Post on 24-Apr-2023
THE SOCIAL IMPLICATIONS OF CERAMIC VARIABILITY AT A 19TH CENTURYSUGAR HACIENDA IN WESTERN EL SALVADOR
Lauren Alston BridgesMasters of Arts Thesis Proposal
Historical ArchaeologyIllinois State University
Committee Members:Dr. Kathryn Sampeck, ChairDr. Howard Earnest, Jr.
Dr. Elizabeth ScottDr. James Skibo
CONTENTS
Page
CONTENTS 1PREFACE 3
CHAPTERS 5
I. INTRODUCTION 5
Research Questions 6 The Nature of Proposed Research 6
II. THEORETICAL BACKGROUND 9
Social Historical Archaeology 10 Agency 11
Free Will and Authoritarian Consent 12 Consumerism and
Spatial Analysis 13 Landscape Analysis 14
Multiscalar Approach 16
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Summary 18
III. PREVIOUS STUDIES 19
History and Archaeology in El Salvador 19
Summary 26 Historical and Archaeological Research on theHacienda 27
Summary 33
IV. HISTORICAL CONTEXT 35
Historical Context 37
Pre-Columbian Period 37
Colonial Period 38
Nineteenth-Century; Struggle for the Nation 43The Sugar Revolution
46Environmental and Geographical Context
49Summary
53
V. METHODOLOGY 54
Research Questions 55
Participation in Market and Consumer Revolution 55
Construction of Identity and Settlement Pattern 57
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Ceramic Artifacts 59
Redware 59
Imported Europeanware 60
Decoration 60
Handpainted 60
Mocha/Engine Turned 61
Spongeware 62
Transferprint 62
Transferprint Motifs 63
Chinoiserie 63
British and American 64
Classical 64
Romantic 65
Summary 65
VI. DATA ANALYSIS 67
Ceramic Dating 68
Ceramic Wares 79
Ceramic Form 86
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Decoration 98
Matched Sets and Design Motifs 111
Summary 116
VII. DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSIONS
118
Social Power and Agency 118
Research Questions Addressed 120
WORKS REFERENCED 124 APPENDIX A: Ceramic MNV Table APPENDIX B: Raw DataAPPENDIX C: Map of the Hacienda
PREFACE
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The goal of this thesis project is to capture a snapshot of
life on a sugar hacienda in the nineteenth century. These are my
observations on the years leading up to La Matanza (The Massacre),
a 1932 Salvadoran peasant uprising in western El Salvador that
resulted in the slaughter of thousands of Salvadoran people,
which concentrates on local patterns and local individuals. This
research has the potential to open up a new level of historical
research in western El Salvador. Hopefully, I have begun to
crack open the opportunities.
I want to thank my patient husband, who has put up with
piles of articles and mounds of past due library books. I also
want to give thanks to my family, who has formed such a strong
support network, that I have been able to get married, work, go
to school, and move across the country without a mental
breakdown.
My advisor, Dr. Kathryn Sampeck, played an integral
role in providing scores of comments and guidance that improved
my academic writing and research skills. She has inspired my
research interests throughout graduate school and will continue
to inspire future research. Her pragmatic comments help keep my
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writing grounded. Dr. Howard Earnest, Jr., is a walking
dictionary of information and has been an important part of my
thesis committee.
Dr. Elizabeth Scott provided me with a strong foundation of
core classes and writing skills. Her adherence to excellence
encouraged my own commitment to digging out the truth. I want to
thank Dr. Jim Skibo for helping me think creatively and
philosophically. He has always approached my ideas with an open
mind and has helped me explore all my research interests. Dr.
Fred Smith always kept me accountable for successfully completing
my degree. Thank you for the gentle push.
Finally, thank you to my fellow graduate students,
especially those in my class and my awesome study group. I would
not have made it this far without you guys to motivate me with
Borders coffee, comfort me with random dancing and Maggie Mileys
and challenge me with philosophical life questions.
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CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION
Large estates, called haciendas, dominated the Latin American
countryside beginning in the colonial period through the
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twentieth-century and played an important historical role in
shaping social, economic, and political systems (Lyons 2006).
Actually, haciendas still dominate the countryside, though
agrarian reform has affected them in some cases, like converting
them to large, communally-held haciendas. Historical research in
El Salvador has emphasized the political revolutions and bloody
wars rather than the internal dynamics of hacienda communities
and their complex social relationships (Flemion 1972). I examined
the social organization of a nineteenth-century sugar hacienda in
western El Salvador through a systematic analysis of ceramic
variability and a study of spatial distribution. Ingenio is
Spanish for “mill”, while an ingenio azucarero is the name for a
sugar mill or facilities processing of sugarcane in order to
obtain sugar, rum, or alcohol (Barrett 1970). The hacienda
includes the domestic and other structures.
I will examine the settlement pattern and social
organization of the region surrounding a nineteenth-century sugar
hacienda (Appendix C) specifically from 1780 to 1900. These dates
are based on manufacturing dates of imported European ceramics
because little publically available historic documents exist
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regarding this hacienda zone in the United States or via the
internet, including within the National Library of El Salvador
online archives. Historical archaeological research in El
Salvador has the potential to answer some of the many questions
left unanswered by the Salvadoran historiography of the past
three hundred years. Quarrels over land ownership and
privatization have been generalized because scholars did not
account for the “internal dynamics of Indian communities and
their complex political relationships with external forces,” such
as small, privately owned haciendas (Lauria-Santiago 1995:496).
Daily activities are where these issues can be observed, because
people interact closely and consciously or subconsciously leave
traces of those interactions in the material culture and
landscape.
Research Questions
Archaeology has the capacity address how the social
organization of the population in the nineteenth century is
reflected in or even in part created by the ceramics used in
daily subsistence activities and used for household needs, a
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subject not broached in most available documentation. My research
questions, which provided the foundation for my research, are: 1)
to what extent did various individuals on a nineteenth sugar
hacienda in western El Salvador participate in the consumer
revolution; 2) does material culture indicate the potentially
diverse ethnicity of the people who were living and working in
this region; 3) are these people living and working on the
hacienda part of a highly organized and hierarchical settlement
pattern; and 4) what do the settlement patterns and ceramic
distributions reveal about the construction of identity at sugar
production sites in the Early Republican Period of El Salvador?
The Nature of Proposed Research
Orser (2002:5-6) stated that “limited attention has
been directed to the later archaeology in Central America,” and
that the field has mainly focused, “since its inception in the
1970s on the colonial period, particularly the impact of missions
on the native populations” (see also Sampeck 2007). I focused on
the transitional period of Salvadoran independence from the
Spanish empire, beginning in 1780 and continuing through 1900.
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This was a time when political, social, and economic systems were
being renegotiated. The Salvadoran people at this time were, in
the west at least, ethnically mostly Pipil, an indigenous people
who spoke a language that is part of the larger Nahua linguistic
group. These people identified with the Spanish casta indio
(Indian). The Pipil took control of their state beginning with
the 1811 move towards independence led by the land-owning
creoles. These creoles were Spanish mestizo, a mixture of European
and Indian, but ethnically identified with the civilized Spanish
(Anderson 1992). This land-owning class consolidated most ejidos
(communal town lands) into private ownership by a few powerful
families who were mainly absentee owners (Anderson 1992). This
action says something about agency and social power. The large
group of indigenous and other marginalized people formed the
labor force, which made these private haciendas profitable. The
more profitable the hacienda, the more power and prestige the
mestizo hacendados (hacienda owners) controlled, because they
could buy political positions and more profitable land. Powerful
hacendados had the status to influence political policies that
continued to negate the agency of the indigenous populations.
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This is why depicting the independence movement as a
fundamentally Indian project is not quite correct. Frequent and
intense social negotiation occurred daily because criollo (a
Spanish American of pure European stock, usually Spanish),
mestizo, ladino (a person who adopts European customs), and Izalcos
region Pipil social identity involved a complex class hierarchy
that was reinforced or enacted through ideology and material
consumption. In fact, Anderson (1992:25) names eleven social
classes: “latifundistas, colonos, terratenientes, urban proletariat, small
farmers, miniscule proprietors, the important commercial class,
shopkeepers, industrialists, white collar workers, artisans,”
indios, and other indigenous migrant workers (variously referred
to as naborías, indios forasteros, or tamagaces). This complex mix that
constituted the Salvadoran people, impelled by the land-owning
elites’ social power based on the monopoly of natural resources
and agricultural exports, gained a voice and changed the history
of the region.
The events and changes that took place in the
nineteenth century directly impacted El Salvador’s modern
history. Burns (1972:141) stated that, “during the last half of
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the nineteenth-century, new forces appeared which challenged the
hoary social, economic, and political institutions deeply rooted
in the colonial past. Urbanization, industrialization and
modernization formed a trinity menacing” to both Colonial
traditions of power and Indian tradition. Much of the social,
economic, and political power controlled by landowning families
was transferred to the cities, but the “fourteen families”
retained their iron grip on the countryside (Anderson 1992).
These changes to long-standing institutions were based on the new
laws aimed at creating productive individuals in society. Large
institutions, like the Spanish government, placed its power in
local institutions like haciendas and plantations, causing a
renegotiation of local hierarchy. This renegotiation of social,
political, and economic institutions played a direct role in the
development of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries in El
Salvador (Anderson 1992; Bannon and Dunne 1963; Burns 1972).
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CHAPTER 2
THEORETICAL BACKGROUND
Historical archaeologists have disagreed on how to
study the impact of colonialism on all cultures involved and on
the development of the modern world. Contemporary researchers can
agree that looking at specific issues like ethnicity, race and
socioeconomic status in local contexts can help break through
colonial stereotypes and vague generalities of historical records
(Orser 1996, 2004). When studying colonialism in El Salvador,
Ripton (2006:101) observed that “the formation of the state, the
emergence of an oligarchy, the role of the military, and the
poverty of the peasants are shaped by commercial agricultural
production for the global market.” Haciendas and plantations,
where commercial agriculture was being produced in the Americas,
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were a cultural landscape where socio-economic status was
created, challenged and reinforced (Orser 1988, 1996, 2004).
In this section, I will address issues—social archaeology,
free will and authoritarian constraint, agency, consumerism and
spatial analysis, landscape analysis, and multiscalar approach—
that seemingly do not complement each other. The hacienda relies
on profitable production and “production exists on at least three
levels, economic, political, and ideological…things, power, and
thoughts and ideas are produced in each, respectively, but none
can exist independently” (Orser 1988:35). I aim to unify these
issues to create a uniform approach to look at a nineteenth
century hacienda, from the ground up, as a cultural landscape
that relies on structures of profitable production where
ideologies are created and reinforced through material culture to
ensure profitability (Delle 1998, 1999).
Social Historical Archaeology
McGuire and Navarrete (2005) perceived the development
of social archaeology in Latin America as a scientific response
to the tradition of hegemonic culture history. The tradition of
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culture history has persisted in Latin American studies,
including in El Salvador. Hegemonic culture history is a means to
preserve elite power by co-opting cooperation from the oppressed
(Giddens 1984; Lefebvre 1991). Social archaeologists chose to
interpret history by looking at local variability while the
culture-historical archaeological model looks for broad trends
and commonalities (Renfrew 1984). A recent trend in Latin
American history was to integrate the social history of Latin
America with politics and state formation, starting at the local
level (Lauria-Santiago 1995). Lauria-Santiago (1995:153) argues
that “such studies then place local actors, often con nombre y
apellido, in the larger context of national histories and re-write
“national history” in terms that are more consistent with the
divergent and contradictory experiences of different subjects,”
which illustrates his concern for variability and foregrounds
individual action. Lauria-Santiago clearly belongs to Lockhart’s
school of “new philology,” which provided the foundation for
social history. Lauria-Santiago verbalized much of what I want to
accomplish by researching and analyzing the local archaeology of
nineteenth-century western El Salvador. I used the material
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culture and history of one sugar hacienda to produce a localized
interpretation of the larger trends occurring during the
nineteenth century. The desired effect will be the recognition of
local actors who have shaped their local landscape through their
individual choices (Oyuela-Caycedo et al 1997).
