
34. This is found in CDBRETA, 1, 327–328. The publishing history of these letters is com-
plicated. Those to Bishop Moscoso and the city council have been reprinted numerous times,
with errors. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 163–166, especially footnote 6, clarifies this. The
letters can be found in CDIP, II, 2, 377–378 and 378–380; a subsequent letter to the city coun-
cil is found on 394–395. This same volume mistakenly prints another copy of the letter to the
bishop with the date of December 12, 1780, a mistake first made by Angelis, Documentos para
la historia, 18–24. Zudaire also refers to the letter to Tupac Amaru’s “beloved compatriots” but
apparently read this in AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 77. I found it in CDBRETA, 1, 330–331. Zudaire, Don
Agustín de Jáuregui, 345–346.
35. John Lynch, Spanish Colonial Administration, 1782–1810 (London: University of London
Press, 1958), 4.
36. CDIP, II, 2, January 3, 1781, 377–378. “Thebes” refers to the decision by the Theban com-
mander Epaminondas not to take the weakened city of Sparta but rather return to Thebes in 371
BC.
37. CDIP, II, 2, 378, January 3, 1781.
38. Ibid. He also called for the establishment of a Real Audiencia in Cuzco, a high court, a
demand met in 1784.
39. CDBRETA, 1, 330–331.
 40. Zudaire notes his efforts to calm criollos. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 164–166.
41. Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 455. From the perspective of the city council, this
was absurd: he was not a legitimate authority and he was not about to take the city. See “Informe
relacionado,” 123, in which they called the letters “soberbia arrogancia.”
42. “Informe Relacionado,” 123–124. Tupac Amaru hoped to control the Caja de Agua, the
entryway to Anta Pampa and Lima.
43. CDIP, II, 2, 440. The account in Melchor de Paz repeats the bishop’s line that this charge
was “imprudent.”
44. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from José Casorla Tristán to Visitador Areche, January 14,
1781.
45. Letter from Jáuregui to King, February 15, 1781, cited in Eulogio Zudaire, “Análisis de la
rebelión de Tupac Amaru en su Bicentenario (1780–1980),” Revista de Indias 40 (1980), 13–70,
quote from 48. The viceroy had more than a year of hindsight at this point.
46. “Informe relacionado,” 120, uses the figure 60,000 rebels.
47. The sources never mention them. As it had done since it was coined in the sixteenth cen-
tury, the term “Indian,” used to describe Tupac Amaru’s mass followers, lumped together and
homogenized different social groups, in this case fighters and followers. The mention about the
more important rebels attacked in Saylla who slept in tents is a rare reference to differences
among the rebel followers.
48. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista: Rebeliones de Indios en Sur América, la sublevación
de Tupac Amaru. Crónica de Melchor de Paz, ed. Luis Antonio Eguiguren, 2 vols. (Lima: n.p,
1952), 1:283.
49. “Informe Relacionado,” 125.
50. CDBRETA, 1, 187, Moscoso, January 4, 1781.
51. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1586, “Secularización de los curatos y doctrinas,” testimony by Father
Juan Hurtado, 1790.
52. CDIP, II, 1, 331–415, 356, Rafael José Sahuaraura Titu Atauchi, Estado del Perú; Mo-
scoso y Peralta Inocencia justificada, 102–104, account of Padre de Sota.
53. CDIP, II, 1, 149–330, 217, Ignacio de Castro, Relación del Cuzco.
54. CDIP, II, 2, 459–460, Micaela Bastidas to Tupac Amaru, January 24, 1781.
55. Ibid.
56. Vega makes this point in Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 1:156.
57. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 32, trial of Figueroa. In CDBRETA, V, III, esp. 440–442.
58. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 32.
59. Mateo Urbicaín, “Sintético ‘diario’ de la Revolución,” in Preliminares del incendio:
Documentos del año de 1776 a 1780, en su mayoría inéditos, anteriores y sobre la Revolución
Libertadora que engendró y dió vida José Gabriel Túpak Amaru, en 1780, ed. Francisco Loayza
(Lima: Imprenta D. Miranda, 1947), 147.
60. CDBRETA, III, 1, 293–294, Tupac Amaru to Eugenio Canatupa Sinanyuca, December 29,
1780.
61. CDIP, II, 2, 441, Moscoso to Areche, January 14, 1781. See also the account in Lewin, La
rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 457–449, which mentions Friar Ramón Salazar.
62. CDIP, II, 2, 394–395, January 9, 1781.
 63. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596, “quaderno 3, Testimonio formado sobre el alzamiento de la pro-
vincia de Tinta.”
64. Gutiérrez, Documentos, 133; see also AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, José Casorla Tristán to
Areche, January 11, 1781.
65. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, José Casorla Tristán to Areche, January 11, 1781.
66. CDIP, II, 2, 442.
67. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596, letter from Gregorio Mariano Sánchez to Señor Gobernador
Diego Choquiguanca, January 17, 1781.
68. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:283.
69. “Historieta instructiva aunque concisa de la rebelión de José Gabriel Tupac Amaru que fue
executado …” 1781. I read this rare document in the Mata Linares Collection, Real Academia de
Historia, Madrid.
70. I play with this conjecture in a book on counterfactual Peruvian history. Charles F. Walker,
“Un Inca en Sacsayhuamán: Si Túpac Amaru hubiese tomado el Cuzco (1780–1781),” in Contra-
historia del Perú. Ensayos de Historia Política Peruana, ed. Eduardo Dargent and José Ragas
(Lima: MITIN, 2012), 33–47.
71. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596, “quaderno 3, Testimonio formado sobre el alzamiento de la pro-
vincia de Tinta.”
72. The idea comes from a single citation, but sources are so thin with regard to many facets
of the uprising, particularly the background and conditions of rebel fighters, that ideas emerging
from single citations have been repeated by generations of historians.
73. The best work on disease, medicine, and society in colonial Peru has focused on Lima. For
an important recent study, see Adam Warren, Medicine and Politics in Colonial Peru: Popula-
tion Growth and the Bourbon Reforms (Pittsburgh, Penn.: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2010).
74. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:283–284.
75. CDIP, II, 2, 441, Moscoso to Jáuregui. On the threat of food shortages, see Gutiérrez,
Documentos, 135–136; Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:284, which mentions “hunger”
spreading in January.
76. Gutiérrez, Documentos, 134–135.
77. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596, “quaderno 3, Testimonio formado sobre el alzamiento de la pro-
vincia de Tinta.”
78. CDIP, II, 1, 359–360, Sahuaraura, Estado del Perú.
79. CDIP, II, 1, 127, “Informe relacionado.”
80. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596, “quaderno 3, Testimonio formado sobre el alzamiento de la pro-
vincia de Tinta.”

6. In Pursuit of Tupac Amaru

1. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista: Rebeliones de Indios en Sur América, la sublevación

de Tupac Amaru. Crónica de Melchor de Paz, ed. Luis Antonio Eguiguren, 2 vols. (Lima: n.p,
1952), 1:333–335, March 20, 1781.
2. CDIP, II, 2, 590–592, “Auto que se publicó en esta ciudad del Cuzco,” March 20, 1781.
 3. CDIP, II, 2, 518–520, has the list of troops. Juan José Vega, “Túpac Amaru y su tiempo,” in
Historia general del ejército Peruano tomo II, vol. 1, ed. Juan José Vega (Lima: Comisión Per-
manente de Historia del Ejército del Perú, 1981), 421, notes the racial composition. Leon Camp-
bell, The Military and Society in Colonial Peru, 1750–1810 (Philadelphia: American Philosoph-
ical Society, 1978), 129–131.
4. Vega, “Túpac Amaru y su tiempo,” 418; Carlos Daniel Valcárcel, Túpac Amaru (Lima:
Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, 1977), 116–121.
5. The tally of troops itself in CDIP, II, 2, 518–520; for an English summary, see Campbell,
The Military and Society in Colonial Peru, 130–131.
6. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63, March 1, 1781; his abilities to resurrect were also covered in his trial:
see CDBRETA, III, I, 261, testimony of Diego Ortigoza, May 14, 1781,
7. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63, March 1, 1781.
8. Ibid.
9. Areche used the term cañada. CDIP, II, 2, 620, April 8, 1781.
10. CDIP, II, 2, 457–458, Moscoso to Areche, January 21, 1781. He warned that the control
of the Apurimac Bridge was fundamental to success.
11. CDBRETA, III, 1, 296–297, Comisiones to Felipe Cano and Tomás Quispe and to Lucas
Champi Tito Quecaño, January 14, 1781. Tupac Amaru oversaw the building of a defensive
wall outside of Combapata and trenches in Tinta. He apparently moved headquarters to Tinta,
where he had property. Later in the month, he visited Langui and perhaps made a quick visit to
the south. Eulogio Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui (II) virrey interino del Perú (Pamplona,
Spain: Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institución Príncipe de Viana, 1979), 175. See also AGI,
Cuzco, Legs. 75 and 76, for extensive documentation; Juan Manuel Moscoso y Peralta, Inocen-
cia justificada contra los artificios de la calumnia (Lima: Biblioteca Nacional, in press), testi-
mony of Soto, 99–100; Carlos Daniel Valcárcel, Túpac Amaru el revolucionario (Lima: Mon-
cloa–Campodónica, 1970), 172–175, for the city’s preparations.
12. Micaela Bastidas’s trial provides extensive documentation on this. See CDBRETA, IV, II.
13. For example, see the January 10, 1781, ultimatum by Juan de Dios Valencia. CDBRETA,
III, 1, 95–96, “pena de vida.” Other hints of disciplinary problems among the rebels can be seen
in CDBRETA, III, 1, 95–96, Santo Tomás, January 10, 1781; also CDBRETA, III, 1, 109–110,
Chumbivilcas, March 1781. Antonio Bastidas describes the difficulties in controlling rebel troops
in CDIP, II, 2, 501–502. Bastidas also worried that with the proximity of Carnival, rebel troops
would focus more on drinking than fighting. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 179.
14. Both letters found in Francisco Loayza, Mártires y heroinas (documentos inéditos del año
de 1780 a 1782) (Lima: Imprenta D. Miranda, 1945), 40, 41. Other letters here from early 1781
mention the prospect of Indians abandoning the struggle to tend to their fields and families.
15. On this point, see Magnus Mörner and Efraín Trelles, “A Test of Causal Interpretations of
the Túpac Amaru Rebellion,” in Resistance, Rebellion, and Consciousness in the Andean Peas-
ant World, 18th to 20th Centuries, ed. Steve J. Stern (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press,
1987), 94–109.
16. David Cahill, “Genocide from Below: The Great Rebellion of 1780–82 in the Southern
Andes,” in Empire, Colony, Genocide: Conquest, Occupation, and Subaltern Resistance in
World History, ed. A. Dirk Moses (New York: Berghahn Books, 2008), 403–423. Cahill over-
states his argument—Castelo was important but he and others never challenged José Gabriel and
Micaela for the leadership.
17. CDBRETA, III, 1, 519–550.
18. CDBRETA, III, I, 611–612.
19. Ibid.
20. CDBRETA, III, I, 612–613, from Tupac Amaru to Francisco Torres, January 17, 1781.
21. See Alejandro Seraylán Leiva, Historia general del ejército Peruano, III, 2, “Campañas
militares durante la dominación española” (Lima: Comisión Permanente de Historia del Ejército
del Perú, 1981), 624–625, for a map of these maneuvers.
22. See CDIP, II, 2, 512–517, for a detailed description of the attack.
23. J. R. Gutiérrez, ed., Documentos para la Historia Antigua de Bolivia sacados de la Bib-
lioteca de J. R. Gutiérrez. Sitios de la Paz y el Cuzco 1780–1781 (La Paz: Imprenta de la Unión
Americana, 1879), 138; Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:328–329; Jan Szeminski, “Why
Kill the Spaniard? New Perspectives on Andean Insurrectionary Ideology in the 18th Century,”
in Resistance, Rebellion, and Consciousness, 166–192.
24. Juan José Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 2 vols. (Cuzco: Municipalidad del
Qosqo, 1995), 2:395; CDIP, II, 1, “Informe relacionado,” 129–131. At this point, the rebels failed
to connect forces; Ramón Ponce and Parvina then attacked to the northeast, in Paruro, Cotabam-
bas, and the provincias altas. Paruro had provided troops to the royalists in the siege of Cuzco.
They attempted to cut the Pachachaca and Apurímac bridges to slow del Valle’s forces, but to no
avail.
25. Jorge Hidalgo Lehuede, “Amarus y cataris: Aspectos mesiánicos de la rebelión indígena
de 1781 en Cuzco, Chayanta, La Paz y Arica,” Chungará 10 (1983): 117–138.
26. As noted elsewhere, she also demonstrates the influence of Garcilaso de la Vega. O’Phelan
Godoy, “El ‘castigo ejemplar del traidor’: La radicalización de la violencia en el Bajo y el Alto
Perú,” in La gran rebelión en los andes: De Túpac Amaru a Túpac Catari (Cuzco: CBC, 1995),
105–137.
27. Szeminski, “Why Kill the Spaniard?”
28. A critique well made by O’Phelan Godoy. “El castigo ejemplar,” 109.
29. Cited in Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 176. From Mata Linares regarding Paruro.
30. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 176–177.
31. For masterful applications of longer timeframes to understand Katarista violence in Upper
Peru, see Sergio Serulnikov, Subverting Colonial Authority: Challenges to Spanish Rule in
Eighteenth-Century Southern Andes (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2003), and Sin-
clair Thomson, We Alone Will Rule: Native Andean Politics in the Age of Insurgency (Madison:
University of Wisconsin Press, 2002). Steve Stern stresses the need for multiple timeframes in
his “New Approaches to the Study of Peasant Rebellion and Consciousness: Implications of the
Andean Experience,” in Resistance, Rebellion, and Consciousness, 3–29, esp. 11–15.
32. CDIP, II, 2, 619–623, “Relación de los sucesos”; also in Melchor de Paz, Guerra separ-
atista, 1:356–359.
33. Campbell, The Military and Society in Colonial Peru, 126–153.
34. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040, Manuel Villalta to Señor Comandante General Avilés, Campo de
Sullumayo, March 26, 1781.
35. Vega, “Túpac Amaru y su tiempo,” 422.
 36. CDBRETA, 1, documentos varios, 535–543, del Valle to Viceroy Jáuregui, April 20, 1781.
I also consulted this in AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040.
37. CDBRETA, 1, 538–359.
38. “Sobre la supresión de la rebelión,” April 8, 1781, Lilly Library, Indiana University.
39. CDBRETA, 1, 541.
40. CDIP, II, 1, 582, Eusebio Balza de Berganza, “La Verdad desnuda.”
41. CDBRETA, 1, 542.
42. CDIP, II, 2, 620, letter from April 8, 1781.
43. Ibid. Antonio Bastidas explains the rebel retreat in CDBRETA, III, 1, 448–449, April 2,
1781.
44. Vega, “Túpac Amaru y su tiempo,” 422–427.
45. CDBRETA, III, I, 109–110, “Bando de Túpac Amaru sobre la conducta de los pobladores
de Chumbivilcas,” March 13, 1781.
46. CDIP, II, 2, 587–588. On the heads, see Luis Durand Florez, Introducción, CDBRETA,
IV, II, 13.
47. CDBRETA, III, I, Areche to Mata Linares, April 7, 1781, 314–315.
48. CDIP, II, 2, 587, del Valle diary, March 19, 1781.
49. CDBRETA, III, 1, 324, testimony by Francisco Cisneros. This is the only mention of
rebels cutting off and keeping heads as trophies, so it must be read skeptically.
50. Numerous documents refer to this. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 596, “quad. 3 Testimonio formado
sobre el alzamiento de la prov. de Tinta.”
51. CDIP, II, 2, 501–502, letter from Antonio Bastidas to Micaela Bastidas, February 15,
1781.
52. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040. This is an account to Areche, by Domingo Marnara and José
Acuña. Santo Tomás (Chumbivilcas), March 23, 1781.
53. CDIP, II, 2, 462.
54. Ibid.
55. Javier Flores Espinoza, “Justo Sahuaraura Inca y sus Recuerdos de la monarquía peru-
ana,” in Don Justo Apu Sahuaraura Inca, Recuerdos de la Monarquía Peruana o bosquejo de
la historia de los Incas (Lima: Fundación Telefónica, 2001), 23–25. The letter is in CDIP, II, 2,
521–531.
56. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 187.
57. CDIP, II, 2, 521–531.
58. CDIP, II, 2, 528–529. He sent similar letters to Bishop Moscoso. Zudaire, Don Agustín de
Jáuregui, 186.
59. CDIP, II, 2, 521–531; CDBRETA, III, 1, 204–222. For an overview about Quechua in
the eighteenth century, see Kenneth J. Andrien, “The Bourbon Reforms, Independence, and the
Spread of Quechua and Aymara,” in History and Language in the Andes, ed. Paul Heggarty and
Adrian J. Pearce (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 113–133. Andrien discusses the rela-
tionship of the Church and Quechua at 116–123.
60. CDIP, II, 2, 534–535.
61. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 77, Fernando Ramos Titu Atauchi to Moscoso.
62. CDIP, II, 2, 556–564, quote from 556. Also found in AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040.
63. CDIP, II, 2, 550, 556–564.
 64. Ibid.
65. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 189.
66. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040, Areche to Gálvez, March 1, 1781.
67. Ibid.
68. Vega, “Túpac Amaru y su tiempo,” 425. I did not find more information about the move-
ment of troops, but if Tupac Amaru did make this decision, he erred.
69. “Sobre la supresión de la rebelión,” April 8, 1781, Lilly Library, Indiana University.
70. On the deserter, see Carlos Daniel Valcárcel, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru (México: Fondo
de Cultura Económica, 1947), 116–117; see also L. E. Fisher, The Last Inca Revolt, 1780–1783
(Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1966), 217–220; Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac
Amaru, 3rd ed. (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967), 468–472.
71. Vega, “Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros,” 206.
72. CDIP, II, 2, 588.
73. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63, letter from del Valle, April 8, 1781; CDIP, II, 2, 610–623; also key is
Avilés, April 12, 1781, in Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:353–56 and 356–59. Del Valle
describes Tupac Amaru’s letter—I have never seen a copy and thus have doubts about its exist-
ence.
74. Markham provides a strong narrative of the Spanish offensive. Clements R. Markham, A
History of Peru (Chicago: Charles H. Sergel 1892), 202–205; Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui,
202.
75. CDBRETA, IV, 2, 43–45, Micaela Bastidas’s testimony from April 22, 1781. On the ac-
cusations, see “Relación histórica del principio, progresos y estado de la sublevación de José
Gabriel Tupac-Amaru. En cuatro décadas,” in Gutiérrez, Documentos, 147. Melchor de Paz,
Guerra separatista, 1:356–359 refers to a mule with their “stolen goods” slowing them down.
76. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:356–359. Landaeta’s testimony about the bribe of-
fer is at CDBRETA, III, 1, 180, April 26, 1781.
77. CDIP, II, 2, 637–640, lists a few of the rebels executed but admits that it omits many. Del
Valle cites sixty-seven executed. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:356–359.
78. According to Bishop Moscoso, Tupac Amaru himself spread this rumor in his testimony.
CDIP, II, 2, letter from Bishop Moscoso, April 13, 1781, 642–646.
79. CDBRETA, III, 1, del Valle to Areche, April 6, 1781, 7–9, quote from 8. The remark about
losing sleep is at CDIP, II, 2, 588.
80. For one example, see AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63, José Gabriel Tupac Amaru to his son, Mariano
April 7, 1781; CDBRETA, 303–304, to Diego Cristóbal, April 8, 1781. Others are found in AGI,
Cuzco, Leg. 33. The day before his capture, Tupac Amaru commissioned Andrés, his nephew,
to lead rebel forces in the south, in Lampa, Azángaro, and Carabaya, instructing him to punish
any disobedient follower and to impose “the death sentence” for anyone who deserted. Andrés
and others who had received these orders or heard of them certainly would not have believed the
letter. The commission for Andrés is in CDBRETA, III, 1, 113, Tupac Amaru, April 4, 1781.
81. “Sobre la supresión de la rebelión,” April 8, 1781, Lilly Library, Indiana University. The
quote and the account of bellringing are from this document, which also includes a list of prison-
ers. See Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 204–205, for a good summary of this.
82. CDBRETA, III, 1, 8, del Valle to Areche, April 6, 1781.
 7. Torment

