Into the Archive: Writing and Power in Colonial Peru

by Kathryn Burns

Writing has long been linked to power. For early modern people on both sides of the Atlantic, writing was also the province of notaries, men trained to cast other people’s words in official forms and make them legally true. Thus the first thing Columbus did on American shores in October 1492 was have a notary record his claim of territorial possession. It was the written, notarial word—backed by all the power of Castilian enforcement—that first constituted Spanish American empire. Even so, the Spaniards who invaded America in 1492 were not fond of their notaries, who had a dismal reputation for falsehood and greed. Yet Spaniards could not do without these men. Contemporary scholars also rely on the vast paper trail left by notaries to make sense of the Latin American past. How then to approach the question of notarial truth?Kathryn Burns argues that the archive itself must be historicized. Using the case of colonial Cuzco, she examines the practices that shaped document-making. Notaries were businessmen, selling clients a product that conformed to local “custom” as well as Spanish templates. Clients, for their part, were knowledgeable consumers, with strategies of their own for getting what they wanted. In this inside story of the early modern archive, Burns offers a wealth of possibilities for seeing sources in fresh perspective.

Genres: History, Nonfiction

349 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 2010

About the author

Kathryn Burns,Professor of History at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, works on colonial Latin America, especially the history of mestizaje, property, and literacy in the colonial Andes. Her first book examined nuns, production, and reproduction in Cuzco. Her second traces the practices of the Spanish American escribanos who shaped notarial truth and generated vast colonial archives.

Dr. Burns' work has been funded by the Charlotte W. Newcombe Foundation.

Reviews

[Craig · Rating 5 out of 5]