Agency
Another theoretical trend I utilized is recognizing
agency as part of the analysis of social interaction (Barrett
2001; Giddens 1984). Agency is the actions and choices of
individuals and their consequences in the material world. My
assumption is that culture, and therefore the archaeological
record, is made by individuals acting as part of a social class
or network (Beaudry 1996). Archaeology recovers material culture,
and material culture is part of culture. In the context of
colonial Latin America, a focus on agency allows labor to be seen
from the bottom up. Silliman (2006:147) observed that the labor
studied by historical archaeologists is that of the “colonized,
enforced, controlled, exploited, indebted, hierarchical,
unequally distributed, often rigidly structured, and
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simultaneously global and local” (Abu-Lughod 1990; Ortner 1995).
Historical archaeologists are able to see those people who have
been left out of history; the voiceless masses that exist in the
undocumented lower classes. Through this inequality between
laborers and the hacendados and among the laborers themselves,
social divisions or groups can be seen in the material culture.
Laborers can be studied “in how they negotiate the rules,
resources, constraints, and opportunities of labor relations that
surround them” (Silliman, 2006:153). This focus on the
differences and/or gaps between different social groups and how
they reflect access to resources is a way to look at the social
agency of those living and working at the hacienda.
Free Will and Authoritarian Constraint
Delle (2008:102) observed that “one of the central thematic
tensions of modernity as an historical process is the
contradiction between the concepts of free will and authoritarian
constraint.” One of the main theoretical conflicts in this
research endeavor is how to distinguish between agency, “free
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will,” social forces, and “authoritarian constraint” (Delle
2008). One aid in identifying agency is the aspect of social
power, which is visible through the organization of space and in
the ceramics (Pauls 2006; Meyers 2005). In this study, ceramics
were the most abundant artifact and appear to have distinctive
spatial patterning indicative of the negotiation of social power,
which is described in Chapter 7. Orser (1996, 2002, 2004) argued
that social power is one factor that determines how the agent
negotiates the rules and resources in his or her context and
implies that the individual is acting as part of a social group.
One dilemma of agency studies is to determine if free
will or authoritarian constraint affect material consumption.
Orser (2002) believed that agency is a hard concept to define
because it is structured by social roles. Social roles, such as
gender, ethnicity and race as well as a number of technological
issues, affect and restrict an individual’s choices (Skibo and
Schiffer 2008). A single, fairly small geographic zone centered
around the ingenio azucarero, provides a baseline of continuity,
allowing a way to see how people in generally similar conditions
behave differently. Differences, then, are expected to have
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arisen from variation in the behavior of individuals within
social networks (Orser 2002).
This behavioral disparity was demonstrated in multiple
restricted ceramic collections that show variability in ware,
forms, decoration, and location throughout the hacienda property.
Spatial organization is another strategy for interpreting the
archaeological traces of social power (Delle 1999, 2008; Orser
2004; Baugher et al. 1987). Charles Orser (1988, 1996) related
behavioral distinctions of socioeconomic strata to social power
and spatial analysis through studies of plantation societies. The
material culture people use and discard reveals physical activity
that indicates social dynamics (Delle 1998). Baugher and Venables
(1987:7) observed that “a growing body of research in American
historical archaeology has been concerned with relating
archaeological patterns to behavioral distinctions among
socioeconomic strata.” Applying the same concepts to Central
American historical archaeology, a spatial study of the hacienda
as an area of social production emphasized what the occupants do
and how that action is valued and compensated accordingly, as
seen in the distribution of the ceramics in the assemblage. A
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major contributor to the study of spatial analysis is Mark Leone
and his archaeological research in Annapolis, Maryland. Leone
(1988, 1995, 2005) argued that local elites manipulated their
landscapes to demonstrate their control over nature and social
relationships. James Delle (1999) continued to contribute to this
trend through his study of organized space in Jamaican
plantations and spatial conflict in Ireland. Material culture,
including ceramics and landscapes, played an important role in
the negotiation of social relations (Leone 1988, 1995, 2005).
Consumerism and Spatial Analysis
A growing body of historical archaeological research carried
out in the last twenty years relates to consumer choice and
consumerism (Cochran and Beaudry 2006; Delle 1999; Douglas and
Isherwood 1979; Hoskins 1998; Miller 1987; Orser 2004). Ceramics
represent people’s activities and preferences based on the ware,
decoration and vessel forms they chose and used. The ceramics the
people in and around the hacienda left behind may indicate how
the vessel was valued. Baugher and Venables (1987:50) brought up
an important point that “the buying power of a colonist, not the
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individual’s proximity to a colonial city, determined what (and
how much) the individual purchased.” Thus, the value of ceramics
is determined through social networks. Relative values may appear
in the relative frequencies of imported wares, local wares, and
decoration in the variability of vessel form. Examining ceramic
variability is also a way to explore how people relate to the
others around them and how they relate to the architecture which
surrounds them (Sweely 1998). I used detailed spatial and ceramic
data to construct an organizational framework of social behavior.
Studying the spatial organization of an archaeological assemblage
helps relate the archaeological data to cultural behaviors of
living people (Spencer-Wood 1987).
Landscape Analysis
I based my approach to this research on Allan D.
Meyer’s (2005) research on a Porfirian sugar hacienda, Tabí, in
Yucatán, Mexico. Meyers’ primary focus “was to rediscover the
settlement pattern through surface surveys” to study social
inequality at Tabí (Meyers 2005:121). Land has always been sought
after and fought over by people throughout history, but the
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winners usually write the history. Historical archaeologists are
taking on the concept of landscape analysis as a focus of study
with as many different viewpoints as there are archaeologists
(Ashmore and Knapp 1999; Johnson 2007; Nassaney 2001; Orser 2006;
Politis 2003)
The theoretical orientation utilized in this paper is
largely based on that of Purser (1989), Nassaney (2001), and
Herman (1997) which address landscape and the built environment
as it relates to identity through use of material culture. Purser
used roads as her artifacts and the trans-city network of these
connecting roads as her scale. Purser’s (1989:121) key concept
that non-site constructions such as roads “helped reorganize not
only the way the settlement looked but also the way it worked as
a social and economic unit,” are strongly evident in spatial
organization. Nassaney also examined the built environment
through the lens of social archaeology. Nassaney (2001:220)
recognized that, “changes in social relations can be identified
using a variety of methodological tools and interpreted within a
theoretical framework that emphasizes the built environment and
material goods as the products and precedents of social
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negotiation.” His studies throughout Southwest Michigan have
shown that people “built their cultural environments and
organized space in ways that served to assert their identities”
(Nassaney 2001:222). On the hacienda, I looked for how people
differentiated themselves from others through the built
environment similar to the built environment; the ceramics people
choose to use also can reveal their self identity. Herman’s
(1997) study of the Charleston Single House developed the notions
of “embedded” landscapes. Herman (1997:43) noted that “the
embedded landscape approach also provides for the study of the
spaces and interstices within and between buildings, especially
the kinds of spaces where action and interaction occur and
relationships are defined in ways that socially and symbolically
unify and divide people” (Herman 1997:43). On the hacienda, I
searched for European-derived ceramic evidence that revealed how
people shaped their landscape around them through their material
culture. These theoretical models aid in the exploration of
social organization within an embedded landscape on the hacienda.
Multiscalar Approach
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In archaeology, it is essential to interpret a survey area
at many different scales to reconstruct the past. Culture
historians used a macro-scale approach to interpreting data. This
macro-scale approach defined cultural variation to define
relatively large temporal spans and regional spatial patterning.
During the last few decades, archaeologists have begun to operate
on a smaller scale to understand the behavior of individuals. A
multi-scalar approach ensures that the big picture is created on
a solid foundation of all the smaller events and processes from
which it is constructed and likewise the big picture is not lost
in the ‘trees’ of individualism.
This approach is important to me because some archaeological
studies of boundaries are informed by a colonialist perspective
based on the assumption of core-periphery relationships
(Lightfoot and Martinez 1995). By opening up the focus of
research, one is able to observe other examples, which might
suggest that there are active negotiations between all cultures.
To achieve balance, the researcher must first place the local
example within spatial and temporal contexts. Second, looking at
how the local example relates to other local examples, on a
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regional or global scale, can help create an understanding of
constant change and negotiation, rather than passive acquiescence
and sharp boundaries. Archaeology has shown that people adapt to
their changing environments by using material culture that is
available to them. There will be no sharp boundaries of material
culture. It is important to utilize a multiscalar approach for
conceptualizing the landscape of the hacienda as areas of cross-
cutting social networks, where people of all socio-economic
status’ interact and negotiate identity and power.
I am attempting a multiscalar approach, keeping in mind that
this study will be one aspect of a complex picture. Orser
(2004:33) corroborated that “the mutualist connections between
individuals and groups are understandably intertwined,
historically situated, and multifaceted because human life is
complicated.” The multiscalar approach is essential because the
archaeological record was not created in isolation; rather it was
created in connection with many levels of historical context
(Delle 2008; Orser 2004; Sampeck 2007; Spencer-Wood 1996). My
specific study of a nineteenth-century sugar hacienda in El
Salvador examines localized interpretations of larger nineteenth-
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century trends that include the industrial revolution, shifting
power relations within Latin America, and globalization aided by
new technologies such as coal-powered machines and mass-producing
assembly lines. Agency and social power are related to these
issues because they are factors in determining at what scale an
individual participates.
People with little social capital or power theoretically
have less access to foreign goods and less interaction with those
outside the local area. Social capital is, according to Orser,
“the idea that artifacts can be imbued with social meaning” and
this meaning can be used to socially control others (Bourdieu
1986; Orser 1996:235). This implies that those who need to be
controlled would have to be encouraged to access that meaning.
Specifically, the indigenous, mestizo, African and other laborers
on the hacienda would likely have had less access to foreign
goods, like European ceramics, and less direct interaction with
the European traders than the hacienda owners and managers, who
consisted of peninsular or creole ethnicities. Therefore, the
hacienda owners and managers would have been able to purchase the
European ceramics and distribute or sell them to the lower status
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laborers living and working on the hacienda. I approached this
concept spatially, looking at whether the distance from the
casco, owner’s house, impacted the ceramics being used. I kept in
mind an intricate social network was constantly being negotiated
on this hacienda, but there also might have been other networks,
like those mentioned by Orser, between people from neighboring
haciendas (Orser 1996). These networks would influence an
individual’s access to ceramic goods, leaving the social power in
the hands of those who had access to and could afford to purchase
foreign and less common ceramics. In the specific case of El
Salvador, Ripton (2006:106) observed that “access to world
markets has enabled generations of Salvadoran planters,
processors, and exporters to appropriate the most productive
land, often rendering the peasants landless and impoverished.”
This still remains to be proven, but local archaeological
research can help us understand this in terms of the daily lived
experience. This thesis is a step towards testing the theory that
the landowning elites had greater access to ceramics and
therefore had greater social power.
