4. A patriarchal society in the Rio de la Plata: adultery and the double standard at Mission Jesús de Tavarangue, 1782

Barbara Ganson

On 16 February 1782 administrator Lucas Cano denounced Father Francisco Xavier Dominguez, a Franciscan, for having committed adultery with two married women: Margarita Arandí, a native Guaraní, whose husband had fled from the mission, and Petrona Sánchez, his own wife. Cano also requested the Spanish authorities place his wife in a casa de ejercicio (a religious institution which served as a kind of female asylum, workshop or prison) ‘among the women who led a bad life and that she remain there until she learned the graveness of her actions’.¹ Cano learned of his wife’s infidelity with the Catholic priest from his mulatto slave Pasqual Cano, or possibly second-hand from his slave’s mother-in-law. According to the testimony of Pasqual Cano, his master, Lucas Cano, was busy writing something and asked him to bring candles from the living quarters of the priest. His master’s wife, Petrona, then offered to accompany her slave. It was around midnight when they arrived at the priest’s quarters and Petrona noticed an Indian woman hiding underneath the priest’s bed. Pascual testified that he heard some noises coming from the bedroom of the priest, such as furniture being knocked over, along with a guitar. He then saw an Indian woman come out onto the patio and ask for a knife in order to kill the administrator’s wife. Since there was none, she went back inside. When no one was willing to assist her, Margarita Arandí then stormed out. Another testimony from a Guaraní using an interpreter stated something different, affirming that his mother-in-law, a Mulata, had heard the two women fighting. Pasqual claimed that Margarita Arandí did not have sexual relations or an affair with the Franciscan priest; only that she washed his clothing and nothing else. Interestingly, the testimony of the slave was taken down during the investigation, even though his legal status could have been discounted. Nevertheless, the interrogators considered his testimony to be significant enough to include it in their investigation of adultery in this former Jesuit mission town.

This chapter will explore how differences in gender, race, ethnicity and social class were major considerations in how Spanish colonial authorities dealt with cases of adultery in late 18th-century Paraguay. What becomes evident is that the Jesuits, as representatives of the pope and the Catholic Church, had reinforced a patriarchal society in the reducciones [settlements] of Paraguay: they shared or reflected the values of the more dominant Spanish culture in the Rio de la Plata. Those authorities who replaced the Jesuits following their expulsion in 1767 practised a double standard by which men of authority, mainly Spanish secular officials, could commit acts of adultery without suffering serious repercussions. Women, on the other hand, whether Guaraní or Spanish, were punished more severely for their infidelity and for having violated the moral values that regulated Spanish colonial society. This practice was contrary to canon law, which viewed adultery as a sin for both men and women. The codes of conduct for men tended to be far more lenient regarding marriage and sexuality, while women who engaged in extramarital affairs received greater condemnation in the town of Jesús de Tavanrangue.

Originally established by the Society of Jesus in 1685 with 150 Guaraní families, the Jesuits moved the mission of Jesús de Tavanrangue to a more favourable site at Mandi-i-soby and Capiibay, north of the Paraná river in what is today south-eastern Paraguay and a UNESCO World Heritage Site.² In 1741, 1,850 Guaraní inhabited Jesús de Tavarangue; in 1757 its population was 2,082. Following the Guaraní rebellion against the terms of the Treaty of Madrid in the 1750s, 912 refugees migrated from the eastern Jesuit missions or were relocated there.³ According to the 1783 census, there were 1,747 almas (or souls) in Jesús de Tavarangué, who were divided into 24 cacicazgos (an aboriginal polity which assumed the form of a chiefdom).⁴ The local economy of Jesús de Tavarangue appeared sustainable. The Guaraní women grew corn, cotton and manioc, while men raised beef cattle, sheep, oxen, horses and mules. In 1783 there were 9,292 head of beef cattle; 549 oxen; 565 horses; 342 mules; 531 sheep; and two burros.⁵

Censuses from the late 18th century indicate a small Spanish or creole presence. Lucas Cano, the 54-year-old Spanish administrator, was relatively advanced beyond middle age for the period. The document does not indicate the age of his wife, Petrona Sánchez. Lucas Cano and Petrona Sánchez had two sons, who are described as pursuing their studies, but sources do not indicate their level of schooling or type of studies. In all likelihood under the circumstances, the couple had had previous marital disagreements, since Petrona Sánchez had resided in Buenos Aires.