1. J. R. Gutiérrez, ed., Documentos para la Historia Antigua de Bolivia sacados de la Bib-

lioteca de J. R. Gutiérrez. Sitios de Paz y el Cuzco 1780–1781 (La Paz: Imprenta de la Unión
Americana, 1879), 149; CDIP, II, 1, 134–135, “Informe Relacionado del Cabildo del Cuzco,
1784.”
2. CDBRETA, IV, II, 47, testimony of Francisco Tupac Amaru on Micaela Bastidas’s tears;
CDBRETA, IV, II, 11, testimony of Manuel Galleguillos on her understanding of the dangers, in
which he discusses her contingency plans if they were captured.
3. The best summary of the trials is Bohumir Roedl, “Causa Tupa Amaro: El proceso a los
tupamaros en Cuzco, abril–julio de 1781,” Revista Andina 34 (2002): 99–119. See also Mar-
iselle Meléndez, Deviant and Useful Citizens: The Cultural Production of the Female Body in
Eighteenth-Century Peru (Nashville, Tenn.: Vanderbilt University Press, 2011), 11–40; Scar-
lett O’Phelan Godoy, Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales: Perú y Bolivia 1700–1783 (Cuzco:
CBC, 1988), a pioneer in using the data from the trials. The trials, Legajos 32 and 33, are repub-
lished in CDBRETA.
4. CDBRETA, III, 1, 140–141.
5. Ibid.
6. CDBRETA, III, 1; the trial is on 138–155.
7. CDBRETA, III, 1, 155–171, quote from 155.
8. CDBRETA, III, 1; see the “careos” from 190–196.
9. CDBRETA, III, 1, 184–186; Eulogio Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui (II) virrey interino
del Perú (Pamplona, Spain: Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institución Príncipe de Viana, 1979),
218. The sheet is in AGI, Lima, Leg. 1050.
10. CDBRETA, III, 1, 184–186.
11. “Strappado,” en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strappado (accessed 7/7/12).
12. Juan Bautista Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años de cautiverio (memorias del inka Juan
Bautista Túpac Amaru), ed. Francisco A. Loayza (Lima: D. Miranda, 1945), 28–32.
13. CDBRETA, III, 1, 197.
14. CDBRETA, III, I, 196, “Auto de Tormento.”
15. “Strappado,” en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strappado (accessed 7/7/12).
16. George Ryley Scott, History of Torture through the Ages (London: Luxor Press, 1939),
168.
17. CDBRETA, III, I, 197–199. This is the diligenica del tormento.
18. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista: Rebeliones de Indios en Sur América, la sublevación
de Tupac Amaru. Crónica de Melchor de Paz, ed. Luis Antonio Eguiguren, 2 vols. (Lima: n.p,
1952), 1:405. In his memoirs, Tupac Amaru’s half-brother, Juan Bautista, claims that the defend-
ant declared, “Here, there are only two accomplices: you as the oppressor and I as the liberator.”
Túpac Amaru, Cuarenta años de cautiverio, 20–21.
19. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:405. Even if these quotes are fabricated, they show
how people understood Tupac Amaru as a courageous victim of Spanish brutality, a compelling
interpretation.
 20. This does not mean that they weren’t badly treated. One prisoner, Isidro Mamani, tried
to hang himself, almost succeeding. He gave as his reasons the mistreatment he received when
taken to Cuzco, his utter lack of money (“no tener medio real”), and threats of other prisoners.
CDBRETA, III, 1, 682–683. He was executed.
21. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 32, f. 66.
22. CDBRETA, IV, II, 71–72. Testimony from May 9, 1781. This was taken under duress and
Micaela and José Gabriel had not seen each other since their capture. It’s curious, however, that
scholars have not discussed this physical abuse, perhaps deeming it “normal” for the period. It
deserves more attention.
23. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 32, found in CDBRETA, IV, 11.
24. Meléndez, Deviant and Useful Citizens, 15–23, develops this.
25. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 32, f. 66.
26. Quoted in Roedl, “Causa Tupa Amaro,” 104.
27. CDIP, II, 2, 578–579, and for the English translation stored in the Public Record Office,
579–581; for a different English translation, see Ward Stavig and Ella Schmidt, eds., The Tupac
Amaru and Catarista Rebellions: An Anthology of Sources (Indianapolis, Ind.: Hackett Publish-
ing, 2008), 121–122. I have consulted both but made some changes.
28. CDIP, II, 2, 581; I have maintained the rustic English translation.
29. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 213–214.
30. Quoted in Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 222.
31. CDBRETA, III, I, 222–226, May 5, 1781.
32. CDBRETA, III, I, 234. José de Saldívar y Saavedra, May 5, 1781.
33. Roedl makes this point. Roedl, “Causa Tupa Amaro,” 109–111.
34. CDBRETA, III, I, 245–247. I reviewed the London Gazette Extraordinary and did not
find any mention of Tupac Amaru. The Chester Chronicle and General Advertiser published an
article on October 6, 1780, that refers to an English privateer who overtook a Spanish ship and
came across letters from Arequipa, Cuzco, La Paz, and Potosí. On October 10, the same period-
ical provides further details, based on the letters written by a Jesuit priest.
35. I thank Griselda Jarquin for her diligent work on British newspapers.
36. CDBRETA, III, 1, 250–259.
37. CDBRETA, III, 1, 259–261; several other witnesses confirm this. Ibid., 261–262, testi-
mony of Isidro Toera and Domingo Pérez León.
38. CDBRETA, III, 1, 267–268; for his property, see 224–226.
39. CDBRETA, III, I, 268–277. I have also used the English translation in Stavig and Schmidt,
The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 130–135.
40. Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 132. I have added a pas-
sage that they omitted from their translation, CDBRETA, III, I, 271.
41. Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 133.
42. Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 135; I have made a
minor change in the translation.
43. Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 133. For the Spanish
original, see CDBRETA, III, I, 268–277.
44. CDBRETA, III, I, 278–279, Areche, May 16, 1781.
45. CDBRETA, III, I, 280–281, Areche, May 17, 1781.
 46. CDBRETA, III, I, 279–288.
47. Daniel Valcárcel, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru (Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económ-
ica, 1965), 121–122.
48. CDBRETA, V, III, has these trials, including the sentences.
49. CDIP, II, 2, 776.
50. Zudaire, Don Augstín de Jáuregui, 173.
51. Pedro de Angelis, “Castigos ejecutados en la ciudad del Cuzco con Tupac-Amaru, su
muger, hijos y confidentes,” in Documentos para la historia de la sublevación de José Gabriel de
Tupac-Amaru cacique de la provincia de Tinta, en el Perú (Buenos Aires: Imprenta del Estado,
1836), 52–54, quote from 53. Also in CDIP, II, 2, 774–776.
52. CDIP, II, 2, 775. Zudaire vehemently disagrees with this, arguing that the garrote worked
on any size neck. It is a bizarre passage, since he passionately ridicules those who accept this
view but passively describes this ritualized torture. A meticulous historian, he is nevertheless the
rare apologist for the Spanish. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 228. On Micaela Bastidis’s
tongue, see Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:40; Durand Florez, Introducción, CDBRETA,
IV, 2, summarizes these arguments well; see pp. x–xii.
53. CDIP, II, 2, 775.
54. Clements R. Markham, A History of Peru (Chicago: Charles H. Sergel and Company
1892), 207.
55. CDIP, II, 2, 776.
56. CDIP, II, 2, 790–793.
57. Analysts, myself included, have too easily accepted the royalist intent of using the ritual
as a symbolic termination of the uprising.