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Summary
This study attempts to understand the internal social
networks and relations between the hacienda occupants. It is also
an initial look at a nineteenth century sugar hacienda in western
El Salvador and how this particular example sheds light on the
events leading up to La Matanza and the following years of civil
war. To begin to understand what was happening on this hacienda,
I must rely on a solid theoretical foundation to interpret the
ceramic distributed throughout the hacienda. Archaeological
evidence reveals that this hacienda was part of the political,
economic, and social networks occurring at a larger scale, and
those larger processes, in turn, probably affected the
socioeconomic status of the people living and working on the
hacienda.
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CHAPTER 3
PREVIOUS STUDIES
History and Archaeology in El Salvador
El Salvador, once regarded as a marginal zone in the
southeast frontier of ancient Maya civilization, is now known to
be a precocious region where many features of civilization
emerged relatively early and was never a frontier of Mesoamerica
but a dynamic contributor to key developments that affected
Mesoamerica as a whole (Demarest 1986). Archaeological research
in El Salvador, like other regions of Mesoamerica, has mostly
focused on prehistoric periods. It is only recently, since the
1980s, that historical archaeology has risen in popularity in
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Central America. A similar narrowness occurred in historical
research in Central America, and specifically in El Salvador,
whose research topics have been monopolized by political
revolutions and bloody wars, rather than considering the internal
dynamics of local communities. Many of the local histories have
been overpowered by the regionally generalized and romanticized
histories of Central American countries. Using a specific example
of a sugar hacienda in western El Salvador, I will address how my
case may vary from overall trends noted for Central America based
on the particular distinctiveness of the Izalco region and its
peoples.
Early archaeological work concentrated on creating a
cultural timeline with ceramic sequencing. These archaeological
excavations were problem oriented and, many times,
multidisciplinary. With the support of the Carnegie Institute,
Stanley Boggs began archaeological work in western El Salvador in
the 1930s. Stanley Boggs continued his work in El Salvador at the
suite of suites of the Chalchuapa complex, including Tazumal and
Casa Blanca. At Tazumal, Boggs popularized his restoration method
of archaeology of reconstructed structures (Demarest 1986). In
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the 1940s, Boggs discovered the “Olmec-style” petroglyphs near
Chalchuapa (Demarest 1986). This discovery indicated an early
Olmec presence in western El Salvador. Boggs is credited with
bringing modern, scientific archaeology to El Salvador as well as
showing that this region was an integral part of Mesoamerica.
William Coe also worked in Western El Salvador, mapping
and compiling data from Mayan survey areas like Chalchuapa
(Sharer and Traxler 2006). Boggs and Coe laid the groundwork for
future archaeologists to explore archaeological survey areas in
Western El Salvador. John Longyear (1944) began extensive
expeditions in 1942 in El Salvador with the support of the U.S.
The only comprehensive archaeological survey of El Salvador was
conducted by Longyear in 1966.
In the 1960s, archaeological research in El Salvador
became increasingly focused on the archaeology identification of
ethnicity. Methodologies and theoretical orientations of projects
during this time drew on processualist models, yet never
committed to developing nomothetic laws (Binford 1971). These
projects instead maintained goals of developing chronological
sequences and detecting historical change and variable ways of
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expressing ethnicity. At this time, the Middle American Research
Institute, Fulbright Foundation, and the Smithsonian, were the
major contributors of Mesoamerican research funding for the study
of El Salvador. Most archaeological research was focused on
prehistoric societies who had some association with Maya peoples.
During the 1960s, Robert Sharer and the University of
Pennsylvania undertook a landmark project at Chalchuapa, the
Chalchuapa Archaeological Project. Sharer’s work established the
cultural sequencing and spatial layout of the ceremonial
structures in the Chalchuapa complex (Sharer and Traxler 2006).
The Chalchuapa sequence is one of the only projects to analyze
ceramics from around the time of Spanish conquest and provides a
baseline for western Salvadoran chronologies. At Chalchuapa,
Sharer was the first to show systematic connections with other
regions of the Maya area and suggest Mayan ethnicity for its
inhabitants through the Classic period. Towards the end of the
sequence Sharer recognized significant changes that indicated the
expression of a non-Maya ethnicity. He also was innovative in
recognizing that different classes of material culture had
different patterns of change and argued that many facets of
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material culture needed to be taken into consideration when
discussing culture change.
At the same time that Chalchuapa was being investigated in
the west, E. Wyllys Andrews V excavated ruins known as Quelepa in
eastern El Salvador in the 1960s. Andrews recorded distinctive
architecture and a ceramic sequence that spanned the Late and
Middle Preclassic and Classic periods (Andrews 1976). He hoped
that these excavations could fill a large gap in the
understanding of prehistoric events in Mesoamerica created by
relatively little evidence of prehistoric standing structures
compared to other regions of Mesoamerica and decimation of the
native populations in this area by Old World diseases, both
factors that made it hard to pin down exactly where people had
settled. Andrews devoted a great deal of attention to defining
material culture sequences to elucidate shifts in social,
political, and economic organization, ethnic expression, and
ritual practice.
Sheets (1983) direction of the Zapotitán Basin project
is an excellent example of a multidisciplinary and
interdisciplinary problem-oriented research project. This project
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integrated archaeology, ethnobotany, volcanology, and geophysics
with architectural and artifact conservation. Regional survey
area and master planning laid the foundation for outreach and
educational efforts. The research project was a success because
of the cooperative efforts of the Salvadoran government,
particularly Concultura within the Ministry of Education, and of
the nongovernmental organization Patronato Pro-Patrimonio
Cultural. The research team reconstructed the ancient survey area
of Joya de Cerén before the volcanic eruption, based on the
theory of household archaeology. Sheets (1983) also made an
attempt to decipher the ethnicity of the residents of the city,
but this endeavor was made more difficult because of the lack of
hieroglyphics and household shrines. Sheets (1983) concentrated
on the production and distribution of obsidian implements. He
found this to be quite sensitive to the settlement hierarchy,
reflecting variation in access to long-distance traded
commodities, craft specialization, and other factors (Sheets
1983).
Arthur Demarest's project in Western El Salvador began
with the goal of dating the in situ "potbelly" sculptures at
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Santa Leticia (Demarest 1986). Santa Leticia was proved to be a
Late Preclassic settlement. This meant that its potbelly and
colossal head sculptures were also Late Preclassic, and could not
be considered ancestral to the Olmec culture. Demarest’s research
at Santa Leticia led him to reevaluate the ceramic typologies in
the type-variety system often applied to Mesoamerican ceramics.
Types in this system usually are generated from sherds that are
assumed to represent whole vessels and it is expected that sherds
from a single vessel will fall into the same type. Demarest
(1986) discovered that whole vessels emerged coherently only at
the "group" level, not at the "type" level. Because of modal
variation in the surface treatment of a vessel, sherds from one
vessel might be sorted into two or more types. This over-
splitting of the traditional type-variety system led to the
perpetual separation of decorated and plain sherds, even if they
came from the same vessel. In order to avoid some of the pitfalls
in the type-variety system, Demarest (1986) emphasized whole
vessels throughout his study to create new interpretations of the
ceramics of Western El Salvador I present both sherd counts as
well as minimum number vessel (MNV) counts in my thesis research
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to address this same concern. As a result of Demarest’s work,
previous investigations on the Maya were reevaluated, and some of
the most significant ceramic contrasts turned out to be at the
intra-survey area scale that reflected differences between
domestic and public contexts (Demarest 1986).
Cerrón Grande, in central El Salvador, is the name of
the large artificial lake that was formed when the Río Lempa was
blocked off by the construction of two hydroelectric dams in the
1970s. The Cerrón Grande Archaeological Salvage Project,
organized by the National Museum of El Salvador’s Director,
Stanley Boggs, discovered that “the cultural sequence of the
basin differs substantially from that of the nearby SE Maya
highlands, especially during the Preclassic, even though large-
scale events (e.g., Ilopango eruption, Pipil migrations) had
similar impacts in both regions” (Fowler and Earnest 1985).
William Fowler and Howard Earnest determined that differences in
ceramic and lithic technology correlated with environmental and
subsistence strategy variation between the two regions. On the
basis of the settlement size and amount of monumental
architecture, Cihuatán appears to have been the primary regional
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center of the Cerrón Grande Basin during the Early Postclassic
(Fowler and Earnest 1985). The salvage research delineated a
culture-historical sequence running from the early Middle
Preclassic to the Early Postclassic, by examining the changes in
material culture. Fowler and Earnest (1985) discovered that the
earliest Pipil migrations to south eastern Mesoamerica dated to
the latter half of the Late Classic Period, while the final
"wave" of Mexican movements into El Salvador probably ended circa
1250-1300 A.D. They did not have detailed data from the west, but
they argued that the distinctive Mexican traits of the material
culture of Cihuatán and Santa Maria were evidence for a Pipil
presence in the Paraíso Basin by the ninth and tenth century A.D.
The Toltec-influenced Pipil, who held most of western and central
El Salvador at the time of the Spanish Conquest, exerted economic
and military pressures on the Pipil of the Paraíso Basin and
ultimately attacked other settlements in the west (Fowler and
Earnest 1985). In the Late Postclassic Period in the basin,
archaeologists found cultural continuity, based on the discovery
that the town of Suchitoto appears to have been a Pipil
settlement at the time of the Conquest. Ultimately, the central
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region of El Salvador suffered a sharp decline in population
during the Late Postclassic Period, right before Spanish Conquest
(Fowler and Earnest). Sampeck (2007) found a period was marked by
population increase in western El Salvador.
I follow in the footsteps of the archaeologists of the
1960s, in that I concentrate on identity as it is seen in the
local ceramics and ceramic distribution on the hacienda, but I
recognize that there is no simple correlation of particular
ceramic types to particular ethnic groups. Aldo Lauria-Santiago
(1995:153) has researched extensively in the Salvadoran archives,
and noted that “other recent trends in the study of Latin America
provide good reasons to start at the local level. Social
inequality, industry, and indigenous power in local context are
current themes of archaeological research.” Ethnicity, race, and
cultural hegemony can be understood only by looking carefully at
individual actors in their own setting.
A trend in historical archaeology is studying areas
that have a long history of being profitable colonies that
supported colonial expansion. In western El Salvador there is
archaeological evidence of the Spanish conquest and ensuing
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consequences of clashing cultures. Dr. Kathryn Sampeck (2007)
studied early colonialism up to the eighteenth century in western
El Salvador, focusing on the theme of indigenous power. She
utilized a multi-scalar approach in her research, which
concentrated on political, economic and cultural landscapes.
Basically, she wanted to know how people identified themselves
and then shaped the landscape around them to negotiate their
cultural identities within the framework of colonial industries.
Wage labor was present in western El Salvador soon
after the Spanish conquest. Wage labor means that indigenous
people were not slaves, but paid employees who chose to work on
the haciendas. Sampeck (2007) and William Fowler (2006) both note
the early presence of wage labor and tribute in Western El
Salvador, during Spanish colonialism. Fowler’s work at Caluco
revealed that in spite of the dramatic decline in the native
populations around the time of the Spanish invasion, Spanish
officials held tribute amounts constant in the Caluco and Izalco
regions of El Salvador (Daniel and Wilson 1993; Verhagen 1997).
This tribute was paid in cacao, the first cash crop in Spanish
America, to the encomenderos. In the late sixteenth century, the
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cacao orchards around Caluco and Izalco were divided into
hundreds of small holdings, owned almost exclusively by Indians
(Verhagen 1997).