Figure 4.1. Il Paraguai e Paesi Adiacenti. Venezia 1785. Courtesy of Geography and Maps Division, Library of Congress.

Although this judicial investigation occurred after the Jesuits had left the missions, the patriarchal legacy of the Society of Jesus remained. The Catholic missionaries had established a society in which men played all the significant political, economic and religious roles in the missions. Jesuit missionaries concentrated on the education of male Indian children, especially the sons of caciques who would then teach their parents and play influential roles in the administration of the missions. Boys learned how to read and write, as well as do mathematics. Although Guaraní women provided extensive agricultural labour, girls’ education was largely relegated to the performing of domestic chores and the spinning of cotton and wool thread to make clothing for their families. Guaraní men, on the other hand, were trained to serve as militia soldiers, river-boat sailors, blacksmiths, shoemakers, tailors, printers, sculptors, scribes, musicians and pottery-makers, as well as handling livestock, among other tasks.

Gender separation took place not only in the workshops and on the mission ranches, but in the schools and during church services. While Guaraní boys and girls both studied the catechism, the children filed into the church in a separate line with boys entering first; men came next; and then girls, followed by women, all seated according to their gender. Catholic missionaries also enclosed elderly women, single women and orphans in a separate compound or asylum known as the coty guazú.⁶ These were shelters located next to the church where women’s honour and virginity were protected, as well as their physical wellbeing. Usually two or three elderly women raised the orphans and looked after the welfare of the young women. Women left these enclosures to work in the fields and then only in groups. Men exercised authority in the Indian cabildos or town councils, as well as in the militias established by the Jesuits to combat Indian slavery, beginning in the 1620s. ⁷ There were no female members on these councils or constables to patrol the streets of the missions. Nonetheless, women were not without some influence and their voices can be heard in their testimonies.

Petrona Sánchez did not admit she had a fight with the Guaraní laundress, Margarita Arandí, in the bedroom of the priest at midnight. Petrona Sánchez sought out the Franciscan priest but directed her anger towards Margarita Arandí, having discovered her hiding under the priest’s bed. Sánchez, however, directly challenged colonial society’s dictates for elite women. She refused to adopt the submissive postures of obedience, especially after she had learned that her own husband had had an adulterous affair with a young woman named Thomasa, the daughter of Pedro Pablo Sánchez, a yerbatero (trader in yerba mate or Paraguayan tea). Thomasa was the daughter of her compadre [godfather; benefactor, influential friend]. Petrona Sánchez struck back at her spouse by committing adultery with the local priest in what became a public scandal known to all in the mission town. Sánchez stood by her by actions and strong sentiments about not loving her husband, having made publicly known his adulterous relationship. She denied having a physical confrontation with a woman of a distinctive social class and ethnicity because she appears to have lost the fight. Contrary to her own testimony, she left the room with facial wounds. It was not only a matter of her sense of honour; she may not have wanted to avoid bringing attention to the nature of their involvement with the priest.

Differential treatment

According to the double standard, men other than those of the cloth could have illicit sexual relationships without facing severe punishment. Under the Code Napoléon in Europe, an adulterous wife could be sent to prison for two years, while a husband who was found guilty went unpunished unless he moved another woman into his house as his concubine; but even under these circumstances he was subject only to a minor fine. In late medieval France, however, the opposite of the double standard was enforced. Men were punished more often than women for having extramarital affairs.⁸ People shared the belief that men were responsible for their own behaviour, as well as that of their wives.⁹ In certain instances in Europe, however, adulterous women could be put to death. These types of punishment in Europe were harsher than those administered in colonial Spanish America. At Jesús de Tavarangue, Lucas Cano remained in his position as administrator of the town, having retained support from members of the community, despite having been disgraced by his wife and public knowledge of his adultery. What seems to have mattered most was whether he carried out his responsibilities, not his sexual improprieties. Community interests thus prevailed, not misunderstandings, disagreement and the violation of the married couple’s marriage vows.