8. The Other Side of the Lake

1. Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy, Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales: Perú y Bolivia 1700–1783

(Cuzco: CBC, 1988); see also María Eugenia del Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión de Tupac
Catari, 1781–1782 (La Paz: Don Bosco, 1990). For a recent comparative work, see Sergio Serul-
nikov, Revolution in the Andes: The Age of Túpac Amaru (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press,
2013).
2. For this summary, I draw heavily from del Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión de
Tupac Catari; Sergio Serulnikov, Subverting Colonial Authority: Challenges to Spanish Rule
in Eighteenth-Century Southern Andes (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2003); and Sin-
clair Thomson, We Alone Will Rule: Native Andean Politics in the Age of Insurgency (Madison:
University of Wisconsin Press, 2002). I also build on ideas presented in Charles Walker, “Pro-
logue,” Serulnikov, Revolution in the Andes, xi–xvi.
3. Serulnikov, Subverting Colonial Authority, 171–185; see the documents in Ward Stavig and
Ella Schmidt, eds., The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions: An Anthology of Sources (Indi-
anapolis, Ind.: Hackett Publishing, 2008), 182–214.
4. Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 208; Serulnikov, Subvert-
ing Colonial Authority, 187.
5. Thomson, We Alone Will Rule, 172.
 6. Cited in Oscar Cornblit, Power and Violence in the Colonial City: Oruro from the Mining
Renaissance to the Rebellion of Tupac Amaru 1740–1782 (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1995), 139.
7. Serulnikov, Subverting Colonial Authority, 103–133; Cornblit, Power and Violence in the
Colonial City, 167–172.
8. Del Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión de Tupac Catari, 3. This book provides an ex-
cellent overview of Julián Apaza, 1–30 and throughout.
9. Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 216, from Thomson, We
Alone Will Rule, 184.
10. Del Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión de Tupac Catari, 8–10. For a smart analysis of
how historians have not fully overcome contemporaries’ snide assessment of Katari as a barbar-
ian, see Thomson, We Alone Will Rule, 180–186.
11. Serulnikov develops the comparison in Revolution in the Andes; O’Phelan Godoy has long
linked the analysis of the two social movements; see O’Phelan Godoy, Un siglo de rebeliones
anticoloniales. On more contemporary tensions between Inca and Aymara identities, see E. Gab-
rielle Kuenzli, Acting Inca: National Belonging in Twentieth-Century Bolivia (Pittsburgh, Penn.:
University of Pittsburgh Press, 2013).
12. Del Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión de Tupac Catari, esp. 241–258.
13. Ibid., 45–60.
14. Ibid., 1–30.
15. CDIP, II, 2, “Relación del éxito,” 407.
16. CDBRETA, III, I, Ponce to Tupac Amaru, February 1781, 589.
17. CDBRETA, III, I, Ponce to Tupac Amaru, March 5, 1781, 590–591.
18. Juan José Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 2 vols. (Cuzco: Municipalidad del
Qosqo, 1995), 2:401. Ponce was referring to Isidro Mamani and Andrés Guara.
19. Del Valle de Siles is excellent on this. Historia de la rebelión de Tupac Catari, 31–52.
20. “Relaciones de las operaciones militares del General Dn. Joaquín de Orellana,” in Melchor
de Paz, Guerra separatista: Rebeliones de Indios en Sur América, la sublevación de Tupac
Amaru: Crónica de Melchor de Paz, ed. Luis Antonio Eguiguren, 2 vols. (Lima: n.p., 1952),
1:389–403, quote from 395.
21. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:375.
22. Ibid., 376.
23. Ibid.
24. Augusto Ramos Zambrano, Puno en la rebelión de Túpac Amaru (Puno: Universidad Na-
cional Técnica del Altiplano, 1982), 236–237; Mamani’s trial is in CDBRETA, III, I, 665–687.
See also Orellana in Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:375–377.
25. On his capture and the quote, CDBRETA, III, I, 672, Orellana, July 10, 1781.
26. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:382, 386, report from Don Celedonio Bermejo,
April 21, 1781.
27. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:373, “Capitulo de carta que refiere la derrota de los
Yndios rebeldes por el Comandante Don Ygnacio Flores en las inmediaciones de Chuquisaca.”
28. Ibid., 376, 378–379.
29. Alberto Flores Galindo, In Search of an Inca: Identity and Utopia in the Andes (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 106–120; Carlos Sempat Assadourian, Sistema de la
economía colonial: mercado interno, regiones y espacio económico (Lima: IEP, 1982); Enrique
Tandeter, Coacción y mercado: La minería de la plata en el Potosí colonial, 1692–1826 (Cuzco:
CBC, 1992).
30. For an incisive account on contemporary Bolivia, including the legacy of the eighteenth-
century rebellions, see Sinclair Thomson and Forrest Hylton, Revolutionary Horizons: Past and
Present in Bolivian Politics (New York: Verso, 2007).
31. Primary accounts include “Diario de los Sucesos del Cerco de la Ciudad de La Paz en
1781, por el Brigadier Don Sebastián de Segurola,” in Archivo Boliviano: Colección de docu-
mentos relativos a la historia de Bolivia, ed. Vicente de Ballivián y Rojas, 2nd ed. (La Paz: Casa
Municipal de la Cultura Franz Tamayo, 1977), 1–183; Francisco Tadeo Diez de Medina, Diario
del alzamiento de indios conjurados contra la ciudad de Nuestra Señora de La Paz 1781, ed.
Maria Eugenia del Valle de Siles (La Paz: Don Bosco, 1981). For analysis, see Mark Thurner,
“Guerra andina y política campesina en el sitio de La Paz, 1781,” in Poder y violencia en los
andes, ed. Henrique Urbano (Cuzco: CBC, 1991), 93–121. See also letters in Stavig and Sch-
midt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 227–239.
32. Del Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión de Tupac Catari, 179.
33. Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 3rd ed. (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967),
515–517.
34. Del Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión de Tupac Catari, 175–180.

9. Southern Campaigns

1. For example, on October 17, 1781, Diego Cristóbal deemed himself the “legitimate broth-
er” of “Governador Don Joseph Gavriel Tupa Amaru.” See Eulogio Zudaire, Don Agustín de
Jáuregui (II) virrey interino del Perú (Pamplona, Spain: Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institu-
ción Príncipe de Viana, 1979), 332.
2. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista: Rebeliones de Indios en Sur América, la sublevación
de Tupac Amaru. Crónica de Melchor de Paz, ed. Luis Antonio Eguiguren, 2 vols. (Lima: n.p,
1952), 2:159.
3. Diego Cristóbal made more spelling mistakes and did not have the flourish of José Gabriel.
For example, see his August 19, 1781, letter to Fray Miguel Morán. Lilly Library, Indiana
University.
4. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040, del Valle to Francisco Cuellar, June 22, 1781. Cuellar was governor
of Castrovirreina, part of Huancavelica. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 192.
5. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 255.
6. Sergio Serulnikov, Revolution in the Andes: The Age of Túpac Amaru (Durham, N.C.:
Duke University Press, 2013), 56–59. On the Choquehuanca clan, see Nils Jacobsen, Mirages of
Transition: The Peruvian Altiplano, 1780–1930 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993),
82–84.
7. Jacobsen, Mirages of Transition, describes and examines the altiplano well.
8. Lillian Fisher summarizes who was where. L. E. Fisher, The Last Inca Revolt, 1780–1783
(Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1966), 252.
9. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63, letter from del Valle, to Josef de Gálvez, June 26, 1781.
 10. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040, which has considerable information about this period and violence;
also AGI, Lima, Leg. 600; for del Valle’s account, AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63, June 26, 1781; Pedro
de Angelis, Colección de obras y documentos relativos a la historia antigua y moderna de las
provincias del Río de la Plata (Buenos Aires: J. Lajouane and CIA, 1910), tomo IV (5 vols.),
316. On this journey and other events examined here, see Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac
Amaru (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967), 484–527; Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 255–268; L.
E. Fisher, The Last Inca Revolt, 242–280.
11. AGI, Lima, Leg. 660, Martínez to Areche, June 22, 1781. See also AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040,
for Areche’s critique.
12. Almost all accounts of del Valle’s campaign rely on the “Relación histórica de los sucesos
de la rebelión de José Gabriel Tupac-Amaru, en las provincias del Perú, el año de 1780,” found
in the second edition of Angelis’s document collection. Angelis, Colección de obras, IV, 316;
see also Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 257, and Gauvin Alexander Bailey, The Andean Hy-
brid: Baroque Convergent Cultures in the Churches of Colonial Peru (Notre Dame: University
of Notre Dame Press, 2010), 282–284, who calls Maruri a “Robin Hood priest.” Maruri was de-
ported to Spain but freed in 1787. CDIP, II, 4, 372–373.
13. Augusto Ramos Zambrano, Tupamarus, Vilcapazas, Cataris, Ingariconas (Arequipa: In-
stituto de Estudios Pukara, 2009), 27–50.
14. “Relación histórica de los sucesos,” 317.
15. Ibid.; Ramos Zambrano, Tupamarus, Vilcapazas, 53–55.
16. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63, del Valle to Gálvez, June 26, 1781.
17. Ibid.
18. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1039, January 2, 1781, from don Vicente Oré, corregidor de Lampa.
19. ADC, Vega Centeno Collection, bolsa 3, number 35, 1783, “Criminal Pedro Quispe Indio
de Paucartambo.”
20. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63, del Valle to Gálvez, June 26, 1781. See AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63, from
June 6, 1781, Cuellar to del Valle. Also in August 8, 1781, letter in Melchor de Paz, Guerra sep-
aratista, 2:92.
21. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 2:91; see also AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63, letter from del
Valle to Gálvez, July 18, 1781.
22. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63. This letter is dated September 28, 1781, when del Valle is attempting
to justify his failure, but the details ring true.
23. Ibid.
24. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, Manuel de Castilla to Areche, April 28, 1781.
25. Alicia Poderti, Palabra e historia en los Andes: La rebelión del Inca Túpac Amaru y el
noroeste argentino (Buenos Aires: Corregidor, 1997), 41–67; Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de
Túpac Amaru, 3rd ed. (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967), 573–611 on Argentina and 538–687 for the
rebellion’s repercussions in other areas in Spanish America.
26. John Phelan, The People and the King: The Comunero Revolution in Colombia, 1781
(Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1978); Horacio Rodríguez Plata, “Tupac Amaru y los
comuneros de Socorro,” Correo de los andes 2, 5 (Bogotá, 1980): 25–32; on the spread to what
became Venezuela, see Jorge Guillermo Llosa, “Bicentenario de la rebelión de Túpac Amaru,”
Academia Nacional de la Historia 64 (1981): 303–308.
 27. William B. Taylor, Drinking, Homicide, and Rebellion in Colonial Mexican Villages
(Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1979), 120.
28. Jacobsen, Mirage, 107–148, on the multiple challenges to the wool economy in the alti-
plano.
29. Orellana, “Relación del cacique de Puno,” in Documentos para la historia de la subl-
evación de José Gabriel de Tupac-Amaru, Cacique de la provincia de Tinta en el Perú, ed.
Pedro de Angelis (Buenos Aires: Imprenta del Estado, 1836), 80–81; Augusto Ramos Zambrano,
Puno en la rebelión de Túpac Amaru (Puno: Universidad Nacional Técnica del Altiplano, 1982),
213–214.
30. Orellana, “Relación del cacique,” 80–85; Ramos Zambrano, Puno, 152–162; María Eu-
genia del Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión de Túpac Catari, 1781–1782 (La Paz: Don Bo-
sco, 1990), 46–51.
31. Orellana, “Relación del cacique,” 86–87.
32. Ibid., 87.
33. Ibid., 92; parts of this account, by Orellana, are also found in Melchor de Paz, Guerra sep-
aratista, 1:423–426.
34. Orellana, “Relación del cacique,” 91–98.
35. Letter from Jáuregui to King Charles III, May 20, 1781, quoted in Zudaire, Don Agustín
de Jáuregui, 259.
36. Ibid.
37. Orellana, “Relación del cacique,” 99–100.
38. Ibid., 100.
39. Del Valle, May 25, 1781, in Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 2:458–460.
40. I build from the detailed account in AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040, José Lagos to Areche, Santa
Rosa, May 25, 1781.
41. Ibid.
42. Ibid.
43. Orellana, “Relación del cacique,” 100. Lagos himself continued to criticize the junta’s de-
cision. In a June letter to Areche, he claimed that the kingdom was in worse shape than before
the capture of Tupac Amaru. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040, Lagos to Areche, June 18, 1781.
44. Orellana, “Relación del cacique,” 101.
45. Ibid., 102.
46. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, Jáuregui to Gálvez, August 4, 1781, citing del Valle’s July 4 letter.
47. Alejandro Seraylán Leiva, Historia general del ejército Peruano, III, 2, “Campañas mil-
itares durante la dominación española” (Lima: Comisión Permanente de Historia del Ejército del
Perú, 1981), 736; the quote is from a September 28, 1781, letter from del Valle to José de Gálvez,
also in AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 63.
48. Carlos Daniel Valcárcel, Túpac Amaru el revolucionario (Lima: Moncloa–Campodónico,
1970), 138–139.
49. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, Jáuregui to Gálvez, August 4, 1781, citing del Valle’s July 4 letter.
50. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040, del Valle to Jáuregui, dated July 12, 1781; for another version of
the same quote, see AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, Jáuregui to Gálvez, August 4, 1781, citing del Valle’s
July 4 letter.
51. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040, Areche to Jáuregui, June 29, 1781.
 52. Ibid.
53. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040, letter from del Valle to Jáuregui, July 12, 1781. On the term, see
Walter Laqueur, “The Origins of Guerrilla Doctrine,” Journal of Contemporary History 10 (July
1975): 341–382.
54. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040, del Valle to Viceroy Jáuregui, July 12, 1781.
55. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from May 29, 1782. On del Valle’s death, Zudaire, Don
Agustín de Jáuregui, 467. I assume that Gaceta refers to the Gaceta de Madrid; I am not sure
about the Cádiz periodical.
56. These letters are found in several legajos in Seville. For a summary, see Zudaire, Don
Agustín de Jáuregui, 262–267, who lists the Areche correspondence, brimming with conspirat-
orial excess.
57. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 1:386–388, anonymous quote from 386.
58. Diego Cristóbal to Fray Miguel Morán, Azángaro, August 19, 1781. Lilly Library, Indiana
University.
59. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1044, “Relación de los sucesos,” June 25, 1781. Also found in AGI,
Cuzco, Leg. 63.
60. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1044, “Relación de los sucesos.”
61. Letter from the priest José Eustaquio Caravedo, quoted in Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac
Amaru, 290.
62. Ibid.
63. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 329–330, highlights the more critical versions; Lewin
the less critical; see La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 491–492.