Verhagen (1997) is another archaeologist interested in
searching for reliable and useful approaches to predictive
modeling of archaeological survey area distributions. Her data is
much like my own, only it is from an urban setting whereas mine
is from a rural context. Verhagen (1997) found that spatial
landscapes and other material culture can provide a conduit for
studying social inequality and indigenous power in the Indian
pueblo of Caluco. She found that the Indian population utilized
material culture in conjunction with space to delineate and
represent indigenous power. These indigenous patterns were
amplified through Spanish contact and adapted to incorporate
Spanish symbols of power with indigenous symbols of power.
Fowler and Jeb Card (2008) have worked on sixteenth century
El Salvador and specifically on Ciudad Vieja. Ciudad Vieja is
located in the Cuscatlán province of central El Salvador.
Archaeologists have worked to map the city using landscape
archaeology and remote sensing (Fowler et al. 2007; Hamilton
41 | P a g e
2008). Ciudad Vieja was the first Spanish capital city and had a
resident indigenous population that was much greater in number
than its Spanish population. The town was quickly deserted in
1545, and its occupation spans the crucial years of the Spanish
Conquest period in Central America. Archaeological research at
the city survey area emphasized a spatial study of the town as a
cultural landscape. The archaeologists also focused on the mutual
interaction of the different cultural groups that shared the
landscape (Fowler et al. 2007). The well preserved ruins of
Ciudad Vieja serve as a rare opportunity for archaeological study
of the dynamics of early Spanish-Indian culture contact and
relations.
Regarding my current research, in El Salvador, “during the
mid-1980s, researchers looking for documentary materials on the
history of El Salvador had limited options” (Lauria-Santiago
1995:154). It was only during peaceful times, beginning in 1993,
that researchers were able to gain access to historical documents
in government repositories. Some publications have been produced
in-country, largely under the auspices of the Salvadoran
government or the non-governmental institution Patronato Pro-
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Patrimonio Cultural, and some of these publications are in the
collections at Illinois State University (such as Fowler 1995).
The Salvadoran government did allow me unprecedented access to
archaeological materials because of their loan to Sampeck of a
portion of the ceramic collection from the Izalcos survey, for
which I am extremely grateful.
Summary
Most archaeological research in El Salvador has been focused
on the country’s prehistory and disabused the stereotype of this
region as a cultural frontier. My focus is instead on the
transitional period of Salvadoran independence from the Spanish
Empire during the nineteenth century. With the new found
independence, the Salvadoran people, spurred on by the land-
owning elites, gained a voice and shaped the history of the
region. The paradox in my thesis research is: do common people
only gain a voice because elites let them? I believe that this is
a case where both sides are using one another to reach their
respective hegemonic/counter hegemonic goals. The elite wanted to
maintain their power within the political and economic networks
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in El Salvador, using the indios as a mass of bodies to back them
up. The common people, indios, were using the elite to overthrow
the Spanish power so that they could gain more rights and
eventually overthrow elite power.
Historical and Archaeological Research on the Hacienda
The hacienda has been explored archaeologically and
historically in Ecuador, California, Guatemala, Mexico, Brazil,
Jamaica, and Peru (Alexander 2003; Barrett 1970; Chevalier 1963;
Delle 2008; Dunn 1972; Jensen 1955; Keith 1977; Lauria-Santiago
1999; Lindo-Fuentes 1990; Lyons 2006; Meyers 2005; Monaghan et
al. 2003; Wolf and Mintz 1957). Researchers “have been attracted
to this topic, because the era of hacienda expansion in Latin
America was a critical period of economic and social transition”
(Alexander 1997:331). Investigations of the hacienda have helped
illuminate the histories of Central American countries at a time
when the modern world was forming and social, political and
economic systems were changing to accommodate a globalized world.
Historical research far outweighs archaeological research, and
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this project is one of the first archaeological studies of the
nineteenth-century hacienda in El Salvador.
Piedad Pinache Rivero (1999) conducted historical
research on a nineteenth-century hacienda on the Yucatán
peninsula. Rivero (1999:1) analyzed “the henequen hacienda of
Yucatan during the years 1870 to 1915, by examining the nature of
social relations and the mindset which those relations
presupposed.” Rivero’s model of social relations on the hacienda
placed the elite family as the paternal head of the community.
This elite family sustained debt peonage by forwarding pay to
laborers for starting and raising a family. The debt peonage
insured the laborers’ continued service on the hacienda. Another
consequence of this system was the stratification of laborers
into managerial or supervisory positions (Rivero 1999). Rivero’s
work looks at how the hacienda on the Yucatán peninsula was
socially organized and maintained. Debt peonage was a
longstanding tradition in western El Salvador that definitely
shaped the social networks on haciendas (Sampeck 2007). Rivero
looks at the hacienda as a family unit with the elite family as
the paternal head, but I do not want to utilize that approach.
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My analysis instead emphasizes economic and that the hacienda was
organized and run according to what would make the business
endeavor the most profitable.
Social organization during the colonial period was
dictated by centuries of tradition that reinforced a social
hierarchy based on social castes. The Spanish, when they invaded
El Salvador, inserted themselves into the networks already
established by the Pipil. Spanish ethnicity and identity became
the top social stratum. The lowest level was assigned to the
indigenous commoners. As the Spanish stayed and settled in
western El Salvador, they began to intermarry, and to produce
creolized individuals (Deagan 1983). Throughout the Spanish
colonization there is a shift to distinctions based on class
rather than caste, as the casta system falls out of use by the
end of the eighteenth century and the relations become distinctly
racialized (Ewen 1991; Fisher and Loren 2003; Loren 2008).
Many writers, historians, and economists romanticize and
expound on the hacienda, but there has been little extensive
archaeological research on haciendas. I chose to model my
research on Meyer’s (2005) research on the Tabí hacienda in
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Yucatán, Mexico (Meyers 2005). Meyers attempts to reconstruct
what life was like for laborers on the plantation in the waning
years of Mexico's plantation system in the nineteenth and
twentieth centuries. Meyers (2005) conducted sherd counts and
compared the number of coarse earthenware, refined earthenware,
lead-glazed earthenware, majolica and stoneware sherds found at
the laborer’s houses on the Yucatán. Meyers uses the distribution
of imported ceramics and vernacular architecture to illuminate
some strategies of social control used by the hacienda elites to
exploit the native workers. He suggests that “resident laborers,
organized hierarchically, had unequal access to material
resources and social space on the hacienda” (Meyers 2005:112).
The indigenous population Meyers examined was the Yucatec Maya,
whereas my study concerns indigenous populations that include the
Pipil, other Nahua, Maya, and migrant laborers of central Mexico
who came into El Salvador beginning at the end of the sixteenth
century looking for work (Andrews V 1976; Escalante Arce 1992;
Fowler 1989; Graham 1993; Kelley 1988; Lange 1996; Lange and
Stone 1984; MacLeod and Wasserstrom 1983; Robinson 1987;
Stanislawski 1996). Another noted difference is the presence of
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extensive architectural remains of the casco, which are less well
preserved in my research area. Finally, Meyers emphasized debt
peonage at Tabí, based on historical documentation, but I do not
have enough local documentary information to discuss debt peonage
in rural zones of the municipio (municipal district) of Izalco at
length. Meyers’ Tabí hacienda research project, which took place
between 2003 and 2007, produced many artifacts and a framework
for looking at ceramic distribution and social inequality at a
nineteenth-century Mesoamerican hacienda.
Rani Alexander (1997) focused her studies the hacienda
phenomenon. Alexander (1997:332) contended that haciendas and
plantations “constitute an archaeologically visible form of
"investment specialization" in which elites create or purchase
entire communities as productive instruments in the countryside,
thus altering the structure of urban-rural relations and
fostering integration between cores and hinterlands.” Alexander
(1997) observed that the archaeology of haciendas has been
underutilized because there is so much variation in the value and
size of haciendas. Her work highlights the need for more specific
local examples such as the one presented in this study.
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My research examines the hacienda using a specific local
example that can be used to compare with data from others. This
comparative research has the capacity to reveal trends and
patterns on a micro and macro scale. What I provide with this
study, that none of these other studies does, is provide a fine-
grained analysis concentrating on imported European ceramics and
individual taste. Other analyses of material culture (Meyers
included) lump all of the imported white wares into one category.
Historically, “interpretations of the Yucatán Peninsula haciendas
generally are similar to those advanced for the institution in
other areas of Latin America. The expansion of haciendas in The
Yucatán Peninsula between 1750 and 1847 is viewed as an
historical marker of economic transition from a tribute-based
economy to a broader-spectrum, market-based economy” (Alexander
1997:333). The hacienda is seen as an emerging social institution
that dramatically alters production relations and replaces the
indigenous village as the primary productive and social
institution. Alexander (1997) linked the historical and
archaeological record of Yaxcabá haciendas to elite and
entrepreneurial organization and behavior in the nineteenth
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century. Alexander (1997) conducted an extensive archaeological
survey of fifteen hacienda settlements in order to compare
historical data to archaeological settlement patterns. She
recorded information for each settlement that included location
and description of structures (including architectural stylistic
characteristics) and features at the survey area, ecological
context, water sources, and specialized production areas. The
haciendas included a main house and reservoir, water troughs, a
few corrals and/or stables. The larger haciendas had a network of
walls that hugged the streets and house lots for the labor
population. Smaller haciendas lacked most of the characteristics
of larger hacienda complexes (Alexander 1997). Alexander
(1997:341) concluded that “archaeological variation in
architectural form often is attributed to differences in
function, socioeconomic status, and/or duration of occupation.”
She tied in changes in architectural form to labor and tax
relationships on the hacienda rather than just purely functional
categories. I will use Alexander’s premise—that differences in
architectural forms indicate differences in function, status, and
occupation—on the analysis of my specific hacienda example and
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apply it to all ceramics. Thus, variation in the distribution of
ceramic wares, decorations, and forms indicate variation in
function, status, and occupation and by extension, labor and tax
relationships. Determining these variables may help me
reconstruct the social and political networks relating to the
ingenio during the nineteenth century.
Historically, during the nineteenth century, institutional
and demographic changes affected native and migrant laborers.
Stanley Engerman (1983) did not look specifically at the
hacienda, but he did research contract labor and sugar throughout
the world in the nineteenth century. This is pertinent to my
research because Engerman (1983) sets the stage by examining who
the laborers were in the nineteenth century and why they were
working on haciendas. In addition, Engerman (1983) examines the
specific example of sugar in the nineteenth century and why sugar
was a growing industry. Cane sugar was produced on plantations
and haciendas using local and international low-income contract
laborers (Mintz 1985). Engerman (1983:635) also looks at “late
nineteenth- century transitions in the nature of sugar
production…and questions…their implications for the study of the
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relations between institutional and technological changes.” These
migrant laborers had to be supervised and organized according to
what was being produced and the available technology. The land-
owning families imposed various coercive restrictions on laborers
based on low incomes and availability of credit. This is
basically repeating the pattern established in the sixteenth
century with cacao production, though the key difference with the
hacienda is that the land is privately owned (Stanislawski 1996).
Engerman (1983:639-640) states that “the contract was for the
most part entered into voluntarily, albeit by poverty-stricken
people who were willing to accept harsh working conditions at low
incomes.” At this same time in western El Salvador, there was a
labor shortage, which encouraged migrant workers to move to fill
the jobs because wages increased to attract these migrant
workers.
Early in the century, the British West Indies was the
major source of the world's sugar. The world consumption of sugar
rose precipitously during this century to the extent that it
became a common part of the diet of all Europeans, especially
lower classes (Mintz 1985). Cuba began to rise as a dominant
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sugar producer in the Caribbean as the British West Indies
declined during the late nineteenth century. This signifies a
shift in sugar production power to the Americas and the Caribbean
(Mintz 1985).