Men exercised considerable power over women in being able to send them away or cloister them both within and outside the missions. Nevertheless, women were not without some recourse in determining their romantic choices. The nature and extent of the native women’s sexuality and independence in general are not well understood, but it is clear that Margarita depended on the priest as a source of employment. There is no mention of how she was compensated for her labour. Arandí, however, had to deal with the stigma of her lesser social status of a laundress whose domestic profession made her highly open to the suspicion of being the priest’s lover, especially after having been discovered in his living quarters late at night. Margarita Arandí, for her part, explained in her testimony that her husband had fled the mission many years earlier and denied that she had ever had an affair with the priest. She also flatly denied that she had ever fought with the wife of the administrator in the priest’s bedroom. It is probable that Margarita Arandí and her 14-year-old brother, Estanislao Arandí, defended her reputation to avoid her being sent to a woman’s prison in Buenos Aires or suffering other consequences for having threatened the life of a Spanish woman. Estanislao claimed that the wife of the administrator had never gone into the bedroom of the priest, nor had he ever heard of the priest visiting his sister in her own house. Margarita was spared from being placed in the coty guazú, but she was still sent away to reside on a mission ranch on the outskirts of the town. Had the cabildo officers and caciques thought more favourably of Petrona Sánchez, this Guaraní woman might have been more severely punished. In this context, the question of the honour of Margarita Arandí, a native woman of lower social class who only washed clothes, did not seem to matter. Margarita Arandí avoided a more severe penalty due to the fact that her spouse had abandoned the mission as a fugitive and she thus did not dishonour him. Her honour was not at stake to the same extent as that of Petrona Sánchez. To be guilty of adultery required one to be married; her spouse had fled some time ago.¹⁰

Figure 4.2. Photograph of the first page of the Guarani letter, Mission Jesús de Tavarangue (AGN IX 36-9-6 Misiones, 1782).

Margarita Arandí did not face being consigned to a religious institution apparently due to her lower social class, status, race and ethnicity. Similarly, no one asked or bothered to care whether the young woman Thomasa offered any testimony. She might have confirmed her adulterous relationship with Lucas Cano. The silence in the historical record is quite revealing about the extent of influence exercised by male authorities.

There was no single native response to the news of two women fighting late in the evening in the bedroom of their local Catholic priest. Several Guaraní were reluctant even to admit that their priest had committed adultery with the two married women; some admitted they had no news of the priest having visited other native women. Others had heard rumours of this practice. Nevertheless, some thought the priest should be severely punished with two hundred lashes for having committed such an offence.

Sentiments of oppression and their subordination come through in a letter written by a native in 1782 on the part of the Guaraní from the mission Jesús de Tavarangue (see appendix and fig. 4.2). It is among the approximately one hundred letters the Guaraní wrote in the late colonial period and early 19th century, having learned the value of writing from the Jesuits.¹¹ Guaraní cabildo officers from the Mission Jesús de Tavarangue – Lieutenant Corregidor Julian Tacurari; Regidor Primero Cacique Principal Miguel Arȃendĭ; Cacique Eusebio Guĭrapepo; and the Secretario de Cabildo Ygnacio Aratutĩ – signed the letter on behalf of all those who could not sign their names and addressed it to the viceroy and captain general in Buenos Aires in support of their Spanish administrator, Lucas Cano. These individuals humbled themselves at the viceroy’s feet and referred to him as ‘their great chief ’, expressing respect towards the Catholic God and the king.¹² They claimed they had no prior knowledge of the administrator misbehaving or acting in a scandalous manner; otherwise they would have removed him from the town themselves. They requested that he be given permission to remain because their administrator respected God and the laws of their king. ‘He treated us poor ones well’, they noted. They observed how the former administrator of their ranches and farms, Don Juan del Granja, had not taken care of the ranches, where their cows had wandered off. They said that Cano has helped us ‘poor people’ and brought peace to the community. They admitted they were aware of rumours that the governor at the mission capital of Candelaria, Don Francisco Perez, wished to replace him; this was the reason the viceroy needed to hear from them. The cabildo officers and caciques then asserted that Cano’s wife Petrona Sánchez did not treat her husband well, nor did she get along well with the daughter of her comadre [godfather’s wife].

The indigenous leaders in the town pleaded with the authorities for Doña Petrona Sánchez to ‘be sent away to live alone in a place where she will no longer bother anyone’, for having been the subject of such a scandal, known by everyone in the town, men, women, children, young and old alike. They explained they learned that the administrator’s wife had entered the priest’s living quarters without her husband’s knowledge, where she had found Margarita, ‘one of their own daughters’, who worked as the laundress of the priest, and pointed out that it was very late in the day. The administrator’s wife and the Guaraní woman began to fight with one another, tossing each other onto the ground. ‘We all learned of this, including children, my great chief ’, the councilmen and caciques explained. They also expressed the sentiment that they could no longer respect the priest when he came to celebrate mass, having had two women fight in his living quarters. They requested that a new priest replace him. They framed their letter using religious terms and humbled themselves before the Spanish authorities, referring to themselves as ‘impoverished’ and hoping they would not lose their souls because Jesus Christ had shed His blood. They hoped the viceroy would listen and accept their request; and wished God would grant him a good, long life.¹³

The native letter appears among the judicial records without an original Spanish translation, which suggests that authorities who received the letter knew how to read it in the native language or used translators. Interestingly, the letter was contradictory in that it suggested their administrator had a sexual relationship with the daughter of a yerba mate trader. The members of the cabildo and the caciques, however, asked that the priest be sent elsewhere. They expressed no tolerance for a cleric who had violated his vows of celibacy.