10. The Pardon and the Cease-Fire

1. For one version, see Theda Skocpol, States and Social Revolutions: A Comparative Study
of France, Russia, and China (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979).
2. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista: Rebeliones de Indios en Sur América, la sublevación
de Tupac Amaru. Crónica de Melchor de Paz, ed. Luis Antonio Eguguren, 2 vols. (Lima: n.p,
1952), 2:164, letter from don Juan Bautista de Zavala, November 3, 1781. English translation in
Ward Stavig and Ella Schmidt, eds., The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions: An Anthology
of Sources (Indianapolis, Ind.: Hackett Publishing, 2008), 231–234.
3. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 2:165.
4. María Eugenia del Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión de Tupac Catari, 1781–1782 (La
Paz: Don Bosco, 1990), 5–7.
5. Del Valle de Siles documents these tensions well. See del Valle de Siles, Historia de la re-
belión de Tupac Catari, 24–31. See also Sergio Serulnikov, Revolution in the Andes: The Age of
Túpac Amaru (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2013), 154–158. On Andrés Tupac Amaru
and Gregoria Apaza, including some love letters, see Teodosio Imaña Castro, “De lo pasional en
la vida de los caudillos indígenas de 1780,” Historia y Cultura 1 (1973, La Paz): 125–142.
6. Serulnikov, Revolution in the Andes, 156; the quotes are from an anonymous account trans-
lated in Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 235–237 (with slight
modification).
 7. Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 235–237. See also del
Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión de Tupac Catari, 267–280. Other accounts include Se-
bastián Segurola’s diary, “Diario de los sucesos del cerco de la ciudad de La Paz en 1781,” in
Colección de documentos relativos a la historia de Bolivia, 2nd ed., ed. Vicente Ballivián y Ro-
jas (La Paz: Municipalidad de la Paz, 1977).
8. Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967), 521.
9. Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 515–526; del Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión
de Túpac Catari, 305–333; Serulnikov, Revolution in the Andes, 157–159.
10. Serulnikov, Revolution in the Andes, 158, uses the term “collapse.”
11. Serulnikov, Revolution in the Andes, 157–159; del Valle de Siles, Historia de la rebelión
de Tupac Catari, 317–329.
12. Death sentence against Tupac Katari in Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and
Catarista Rebellions, 241–242. Sisa had been captured months before her husband, in July 1781.
13. “Tratado Celebrado con Miguel Tupac-Amaru,” November 3, 1781, in Documentos para
la historia de la sublevación de José Gabriel de Tupac-Amaru, Cacique de la provincia de Tinta
en el Perú, ed. Pedro de Angelis (Buenos Aires: Imprenta del Estado, 1836), 130–132; Eulogio
Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui (II) virrey interino del Perú (Pamplona, Spain: Diputación
Foral de Navarra, Institución Príncipe de Viana, 1979), 344–349; Juan José Vega, Túpac Amaru
y sus compañeros, 2 vols. (Cuzco: Municipalidad del Qosqo, 1995), 2:447–449. The fact that
Miguel was tried in Buenos Aires rather than Lima probably saved him from the death penalty.
Doubts remain about whether he was Micaela’s half- or full brother.
14. Jáuregui to Gálvez, December 16, 1782. Cited to AGI, Lima, Leg. 1044, by Zudaire, Don
Agustín de Jáuregui, 339; I found this document in Leg. 1041.
15. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1085; Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, offers a timeline, 309–311.
16. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 236.
17. Ibid.
18. Ibid., 237, 379–380.
19. See Areche’s sharp letter against del Valle. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, Areche to Gálvez,
October 16, 1781. Other important documents are found here as well.
20. See his detailed letter, Areche to Gálvez, October 3, 1781, in which he called the pardon
“exorbitant.” AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040. On this correspondence, see Zudaire, Don Agustín de
Jáuregui, 317.
21. CDIP, II, 3, 104–120, “Manifiesto que hace, José del Valle,” September 30, 1781, quote
from 119–120.
22. José del Valle to Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru, Cuzco, October 10, 1781. Transcription
found in John Rowe Archive, Spanish American Mss. Box 5, Yale University Library (Bingham
Collection, from F. Pérez de Velasco).
23. Azángaro to del Valle, October 18, 1781, in Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista,
2:153–154.
24. Ibid.
25. Ibid.
26. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 75, letter from Moscoso to Diego Cristóbal, November 3, 1781.
27. Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru to Bishop Moscoso, November 5, 1781, in Melchor de Paz,
Guerra separatista, 2:167–171, quote on 168.
 28. Ibid.; for kuraka letter, see Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 341–342.
29. Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru to Bishop Moscoso, November 5, 1781, in Melchor de Paz,
Guerra separatista, 2:167–171.
30. Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaru to Moscoso, Azángaro, January 3, 1782, in Melchor de Paz,
Guerra separatista, 2:171–172.
31. Valdez declared that the bishop was the rebel leader’s “life, shadow, asylum, compass,
guide, anchor, and pastor.” Letter from don Antonio Valdez to Bishop Moscoso, Azángaro, Janu-
ary 3, 1781, in Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 2:172–174, quote from 173.
32. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from Diego Cristóbal to del Valle, December 5, 1781. He
complained about the abuses of the Choquehuanca clan.
33. RAH, Colección Mata Linares, Mata Linares to Gálvez, December 1, 1782, Lima, 75V.
34. See letter from Moscoso to Diego Cristobal, November 17, 1781, Cuzco, in Melchor de
Paz, Guerra separatista, 2:154–155.
35. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 348–350.
36. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 2:155–160, account by Ramón de Arias, December
11, 1781.
37. Ibid., 157.
38. Ibid. See also Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 355.
39. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 359.
40. Zudaire summarizes a variety of documents, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 350–355.
41. Letter from don Juan Bautista Zavala, La Paz, January 15, 1782, in Melchor de Paz,
Guerra separatista, 2:186. He states that Arias was “fooling himself” in believing that clemency
would pacify Indians.
42. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 2:174–175.
43. Ibid.
44. For the offer of support if he returned to arms, see Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 362.
45. “Relación de lo acaecido en el rendimiento de Diego Cristóbal Tupac Amaro, el que se
efectuó a diez del dia 26 de enero de 1782” (Sicuani, January 29, 1782). This document was pub-
lished in Monumentos literarios del Perú, colectados por Don Guillermo del Rio, ed. Guillermo
del Rio (Lima: Imprenta de los Huérfanos, 1812). I am using the much-improved transcription
by John Rowe, kindly granted to me by his widow, Pat Lyon.
46. “Relación de lo acaecido.”
47. Jorge Cornejo Bouroncle, Sangre andina: Diez mujeres Cuzqueñas (Cuzco: H. G. Rozas,
1949), 174–192; Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 2: 413–416 provides brief biographical
sketches.
48. See Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 366. We know little about Condori.
49. “De un vecino del Cuzco a un Ministro de Madrid,” September 1, 1782, in La verdad des-
nuda o las dos faces de un obispo, ed. Francisco Loayza (Lima: D. Miranda, 1943), 152–186,
quote from 184. See also Leon Campbell, “Rebel or Royalist? Bishop Juan Manuel de Moscoso
y Peralta and the Tupac Amaru Revolt in Peru, 1780–1784,” Revista de Historia de América
86 (1978): 135–167, for the context—these were part of a campaign against Bishop Moscoso.
Cachuas or Kashwas is the name of a common group dance in Carnival.
50. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 368.
51. Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista, 2:206–207, Bando (edict), February 20, 1782.
 11. The Rebellion in Limbo

1. CDIP, II, 3, 240–242, “Bando Publicado en Lima a 20 de febrero.”

2. L. E. Fisher, The Last Inca Revolt, 1780–1783 (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press,
1966), 370; Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista: Rebeliones de Indios en Sur América, la suble-
vación de Tupac Amaru: Crónica de Melchor de Paz, ed. Luis Antonio Eguiguren, 2 vols. (Lima:
n.p, 1952), 2:187–190, “Carta que refiere.”
3. Juan Bautista Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años de cautiverio (memorias del inka Juan Bautista
Túpac Amaru), ed. Francisco A. Loayza (Lima: D. Miranda, 1945), 29.
4. Ibid., 29–30.
5. Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años.
6. Quoted in Eulogio Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui (II) virrey interino del Perú
(Pamplona, Spain: Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institución Príncipe de Viana, 1979), 403, 405.
7. These activities, however, did not indicate that rebels were abandoning the fight, one that
they undertook in the name of the king and Church. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letters from Salcedo
to Moscoso, March 20, 1782, and February 26, 1782.
8. Ibid.
9. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, Salcedo to Moscoso, February 26, 1782.
10. Ibid. It is not clear who took the position.
11. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, Valdés to Moscoso, February 26, 1782, Checacupe. Markham in-
cludes Aronis in a list of kurakas loyal to the Crown in the uprising. Clements R. Markham,
Travels in India and Peru (London: John Murray, 1862), 147.
12. The “Informe Relacionado del Cabildo” incorrectly contends that Diego Cristóbal accom-
panied del Valle in his campaign to La Paz. CDIP, II, I, 141–142.
13. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from del Valle, March 6, 1782, Sicuani.
14. For example, see AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter by Francisco de Cuellar, June 22, 1782,
Sicuani.
15. Augusto Ramos Zambrano, Tupamaros, Vilcapazas, Catarias, Ingariconas (Arequipa: In-
stituto de Estudios Pukara, 2009), 79–88; Lizandro Luna, El Puma Indomable: la sublevación
indígena de 1780 en Azángaro (Puno: Editorial Samuel Frisancho Pineda, 1982).
16. Zudaire, Don Agustín Jáuregui, 406.
17. Cited in Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967),
701–702. More information in AGI, Lima, Leg. 661, esp. letter from Jáuregui to King Charles
III, February 23, 1782.
18. Sebastián Segurola, “Diario de operaciones,” in Melchor de Paz, Guerra separatista,
2:241–255, quote from 243.
19. Ibid., 244.
20. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 374–376, summarizes this well. For the Moscoso letter,
see 375, from AGI, Lima, Leg. 661. Resistance continued in the Yungas to the north until August
1782. See Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 702.
21. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, letter from Diego Cristóbal to Salcedo, November 5, 1782.
22. Juan José Vega, Túpac Amaru y sus compañeros, 2 vols. (Cuzco: Municipalidad del
Qosqo, 1995), 2:414. He provides no proof.
 23. Fisher, The Last Inca Revolt, 373–374; documentation can be found in AGI, Lima, Leg.
1045.
24. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 411.
25. Carlos Daniel Valcárcel, Túpac Amaru, precursor de la independencia (Lima: UNMSM,
1977), 143–144.
26. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, del Valle to Jáuregui, August 8, 1782; Fisher, The Last Inca Revolt,
373–374.
27. See Kathryn Burns’s wonderful article on this, “Amor y rebelión en 1782: El caso de
Mariano Tupac Amaru y Mariana Mejia,” Histórica 16 (1992): 131–176. The 1776 law had been
modified in the late 1770s. On Salcedo’s views, see AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, letter from Moscoso
to Jáuregui, September 30, 1782; also AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, letter from Avilés to “Exc. Señor,”
October 1, 1782.
28. Burns, “Amor y rebelión,” 152–176, esp. 168–170.
29. Ibid., 144–145. More documentation can be found in AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, particularly
a letter from Bishop Moscoso to Viceroy Jáuregui, September 30, 1782.
30. Examples includes AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, Avilés to “Ex. Señor,” October 1, 1782. The
letters refer to zurrón de plata or leather satchels.
31. Letter from Jáuregui to Areche, March 2, 1781, Lilly Library, Indiana University.
32. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1091, “Duplicado de los autos,” has extensive documentation. Zudaire,
Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 408–409. In a May 8, 1782, letter to Bishop Moscoso, Diego Cristóbal
refers to the accusations about his hidden wealth and excessive income. Melchor de Paz, Guerra
separatista, 2:237–240.
33. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1040, Areche to Gálvez, October 3, 1781.
34. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, Areche to Gálvez, May 29, 1782.
35. Ibid., marginal note dated February 10, 1783. On documents such as these and how people
have read (and scribbled on) them, see Kathryn Burns, Into the Archive: Writing and Power in
Colonial Peru (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2010).
36. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041. These are marginal comments to a letter from Jáuregui to Gálvez,
March 23, 1782, the comments dated February 27, 1783.
37. Juan Manuel Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada contra los artificios de la calumnia
(Lima: Biblioteca Nacional, in press), 67.
38. Ibid., 60–67.
39. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, Moscoso to Jáuregui, July 16, 1782, Urubamba. Here Moscoso
mentions the complaints by Andrés about Franciscan friars who were overcharging Indians. The
Franciscans discounted the complaints, contending that their work was more necessary than ever.
Del Valle chimed in that he thought “separation by force” would be counterproductive because it
might lead people, that is, Indians, to believe that the amnesty and thus the cease-fire was over.
AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, letter from Moscoso to Jáuregui, July 16, 1782; del Valle to Jáuregui,
August 20, 1782.
40. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, Salcedo to Jáuregui, July 28, 1782.
41. Although Areche learned of the change in a February 1782 letter and handed over the po-
sition to Escobedo in June 1782, he remained in Peru until March 1783. For short biographies
of Areche and Escobedo, see John R. Fisher, Bourbon Peru 1750–1824 (Liverpool: Liverpool
University Press, 2003), 162–166.
 42. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, letter from Avilés to Jáuregui, May 23, 1782. Tupac was often
spelled Tupa and Amaru alternated with Amaro.
43. Ibid., letter from Baulen to Jáuregui, October 20, 1782.
44. Ibid., letter from Baulen to Jáuregui, October 1, 1782.
45. Ibid., letter from Bishop de Campos to Jáuregui, June 11, 1782, La Paz.
46. Ibid., letter from Luis Orós to General don Raimundo Necochea, September 27, 1782.
47. Ibid., letter from Gabriel Avilés to Viceroy Jáuregui, September 8, 1782.
48. Ibid., letter from Avilés to Jáuregui, December 28, 1782. The incident occurred earlier.
49. Cited in Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 406–407, from August 31, 1782.
50. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, testimony by Necochea, July 22, 1782, Catca.
51. Ibid. This report came from Necochea’s assistant Dr. Don Feliciano Masías.
52. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, Necochea, July 22, 1782, Catca. For more, see Mata Linares, “In-
forme de Mata Linares a Gálvez sobre los delitos de Diego y Mariano Tupac Amaru, Andrés
Mendigure y algunos de sus secuaces,” May 31, 1783, Cuzco. RAH, Colección Mata Linares,
#1585.
53. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, document from September 6, 1782, apparently from Necochea.
54. Ibid., testimony of Fernando Iguilus, Urcos, 1782, n.d.
55. Ibid., testimony of Felipe Mendoza. Mendoza could not sign his name, a sign that he was
certainly among the lower ranks of Spaniards.
56. Ibid., testimony of Esteban Grados.
57. Ibid., letter from Avilés to Viceroy Jáuregui, Cuzco, September 8, 1782.
58. Ibid.
59. Ibid., testimony of Esteban Torres.
60. Ibid., testimony of Miguel de Zegarra, who had been Quispe’s secretary.
61. Ibid., testimony of Francisco Laime, indio regidor of Muñacpata, June 15, 1782.
62. For example, the new Visitador and Superintendent of the Royal Treasury, Jorge Escobedo
y Alarcón, questioned Diego Cristóbal’s sincerity in early September 1782. Zudaire, Don Agustín
de Jáuregui, 408.
63. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, Avilés to Jáuregui, December 20, 1782.
64. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, testimony of Don Andrés Navarro.
65. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, Jáuregui to Gálvez, December 16, 1783.
66. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, “Expediente sobre las asignaciones.”
67. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, testimony of Vicente Ninavilca.
68. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, testimony of Lorenzo Condori, who saw Guaygua’s head exhibited
on a pike in Ocongate.
69. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, testimony of Necochea, January 30, 1783; Matías Arce, a Spaniard
from Marcapata; and Felipe Monsón, a Spaniard, who mentions the sash.
70. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045. In the trial they reviewed the papers found in Simón Condori’s
pockets. One document was dated May 3, 1781; this seemed legitimate. The others were from
1782, after the cease-fire.
71. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, testimony of Lorenzo Condori, Ocongate, February 15, 1783.
72. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, testimony of Mariano Tupac Amaru.
 12. Ordered by the Catholic King