The increase in production required an increase in
laborers. Sugar plantations had to be set up in a manner so that
the cut cane could get to the mill without spoiling or reduced
sugar content. The production survey area had to be close to the
mill, and the laborers had to be close to the cane fields and
mill. This lay-out created a close-knit, but hierarchical
community led by the landowning elite and supervised by
managerial laborers (Mintz 1985). Engerman (1983:659) concludes
that “plantation owners sought the technology, and labor
organization and control, which maximized their profits”. To
maximize profits, indigenous labor had to be meticulously
controlled through a hierarchical social stratification. The
sugar industry created a need for political control by the creole
elites to make the hacienda industry profitable, but the
profitable industry exacerbated the gap between the have and
have-nots monetarily, socially, and politically. These actions
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resulted in the institutionalized disenfranchisement of the
laborers.
Summary
I will continue to develop my idea of the social relations
of the hacienda in the specific case of the Izalcos region,
taking into account the legacies from the colonial era. The
hacienda system brought about fundamental changes in the
organization and relations of production. The separation of the
colonial producer from the Salvadoran means of production, and
commodity based production rather than subsistence based
production changed the basis and therefore the form of Salvadoran
social organization (Benton 1996; Leone 1988, 1995; McGuire 2002;
Orser 1996, 2002). The Izalcos area was unique in that they did
not focus on subsistence production before contact. What does
change is the increasing shift to private land ownership and
class based social stratification. Within Latin American
haciendas, status was based on occupation and labor hierarchy.
This also affected the family because the nuclear family rather
than the extended family of community became the main unit of
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household social organization (Benton 1996; Leone 1995; McGuire
2002; Orser 1996, 2002). The settlement patterns and material
remains at the hacienda reflect the changing realities of social
organization of the hacienda system. These causal factors are
getting at the issues of why La Matanza occurred and why these
same issues remained unresolved into the twentieth century
(McGuire 2002).
The archaeology of the hacienda is important because the
discipline has the ability to reconstruct what life was like for
laborers and others on the hacienda. While the early period of
hacienda history (1750-1860) is well studied by historians,
surprisingly little is known about the layout and organization of
these distinctive settlements from the late period (1861-1911),
when increasingly unequal conditions on haciendas provided the
tinder for the revolutions of the twentieth century. The material
culture that was recorded and analyzed at this hacienda
highlights the inequalities caused by the hacienda system of
production. The research of this hacienda region has the
potential to shed light on the social, political and economic
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CHAPTER 4
HISTORICAL CONTEXT
This chapter explains the importance of research focused on
nineteenth-century El Salvador by exploring the history of the
preceding and subsequent centuries. I will provide a historical
and geographic contextual framework that will be useful for
interpreting the archaeological data. Historical archaeology is
often used to tell the story of disenfranchised people who are
often “invisible” in the historical documents. Historical
documents (journals, property maps, and legal documents) often
provide accounts describing the location and layout of sites.
Historical documents can offer insight into who was writing and
recording history and their perspective. Written history does not
always record reality; rather it records the perceptions of
reality. Artifacts do not inherently contain the same kinds of
bias as historical documents because they are an unintentional
record of the past (Skibo 1992). Only through using both57 | P a g e
historical documents and archaeological evidence can a more
complete picture of the past be gained. Understanding the social,
economic, and political history of El Salvador can shed light on
the “invisible” histories that occur between critical historical
events, like Salvadoran Independence and La Matanza, which
dramatically changed the country.
In 1932 La Matanza was the most defining event for
sociopolitical life in modern Salvadoran history. It began in
western El Salvador, on January 22nd, when groups of angry
workers stormed town centers with machetes and farm tools. A mix
of several different ethnicities, largely Pipil, referred to
generally as indios, were protesting government policies, and
ended up killing thirty-five ladinos. A few short days later, in
retaliation to the massacre, the Salvadoran government killed
around 30,000 indigenous peoples (Tilley 2005). Tilley (2005:138)
observed that most histories of modern El Salvador make minor
mention of Indian identity in the 1932 revolt, but until recent
work by Aldo Lauria-Santiago and Patricia Alvarenga, race usually
manifested merely as one additional factor aggravating “peasant”
(class, sectoral) grievances over land and wages. After 1932 any
58 | P a g e
meaningful indigenous presence was erased in the documents. After
this event, remaining indigenous peoples began to hide their
traditions and assimilate into the dominant ladino society.
Indigenous people were discouraged from their traditional customs
and culture for fear of being associated with rebellious and
dangerous grassroots organizations. Tilley’s basic argument was
that Indians did and do exist, but recognizing them as such is
what changed after 1932 (Tilley 2005). Ladinos continued their
campaign of racial terror to scare the indios into abandoning
their ancestral traditions, but this action seemed to have the
opposite effect of empowering ethnically Pipil communities that
banded together to seek protection from the government (Lauria-
Santiago 1999). This event is seen as a powerful precursor to the
civil war of the 1970s to 1993.
Profitable land and political power have historically been
controlled by the creole elite, while indigenous people chose to
become migrant labor working for these powerful landowners.
Sampeck (2007) argued that becoming a migrant worker was a
choice, an important strategy especially for those of the Izalcos
because of the colonial legacy of extraordinary, heritable
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tribute demands (Sampeck 2007). White (2009:xvi) observed that
this tradition of “concentrated elite privilege on a scale
unknown throughout the rest of Latin America” can be traced back
to the “power of the so-called 14 families [that] stretches back
to the nineteenth century at least.” Today, Indians still
experience social exclusion in the economic realm, in terms of
land ownership and access to credit (Tilley 2005; White 2009).
Meanwhile, the planter elite families, or fourteen families, who
originally helped overthrow Spanish imperial power, received
special privileges. To this day, the Salvadoran Constitution
makes no specific provisions for the rights of indigenous people,
or for their ability to participate in decisions affecting their
lands, culture, traditions or the allocation of natural
resources. Historical trends and events, such as Salvadoran
Independence and La Matanza, have continued to influence the
development of modern El Salvador. To understand these nineteenth
century historical trend of indigenous disenfranchisement through
the commoditization of agricultural exports, the social,
economic, and political contexts of this century must be further
explored.
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Historical Context
Pre-Columbian Period
Just before the Spanish Conquest, the area known as Central
America was organized by various indigenous peoples into several
states and principalities. The majority of indigenous
inhabitants, in the area known today as El Salvador, were Nahua
speaking peoples, the Pipil. The Pipil make up the largest
indigenous group, historically and currently, in El Salvador. The
Pipil founded the polities of Izalco and Cuscatlán, which are
historically known for their strong indigenous traditions
(Lockhart 1992; White 2009). Before contact, the Pipil territory
spread over most of central and western El Salvador, and was
organized into governing zones. The Nahua altepetl, was an
ethnically distinct political entity that consisted of nearly
independent constituent parts that were bound together partly on
the basis of rotating ritual, political and social duties. In the
case of the Spanish conquest of western El Salvador, the Spanish
remained preoccupied to a large extent with their internal
rivalries. The local altepetl remained viable as a functioning
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autonomous unit. This state system formed the basis for Spanish
political and economic structures, including the encomienda
(Sampeck 2007). The Pipil of Izalco had control of unusually
large tracts of communal land, which was later seen as a threat
to the Spanish concept of private ownership (Sampeck 2007). The
Pipil established complex interregional trade networks within and
outside their territory. The trade was organized under a
hierarchical model, where the local heads of political units
controlled tribute payments and access to various trade networks
that provided the elite with privileged access to goods and
control of distribution (Sampeck 2007). This organization allowed
the Spanish to insert themselves into the trade networks, and
used the Nahua model for currency, but did not interfere with the
fundamental aspects of the altepetl, leaving some power in the
hands of the Nahua Pipil.
Colonial Period
The colonial period lasted from about 1524 to 1821, and had
an intense and lasting impact on El Salvador. The Spanish arrived
in El Salvador in the early sixteenth century (Stanislawski
1996). In western El Salvador, the initial Spanish settlement of
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Espiritu Santo was seen as “too close” to the Pipil, so the
Spanish town of La Santissima Trinidad de Sonsonate was founded
in 1550 to counteract the problem (Card 2008). The early Spanish
settlers sought individual wealth and many found it in the
encomienda system and cacao export (MacLeod 1973). MacLeod (1973)
analyzed the histories of the indigenous people as a response to
the Spanish conquest, trade markets, politico-economic competition
and exploitation, and ideological power struggles within the Spanish
and ladino social classes. Accordingly, MacLeod focused on
processes of integration, adaptation, resistance and manipulation
of power. The Spaniards realized the country had little precious
metal and turned their attention to the only profitable resource,
land. The Spanish began laying claim to indigenous people’s
labor, coercing the Indians to work as laborers for the Spanish
encomenderos on their encomiendas. And with their land in the form
of privately owned hacienda, the majority of the Salvadoran
native population was reduced in size and complexity because of
disease and abuse, which caused them to emerge as a laboring
peasantry under Spanish control (MacLeod 1973). Western El
Salvador proved unique, in that there was actually a population
63 | P a g e
increase during the sixteenth century, while the Nahua altepetl
held strong as an indigenous political entity (Burkholder and
Johnson 1998). In the cacao tribute in the Izalcos, the Pipil
worked their own land and paid enormous amounts of tribute, while
the encomenderos occupied themselves with commodities like
cattle, indigo, and eventually sugar.
There was economic and agricultural diversification in El
Salvador because the country had an amazing environmental range
in a closely packed space, along with some of the most fertile
soils in the New World (Burkholder and Johnson 1998). In the late
sixteenth-century, the Spanish realized cacao could be a
lucrative export to be produced by the native people. Even though
laws made exploitation of Indians unlawful, the repartimiento
system and haciendas were used to continue indigenous exploitation
for Spanish profit. The repartimiento system was a forced labor
system imposed on the indigenous population that paid low to no
wages for a certain number of weeks or months of labor per year.
The hacienda was a pivotal institution that offers itself to a
processual explanation of how colonial peripheries undergo
64 | P a g e
integration with the expanding global economy (Alexander 1997;
Wolf and Mintz 1957).
As production on haciendas increased, “the methods used to
press Indians into its service persisted into the late
seventeenth century through head and other personal taxes that
required Indians to dedicate a portion of their land and labor to
cash crops, often indigo” (Ripton 2006: 103). This means that
ejido tracts (communal lands) were encroached on and other wise
appropriated by planters through disingenuous economic and legal
schemes (Ripton 2006). By the seventeenth century, Lindo-Fuentes
documented that in Central America indigo hacendados took control
of as much as a third of Indian village land and a substantial
portion of Indian labor to produce indigo at a fixed price in
perpetuity. The tribute tax Indians had to pay to the landowning
elite was the main factor that caused Indian communities to
become indebted to indigo planters who eventually commandeered
their land. MacLeod (1973) noted that and some of the Indian
communities were disintegrating under the economic pressures and
political circumstances of indigo production, while other Indians
apparently resisted incorporation into the new commercial regime.65 | P a g e
Isolated communities dotted the countryside in an attempt to
maintain their isolation defying the Spanish authorities by
fleeing to remote locations (MacLeod 1973; Sampeck 2007).
Also during the seventeenth century, there was a rise in the
demand for sugar (Mintz 1975). Previously, the American sugar
industry “evolved between 1500 and 1800 as planters adopted
innovations in land use and in the mills” (Galloway 1985:334).