During the colonial period in the Rio de la Plata, authorities distinctly dealt with adultery cases according to social class, race, ethnicity and gender. The husband who was married to a woman with a questionable reputation who admitted to having had an illicit sexual relationship was perceived as a victim. He had the power to utilise legal mechanisms and colonial institutions to send his wife to a religious institution. However, when he, as a married man, committed adultery, the act was not even considered a crime or a sin in the Rio de la Plata. It was simply that familiar story of a double standard.

For the Guaraní, however, cases of divorce were unknown in the missions of Paraguay. Flight or abandonment was most probably one solution to any marital disharmony. A Spanish woman was left with little recourse other than to denounce her husband’s inappropriate and unacceptable sexual behaviour to the local religious authorities. In this case, Petrona Sánchez, though committing adultery herself, sought revenge for her husband’s betrayal and thus created a public scandal and acted against the norms of the Church and colonial society. The administrator’s wife stood by her actions in that she claimed she no longer loved her husband, who she asserted had had an affair with the daughter of a yerbatero. Even though Margarita Arandí had threatened her life and attacked her, interestingly no one came to Petrona Sánchez’s defence. Perhaps Petrona Sánchez’s own relatives were deceased or resided far from the mission town. Under other circumstances, an indigenous woman would have faced punishment or imprisonment for assault.

Cacique Don Eusebio Guyrapepo admitted to having seen Margarita Arandí enter the priest’s living quarters and knew there was a fight around midnight between Margarita and the wife of the administrator. The priest defended himself by stating that the Guaraní who offered testimonies were not impartial. Don Eusebio Guyrapepo, according to the Franciscan priest, had beat his own wife with a stick and the priest had had to intervene to protect her. This happened to the extent that the Indian cabildo had had to punish Don Guyrapepo for mistreating his wife. In turn, several other Guaraní did not testify that the priest had had any type of relationship or illicit affair with either of the two married women. They responded that they never heard the priest leave at night to enter the living quarters of the Indian women. They observed that he only went to the Indians’ houses when they were sick. El Teniente de Corregidor Julian Tacurari confirmed this.

There are constant twists and turns in the story, according to each testimony. The Regidor Primero Cacique Principal Don Miguel Arȃendĭ claimed the Indian Margarita had entered the bedroom of the Franciscan priest and provided a mattress for her house (obviously implying that the two had sexual relations), but that he never saw the priest visit other Indian women. Corregidor Don Enrique Tacurari only mentioned that he had heard the fight between the wife of the administrator and the Guaraní woman in the priest’s living quarters. Being the corregidor, the most important Indian official in the town, he submitted his testimony even though in reality he had nothing entirely new to add for the investigators. Either he was posturing or this was an act of respect or a way of emphasising that his testimony should be included in the investigation because he was the most important Indian leader in the town.

Aside from some contradictions in the various testimonies, it is evident that those individuals in colonial Paraguay who suffered the most were the white Spanish woman, the Guaraní laundress and the Franciscan priest, all three of whom were expelled from the town. The judicial record made no mention of the detrimental effects of the allegations of adultery on the Sánchez children. The exiled Franciscan priest remained in a state of melancholy and was described as being very sad. He first lived in Mission Candelaria and later in MissionYapeyú.¹⁴ The final fate of Petrona Sánchez is unknown, but most probably she was sent away from the town to reside in a religious institution or with relatives, at least for a time.