1. These documents are reviewed in Eulogio Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui (II), virrey
interino del Perú (Pamplona, Spain: Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institución Príncipe de Viana,
1979), 413–416.
2. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 416. For a summary of the viceroy’s actions, see his
May 5, 1783, letter to Gálvez, in Juan Bautista Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años de cautiverio (me-
morias del inka Juan Bautista Túpac Amaru), ed. Francisco A. Loayza (Lima: Imp. D. Miranda,
1945), 112–115.
3. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1045, Mata Linares to José de Gálvez, May 31, 1783. He summarizes the
different charges and the benefits of ridding Peru of the Tupac Amaru.
4. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 417.
5. See CDIP, II, 1, “Informe Relacionado del Cabildo,” esp. 144–147.
6. For the list, see Ward Stavig and Ella Schmidt, eds., The Tupac Amaru and Catarista
Rebellions: An Anthology of Sources (Indianapolis, Ind.: Hackett Publishing, 2008), 136–138;
Pedro de Angelis, ed., Documentos para la historia de la sublevación de José Gabriel de Tupac-
Amaru Cacique de la Provincia de Tinta, en el Perú (Buenos Aires: Imprenta del Estado, 1836),
176–178.
7. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1096, letter from Escobedo to Gálvez, April 16, 1783.
8. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 424. See also Boleslao Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac
Amaru (Buenos Aires: SELA, 1967), 708, who condemns the trial as a charade.
9. CDIP, II, 1, 142–144, “Informe Relacionado del Cabildo,” is one summary.
10. Eulogio Zudaire provides the most detailed account of this period and he passionately de-
fends Mata Linares and others. Most historians censure them.
11. Sentence in Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 161–164.
Trial in AGI, Lima, Leg. 1046. The appeal by Diego Cristóbal’s lawyer is found in CDIP, II, IV,
222–224. Sebastián Medina y Arenas, Protector de Naturales, argued that the punishment was
too cruel and that Diego Cristóbal was not of sound mind. He also requested that Marcela Castro
have her tongue cut after her death, not before. His appeal was rejected and he was fined 100
pesos. On Moscoso and Salcedo, see Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 436–437.
12. De Angelis, Documentos, 188.
13. Their trial can be found in ADC, Colección Vega Centeno, bolsa 4, July 17, 1783. See also
de Angelis, Documentos, 184–187 and 188–191.
14. I have used the sentence as well as the summary of the execution by Agustín Chacón y
Becerra. De Angelis, Documentos, 184–187, 188–191. The sentence in English can be found in
Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 161–164.
15. Stavig and Schmidt, The Tupac Amaru and Catarista Rebellions, 162–164.
16. De Angelis, Documentos, 184–187, 188–191.
17. AGI, Charcas, Leg. 598, letter from Avilés and Mata Linares to Jáuregui, August 1, 1783.
18. Zudaire summarizes these events and the flurry of orders and reports that crossed the
Andes and the Atlantic Ocean in Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 439–441. The real orden can be found
in AGI, Lima, Leg. 666.
 19. Cited in Núria Sala i Vila, “La rebelión de Huarochirí de 1783,” Entre la retórica y la in-
surgencia, ed. Charles Walker (Cuzco: CBC, 1995), 273–308, quote from 281.
20. Sala i Vila, “La rebelión,” 295. On the Paititi, see Alberto Flores Galindo, In Search of an
Inca: Utopia and Identity in the Andes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 32–36,
49–52.
21. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 430–434. Sentence in CDIP, II, 3, 402.
22. RAH, Mata Linares Collection, documents collected March 4, 1784, letter from March
1783.
23. CDIP, II, 3, 385, Mata Linares to Necochea, May 14, 1783. Necochea answered two days
later from Urcos, showing the speed of communications.
24. CDIP, II, 3, 386–389, Mata Linares to Jáuregui, May 31, 1783.
25. Zudaire presents this as a sign of his humanity. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 428.
Mata Linares and other authorities knew that imprisoning hundreds of indigenous people and
others accused of being accomplices would be impractical and unproductive. I do not believe that
this makes it a humane decision.
26. Six people had been executed on July 19; the seventh person sentenced, Isidro Aguirre,
had died in jail. Philippe Seiler, “Response to Rebellion in Bourbon Spain: Colonial Revolt and
Imperial Reactions, 1763–1783” (PhD diss., Tulane University, 1995), 246–248. Seiler builds
on data provided by Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy in Un siglo de rebeliones anticoloniales: Perú y
Bolivia 1700–1783 (Cuzco: CBC, 1988), 308–320. See CDIP, II, 3, 393, for a list of those sent to
Lima.
27. Loayza provides the breakdown of the ages; Zudaire differs and also argues that only six
were chained. See Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años, 128–130; Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui,
444–445.
28. Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años, 36.
29. Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años, 32–37. Loayza uses the expression “via crucis” in his sum-
mary of the trip, 111–140.
30. CDIP, II, 3, 396, Commander Jacinto Iriarte, November 5, 1783, Camino Real.
31. Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años, 131–132, letter from Capellán Pablo Lopes to Viceroy
Jáuregui, November 4, 1783.
32. CDIP, II, 3, 398–401, letters from Jacinto Iriarte to Viceroy Jáuregui, November 12, 1783,
Ica, and November 28, 1783, Lima.
33. CDIP, II, 3, 425–427, letter from Viceroy Jáuregui to Gálvez, April 1, 1784, Lima. For the
sentence see AGI, Lima, Leg. 1046, Testimonio del Cuaderno, 9.
34. “San Pedro de Alcantara,” www.abc.se/~pa/mar/spa.htm (accessed 5/10/11).
35. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 466. For a list of passengers, see CDIP, II, 3, 427–428.
36. For two lists, see CDIP, II, 3, 464–467.
37. Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años, 40–43.
38. CDIP, II, 3, 464–466, “Relación de los Pasageros,” February 25, 1785; Tupac Amaru,
Cuarenta años, 148–149.
39. Lewin, La rebelión de Túpac Amaru, 712. His figures are from Juan Bautista Tupac
Amaru.
40. Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años, 43–49.
 41. “El hundimiento de San Pedro Alcántara,” www.todoababor.es/datos_docum/
hundimiento-sanpedro.htm (accessed 1/6/12).
42. CDIP, II, 3, 460–466, has a variety of documents about the chaotic arrival in Spain and the
confusion after the shipwreck.
43. “San Pedro de Alcantara,” www.abc.se/~pa/mar/spa.htm.
44. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1049, September 7, 1787, petition from Castillo de Santa Catalina. Re-
printed in Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años, 78–79.
45. CDIP, II, 3, 495, document from July 29, 1792, Madrid. See also documents in AGI, Char-
cas, Leg. 597, request from Miguel Tupac Amaru, Cádiz. Unfairly and even viciously, Zudaire
claims that he died of hypochondria. Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 449.
46. Tupac Amaru, Cuarenta años, 50.
47. Ibid., 50–56.
48. Ibid., 56–60.
49. Bartolomé Mitre, Historia de Belgrano y de la Independencia Argentina, 3 vols. (Buenos
Aires: F. Lajouane, 1887), 2:420–424.
50. More needs to be known about Juan Bautista’s long life. See Eduardo Astesano, Juan
Bautista de América: El Rey Inca de Manuel Belgrano (Buenos Aires: Ediciones Castañeda,
1979); Alfredo Varela, Memorias del hermano de Túpac Amaru escritas en Buenos Aires
(Buenos Aires: Editorial Boeda, 1976).
51. Charles F. Walker, Smoldering Ashes: Cuzco and the Creation of Republican Peru,
1780–1835 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1999), 59–61.
52. Ibid.
53. RAH, Colección Mata Linares, #1593, May 31, 1783.
54. On late colonial ideologues and their views on Indians, see Pablo Macera, Trabajos de
historia, 4 vols. (Lima: Instituto Nacional de Historia, 1977). Also important are David T. Gar-
rett, Shadows of Empire: The Indian Nobility of Cuzco, 1750–1825 (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2005); Alcira Dueñas, Indians and Mestizo in the “Lettered City:” Reshaping
Justice, Social Hierarchy, and Political Culture in Colonial Peru (Boulder: University Press of
Colorado, 2010).
55. Clements R. Markham, A History of Peru (Chicago: Charles H. Sergel and Company,
1892), 205. Quechua can be spelled different ways.
56. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1041, letter from Jáuregui to Gálvez, June 20, 1781; more is found in
AGI Lima, Leg. 1046. For a good overview, see David Cahill, “El visitador general Areche y su
campaña iconoclasta contra la cultura andina,” in Visión y símbolos: Del Virreinato criollo a la
república peruana, ed. Ramón Mujica Pinilla (Lima: Banco de Crédito, 2006), 85–111.
57. For the history of Quechua debates in eighteenth century, see Bruce Mannheim, The Lan-
guage of the Inka since the European Invasion (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1991); Ken-
neth Andrien, “The Bourbon Reforms,” and Adrian J. Pearce, “Reindigenization and Native Lan-
guages,” in History and Language in the Andes, ed. Paul Heggarty and Adrian J. Pearce (New
York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 113–133, 135–162, as well as other essays in this important
collection.
58. Eunice Joiner Gates, “Don José Antonio de Areche: His Own Defense,” HAHR 8, 1
(1928): 14–42; for a biographical synopsis see John R. Fisher, Bourbon Peru, 1750–1824 (Liver-
pool: Liverpool University Press, 2003), 162–163.
 59. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 29, Antonio Samper to Sr. Marqués Caballero, 1807.
60. RAH, Mata Linares, #1606, informe de Mata Linares, June 30, 1781.
61. Ibid.
62. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 29, Mata Linares to Jáuregui, June 30, 1783.
63. AGI, Lima, Legs. 1055 and 1056; Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui, 453–455. There is
one mention of the friendship with Palacios in CDBRETA, I, 526, testimony from don Esteban
Zuñiga.
64. David Cahill, “A Liminal Nobility: The Incas in the Middle Ground of Late Colonial
Peru,” in New World, First Nations, ed. David Cahill and Blanca Tovías (Brighton, United King-
dom: Sussex Academic Press, 2006), 169–195, quote from 181.
65. I am relying on the excellent article by Cora Bunster and Ana María Lorandi, “El fantasma
del criollismo después de la rebelión de Túpac Amaru,” Histórica 30, 1 (2006): 99–135. The key
information can be found in AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 29. See also Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui,
450–457; David Cahill, “Repartos ilícitos, y familias principales en el sur andino: 1780–1824,”
Revista de Indias 182–83 (1988): 453–455, and Cahill, “A Liminal Nobility,” 179–182, for in-
formation on the family itself.
66. Lorandi and Bunster, “El fantasma del criollismo,” 113.
67. Summarized nicely in Ana María Lorandi, “Sospechas de sospechas, de sospechas: me-
morial de un militar ilustrado a finales del siglo XVIII,” Fronteras de la historia 14, 1 (2009):
128–148, which analyzes the document produced by Juan Manuel Fernández Campero, a Ugarte
brother-in-law, about their case.
68. Lorandi and Bunster, “El fantasma del criollismo.” See also Lorandi, “Sospechas de so-
spechas”; Cahill, “A Liminal Nobility.”
69. Juan Manuel Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada contra los artificios de la calumnia
(Lima: Biblioteca Nacional, in press).
70. CDBRETA, 1, 545–569, quote from 545. This includes key sections from AGI, Cuzco,
Leg. 74. The verdad desnuda was not published until 1943 but could be found in Spanish
archives. CDIP, II, 1, 459–650; Francisco Loayza, La verdad desnuda o dos faces de un obispo
(Lima: D. Miranda, 1943). Here the author appears as “Un imparcial religioso,” but it was clearly
by Eusebio Balsa de Berganza.
71. Gustavo Bacacorzo, Don Juan Manuel de Moscoso y Peralta (Lima: UNMSM, 1982),
72–77; Zudaire has a different view on Moscoso and the Madrid court. Zudaire, Don Agustín de
Jáuregui, 489–490; Charles Walker, “Prólogo,” in Mosoco y Peralta, Inocencia justificada.
72. CDBRETA, II, “Descargos del Obispo del Cuzco Juan Manuel Moscoso y Peralta,” which
is from AGI, Cuzco, Legs. 77 and 78.
73. For more on Moscoso, see Walker, “Prólogo.” Spanish fascists executed the poet Federico
García Lorca in Viznar in 1936.
74. Moscoso y Peralta, Inocencia justificada, 89. This is testimony from Dr. D. Manuel de
Mendieta, Déan de la Santa Iglesia del Cuzco.