Archives have the popular perception of being vast, emotionless and intimidating edifices possessing documents that are mostly uninteresting and difficult to discern. Historian Kathryn Burns revamps this view with her book Into the Archive: Writing and Power in Colonial Peru by reminding anyone working with source material that there’s more to documents than just what is found written in ink. In Spain and its colonies in the Americas in the early modern period, those responsible for composing most of the archival record were the notaries, “el escribano”, mischievous men who were surprisingly subjective filters prone to mortal temptations such as power and greed. By proficiently portraying their predilections and reminding us about the human element in source creation, she exposes the official records in Cuzco as not what they appear to be, and by extension, the archives, or any archives for that matter. Archives should be seen by rational researchers as institutions of inexactness. Initially, Burns explains the importance of the role of notary on both sides of the Atlantic, and then goes on to establish them as idiosyncratic historical agents whose recordkeeping requires rampant reconsideration. She is quite clear that in order to comprehend the historical agency of notaries, or any other source contributor for archives, it is imperative to pay attention to the “subaltern voices” as well as the process that goes into the construction of sources to complete a clearer historical picture.
As would be expected from a study of archival records, there is an abundance of primary source material and a complimentary assortment of secondary sources employed. But the real genius of Burns’ methodology is the way she contrasts manuals with archival documents in order to demonstrate the delicate balance between theory and practice in the job of a notary. She details numerous instances of contradictions from what she calls “a productive tension between teoria and prácticia” that truly illuminates the power relationships in the Andean colonies in particular, and working with archives in general. From notaries having senior assistants perform official duties, to permitting the signing of blank pages, or other occurrences of an official failure to follow straightforward guidelines (that in some cases could be punishable by law), Burns unmistakably unveils this tension.
Burns accomplishes this hidden history of archival powerbrokers in early modern Peru by using a topical approach. Her book comprises a total of five chapters with the first four dedicated to the various aspects of the role and relationships of the notary in Spanish society, specifically in the “lettered city” of colonial Cuzco. The last chapter addresses the historiographical concern that hangs over the notaries’ haphazard handling of the official record and its implications for historians dealing with sources as a whole.
While Burns presents this important historiographical question about how to approach archives, her micro-lens looks at the power relations between notaries and cuzqueños. This conflict theory approach to notarial business of colonial Cuzco captures some fascinating cases that emphasize the mediated manner in which the archival record was compiled. But the power relationships are probably best identified when Burns highlights some of the non-notarial business that notaries found themselves in. While according to the notary handbook, their basic duty was in authenticating the activities of individuals in society, this did not prohibit them from participating in additional dealings, often of a rather dubious nature. Bogus transactions involving property sales, commercial or political alliances with duplicitous and often powerful associates, endorsing playing cards, and even buying and selling their own offices was all accounted for. Burns exposes these extracurricular affairs while leaving little doubt about the influence it had on the ability of a notary to record and verify in an unbiased fashion.
This book focuses on the powerful in Spanish colonial society. It discusses the propertied, the titled, essentially the upper classes and therefore it does not offer a comprehensive account of colonial Cuzco. Really, this is a history of the notaries public and those who had the means to afford him. Kathryn Burns makes no attempt to prove otherwise. She does describe how notaries came from neither nobility nor poverty, as it was believed that men “of a middling sort” were more likely to remain neutral. Nevertheless, the author establishes early on the commanding role these often picaresque men played in society. That being said, she does include a few cases involving patrons from various ethnic backgrounds. As well, it is noted that by as early as the 1580s there were indigenous notaries at work in the Andean colonies. However, this situation only serves to underscore Burns’ notion of the notary at the centre of powerful interactions and the importance of interpreting source material more thoroughly. Based on inconsistencies and lacunae in the records, it is determined that documents involving indigenous concerns were likely altered at the behest of Spanish officials to serve powerful interests. Burns should be commended for her ability to continually drive home her main point about reading between the lines by using early modern archival material produced by the notaries. She capably depicts notaries as unscrupulous purveyors of power. In some instances, there is evidence of abuse in handling the words of witnesses in court depositions. There are off-record understandings of business deals in which the notary and his assistants were paid to complete a job they knew was inaccurate, and sometimes did not even care to know they were being manipulated in such a way. Did the notaries involved have a vested interest at times? It is impossible to believe otherwise.
In the fifth and final chapter, Burns applies a metaphor in which she compares the job of notary, that of document making, to chess because of the competition and strategy involved. In turn, she proposes that archives should be likened to chessboards, and historians playing the game need to familiarize themselves with all those rules and gambits. Because it forces historians to rethink the game, Into the Archive is an important work both historiographically and in the context of Spanish colonial history during “Le Edad de Oro”. Compared to previous historical accounts of colonial Cuzco which took the archives at face value, this insightful interpretation which incorporates “writing without words” brings a much more robust interpretation. Hopefully, Burns has influenced other historians to look past “fiction in the archives” and comprehend the collaboration and conflict that can be involved.
Into the Archives serves as a significant lesson about historical sources to encourage consideration of those who contributed the materials in the first place. Learning about the notaries of colonial Peru, reveals the importance for historians to be more conscious of the human element involved in producing sources. It is as necessary to understand the competing forces in the lives of those creating the material, as it is the actual materials themselves. Historians utilizing archival records need to listen for those “subaltern voices” and be wary of implicit evidence as much as they extract what is explicit. American essayist Logan Pearsall Smith once said, “What I like in a good author isn’t what he says, but what he whispers.” The same should be said for archives.

[Frank · Rating 4 out of 5]