Conclusion

Certain individuals, whether a man of the cloth or women from different social classes, race and ethnicities were apparently unwilling to conform to the expectations of obedience to male authority or the teachings of the Catholic Church, or to follow colonial society’s rules without objection. Women, whether they were members of the Spanish colonial elite or Guaraní, however, were not without some recourse in matters of the heart. Women could exercise a degree of power through residing in Buenos Aires away from their spouses; complaining to their local priests; controlling their own body and emotions; and, on this rare occasion, dishonouring their husbands by committing adultery with a Catholic priest. Banishment from the town and the use of physical space in confining women to religious institutions, shelters or workhouses were powerful tools, wielded by authorities within the missions and by the Catholic Church to deal with individuals who were perceived to have violated colonial society’s social norms by committing acts of adultery. Guaraní women could also be subjected to physical domestic abuse without much recourse other than complaint to the local priest. Domestic abuse or physical violence against women was tolerated to a degree in the town, although the Franciscan had intervened on behalf of a cacique’s wife. His willingness to assist abused women in this respect was not, however, well received by cabildo officers and caciques. Ultimately, the community’s interests and the strong dislike of a particular Spanish woman by the townsmen largely determined the outcome of these cases of adultery, along with attitudes towards gender, marriage, sexuality, race and ethnicity in this patriarchal society.

Appendix

Exmo. Sr. Virrey, Captain General.

The community of Jesús, members of the town council and chiefs, kneel down before your feet, our great chief with much humility and respect. In the first place, in the name of God and also in the name of our King, through writing this letter we briefly address you, our great chief. Don Lucas Cano who respects the laws of God and those of our King, who takes care of us poor ones and those who reside on our ranches. Our previous administrator Don Juan of the farm denied us cattle which wandered off on the farms; he also had us produce cotton and cloth, which had been lost. It is he [Cano] who has been able to help us poor people in everything and been able to put everyone at peace. We are aware that the Señor Governor Don Pieza of Candelaria wants to have him removed from this town. There are some rumours about our administrator Don Lucas, with whom we are familiar, so you are now aware of this, my great chief. Our capataz [foreman] is from our village and works in the yerba plantation. He is a godfather (or friend) of our administrator who is called Pedro Pablo Sánchez. We heard that the administrator has had a relationship with the daughter of his godfather. Nonetheless, we have never seen our administrator act grotesquely or ever behave badly. If he had behaved badly or was rude, we would have removed him from office a long time ago. We had always wanted someone who never behaved poorly or in a scandalous manner, my great chief. For these reasons, we beg you to give us your permission so that he could remain here. We are referring to our administrator, Don Lucas Cano. For this reason, we kneel before your feet and so that you pay attention to those who are poor and so that you have mercy on us for the love of God and the love of your mother. We are certain that the wife of our administrator, Señora Petrona came from Buenos Aires and have heard the constant local rumours of the people about how she did not treat her husband well. She also did not get along well with her godfather’s daughter. For this reason, we have removed her from the town [of her godmother] because there was much talk about the present lawsuit in our town. We say this because the wife of our administrator should reside alone where no one could not bother them. We learned one late afternoon, when it was getting dark and without the knowledge of her spouse, she had gone to the room of the priest; this is, the wife of our administrator. There she found a girl, one of our own who is the laundress for our priest; well we confided in the priest. She knew what had been going on for a long time, nonetheless, with the priest for having looked after him. And precisely one afternoon, the two physically fought with one another in the quarters of the priest. They struggled hard, mistreating one another, throwing each other to the ground. This happened in the bedroom of the priest. Everyone found out about this situation, including the children, my great chief. We had respected our priest and we considered him to be the vicar of Jesus Christ and obeyed him. But we stopped respecting him after the two women fought in his bedroom. Nevertheless, we are not trying to damage his reputation. However, we were ashamed of the priest when he goes to celebrate the mass. And for this reason, we communicate this only to you, my great chief, knowing well that you occupy the position of king. And we know that you will capably do the right thing for God for our benefit. For this reason, you should send another priest whom we could respect, so that we could return to respect your holiness. Please take pity on us poor so that we do not lose our souls for which our saviour Jesus Christ has shed His blood and in light of His sacrifice of His death. May you listen and fulfil our request, my great chief. May God grant you a long life, for we are your humble servants, our great chief.

Lieutenant Corregidor Julian Tacurari first alderman, principal chief Miguel Arãendĩ

Chief Eusebio Guĩrapepo, and for all the remaining members of the cabildo and the chiefs who do not know how to sign their names, Secretary of the cabildo, Ygnacio Aratutĩ

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Donohue, F. (2012) ‘To beget a tame breed of people: sex, marriage, adultery and Indigenous North American women’, Early American Studies, 10 (1): 101–31.