Conclusion

1. AGI, Lima, Leg. 1088, letter from Moscoso to Jáuregui, June 8, 1782.
 2. RAH, Mata Linares Collection, #1571, Carta de Mata Linares a Gálvez, sobre la expedición
al Cuzco para someter a Tupac Amaru, January 18, 1781, Huamanga.
3. The literature on change in the late eighteenth century is vast. For a sharp overview, see
Gabriel Paquette, Enlightenment, Governance, and Reform in Spain and its Empire, 1759–1808
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008).
4. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 65, letter to Sr. Intendente Conde Ruiz de Castilla, June 28, 1798.
5. AGI, Cuzco, Leg. 29, Moscoso to Areche, April 13, 1781.
6. See the detailed explanation by Juan Carlos Estenssoro, “La plástica colonial y sus rela-
ciones con la gran rebelión,” Revista Andina, 9, 2 (1991): 415–439.
7. I thank Professor Tom Cummins for alerting me to this and sharing images.
8. Charles F. Walker, Smoldering Ashes: Cuzco and the Creation of Republican Peru,
1780–1835 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1999), 72–77.
9. Cited in Eulogio Zudaire, Don Agustín de Jáuregui (II) virrey interino del Perú (Pamplona,
Spain: Diputación Foral de Navarra, Institución Príncipe de Viana, 1979), 441.
10. This is based on Walker, Smoldering Ashes.
11. Heraclio Bonilla and Karen Spalding, “La independencia en el Perú: las palabras y los
hechos,” in La independencia en el Perú (Lima: IEP, 1981) (originally published 1972), 70–114.
12. This has been a leading issue in Andean studies in recent years. Among numerous mono-
graphs in English, see Florencia Mallon, Peasant and Nation: The Making of Postcolonial Mex-
ico and Peru (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995); Cecilia Méndez Gastelumendi,
The Plebeian Republic: The Huanta Rebellion and the Making of the Peruvian State, 1820–1850
(Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2005); Mark Thurner, From Two Republics to One
Divided: Contradictions of Postcolonial Nation-making in Andean Peru (Durham, N.C.: Duke
University Press, 1996).
Creoles did not turn their back completely on the Andean past. In an important survey of
the image of the Inca, 1780–1900, Natalia Majluf underlines creoles’ appropriation of Incanism.
She shows the fascination with Inca music and history in the final colonial decades in Lima and
beyond, thus demonstrating the short shelf life of Areche and Mata Linares’s anti-Andean meas-
ures. At least in symbolic or historic terms, the gap between the Andes and the coast was not
insurmountable. Natalia Majluf, “De la rebelión al museo: Genealogías y retratos de los incas,
1781–1900,” in Los incas, reyes del Perú, ed. Natalia Majluf (Lima: Banco de Crédito, 2005),
252–319. See also Núria Sala i Vila, “De Inca a indígena: Cambio en la simbología del sol a
principios del siglo XIX,” Allpanchis 35–36, no. 2 (1991); Rebecca Earle, The Return of the Nat-
ive: Indians and Myth-Making in Spanish America, 1810–1930 (Durham, N.C.: Duke University
Press, 2007).
13. A point made and probably exaggerated by Bonilla and Spalding, “La independencia en
el Perú,” 97.
14. Curiously, Incanism was much stronger in Rio de la Plata-Argentina, where some inde-
pendence leaders sought to name an Inca as monarch and, as seen, received Juan Bautista Tupac
Amaru. This is curious because the Inca Empire barely spilled into what became northwestern
Argentina. Late colonial Incanism in Peru was comparatively muted, even subterranean. Majluf,
“De la rebelión al museo”; Jesús Díaz Caballero, “Incaismo as the First Guiding Fiction in the
Emergence of the Creole Nation in the United Provinces of Río de la Plata,” Journal of Latin
American Cultural Studies, 17, 1 (2008): 1–22.
 15. José Baquíjano y Carrillo, “Plan del estado de las provincias de América,” La causa de la
emancipación del Perú (Lima: Instituto Riva-Agüero, 1960), 174–206.
16. On the all-important 1814 rebellion, see Luis Miguel Glave, “A Historical and Cultural
Perspective on the 1814 Revolution in Cuzco,” in New Worlds, New Nations: Native Peoples of
Mesoamerica and the Andes Under Colonial Rule, ed. David Cahill and Blanca Tovías (Brighton,
United Kingdom: Sussex Academic Press, 2006), 196–217.
17. By this I mean they tempered their criticism and demands, but certainly did not recede
into an apolitical cave. As recent waves of historiography have shown, indigenous voices ripple
through the archives—but as errant taxpayers, troublemakers, or victims and rarely as three-di-
mensional subjects.
18. CDBRETA, V, III, “Informe,” November 3, 1783, Madrid, 613–614.
19. CDBRETA, V, III, “Conclusiones a las que llegó en Madrid la Junta de Ministros sobre
sentencias por la rebelión y otras,” 635.
20. Gregorio Funes, Ensayo de la historia civil de Buenos Aires, Tucumán y Paraguay, 2nd
ed. (Buenos Aires, Calle del Perú 171, 1856), 2:229–230.
21. Antonio Ferrer del Rio, Historia del reinado de Carlos III en España (Madrid: Imprenta
Matute, 1856), vol. 3, chap. 5; Miguel Lobo, Historia general de las antiguas colonias hispano-
americanas desde su descubrimiento hasta el año mil ochocientos ocho (Madrid: M. Guijarro,
1875), vol. 3. See also Jean P. Clement, “La opinión de la corona española sobre la rebelión de
Túpac Amaru,” Acta Litteraria Academiae Scientarum Hungaricae 23 (1981): 325–335.
22. Scholars disagree about whether the leader of this massive slave revolution was referring
to the Incan Empire (some thought that the indigenous people of Hispaniola, the Taino, des-
cended from the Incas) or the Cuzco rebels. Jean Fouchard, “Pourquoi Haiti? Ou quand et par
qui fut choisi de redonner a notre patrie le nom Indien d’Haiti?” Revue de la Societe Haitienne
D’Histoire et de Geographie 42, 145 (1984): 13–17 (the link to Peru is discussed at 14); Laurent
Dubois, “Avenging America: The Politics of Violence in the Haitian Revolution,” in The World
of the Haitian Revolution, ed. David Geggus and Norman Fiering (Bloomington: University of
Indiana Press, 2009), 122. David Geggus is skeptical; see his Haitian Revolutionary Studies
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002), 214.
23. Luis Camnitzer, On Art, Artists, Latin America, and Other Utopias, ed. Rachel Weiss
(Austin: University of Texas Press, 2009), 73.
24. AGI, Estado, Leg. 65, no. 1, letter of June 4, 1790, to Governador de Guyana.
25. Antonio Cisneros, Postales para Lima (Buenos Aires: Ediciones Colihue, 2001), 35 (my
translation).
26. The Tupamaros had three sources for the name: Tupac Amaru II; Uruguayan gauchos who
fought the Spanish in the early nineteenth century and assumed the name Tupamaros; and a pop-
ular song by a 1960s Uruguayan folk group, the Olimareños. Camnitzer, On Art, 73.
27. Tayannah Lee McQillar and Fred Johnson III, Tupac Shakur: The Life and Times of an
American Icon (Cambridge, Mass.: Da Capo Press, 2010), 33–34; Jasmine Guy, Afeni Skakur:
Evolution of a Revolutionary (New York: Atria Books, 2005).
28. Jeremy Prestholdt, “The Afterlives of 2Pac: Imagery and alienation in Sierra Leone and
Beyond,” Journal of African Cultural Studies 21, 2 (2007): 197–218; the quote is from 197, first
paragraph. I also learned from Lindon Barrett, “Dead Men Printed: Tupac Shakur, Biggie Small,
and Hip-Hop Eulogy,” Callaloo 22, 2 (Spring, 1999): 306–332. The literature on Tupac Shakur
is massive; I found these two particularly insightful on his legacy.
29. For a strong overview of Velasco’s use of Tupac Amaru, see Leopoldo Lituma Agüero, El
verdadero rostro de Túpac Amaru (Perú, 1969–1975) (Lima: UNMSM, 2011); see 54–55 for the
invented slogan.
30. Lituma Agüero, El verdadero rostro, and Anna Cant, “ ‘Land for Those Who Work It’: A
Visual Analysis of Agrarian Reform Posters in Velasco’s Peru,” Journal of Latin American Stud-
ies 44, 1 (2012): 1–37. Reflecting the interest in the 1960s and 1970s in peasant insurgencies and
anticolonialism, historians used these newly available sources and began to publish widely on
the uprising. They debated whether Tupac Amaru was truly a precursor of independence or had
a vastly different project, and also inserted him into the leftist debates of the era, asking whether
he was a “reformist” or “revolutionary.”
31. This book has highlighted this irony: while the city’s energetic defense against his siege
preceded his downfall, Tupac Amaru has become a favorite son of the city of Cuzco, one of
its preferred symbols. For a fascinating history of the monuments and the incessant debate, see
Helaine Silverman, “The Space of Heroism in the Historic Center of Cuzco,” in On Location:
Heritage Cities and Sites, ed. D. Fairchild Ruggles (New York: Springer, 2012), 89–112. See also
José Tamayo Herrera, “La historia del monumento a Túpac Amaru” (Lima: CNBRETA, 1980).
32. The poetry is far superior to the prose. See poems by José María Arguedas, Pablo Neruda,
Alejandro Romualdo, and Antonio Cisneros, to name a few; I have not finished any of the several
novels about the uprising. The 1984 Cuban-Peruvian film Tupac Amaru is entertaining.
33. Laurent Dubois, Avengers of the New World: The Story of the Haitian Revolution (Cam-
bridge, Mass.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2004); Geggus and Fiering, The
World of the Haitian Revolution; Ada Ferrer, “Haiti, Free Soil, and Antislavery in the Revolu-
tionary Atlantic,” American Historical Review 117, 1 (2012): 40–66.
34. Cited in Alberto Gálvez Olaechea, Desde el país de las sombras: Escrito en la prisión
(SUR, Casa de Estudios del Socialismo, 2009), 62–63. Originally from Juan Granda, Los
pequeños zorros: relatos de niños ayacuchanos (Lima: Radda Barnen, 1990).
 Acknowledgments

Arnie Bauer and Andrés Reséndez read this book chapter by chapter, improving my arguments
and writing. Carlos Aguirre, Kathryn Burns, Mark Carey, Peter Guardino, Ari Kelman, and Kathy
Olmsted provided thoughtful feedback. Antonio Acosta, María José Fitz, and Luis Miguel Glave
brightened research in Seville, while Marta Irurozqui and Víctor Peralta guided me in Madrid. In
Peru, I always count on Iván Hinojosa, and I also want to mention the support of Donato Amado,
Ruth Borja, Marco Curatola, Javier Flores Espinoza, Pedro Guibovich, Margareth Najarro, Lucho
Nieto, Ramón Mujica, Scarlett O’Phelan Godoy, Aldo Panfichi, and Claudia Rosas. I want to ex-
tend a special note of gratitude to Patricia Lyon. Just after I embarked on the project, she called to
invite me to review the late John Rowe’s library. I found treasures there and also learned a great
deal in my conversations with Pat.
I have presented sections of this book in numerous places. Special thanks for their suggestions
to John Coatsworth, Jeremy Adelman, Michael Laffan, Margaret Chowning, Víctor Maqque, Kar-
en Graubart, Shane Greene, Tom Cummins, Gary Urton, Christian Fernández Palacios, Michael
Gonzales, Kristin Huffine, Dain Borges, Emilio Kouri, Fernando Purcell, Pablo Whipple, Cristian
Castro, Paulo Drinot, Anne More, Ivonne del Valle, and Barbara Fuchs. Bruce Castleman, Carolyn
Dean, Ramiro Flores, Stella Nair, Margaret Sankey, David Silbey, Stefano Varese, Janett Vengoa,
and Adam Warren answered random questions on topics ranging from Ceuta to total war. I’ve had
wonderful students in Davis, including my summer class in Cuzco. I particularly want to thank
Mark Dries, Griselda Jarquin, Jeremy Mikecz, Elizabeth Montañez Sanabria, and José Ragas for
their research assistance. In Davis, my pelotón keeps me sane—thanks Ari, Pablo, Simon, and Tim
for the rides and much more.
Zoila Mendoza is my in-house Cuzco consultant and daily inspiration. She and my children,
María and Sammy, joined me in Sevilla for six months in 2007 and have followed this book with
patience and even love. They are my world. My mother passed away while I was writing the book.
I think she would have liked it. John, Mary, and Maggie are always supportive and helped in nu-
merous ways. While in Lima I count on the Mendoza clan. Abrazos to doña Zoila, Miguel, Chachi,
Martha, Pocha, Chicho, Uba, Kelly, and my wonderful nieces and nephews. I also want to mention
the late Lucrecia Moeremans, mi mamá tucumana, who meant so much to me.
Kathleen McDermott and Andrew Kinney gracefully guided me through the editing process at
Harvard University Press while Pamela Nelson oversaw production and James Cappio did a mas-
terful job at copyediting. I want to thank the two anonymous reviewers for their thorough reports.
It was a pleasure working with Isabelle Lewis on the maps; Christina Acosta did another fine job
on the index. In my search for images, numerous people came to my aid, including Carlos
Aguirre, Nino Bariola, Tom Cummins, Luis Miguel Glave, Natalia Majluf, José Ragas, Pilar Ríos
and TJ Rushing. Antonio Cisneros’s poem “Tupac Amaru Relegated” is from Postales para Lima
(Buenos Aires: Ediciones Colihue, 2001), p. 35. The translation is my own.
Finally, I want to acknowledge the four late historians to whom I am dedicating this book, all
wonderful people and inspiring scholars: Alberto Flores Galindo, Friedrich Katz, Enrique Tan-
deter, and my beloved suegro, don Eduardo Mendoza Meléndez (1911–2013).
 Index