These innovations encompassed changes in agricultural practices
to support a monocrop, use of natural resources, and
modifications in milling and processing technologies. Many of the
colonial planter elite began adding sugar to their cash crops.
Galloway noted two fundamental aspects about sugar planters as a
class: “(1) planters had access to information about innovations,
and (2) planters adopted innovations only when it made good
economic sense to do so” (Galloway 1985:335). His point is that
the planter class was rational and only adopted innovations by
choice as the result of a conscious decision.
The Hapsburgs ruled when in a somewhat relaxed manner
regarding the district of Sonsonate, and the indigenous people
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openly questioned colonial authority. Many academics view the
Hapsburg rule as a weakening of Spanish power in El Salvador
during the seventeenth-century (Burns 1972). Hapsburg rule
suffered a decentralization of authority, despite royal efforts
to maintain close control through its agents. This
decentralization occurred because of the rivalries between
conquistadores. These rivalries led to violence and civil war
among the Spaniards in the early years of colonial rule, which
hindered the unification of Central America under Spanish rule.
As a result, ayuntamientos (municipal/local councils) were the
most important governing units in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries. Under this system, many indigenous people still lived
on and farmed their ancestral land, but were increasingly
indebted to the merchants who controlled trade. The Indians began
to question Spanish authority, because the governing peninsulares
(a Spanish-born Spaniard or mainland Spaniard residing in the New
World) were also controlled by bribes from the manipulative
merchants.
The eighteenth century is marked by the Bourbon reforms.
Understanding these reforms is essential in examining the social,67 | P a g e
economic, and political structure both preceding and following
Central American independence (Wortman 1975). At this time,
“Hapsburg decentralization was supplanted by a rigid structure
that increased centralized authority in Crown hands” (White
2009:46). This Bourbon reforms represented an effort to regain
the Spanish sovereignty that earlier monarchs enjoyed, because an
exceedingly strong merchant class controlled commerce, including
prices, trade regulations, and tax collection in the beginning of
the eighteenth century (Wortman 1975). They were a set of
economic and political legislations that were intended to
stimulate manufacturing and technology in order to modernize
Spain and make the administration of commercial production more
efficient under Spanish control. The prices on all food,
minerals, cattle and indigo were controlled under the ordenanzas
of the Ayuntamiento de Guatemala. Most trade outside of Central
America was permitted to only pass through the capital city. Once
the goods were in the capital city, levies were paid and the
merchants took control of marketing produce (Wortman 1975). The
merchants controlled the price of the goods because they would
finance the producers and production of the profitable goods
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through contracts. The power was in the hands of the creole
elite and Guatemalan merchants and not in the hands of the ruling
Spaniards. Even though there is centralization on the one hand,
there is decentralization on the other. Because of the reforms,
the repartimiento system was dismantled and the expansion of
Spanish owned cattle estates occurred in response to indigenous
population growth but lack of access to land. Simultaneously, the
European industrial revolution began to impact production in El
Salvador. Demand for indigo increased due to the increased
textile production in Europe and Central America dominated the
production and exportation of indigo because of its high quality.
This increase in indigo production and a decrease in cacao
production in the eighteenth century attracted increasing numbers
of immigrant laborers and immigrants were not subject to the
tribute demands as the local Pipiles were. A Spanish royal
official at that time reported that "all classes of strangers
from diverse places arrived at the hacienda at harvest time,
constructing their makeshift huts of discarded wood and leaving
once the harvest was done" (Ripton 2006:106). This increase in
immigrant laborers resulted in the reification of castas (castes69 | P a g e
based on Spanish perceptions of race and ethnicity) and social
hierarchy. In addition to the immigrant families, peninsulares
were coming to El Salvador from Spain, which was causing tensions
with the Salvadoran elite creole (a person of European descent born
in Latin America) population. The result was a social hierarchy
in the eighteenth century, roughly highest to lowest: peninsular,
creole, ladino, mestizo, indios, mulatos.
Nineteenth-Century; Struggle for the Nation
The elites were managing their estates, participating in
government and investing in international trade during the
turbulent nineteenth century, “with Latin American Independence,
which was largely complete by 1823, dozens of new republics shook
off the chains of colonial economic restrictions and monopoly”
(Miller 2007:105). In the case of El Salvador, in 1810 the
Salvadoran elites began to band together to gain their
independence from Spain, which culminated in the Acta de
Independencia signed in 1821. Inspired by the American and French
revolutions, intellectuals and merchants grew tired of Spanish
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rule in the American colonies. These groups were interested in
expanding their export markets to Britain and the United States,
thus adopting a different hegemonic power. The first decades of
the nineteenth century produced independence inspired uprisings
by poor mestizos and Indians to protest their impoverishment and
marginalization (Burns 1972). By this point in history, indigo
was the principal export crop before the cultivation of coffee
was introduced in the late nineteenth century. In 1833, where
Anastasio Aquino led an Indian rebellion of indigo sowers and
cutters demanding the distribution of land to the poor and the
just application of the penal laws, which were the only laws
applied to the poor. This rebellion was quickly and poignantly
crushed by the government. Thousands of rural peasants were
displaced as new laws incorporated poor rural farmers lands into
large "modern" coffee plantations where peasants were forced to
work for very low wages. The new liberal reforms consequently
created a coffee oligarchy made up of fourteen families. The
economy is still currently controlled by a wealthy landowning
caste.
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In the mid-nineteenth century, advances in production
techniques and technologies occurred at a rapid rate. Indigo was
replaced by chemical dyes, which caused the landowning elite to
replace indigo demand with a new coffee crop. At the end of the
nineteenth century, because coffee grows best at higher
elevations, coffee was grown primarily in the western and central
highlands, which happened to be the most densely populated region
of the country (Ripton 2006). The lands that had once been farmed
by poor mestizos and indios were suddenly quite valuable. The
elite-controlled the legislature and pressured the president to
pass vagrancy laws, which removed people from their land (White
2009). Once the poor were removed from their land, the elite
hacienda owners would take over this land for production of
coffee that would pay to keep the policy-makers in their pocket.
This legislation resulted in a large class of landless
Salvadorans. Their former lands were absorbed into the fincas
(coffee plantations).
The efforts of the Indians and landless peasants were
capitalized on by the intellectuals, merchants, and planter
elites. This act of independence is one of the key aspects of my
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research. These creole elites, in a struggle to achieve political
legitimacy and social stability, supported a move toward national
Salvadoran advancement and material prosperity. In the nineteenth
century the notion of progress included shaking off the shackles
of tradition (Skidmore and Smith 2005). This ideology legitimized
elite power and undermined expressions of tradition and
indigenous ethnicity. The elites took advantage of the historic
social, political, and economic circumstances, like the weakening
of the Spanish, Chinese, Ottoman, and Holy Roman Empires and the
rise of the British, German, and United States empires. During
this time of transition and renegotiation, the Creole planter
elites hoped that “without metropolitan barriers to trade,
production, and immigration, they might follow the economic leaps
being made by the industrializing north” (Miller 2007:105). After
the revolution, Indians and peasants remained impoverished and
largely without land or legal rights. The criollo left the
Indians and landless peasants with a broken Populist promise of
ending the abuses committed by landowners. Although the new
country’s constitution was amended many times, several elements
remained constant. The wealthy landowners were granted majority
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power in the national legislature. The president, selected from
the landowning elite, was also granted significant power.
El Salvador became an independent republic heavily reliant
on the agricultural elite and merchant class who were
successfully participating in these world markets. The industrial
north (the United States and Canada) capitalized on Latin
America’s exportation of raw materials, including cotton, tin,
rubber, and copper, for their mass-produced goods. Latin America,
including El Salvador, also supplied agricultural products, like
sugar, coffee, beef, and bananas to feed the rapidly expanding
industrial workforce in North and South America (Brown 1945;
Fowler 1987; Miller 2007; Mintz 1985). In western El Salvador’s
early independence, the land was controlled and managed in a
localized manner by the hacienda elite, including the fourteen
families. This group most likely controlled access to river fords
and railroads which created all but feudal lords.
This dependence on agricultural elites was found in many
parts of Latin America and made makes the hacienda the fulcrum
for the development of the state (Alexander 2003; Barrett 1970;
Sordo 2000; Stanislawski 1996; Vanden 2006). The lands used for
74 | P a g e
the hacienda became privately owned by and passed down through
the planter families. Aldo Lauria-Santiago (1999:469) stated that
“without doubt, the privatization of communal lands is one of the
most important transformations that have affected the history of
El Salvador.” This privatization reached its peak during the
nineteenth century, which makes this time period an especially
tumultuous era in the history of El Salvador. Simultaneously,
Izalco was home to the largest Indian settlement in the region.
Some of these indigenía chose to abandon the long tradition of
peasant farming and commercial production for wage labor
positions at the larger haciendas. This was not a new trend; it
had been going on since the sixteenth century because of laws
forbidding indigenous slavery (Sampeck 2007). The large number of
landless rural workers that migrated throughout the countryside
looking for work on the large private haciendas is a main
repercussion of El Salvador’s agricultural modernization. Ripton
(2006:117) corroborated that “the increase in population, which
virtually tripled between 1878 and 1930 (Cardoso and Perez, 1983:
189), and the land dispossessions radically changed life in the
countryside, making available a veritable army of unemployed and
75 | P a g e
under employed workers.” The trend of lower class migrant workers
settling and working on and around the hacienda properties
indicates an increasing social inequality within and between the
creole, ladino and Indian populations that continues through the
twentieth century (Anderson 1992).. The landowners then
controlled where and how long the laborers lived and worked on
the hacienda through wages and wage advances, which caused many
laborers to become deeply indebted to the landowners.
The Sugar Revolution
Higman noted that “of the many revolutions identified by
historians, only one takes its name from a particular commodity.
This is the sugar revolution, a concatenation of events…with far-
reaching ramifications for the Atlantic world” (Higman 2000:213).
During the sixteenth century, sugar was heavily supported by the
international slave trade that brought millions of Africans to
the Americas, because sugarcane needed a great amount of manpower
to plant, harvest, and process the cane crop. The history of the
world was forever shaped by sugar cane plantations started as
cash crops by European powers. Noting sugar cane's potential as
76 | P a g e
income for the new settlements in the Americas, Spanish
colonizers obtained seeds from Christopher Columbus' fields in
the Dominican Republic and planted them throughout their
burgeoning colonies. By the mid sixteenth-century the Portuguese
had brought some sugar to Brazil (historically the highest
producer of sugarcane and sugar) and, soon after, sugarcane made
its way to British, Dutch and French colonies.
In the sixteenth century, the first colonial sugar mills in
the Americas were similar to those found in other European
colonies in the Mediterranean and in the Atlantic. Several
different designs were utilized depending on local and colonial
technologies. The first designs were borrowed from the mills that
were used to extract oil from olives and nuts (Galloway 1985). In
the Americas, some sugar mills needed to have the cane chopped
into small pieces before it was crushed, while other mills had
the cane stalks fed directly into the mill that crushed the cane
(Robert R. Nathan Associates, Inc. 1971). Regardless of the mill
design, the harvesting and processing of sugarcane is labor
intensive and time consuming. Small mills were usually turned by
man power versus the larger mills that were turned by animal or
77 | P a g e
water power. In general, many of the mills were inefficient
because after the cane was crushed once, the remainder of the
cane was transferred to another press where laborers worked to
extract all the liquid from the pulp (Robert R. Nathan
Associates, Inc. 1971).