In Into the Archive, Kathryn Burns explores the role of “writing and power” in forming and sustaining both the Spanish Empire during its Golden Age and the colonial archives it left behind. Foregrounding the escribano (notary), she explains how the Spanish crown delegated immense power and authority to a “middling” class of notaries whose signature, rubrica (a practiced flourish), and signo (seal-like emblem) certified and transformed a wide range of documents and agreements into “legal facts,” that were nearly “impossible” for one to dispute (p. 75). While she brilliantly describes the indispensable functions of the notary in nearly all aspects of Spanish colonial life, she also convincingly argues that the notary’s influence is not limited to just the colonial period. Indeed, the near monopoly they had on recording, writing, and archiving all forms of documents extends their power over how modern scholars interpret and understand the Spanish colonial period today. Therefore, the central purpose of her book is to challenge “the notion of archives as bearers of objective truths” by looking at the archives themselves rather than simply through them (p.125). Only by historicizing the archives and understanding the process in which notaries constructed the documents stored on its shelves can scholars get closer to understanding what life in the Spanish colonies was truly like.
​Burns structures and divides her book thematically into five chapters. Logically, she begins her journey by describing who notaries were and outlining their various duties and responsibilities. She immediately makes clear their importance to the Spanish by revealing that technically, it was Christopher Columbus’s notary who recorded the discovery and subsequent “possession-taking acts” on Guanahani in 1492, which officially constituted Spain’s first colonial holding in the “New World” (p. 1). While notaries were supposed to be “neutral” arbiters in theory, Burns explains that in reality, various interests, circumstances, and customs shaped notarial practices. An example that epitomizes Burns’s overarching argument is the practice of recording witness depositions. While judges were supposed to personally conduct and record these testimonies, they almost invariably delegated the task to notaries. Taking on this responsibility, notaries were technically required by law to document testimonies word for word without any deviation. However, in reality, notaries served more as “interpreters” than modern courtroom stenographers (p. 33). Burns illustrates that notaries would often paraphrase witness’s statements and “clean-up” the language to sound more professional. While understandable, this practice could misrepresent the message the witness was attempting to convey. Furthermore, Burns reveals that oftentimes, assistants, rather than the actual notary, were the ones that physically conducted the writing. The notary would verbally dictate to the assistant the words he wanted documented. This example not only convincingly supports Burns’s assertion that “custom makes the law,” but also that archival documents are not “objective” or completely accurate representations of the circumstances they purportedly represent (p. 87). Instead, an archival document is the end-product of a layered process that includes multiple actors who filter their experiences through their own lens.
​In addition to highlighting the rather innocuous practices and customs that notaries engaged in, Burns also details how practical interests resulted in some notaries adopting more questionable tactics. By 1580, Burns explains that the Spanish crown was bankrupt and turned to the sale of public offices—such as notaries—to raise revenue. Often, purchasers of these offices would pay hefty sums for the title and understandably needed to recoup their investments. To do so, notaries leaned on a “complex network” of elite members to support their personal businesses using draft books, signing blank contracts, templates, and tolerating “confidential understandings” (p. 97). Burns successfully uses many examples to illustrate this “notary’s dilemma”—a conflict of interest between their public duty and their personal interest of making money—leading to incidences of corruption. Over time, the general population cast a negative stereotype on the notarial class, claiming that “notaries, whores, and barbers all pasture together and follow the same path… they had no souls or human warmth” (p. 22). However, the notarial adoption of unofficial customs and practices also created the space and opportunity for indigenous people and non-elites to navigate and take advantage of the system. Burns argues that “people did not have to belong to their city’s richest, most formidable clans to exert some control over the archival record” (p. 96). Common people engaged in off-record understandings, distrato (nullification of contractual obligations), and other forms of manipulation to further their individual interests.
​Using an impressive array of notarial records, court proceedings, and contractual agreements found primarily in the Cuzco Archives, Burns not only provides a historical account of the important role of notaries during the Spanish colonial period but also challenges the way we approach archival research. She suggests that instead of viewing an archive as “a window into the past,” scholars should think of archives more as “chessboards” containing documents created through a process “full of gambits, scripted moves, and countermoves” (p. 124). She encourages researchers to remember that document making does not take place “in a social vacuum” (p. 126). Instead, documents are made by people in relationships and often reflect “unequal power relations” that researchers can only unearth by “reading against the grain” (p. 127). This well-written and concise monograph uniquely weaves together a regional history while providing lessons on research methodology. While the subject matter is complex, the text itself is extremely accessible and a suitable work for both undergraduate and graduate students.
​

[Gina Wilson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent, engaging look at how we might approach an archive critically. Burns includes primary source examples throughout and a plethora of interesting (sometimes very funny) examples, along with descriptions about what we might learn from such cases. I think this text is essential for anyone who researches colonial history. This is a light, fun read that still manages to convey critical information that will shape the way one approaches any document from the Spanish colonial world.