Abancay, 20, 87, 103, 105, 132, 271

Acomayo, 71, 100, 128, 137
Acora, 102, 172, 176, 191
Acos, 70, 78, 100, 101
Acuña, José, 155, 193, 194
Afro-Peruvian slaves, 49–51
alcabala, 4, 25, 48, 87, 125
Alvarez y Nava, don Joseph, 44–45
Amaru-Katarista alliance, 169, 209
American Revolutionary War, 16, 250, 277
Andes, 3–6, 9, 14, 16–17, 18–39, 65, 88–89, 109, 130, 132, 138, 148, 163, 180, 183–184, 208,
259, 264; Catholic church in, 68; colonial, 1, 68, 211, 270; southern, 5, 6, 23, 41, 56, 215; un-
der Spanish rule, 2, 46, 181, 196, 203, 268–269, 272, 277; uprising in, 10, 209, 234
Anta, 105, 121, 131, 142, 186
Apaza, Gregoria, 172, 201, 204, 206
Apaza, Julián. See Tupac Katari, Andrés Inca
Apurímac Bridge, 105, 313n24
Areche, José Antonio de, 3, 24–26, 30–32, 34, 57, 83–84, 88–91, 102, 111, 162–167, 184, 190,
202, 207–208, 214, 217–218, 221, 227–233, 265, 268–269, 274; and abolition of Quechua,
258–260; correspondence with del Valle, 196–199; correspondence with Tupac Amaru,
144–148; decree of, 131; efforts with Mata Linares, 91, 151–153, 155–156, 158, 167, 212; and
Madrid court, 229–231, 259; petition to, 30; reforms of, 34, 208, 260, 263, 270; replacement
of, 232, 256; sentencing of Tupac Amaru, 162, 166, 207
Areta, Antonio, 74
Arias, Ramón, 210, 212–214, 224, 226
Arriaga, Antonio de, 1–5, 16, 34–37, 48, 57–64, 69, 82–85, 125, 160, 165; capture of, 60, 81; ex-
communication of, 37; execution of, 1–17, 27, 34–37, 40, 41, 49, 51, 60, 63, 64, 66, 81–83, 88,
145–147, 160, 162, 263–264
Asillo, 127, 186, 211
Ausangate, 110, 241, 246
Avilés, Gabriel de, 88–89, 192–194, 221, 232, 235, 237–240, 243, 247, 249; arrival of, 116;
forces of, 88 117, 119, 121, 126, 186; support for, 261
Ayaviri, 93, 95, 97, 102
Aymara, 169, 171–173, 185, 204; language of, 15
Azángaro, 34, 48, 92, 93, 101, 111, 135, 184, 187, 190, 199, 200, 205, 207, 208, 210, 216–217,
224, 232, 241, 246; kurakas from, 94, 96, 115, 211, 213; rebels from, 191; uprising in, 242
Banda, Mariano, 58–62, 159, 164
Bastidas, Antonio, 35, 45, 136, 144, 165, 166
Bastidas, Micaela, 2, 3, 14, 20–23, 30, 34, 54–61, 63–64, 77, 78–81, 94, 98–103, 106–108, 110,
112–113, 122–124, 128, 131, 135–136, 144, 147, 149, 152–154, 158–161, 165–166, 168,
172, 177, 187, 189, 196, 198, 206–208, 217, 254, 262, 264, 268, 273; background of, 20–21;
capture of, 150, 182–183, 196, 198, 207; correspondence of, 40, 70, 73, 75, 77, 79, 87, 98,
99–102, 122; excommunication of, 68–74; letters to, 75, 77, 79, 99, 144, 149; portrait of, 8;
as rebel leader, 21, 38, 43, 45, 51, 55–57, 60, 65, 66, 85, 86–87, 92, 100, 107–108, 110,
135–136, 144; representations of, 270–271, 277; role in uprising, 4–5, 9, 12, 20, 22, 40–41,
64, 135, 181–182; trial and execution of, 68, 70, 152–154, 158–159, 165–166, 180, 207, 255,
258; twentieth-century depiction of, 23
Bastidas, Miguel, 182, 183, 204, 205–206
Battle of Sangarará, 51–54, 85
Baulen, Matías, 193, 194, 232, 235, 236, 272
Bejarano, Ildefonso, 9, 61, 81–83, 85, 117
Bermúdez, Felipe Miguel, 2, 57, 63, 70, 143, 146, 149, 155
Betancur, don Diego Felipe de, 26–27, 30
Bourbon Reforms, 5, 23, 26, 32, 38, 39, 118, 208, 261, 269

Cabrera, Fernando, 44, 51, 53, 59

Cailloma, 93, 143, 148
Calca, 73, 104–105, 118, 137, 223, 231, 246; bridge of, 105; highlands, 132; massacre, 107
Calca y Lares, 192, 216
Callao, 27, 198, 247, 249, 251, 253, 254
Campos, Gregorio Francisco de, 232–233
Capetillo, Julián, 261–262
Carabaya, 19, 92, 93–94, 101, 135, 174–175, 187, 190, 191–192, 200, 246; corregidors of,
92–94, 96
Carabuco, 226; mayor of, 97
Castelo, Antonio, 115, 116, 124, 128, 136–137, 165, 166
Castro Puiucahua, Marcela, 222, 245–246
Catholic Church, 6, 9, 13, 21, 26, 35–38, 49, 65–85, 109, 117, 147, 162–166, 196, 220, 234,
259, 261, 265, 268–270
Chamaca, 75, 112
chapetones, 49, 97, 148, 171, 209
Charcas, 6, 86, 168, 169, 172, 175, 176, 179, 185, 194, 206, 209, 212; insurgents in, 171
Charles III (King of Spain), 23, 32, 35, 39, 48, 49, 118, 155, 184, 209, 227, 230, 247, 250, 253,
255, 269, 274; death of, 263; Great Cross of, 264; saint day of, 2
Charles IV, 263
Chaves, Antonio, 77, 79
Chayanta, 107, 169, 171, 205
Choquehuanca, Diego, 48–49, 94, 96, 97, 127, 184, 186, 213
Chucuito, 94, 101, 111, 172, 175–177, 214, 225; siege of, 181, 190–191, 193–194
Chumbivilcas, 55, 65, 70, 76, 98, 99, 124, 143–144, 148; corregidor of, 92; province of, 71, 192
Cisneros, Antonio, 275
Cisneros, Francisco, 58, 59, 61–62, 120, 146, 154, 161, 164
Cochabamba, 34, 205
Collao, the, 15, 16, 92–95, 107, 110–111, 115, 124, 133, 144, 172–173, 182, 184–185, 188, 193,
195–196; Indians in, 98; rebels in, 168
Combapata, 135, 143, 149–150, 222
Condorcanqui, Diego Felipe, 229
Condori, Manuela Tito, 217, 222, 227, 244
Condori, Simón, 241–242, 244
Condorpuse, Andrés, 241, 244–245
Coporaque, 35, 36, 91
corregidor, 1–6, 11, 13, 16, 22, 24–26, 29, 32, 35–38, 45–49, 51, 53, 56–59, 62, 64, 66, 69–73,
78–79, 82, 85, 86, 89, 91, 92–96, 98, 103, 111, 117–119, 121, 125, 133, 148, 154, 160, 169,
171, 173, 175, 178, 184, 190, 192–194, 200, 203–207, 210–214, 216–218, 223, 225, 227,
228, 232, 235–238, 241, 244, 246, 250, 251, 256, 259, 261–264, 267, 272; intrusion of, 40;
mistreatment of Indians, 145–147, 157–158, 211, 261; office of, 237; property of, 44; system
of, 215; “thieving,” 45, 78, 209
Cotabambas, 131, 134, 149
Council of the Indies, 1, 133, 163
Creole, 2, 4, 11–12, 20, 31, 35–36, 38, 40, 46, 53, 56–57, 60–64, 66, 84, 91, 94, 95, 100, 101,
119, 123, 132, 136, 159, 170, 171–173, 177, 189, 191, 203, 215, 258–265, 271–273; as “class
traitor,” 171; as clergy, 84; of Cuzco, 20, 262, 265; followers of Tupac Amaru, 20, 56, 63–64,
153–154, 159, 172, 213, 215, 261; of Lima, 272; pardoned by rebels, 201; power of, 26, 31,
262; and priests, 99, 261, 264–265, 268; sentencing of, 164; as society, 62–63; supporters of
rebels, 63, 123, 260–261
Cuzco, 1, 3, 6, 10–22, 25–28, 31–38, 40, 44, 47–58, 60–61, 65–76, 81–83, 86–94, 96, 98–105,
130–151, 152–157, 161, 164, 165, 168–169, 172–179, 180–182, 184–186, 189, 190,
192–200, 202–204, 206–207, 209–212, 238–244, 246–247, 249–251, 256, 259–265,
267–273, 275–277; authorities in, 26, 53, 69, 70–71, 82, 93, 100, 150, 196, 229, 249, 256,
260, 275; as “a Babylon,” 269; bishop of, 9, 36, 48; cathedral of, 19, 66, 68, 109, 111; Cath-
olic Church in, 66; city council of, 81, 87–88, 104, 111, 117, 125, 129, 188, 277; conspiracies
in, 34–35; corregidor of, 51, 232; countryside of, 68, 85; execution in, 181; hard-liners in,
237, 243; as Inca center, 110; indigenous people of, 5, 11, 26, 182; officials in, 257; plaza of,
100, 109, 137, 143, 153, 164–165, 258; population of, 16, 184, 244, 259; royalists in, 87,
129, 133, 268; siege of, 109–129, 135, 136–137, 141, 164, 173, 216, 261, 271; terror in,
107–108, 117; Tupac Amaru base in, 7, 11; uprising in, 259; war council of, 51, 111

de la Puente, Vicente, 36–37

del Valle, José, 88, 90–91, 102, 131, 133, 135, 136, 139–144, 147, 148–151, 179, 183–190,
192–200, 202, 206–211, 213–217, 220–221, 223–224, 226, 227, 229–231, 236, 238; com-
manders of, 193; correspondence of, 190; death of, 198; failed campaign of, 202; role in
Tupac Amaru’s execution, 209; troops of, 141–143, 187–189
Dominicans, 27, 67

Escarcena, José Esteban, 47, 58, 59, 61, 164

Escobedo y Alarcón, Jorge, 230, 232, 243, 245, 250, 256, 261, 263

Figueroa, Juan Antonio “el Gallego,” 3, 58, 59, 82, 123, 125, 164
Flores, Ciriaco, 247, 249
Flores, Ignacio, 179, 203, 204, 232
Franciscans, 27, 67
Gallegos, don Justo, 80, 113, 220
Galleguillos, Manuel, 57–60, 62, 100, 159, 164
Gálvez, José de, 23–24, 31, 32, 90, 133, 148, 198, 208, 218, 229, 249, 261, 263
Garcilaso de la Vega y Vargas, Sebastián (“El Inca”), 28–29, 92, 209, 258–259, 270; Royal
Commentaries of the Incas (Comentarios Reales), 28, 29, 92
Guaygua, Santos, 241, 244
Guirior, Manuel de, 30, 32, 37, 39
Gutiérrez, Ramón, 102–103
Gutiérrez Sonco, Pascual, 97, 98

Haitian Revolution, 16, 274, 277, 278

Huamanga, 142, 156, 161, 164, 251
Huarochirí, 30, 31, 160, 247, 249, 253
Huatanay River, 110, 152, 166, 228

Inca(s), 1, 6, 15–16, 21–22, 29, 109–110, 129, 184, 188, 245, 256, 269, 271, 275; blood of, 49;
conquest of, 68, 134; descendants of, 14, 64, 67, 154, 162, 185, 229, 259, 271; empire of, 67,
118, 172, 259, 271, 273; genius of, 16; heir of, 147; heritage of, 19, 119, 137, 258–259; idol-
atry of, 92; image of, 31, 172, 270–271, 336n12; king of, 33, 35, 185, 204, 236, 256, 277;
language of, 15, 110; last of, 27–31, 33–34; memory of, 148, 163, 258, 260, 268–269, 271;
name of, 204; period of, 55; return of, 6, 33, 38–39, 57, 172, 209; romantic depiction of, 29;
royalty, 1, 18, 25, 33, 49, 118, 262; ruler, 6, 18, 92, 109, 277; stories of, 28, 92
Incanism, 273, 336n12, 336n14

Jáuregui, Agustín de, 32, 39, 74, 88, 91, 111, 113, 148, 195, 196–199, 202, 214, 217, 226,
229–232, 239–240, 243, 245, 249; signing of amnesty, 207–208
Jesuits, 18, 20, 27, 67, 160; church in Juli, 176; college of, 111, 128; holdings of, 153; monas-
tery of, 51
Jujuy, 16, 189
Juli, 172, 175, 176, 177, 191, 200, 226

Katari, Dámaso, 170

Katari, Nicolás, 170
Katari, Tomás, 169–170
Katari Rebellion, 180, 277
Katarista(s), 6, 107, 169–176, 178–179, 203, 260, 270; leadership of, 175–176; movement of,
172; rebellion of, 180, 277; revolutionaries of, 169; uprising of, 172, 267
kuraka, 1–3, 5, 11, 13, 16, 18–21, 24, 26–27, 31, 34, 35, 37, 40, 44, 48–49, 52–54, 55–57, 60,
62, 67, 72, 73, 87, 91, 92, 95, 99–105, 115, 121, 127, 129, 132, 136, 137, 146, 169, 176, 177,
179, 183, 184, 186, 210, 211, 213, 223, 227, 236, 241, 258, 260, 262, 273; abolition of, 163;
as abusive, 186; of Acos, 101; of Anta, 131; as antirebel, 100; of Azángaro, 94, 96, 213; ban-
ning of, 274; of Chinchero, 104, 107, 131; as ethnic, 38, 63, 269; of Lampa, 49; office of, 25,
104; of Pampamarca, 18, 27, 154; of Pisac, 35; of Pitumarca, 141; role of, 270; school for,
13, 240; southern, 96; support of, 207; of Surimana, 18, 27; of Tungasuca, 18, 27; of Yana-
oca, 81
kurakazgo, 24, 26, 101

Lagos, José de, 193–195

Laisequilla, Francisco, 105, 116, 143–144, 192
Lampa, 92, 93–97, 98, 101, 103, 111, 135, 188, 191, 200, 212, 214, 224; kuraka of, 49; popula-
tion of, 91
Landa, don Tiburcio, 52–54
Langui, 99, 150–151, 183, 185
La Paz, 34, 55, 92–94, 110, 150, 161, 171–173, 177, 183, 184–190, 201, 202, 212, 220; bishop
of, 96, 232; as bishopric, 200; royalists in, 225–226; sieges of, 177–179, 180–181, 193–194,
198–199, 202–210, 226
Lauramarca, 137, 223, 235, 236, 237, 238, 246
Layo, 80, 99, 113, 183
Lima, 239–242, 243–245, 247, 250–251, 253, 254, 256, 262–263, 265, 269; authorities in, 275;
creoles in, 272; high court of, 263; Plaza Mayor of, 249
Livitaca, 65, 73, 75, 100, 150
López de Sosa, Antonio, 1, 2, 3, 9, 18, 34, 52, 80–83, 85, 227, 261, 265
Luna, Juan de, 75–76, 79