In the beginning of the seventeenth century, the mill was
redesigned to increase its effectiveness at crushing the juice
out of the cut cane. This design consisted of three vertically
mounted columned rollers that crushed the cane that was inserted
in the middle. The “three-cylinder mill spread to all the sugar-
growing regions of America and remained the standard design of
mill until the nineteenth century” (Galloway 1985:339). Galloway
noted that this particular three-cylinder design was versatile
enough that it could be constructed in varying sizes and adapted
to many kinds of power (man, water, animal, wind) in different
environments. This particular mill design required no more than
four laborers; two on each side of the cylinders to pass the cane
back and forth through the cylinders, one laborer to monitor the
power source and the other to carry the cut cane from the
stockpile to the mill. The juice that was crushed out of the cane
78 | P a g e
stalks was captured by various styles of a reservoir. The juice
from the reservoir was boiled and the impurities separated out a
number of times, depending on the level of processing desired.
The resultant liquid was poured into sugar molds to dry and get
ready for transport as sugar cones.
Historians have suggested that there are a few central
elements to the sugar revolution. The first element was a rapid
shift from diversified agriculture to sugar monocrops (Higman
2000). The second element was a shift in the location of
production from small farms to large plantations and haciendas
that used mostly slave or indentured labor (Albert 1976). Because
of the shift to large plantations that required a high amount of
manpower, there was a change from sparse to dense settlement
patterns around the lands where sugarcane was planted and
processed (Brown 1945). Consequentially, historians agree that
the sugar revolution resulted in broad effects including that
“sugar generated a massive boost to the Atlantic slave trade,
provided the engine for a variety of triangular trades, altered
European nutrition and consumption, increased European interest
79 | P a g e
in tropical colonies, and, more contentiously, contributed
vitally to the industrial revolution” (Higman 2000:213).
Sugar haciendas divided their land up for sugarcane,
provision crops, pasture, and forest. Provision crops were needed
for their labor force, pasture for their livestock and work
animals, and forest for fuel. On large haciendas, where land was
plentiful, these land uses did not compete with one another.
Realistically, by the nineteenth century, many haciendas were
medium to small and were struggling to make a profit. To manage
their plantations, planters had to continuously reassess the way
their land was divided up among the needs of the hacienda.
Comparatively, Galloway stated that “the ideal layout of a sugar
plantation in the French Caribbean [was]…sixteen cane fields
[that] leave little space for the mill, great house, slave
quarters, and provision grounds” (Galloway 1985:346). Sugar
continued to be in steady production from the sixteenth through
the nineteenth centuries, although production techniques changed
throughout this time.
The introduction of the 'sugar complex' became a central
concern in the economic history of the seventeenth century
80 | P a g e
because it played a dominant role in the commercial revolution
(Higman 2000; Mintz 1985). Mintz (1985) believed that the sugar
plantation was probably the closest thing to industry that was
typical of the seventeenth century in Central America. Historians
agree that “in the larger history of the Atlantic economy, the
sugar revolution marks a genuine historical discontinuity, the
significance of which remains to be fully explored and
interpreted” (Higman 2000:232).
Environmental and Geographical Context
The Republic of El Salvador is the smallest and most densely
populated state on mainland Latin America (White 2009:1). Its
total area is slightly smaller than Massachusetts in the United
States. El Salvador’s small area and dense population have
resulted in environmental degradation as well as a high poverty
rate, although some would argue that this is a result of
structural violence rather than a necessary condition. Even
though it is compact, El Salvador contains diverse ecosystems
that lead to different crops and patterns of land use (Lauria-
Santiago 1995). El Salvador borders the Pacific Ocean and is
81 | P a g e
located in the middle of Central America, between Guatemala,
Honduras and Nicaragua. This makes El Salvador the only Central
American state without a coastline on Caribbean Sea. Rather, it
is the Pacific Ocean that links El Salvador to the global trans-
Pacific shipping networks (Dunne 1972). Although El Salvador is
small in size, it is intricately tied into the history of
colonialism and the creation of the modern world (Brown 1945;
Mintz 1985; White 2009). El Salvador could be considered a
microcosm for the issues surrounding Latin and Central America
because it exemplifies common issues such as El Salvador’s
history of marginalizing indigenous traditions as a result of
colonization and its history of violence and war that many Latin
American and Central American counties share.
Shawn Miller (2007:139) observed, “over the course of the
nineteenth century a variety of newly endowed technologies—steam
engines, railways, steamships—powered their way into the region.”
In the nineteenth century, fossil fuel-based new technologies
proved essential to the success of Latin America’s export driven
markets. Two unanticipated outcomes of these technologies were
the damage to the natural environment as well as the spatial and
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social restructuring of the native and non-native populations
(Böckler 1975; Grissa 1976; Hannah and Spence 1996; Mintz 1985;
Nathan et al. 1971; Skidmore and Smith 2005; Worcester 1963).
The idea that increases in technologies that increased market
production in El Salvador affected the agency of native
populations was tested during the thesis research.
The climate of the area is tropical, consisting of invierno
(winter), which is a wet season, and verano (summer), a dry
season. The terrain of El Salvador consists of mostly mountains
(in the north) with a narrow tropical coastal belt and central
upland area consisting of valleys and plateaus. The Salvadoran
landscape also reflects a long history of volcanism and the
successive deposits of volcanic material have been altered by
only erosion and the subsistence practices of a nation of
agriculturalists (Zier 1980). The Salvadoran terrain creates a
temperate zone throughout the countryside.
El Salvador is broken up into fourteen small governing
districts (Figure 1). The cultural features I am analyzing are
located in Sonsonate. This district includes the railroad,
constructed in the nineteenth century, which runs between San
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Salvador and the Pacific Coast, specifically to the port of
Acajutla, the port of the Izalcos.
Figure 1. Vegetation and Land Use 25 Feb 2011 <http://tfw.cachefly.net/snm/images/nm/motw/americas/el_salvador_land_1980.jpg>
This port has historically been involved in the export of a
wide variety of commodities, including cacao, balsam, coffee and
sugar (Fowler 1987, 1989; Sampeck 2007). The Río Ceniza and the
Río Grande bisects Sonsonate, but the rivers are so entrenched
that they were not used for shipping (Figure 2). Western El
Salvador’s geography (bordered by the Pacific Ocean, with one of
the few viable ports) contributed to Sonsonate’s history of being
a “major producer of agriculture, manufacturing, pottery, cotton,
cloth, sugar, cigars, alcohol, starch, baskets, and mats” in the
84 | P a g e
nineteenth and twentieth centuries (White 2009:9). The most
important contributing factor to the region as a ‘gateway’ is its
physiographic setting (Figure 2). The railroad was placed there
because of the physiographic setting. This setting made it a
prime overland travel route and the port was one of the best on
the Pacific.
Figure 2. El Salvador 25 Feb 2011 <http://www.nationsonline.org/maps/el_salvador_map>
Izalco is one of the largest municipalities of western El
Salvador, located in the valley floor (Lauria-Santiago 1999). Due
to the terrain and climate, the Izalco region of El Salvador was
conducive to the production of sugar cane, because this crops
needed heat and moisture, but could tolerate poor soils (Figure
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3) (Albert 1976; Fowler 1987; Sandiford 2000; Schwartz 2004;
Smith 1978).
Figure 3. Departments of El Salvador 25 Feb 2011 <http://www.salvaide.ca/salvadoranculture.html>
Summary
Early in El Salvador’s independence, the landowning elite
mostly depended on the production of a single export crop,
indigo. This led the landed elite to be attracted to certain
lands that were conducive to indigo production, which included
drier upland regions. After the profitable lands were taken for
haciendas that produced profitable export crops, the poor
mestizos and indios were left to live on the lands surrounding
the hacienda, because that was their source of income. The
86 | P a g e
seventeenth century saw a rise in global demand for sugar on the
lands that were not used for the production of cacao or indigo.
Because sugar could be grown in poorer soils, new land could be
utilized.
These events led to a large migrant labor population who
were attracted to settle on and around the profitable haciendas.
This again reinforced the power and authority the landowning
elites exercised.
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CHAPTER 5
METHODOLOGY
The main focus of this research centers in what the
implications are of the ceramic variability found on a
nineteenth-century sugar estate. To answer this question, I must
take into account that the collected ceramics are the result of a
surface collection. The ceramics I analyzed for this paper were
not the result of a typical surface collection. A typical surface
collection results from systematic and/or intensive survey
techniques within often relatively large grid units (Redman and
Watson 1970). Sampeck’s surface collections were highly sensitive
to variability in surface frequencies and architectural
association. This comprehensive methodology, involved collecting
micro samples when warranted. Also, the soils are quite thin in
mostly highly plowed areas, so excavation would not yield
qualitatively different samples. This surface collection
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methodology generally belongs with plowzone archaeology, which is
a significant part of work in historical archaeology (Navazo and
Díez 2008). Surface collections in this specific situation
produce a much broader scale of analysis than would be possible
with excavation.
I wanted to form a general idea of the sociopolitical and
economic climate in El Salvador during the nineteenth century. I
analyzed the 687 imported European ware and 885 lead-glazed
European-style redware sherds from 18 contexts, but excluded the
local earthenwares because of time constraints. The European
wares were imported into the country and accordingly these
ceramics were probably higher priced than local wares. This
inflated price and the constraints of international trade
networks would presumably have limited access to these ceramics.
The lead-glazed redware found on the hacienda was abundant,
suggesting that it may have been locally produced and seems to
have been easily accessible, as all people living in the area
show evidence of access to these goods. The methods I used in
analyzing the ceramics act as checks and balances for each other.
I looked at the individual sherds as well as minimum number of89 | P a g e
vessels to form a composite picture of the distribution of the
European ceramics. I used ceramic sherd counts to compare ware
percentages because a MNV count was not conducted for the
redwares. I had a finite amount of time and resources and decided
to concentrate my analysis on the imported European wares because
of the abundance of documentation on the dates, forms and
decorations specific to these ceramics. My research may be
incomplete according to those archaeologists who believe that
“MNV ceramic counts (rather than individual sherd counts) best
illustrate how items were used once they entered the
archaeological record” (Voss and Allen 2010:5:1-9), but my data
show little the difference between MNV and sherd counts. By
utilizing various analytical methods, I highlight the
similarities or differences in the data.
Research Questions
To what extent did various individuals on a nineteenth sugar hacienda in western El
Salvador participate in the consumer revolution?
My ceramic sample is based on all of the survey areas
that contained historic imported European wares. This was an
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intentional bias in sampling for chronological control because I
am trying to focus in on the 19th century occupation. I am
looking at how access changes spatially and the degree of
diversity for different areas.
I recorded data on the European ceramic sherds that
includes count, portion (rim, base or body), ware (pearlware,
whiteware, ironstone, porcelain, bone china), weight and a short
description of the decoration (any additional relevant
information). For the redware, I counted the sherds, portion
(rim, base or body), weight, and a description of the decoration
(lead glazed, unglazed or other distinctive markings).
I conducted the ceramic analysis while considering
whole vessels with a minimum vessel count for the European wares
(Meyers 2005). I grouped the sherds together that were most
likely from the same vessel based on ware, form, and decoration.
Using a MNV helps create a picture of the number of ceramics
being utilized by the occupants of the hacienda (Appendix C), and
which vessel forms were being used. I used a minimum vessel count
to either corroborate or negate the findings of the relative
frequencies of the ceramic sherds (Meyers 2005). The assessment
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of MNV allowed for intra-survey area comparison of the European
ware. The minimum number vessel count revealed a pattern of
inequality in the ceramics between the isolated survey areas. I
utilized this technique because sherd counts can be misleading;
certain ceramics are prone to shattering based on ware type, use,
and many other factors (Miller 1980, 1991). I documented the
variability in the ceramic ware types (European ware and
redware), vessel form types (European ware), and decoration
(European ware and redware) (Meyers 2005; Miller 1980, 1991; Rice
1987).