[Megan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Who has power in the archive? This is one of the questions that Kathryn Burns ponders in Into the Archive: Writing and Power in Colonial Peru. At first glance, it appears to be the notary with the most authority, the official whose signature, rúbrica, and signo were required to render legitimate any number of the various business and social transactions that took place in colonial Cuzco, and whose documents make up the archive that is the subject of Burns’ inquiry. The answer is not as simple as that, however. In large part because of the contradictory nature that characterized notarial work, notaries wielded power, but it also allowed for wide latitude for other players on the archival chessboard, to borrow Burns’ metaphor, to make moves. In her exploration of the notarial archive, Burns reveals that although its antitheses granted notaries power, this power was not an impenetrable domain only for notaries to claim.

Burns argues the archive is like a chessboard, but she too likens the reading of the archive as being in a “hall of mirrors.” In regards to the framework of its contradictions, the mirror comparison may still be a more apt one—a representation of a clash between theory and practice in Cuzco that was so disorienting it compelled Burns to question at all who really held power in the notarial archival. Necessary to consider too are the mechanisms cuzqueños employed such as contracartas and exclamaciónes to express say not strictly between themselves and their notary but between themselves and other person in the transaction that the notary legitimized. All things considered, the discrepancies Burns discusses in Into the Archive result in a practical archival power that was too at odds with itself for any one party to claim total authority.

[Alexander Jolley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Burns argues that colonial archives were not neutral assemblages of fact, but rather technologies of power, or active grounds where authority and truth were produced through the labor of notaries. Burns, much like Stoler, reframes the Archive both as a source of information and as a subject matter in itself. This reframing shows how archival and bureaucratic practices in colonial Latin America transformed human acts and practices into legal distinctions. Writing itself became a form of governance, negotiation, coercion, and inequality. 

Burns departs from a traditional archive reading by focusing on how archives are produced. Drawing upon legal manuals, notary registration, and lawsuits from colonial Peru, she bridges the gap between theory and practice, revealing the politics of seemingly ordinary and everyday documentation of events. Burns exposes the Archive as a product of economic survival and social mediation, rather than the result of bureaucratic transparency. 

Burns brings past theories by other scholars, like Foucault, down to the scale of lived experience. The author uses Natalie Zemon Davis's concept of "fiction in the archives," applying it to colonial Latin American archives to show how legal truth was crafted over time rather than discovered. She challenges the notion of empire as a continuous administrative structure and reveals it instead to be a fragmented system dependent on intermediaries.

Into the Archive contributes a methodological shift by urging historians to see documents not as windows onto the past, but as artifacts of performance, negotiation, and moral economy.

[Liam · Rating 3 out of 5]

An interesting look at the use of individual, notarial power in the production of Colonial Archives in Peru.

[Jaime · Rating 4 out of 5]

Entretenido y breve. El libro se adentra en los archivos notariales del Cusco colonial para examinar al archivo mismo, quiénes eran sus agentes, cómo se elaboraban los documentos, en qué condiciones, por lo tanto, qué tan fiables eran y son. Este examen le permite ver la complejidad de la “ciudad letrada” que disfrazaba muchas agencias a través de fórmulas habituales no siempre creíbles ni creídas pero sostenidas, mostrando a su ve la complejidad de las relaciones de poder no solo en el Cusco o en el virreinato del Perú sino en el imperio español en general, ya que al final compara sus hallazgos con los archivos de Sevilla y ve que no hay grandes diferencias en los modos de usar el poder notarial, que bien resumen y expresan los archivos coloniales. Muy recomendable.

[Lexy deGraffenreid · Rating 5 out of 5]

A great book for all historians, archivists, and anthropologists. Although this seems aimed at Latin Americanists, this book is really about the politics of Memory and how memory is socially crafted. This is a terrific insight into how archives are formed and how students of history should critically approach archives.

[Oliver Bateman · Rating 5 out of 5]

The examples might be tedious for non-Latin Americanists, but Burns' approach to undertaking an "ethnography of the archive" is invaluable reading for all historians. An added bonus: the monograph weighs in at a sleek 150 pages. Winning!

[Teresa · Rating 5 out of 5]

Enlightening as to the role of writing in colonial life. Very approachable.