Machu Picchu, 15, 120, 124

Madrid, 1, 48, 82, 90–91, 148, 151, 160, 220, 230, 259, 263, 268–270, 274; authorities in, 3;
court in, 23–24, 218, 230–231, 234, 247, 258, 274; inner circle of, 84; memos to, 181, 202,
229
Madrid, Bernardo de la, 3, 59, 117, 123, 164
Mamani, Isidro, 175–176, 181–182, 191
Maras, 34, 102, 103, 121
Marcapata, 152–157, 160, 233, 237, 239, 241–242, 244–246
Maruri, José de, 115, 127, 186, 261
Mata Linares, Benito, 34, 83–84, 91, 161, 164, 167, 212, 240, 244, 263–266, 268–271, 274; as
prosecutor, 245–247, 249–250, 256–258; as reformer, 259–261
Mendigure, Andrés (Tupac Amaru), 151, 166, 182, 217, 220, 228, 235–237
Mendigure, Pedro, 182, 228
mita, 2, 4–6, 26, 30, 45–46, 48–50, 56, 82, 86, 148, 269–270; abolition of, 95, 145
Molina, Francisco, 58, 61, 159, 164
Mollinedo, Juan de, 53–54
Morán, Juan Bautista, 95, 199
Moscoso y Peralta, Manuel, 9, 36–37, 51, 73, 74, 77, 81–85, 87–89, 100, 102–105, 107, 111,
116–118, 120, 122–123, 125–126, 128–129, 135, 139, 145, 198, 200, 208, 210, 211–217,
222, 226, 227–233, 238, 246, 257, 261, 263–266, 268–269; excommunication of Tupac
Amaru, 68–71; as prosecutor; 75, 79; supporters of, 123; trials against, 271

Necochea, Raimundo, 225, 232, 235–236, 241, 244, 249

neo-Inca, 29, 57
Ninavilca, Vicente, 240–241
Noguera, Andrés, 78, 94, 96
Noguera, María Rosa, 18
Noguera, Simón, 59

Oblitas, Antonio, 4, 165

obrajes, 4, 43, 44, 103, 148
Ocongate, 103, 137, 200, 223–224, 233, 235–239, 247
Ocoruro, 115, 119, 120, 128
Orcoguaranca, Juan de Dios Tupa, 32, 33
Orellana, Joaquín de, 93, 173–176, 190–195, 200, 232, 246
Oropesa, 26, 27, 52, 54, 115
Ortigoza, Diego, 57, 58, 59, 62, 164, 244
Oruro, 43; uprising in, 171–172, 205

Palacios, José de, 61, 161, 261–262

Pampamarca, 1, 13, 15, 18, 20, 21, 27, 34, 40–64, 67, 82, 115, 154, 161, 166, 180, 210, 220,
221, 223, 233–235, 247; martyr of, 275; parish of, 3, 80; priest of, 80, 227
Paruro, 71, 100–101, 102, 121, 125, 134, 137, 149, 187
Parvina, Tomás, 137–138, 143–144, 149
Paucartambo, 76, 83, 96, 100, 101–103, 133–134, 137, 192, 200, 212, 246; lowlands of, 65;
river of, 14
Peru, 5–6, 10–11, 16–17, 23, 27, 29, 31, 40, 48–51, 68, 71–72, 83, 88, 91, 110, 152, 156, 161,
165, 168, 179, 181, 194, 199, 208, 215, 230–233, 243, 249, 250, 253; Andes of, 6, 16; border
with Bolivia, 14, 191; colonial, 20, 58, 227; demography of, 132; fate of, 203; history of,
233; Inca-dominated, 27; independent, 265–266; Lower, 206; multilingual, 148; population
of, 203; postcolonial, 265; revolution in, 24, 255; southern, 101, 207, 243; Spanish rule in,
151, 220, 258; Upper, 6, 15, 19, 25, 26, 39, 43, 47, 55, 86, 98, 138, 144, 168–169, 173–175,
177, 186, 190, 194, 199, 205, 227, 260; uprising in, 168–169, 264; Viceroyalty of, 10, 23, 38,
162, 193; wealth in, 84
Peruano, 253–254
Pisac, 35, 88, 103, 116, 137; bridge of, 104
Pitumarca, 141, 217, 223, 241
Plaza Mayor, 27, 143, 153, 164, 249
Pomacanchi, 43–44, 54, 59, 234; Indians of, 78
Ponce, Ramón, 70, 143, 174–175
Potosí, 15, 25, 30, 59, 92, 110, 161, 169, 179, 190, 196, 203, 205, 209, 267; mita to, 2, 4–5, 45;
silver mines of, 1, 19, 23, 26, 38, 86, 168, 177
provincias altas, 15, 65, 222
Pucacasa, 140, 141–143, 148
puka kunka, 33, 55, 61, 106, 176, 199, 235, 236, 239
Pumacahua, Mateo, 73, 96, 104, 107, 116, 121, 131, 132, 137–138; forces of, 141, 185, 186;
troops of, 106, 149
Puno, 6, 15, 16, 45, 55, 85, 92–93, 94, 98, 108, 143, 144, 174–176, 181, 184, 186, 187, 202,
207–208, 210–211, 226, 256; attack on, 172; population of, 193; siege of, 190–199; refugees
of, 196; residents of, 192, 194, 196, 200
Puquín, 120, 122, 124, 125, 187

Qosqo. See Cuzco

Quechua, 4–6, 15, 18, 20–21, 25, 28, 33, 38, 46, 55, 60, 72, 91, 97, 110, 120, 122, 138, 141,
144, 146, 148, 166, 238, 259–260, 268–270; abolition of, 259; as area, 65; as culture, 269; In-
dians in, 20, 110, 173, 222; Masses in, 69, 269; movement, 203; people of, 138, 172, 259; as
region, 222; speakers of, 1, 20, 41, 110, 122, 146, 204
Quiquijana, 41, 44, 46, 74, 100, 101 142–143
Quispe, Alejo, 235–236
Quispe, Andrés, 223–224, 239
Quispe Tupa Inga, Joseph Gran, 33
Quispicanchi, 41, 51, 53, 55, 78, 101, 192, 225, 235, 237

Rio de la Plata, 25, 94, 101, 179, 189, 190, 199, 244, 256
Rodríguez, Carlos, 1, 18, 77–78, 81
Rosas, Nicolás, 121, 131

Sahuaraura Titu Atauchi, José Raphael, 83, 129, 145, 147; Estado del Perú, 83
Sahuaraura Titu Atauchi, Pedro Ramos, 52, 145–146
Salcedo, Francisco, 207, 216–217, 221–223, 227–228, 232, 238, 244, 246, 249
San Francisco de Borja School, 18, 153
Sangarará, 40, 51–54, 58, 60, 64, 68, 73, 74, 78, 85, 86–88, 96, 125, 145–146, 150, 162; church
of, 69, 107; rebels in, 54; victory in, 65–66, 86
San Pedro de Alcántara, 253–254
Santa Rosa (town), 94, 95, 174, 185, 198, 216
Santo Tomás, 72, 138, 143
Saylla, 116, 136
Segurola, Sebastián, 226, 232
Sicasica, 171, 172, 199
Sicuani, 34, 63, 74, 77, 136, 185, 188, 215, 216–217, 228, 232–233, 244, 247; church in, 227;
events in, 219; fort of, 227; signings in, 220, 222
Sinayuca, 37, 91, 92
Sisa, Bartolina, 172, 206
Sorata, 184, 202, 204–205, 229, 233; siege of, 200, 226
soroche, 88, 89, 140, 185
Spain, 19, 23–29, 31, 35, 38, 56, 67, 82–84, 198, 206, 209, 215, 221, 229, 231, 232, 243, 247,
253–255, 259, 263–264, 268–269, 272–273, 275; deportations to, 260; empire of, 1; golden
era of literature, 28; northern African outpost of, 255; Peruvian independence from, 7; role of
the Church in Spain, 84; trade with, 25; wars in Italy, 104; war with England, 194
Spanish rule, 2, 5, 13, 33, 38, 47, 109, 148, 151, 161, 164–167, 168, 181, 220, 258, 270
Surimana, 13, 18, 21, 27, 81, 101, 115, 154, 161, 166

Tapia, don Buenaventura, 79

Tinta, 2, 26, 34, 35, 47, 52, 55, 57, 58, 63, 101, 111, 123, 125, 132, 135, 139, 142, 143, 144,
149–151, 153, 155, 161, 166, 180, 195, 200, 212, 251; corregidor of, 216, 221; district of, 18;
people of, 185; rebels of, 131, 171
Titicaca, Lake, 6, 7, 8, 10–12, 14–15, 19, 48, 49, 76, 86, 91–92, 95, 97, 140, 168–169, 171–181,
183–191, 196, 198, 200, 202–203, 205, 206, 208, 218, 220, 224–226, 242, 271; area, 11, 13,
65, 93–94, 96, 130, 135, 144, 168, 172–174, 176, 177, 179–181, 190–191, 196, 202, 206,
210, 212, 214, 219, 223, 225; corregidors of, 212, 218; inhabitants of, 184; largest city of, 93
Tito Condori, Manuela, 217, 222, 244, 245, 253
Toledan Reforms, 163
Toledo, Viceroy, 18, 269–270
Tucumán, 189, 244, 274
Tungasuca, 1–3, 13, 15, 18, 27, 38, 41, 45, 48, 51, 63, 70, 74, 76, 81, 82, 87, 91, 94, 98, 99, 100,
102–103, 107, 110, 112, 123, 135, 154, 166, 180, 221, 223, 232–233, 244, 246; base in, 40,
54–61, 64, 65, 86, 87; priest of, 52, 61; rebels in, 103, 104, 113
Tupac Amaru I, 6
Tupac Amaru II, José Gabriel, 1–17, 18–19, 21–22, 25–27, 29, 30–39, 40–64, 65–85, 86–88,
91–108, 110–129, 130–151, 169–170, 168–179, 180–192, 198–200, 209, 212, 221, 229,
231–244, 246–247, 249, 260–266, 267–278; biography of, 5; capture of, 154, 183, 198,
202–203, 207, 230, 261; clan of, 227–229, 233, 237, 244, 258, 273; death of, 166, 170, 172,
180; duties as kuraka, 1, 18, 183; excommunication of, 9, 68–74; 75–85, 86–88, 102, 107,
118, 137, 162, 164, 177, 180–192; followers of, 150, 168, 175, 180, 205, 225; inner circle of,
50, 56–57, 131, 146, 152, 163, 166, 183, 198, 245, 258; legacy of, 182, 267–278; movement
of, 35, 41, 50, 56–58, 62–64, 66, 72, 91, 122, 147, 169, 181, 203; rebel base of, 27, 35, 45,
54–61, 73, 86, 102, 107, 110, 112, 116, 215–216, 222–223, 227, 234, 241, 247–248; rebels
of, 173, 256, 263, 278; trial and execution of, 152–167, 181, 192, 196, 203, 207, 209, 247;
troops of, 53, 94, 95, 97, 98, 99, 113, 115, 116–117, 121, 124, 126, 128, 131, 135–136,
143–144, 149, 177; uprising of, 4–17, 20–23, 29, 31–35, 39, 40–49, 52, 55–58, 61–64, 66,
68–70, 72–75, 83, 85, 88–90, 93, 97, 98, 101, 106–107, 111, 113, 118, 123, 128, 130, 132,
136–138, 143, 146, 151–152, 155, 157–162, 166, 168–170, 172–174, 179, 181, 184–185,
189, 256, 264, 277
Tupac Amaru, Andrés, 182–184, 200–205, 213, 217, 220, 223, 227–231, 233, 235–242, 244,
247, 253–254, 271
Tupac Amaru, Cecilia, 182, 211, 215, 244
Tupac Amaru, Diego Cristóbal, 7, 48, 115–117, 126, 143, 147, 151, 220–230, 257, 262–264,
271; correspondence of, 172–173, 210–211; death of, 199–200, 207–209, 246–247, 249; de-
feat of, 105; forces of, 104, 137–138, 166, 191–192, 199; as leader of rebellion, 7, 63, 65,
103, 105, 153, 179, 181–185, 187, 189, 195, 198; offer of amnesty to, 208–217, 219,
230–234; sentencing of, 245, 249; widow of, 253
Tupac Amaru, Fernando, 254
Tupac Amaru, Francisco, 165
Tupac Amaru, Hipólito, 166
Tupac Amaru, Juan Bautista, 43, 156, 157, 221, 250–251, 253–256
Tupac Amaru, Marcos, 182
Tupac Amaru, Mariano, 21, 99, 151, 153, 166, 182–184, 201, 210, 220, 227–229, 230–231,
238–242; arrest of, 244; death of, 254; sentencing of, 253; trial of, 247
Tupac Amaru, Miguel Condorcanqui Usquionsa, 18
Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Movement (MRTA), 62, 276
Tupac Katari, Andrés Inca, 171–173, 175–176, 178, 199, 204–206, 211; background of, 171,
173; camps of, 174; commanders of, 191, 204; execution of, 211–215; followers of, 205;
forces of, 191, 202–204; movement of, 183, 189, 204; name of, 171; uprising of, 200
Tupa Inca (Felipe Velasco Tupa Inca Yupanqui), 247, 249
Tupamaros, 17, 275, 276
Tupa Orcoguaranca, Juan de Dios, 32–33

Ugarte, Gaspar de, 193–194, 261–266

Urbiola, don Miguel de, 93–94
Urcos, 101, 116, 144, 149, 151, 153, 235
Urcos Bridge, 103, 142, 247
Urubamba, 101, 102, 143, 148, 192; bridge of, 117; river of, 105; valley of, 137

Valcárcel, Joaquín de, 116, 193–194, 217

Velasco Alvarado, Juan, 7, 276
Velille, 74, 75, 112
Verdad desnuda o las dos fases de un Obispo, La, 83, 263, 265
Verdejo, Diego, 143, 165
Verganza, Eusebio Balza de, 37, 83, 263
Vilca Apaza, Pedro, 143, 181, 186, 200, 224–226
Vilcabamba, 26, 134
Vilcanota River, 103, 104, 141, 142, 149, 150
Vilcanota Valley, 15, 49, 65, 68, 73, 86, 102, 107, 110, 111, 115, 116, 130, 151, 175, 184, 216,
220, 224, 238, 242, 247, 257; control of, 128; military engagement in, 142
Villalta, Manuel, 87, 140, 149
Villalva, Simón Ximénez, 108, 261
Vivas, Antonio, 193, 194

War of Independence, Peru, 7, 51, 277

Yanaoca, 1–2, 21, 77; church of, 78; kuraka of, 81

Yauri, 35, 36, 91

Zuñiga, Esteban, 34