Durston, A. and B. Mannheim (eds.) (2018) Indigenous Languages, Politics, and Authority in Latin America: Historical and Ethnographic Perspectives (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press).

Ganson, B. (2003) The Guaraní Under Spanish Rule in the Rio de la Plata (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press).

Jackson, R.H. (2008) ‘The population and vital rates of the Jesuit missions of Paraguay, 1700–1767’, Journal of Interdisciplinary History, 38: 401–31.

McDougall, S. (2014) ‘The opposite of the double standard: gender, marriage, and adultery prosecution in late medieval France’, Journal of the History of Sexuality, 23: 206–25.

Ruiz de Montoya, A. (2017) The Spiritual Conquest: Early Years of the Jesuit Missions in Paraguay, trans. by B. Ganson and C.M. Saffi (Boston, MA: Institute of Jesuit Sources).

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1 ‘Carta al Gov. Don Francisco Piera’, ‘Sobre el recurso echo por el Adm. del Pueblo Lucas Cano con el cura del miso Fr. Francisco Xavier Dominguez’, Archivo General de la Nación (Buenos Aires) (hereafter AGN), IX 36-9-6, 1782.

2 R. Carbonell de Masy and N. Levinton, Un pueblo llamado Jesús (Asunción: Fundación Paracuaria Missionsprokur, 2010), p. 28.

3 R.H. Jackson, ‘The population and vital rates of the Jesuit missions of Paraguay, 1700–1767’, Journal of Interdisciplinary History, 38 (2008): 401–31 (404).

4 Prov. Del Paraguay, Estado del Pueblo de Jesús, AGN 22-8-2; ‘Expediente que suspende los tributos y mayor servicio durante diez años a los Indios del Pueblo de Jesús que necesitan para conducir la Iglesia y nuevo Pueblo’, AGN 17-3-6, 1782.

5 Ibid.

6 B. Ganson, The Guaraní under Spanish Rule in the Rio de la Plata (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2003), pp. 72–9.

7 A. Ruiz de Montoya, The Spiritual Conquest: Early Years of the Jesuit Missions in Paraguay (1639), trans. by B. Ganson and C.M. Saffi (Boston, MA: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 2017), p. 229.

8 S. McDougall, ‘The opposite of the double standard: gender, marriage, and adultery prosecution in late medieval France’, Journal of the History of Sexuality, 23 (2014): 206–25.

9 B.S. Anderson and J.P. Zinsser, A History of Their Own: Women in Europe from Prehistory to the Present, 2 vols. (New York: Harper & Row, 1989), vol. 2, p. 150.

10 In contrast to Native American women in south-eastern North America, punishment in cases of adultery was far more severe in the 18th century. Cherokee and Choctaw women who were adulteresses, for example, faced sexual humiliation in public, physical mutilation and severe beating (F. Donohue,‘To beget a tame breed of people: sex, marriage, adultery and Indigenous North American women’, Early American Studies, 10 (2012): 101–31. These primary sources appear, however, to have been analysed through the perspectives of Europeans.

11 See http://www.langas.cnrs.fr/temp/index.htm, a digital archive of Guaraní texts, Langues Générales d’Amérique du Sud, prepared by C. Boidin, IHEAL Sorbonne, Paris, 2012–16; Ganson, The Guaraní under Spanish Rule, pp. 98–104, appendices 1–5 (pp. 191–203).

12 See C. Boidin and A. Otazú Melgarejo, ‘Toward Guaraní semantic history: political vocabulary in Guaraní (sixteenth to nineteenth centuries)’, in A. Durston and B. Mannheim (eds.), Authority, Hierarchy, and the Indigenous Languages of Latin America: Historical and Ethnographic Perspectives (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2018).

13 ‘Cavildo y Caziques del Pueblo de Jesús, sobre el recurso echo por el Adm. del Pueblo de Jesús, Lucas Cano, con el cura de misiones Fr. Francisco Xavier Dominguez, 1782’, AGN IX-36-9-6, Misiones 1783, palaeography translated from Guaraní into modern Spanish by A. Otazu Melgarejo with revisions by C. Boidin, Sorbonne IHEAL, Paris, Oct.-Nov. 2012. See the data base LANGAS, http://langas.cnrs.fr/#/consulter_document/extraits [accessed 15 Sept. 2019].

14 ‘Sobre el recurso echo por el Adm. del Pueblo de Jesús, Lucas Cano, con el cura del mismo, Fr. Francisco Xavier Dominguez’, AGN IX-36-9-6, Misiones 1782.