I documented European vessel forms such as cups,
saucers, dishes, plates, bowls, and platters. The vessel form and
size indicated what the ceramics were used for. The vessels that
are large could have been used in sugar processing. Smaller
vessels could have been used around the hacienda domestically.
Large sugar cones, drip pots, ollas, platos, jarras and botes are the
forms used in the sugar refining process or to store sugar
(Lister and Lister 1987). Smaller bowls, platos, tazas would have
been used for utilitarian food preparation and consumption.
Platters and greater numbers of platos, bowls, and tazas would have
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been used for serving food domestically. According to my
analysis, all the survey areas contain some European wares. The
redware is a local version of European redwares, but I did not
have time to conduct a minimum vessel count or analyze the forms.
The range of European wares varies dramatically between survey
area groups, but all show evidence of participating in the
consumer revolution. Some of the ceramics include whiteware,
pearlware, ironstone, bone china, and porcelain, with annular,
transferprint, and hand-painted decoration. This array suggests a
time frame from 1780s to 1900 (Card 2008; Rice 1987; Miller 1980,
1991). The forms of these European wares include cups, plates,
saucers, dishes, bowls, pitcher and hollow wares.
What do the settlement pattern and ceramic distribution reveal about the construction
of identity and agency at sugar production sites in the Early Republican Period of El
Salvador?
I focused on the analysis of the ceramic materials and
spatial distribution of the materials from multiple survey areas
surrounding the archaeologically detected sugar production zone,
which consists of survey areas Ariete Casco, Ariete North,
Quequeisquillo Norte Center, Quequeisquillo Norte West, Miramar
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Southwest, Miramar South, Miramar North, Obreros Middle, Obreros
South, Obreros North, Cangrejera Northwest, Cangrejera West,
Cangrejera Main, Santa Marta North, Santa Marta South, Ariete
North, San Antonio North, San Antonio South, Los Caminos. These
survey areas were surface-collected within a broad flat between
the Quequeisquillo and Ceniza Rivers, which lies immediately east
of Sonsonate and north of Nahulingo in El Salvador. All of these
materials were collected during Dr. Kathryn Sampeck’s CRM field
work and subsequent intensive surveys of the region. Many of
these collection areas are multi-component. All the collection
zones are a mixture of isolated finds, discrete zones, and a
broader distribution of materials. I combined ceramic counts from
some of the field collections based on architectural association
and spatial grouping (Appendix B).
The survey area of the hacienda region was delimited by
structural remains, artifact distribution, and topography. It is
important to know the size of the hacienda and its outlying
settlements because it can aid in a better understanding of how
this nineteenth-century hacienda operated; what was being
produced; and the socioeconomic status of its occupants (Appendix
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C). By examining the amount, form, and ware of ceramics from
different locations within and around the hacienda, I explored
how various ceramics reflected and were used in the negotiation
of social relations. People occupying different levels of social
status and social identity used different amounts, forms, and
wares of ceramics.
Domestic vessels, including European wares and lead-
glazed redwares, were used to serve and store food in or near the
home and would not have to withstand high temperatures. The
presence of the local wares suggests that the Creole elite were
using local technologies in nineteenth-century production, which
implies indigenous labor. As noted above, the redware was
probably made locally and could have been accessed more easily by
the hacienda laborers. The European wares had to have been
imported, which raised costs. The higher cost would limit who
would have had access to this ware. I propose that the Creole
elite used the most European wares domestically and a high
concentration of this ceramic ware will indicate where the big
house was located. A scattering of European wares and redware
indicated where owners, overseers, managers and hacienda laborers
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and other residents resided. Variation in the percentages of
wares indicated inequality among the laborers.
I conducted an intra-site comparison between the
ceramic assemblages within each survey area (Card 2008; Meyers
2005; Shepard 1956; Rodriguez-Alegría et al. 2003). The point of
comparing these assemblages is to determine if trends in the
ceramic percentages at the micro level relate to the whole area
of the hacienda. After the sherd count, minimum vessel count, and
the classification of vessel forms and decoration of the European
ware, I compared the variability of the ceramic groups. I
accomplished this by creating percentages of the ceramics based
on a sherd count and MNV; I grouped the vessels into functional
groups based on the ware, forms and decoration; and I counted the
minimum number of vessels and created percentages for a
comparison. This comparison illustrates how some workers had
greater access to, or preferred, certain ceramics (Meyers 2005).
Ceramic Artifacts
Redware
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There were 885 total redware sherds utilized in this
analysis. Redware is typically a utilitarian earthenware with a
red paste due to the type of iron-bearing clay used and the low
temperature required for vitrification. Hardness can vary, but
redware generally has one of the softest types of paste of the
earthenwares. In general, redware can be any red on a color
continuum from orange to garnet. It is often decorated with
liquid clay or slip. The redwares of European tradition that I
recorded had a much smaller range of paste and surface colors,
and were always glazed with a clear lead glaze. Little has been
done to date European tradition redware in Central America, which
is why I rely so heavily on European whitewares to date the
hacienda areas. Additionally, some of the redware ceramics have a
burnished surface that is mottled with a patina of manganese
oxide. The painted motifs found on the redware from the sugar
hacienda are simple geometric designs of black, yellow, and green
lines. All of the ceramics I am considering are European or
European-style (lead glazed) as opposed to the locally produced
earthenwares, which include both copywares and traditional forms
and treatments (Card 2008; Sampeck 2007) (Appendix B).
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Imported European Wares
I began my data recording refined white earthenwares with
sherd and MNV counts, concentrating on decoration, which is the
most identifiable aspect of these ceramics. There were a total of
687 refined white earthenware sherds and 377 refined white
earthenware vessels identified. I found that the wide array of
earthenware decoration represented in the European ceramics
include: undecorated, transferprint, flown, handpainted, annular,
edgeware, sponge marked, and molded. Identifying and dating
printed earthenware sherds has always been problematic for
archaeologists because majority of eighteenth- and nineteenth-
century printed pottery was unmarked. Miller (1991) and Samford
(1997) have noted that motifs and colors generally had a fifteen
to twenty-year range of peak production, allowing likely
manufacturing dates to be assigned to unmarked or fragmented
printed earthenware. I excluded provinces with decal decoration
to limit collections to more securely nineteenth-century
contexts.
Decoration
Handpainted
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The 214 handpainted decorated ceramic sherds found on the
hacienda were available before transfer printing began and gained
widespread popularity in the 1800s (Miller 1991). Handpainted
European ceramics represented in the hacienda assemblage present
examples of Adams (41), annular (107), and sponge painted
ceramics (26) (Appendix B). Also present was edgeware (3),
molded/gilded (19), and mocha engine-turned ceramics (18). The
dominant vessel forms for painted European wares are cups and
saucers (Appendix B). For the first half of the nineteenth
century, painted wares were predominantly teawares (Miller 1980).
These painted wares were the cheapest and most popular decorated
teawares from the 1790s through the nineteenth century (Miller
1991). Plates with painted decoration are scarce prior to the
1840s. Dipped decoration was dominant for hollowware vessel forms
(Baugher and Venables 1987). Polychrome floral patterns made
without cobalt were produced from about 1795 to 1815 (Miller
1991).
The volatility of prices and problems with the supply of
cobalt, due to the Napoleonic War, relate to the introduction and
increased production of the handpainted polychrome wares.
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Polychrome painted wares from this period mostly do not have any
blue in the floral patterns. These wares used colors like green,
yellow, and brown. Later, cobalt blue patterns with large brush
strokes were popular between 1815 and 1830 (Miller 1991). After
the 1830s, the chrome colors were introduced and increased in
popularity. Sprig or Adams painted wares began showing up in the
United States around 1835 and remained common throughout the
nineteenth century. As prices for handpainted ceramics fell,
there was a simplification of the painted patterns that required
less brush stokes, which cut production costs therefore creating
a more widely accessible product (Miller 1991).
Mocha/Engine Turned
I analyzed 18 sherds of dipped wares, which were the
cheapest hollowware with color decoration available to consumers
from the 1770s through the nineteenth century, but because these
wares almost never have maker’s marks, they are difficult to date
accurately (Miller 1991). Mocha wares were produced in large
quantity during the last quarter of the eighteenth century
through the nineteenth century in England and the United States.
Dipped refined earthenware surface decorations were created using
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clays that had different colors when fired or that were dyed by
the addition of mineral oxides suspended in a liquid solution
known as slip. Slip could be used as a dip for the entire surface
of the vessel or to create bands, drips or trail designs (Miller
1991).
Spongeware
Spongeware decoration is a common decoration on whitewares
and is heavily associated with teawares until 1835 (Miller
1991). There were 26 sherds of spongeware analyzed in this
assemblage. Early sponge decoration was commonly used to
represent foliage. Sponged wares had color applied by dipping a
sponge into the glaze color and then applying the sponge to the
ware to be decorated, either by dabbing with the natural sponge
or with a sponge cut into a pattern. Each decorative technique
does exhibit some temporal variation. Sponge decorated wares were
exported in large quantities to China, Africa, South and North
America in the mid-19th century, and were being produced in the
United States after about 1850 (Liebknecht 2001; Majeweski and
O’Brien 1987). In the 1840s the cut sponge pattern was
introduced, which resulted in increased sponge decoration of
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table and tea wares, toilet wares, bowls and other vessel forms.
Spatter or spatterware is a form of sponged decoration that was
common from the 1820s to the 1860s, but most popular in the 1830s
(Laidacker 1954). Different colors are applied over one another
can create a smudged effect in open sponge decoration. Open
sponge decoration was used as a technique by British and North
American potteries from 1860 to 1935 (Ketchum 1983). This type
of decoration is more typically found on utility wares, on large
bowls and pitchers made out of ironstone, although it is also
seen on whiteware tablewares (Miller 1991).
Transferprint
According to South (1977) and Miller (1991), the
148 sherds of transfer printed whiteware sherds were popular from
1830 to the present. Printing was used as a decorative technique
on a full range of vessel forms, from table wares and tea wares
to toilet wares (Coysh and Henrywood 1989). Printed decoration
was confined to only one side of flat vessels, such as plates,
dishes and saucers, and hollow vessels with constricted necks,
like jugs and teapots. Hollow vessels, such as bowls and tea
cups, are printed on the vessel exterior and often contain
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varying amounts of decoration inside the vessel, particularly
along the interior rim and base (Coysh and Henrywood 1989). The
most prevalent decoration on the hacienda Europeanware ceramics
was transferprint (Appendix B). Transferprint is a result of mass
production techniques where an image is most often applied to
hard surfaced pottery, like whiteware or porcelain (Miller 1991).
Because of the high number of steps to successfully produce
transfer printed ceramics, these ceramics were the most costly
and time consuming to produce thus limiting the consumers able to
purchase them (Miller 1991).
Transferprint Motifs
Many motifs were found on the transfer-printed
wares at this sugar hacienda including Chinese scenes, American
and British scenes, geometric patterns, exotic scenes, pastoral
scenes, classical views, romantic scenes, medieval views, and
floral patterns and vignettes (Coysh and Henrywood 1987). The
introduction of printed underglaze designs on whiteware made
production of the complex landscapes and geometric borders, like
those found on Chinese porcelain, more cost-efficient for
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potteries to produce and more affordable for the consumer (Miller
1991).
Chinoiserie
Nine sherds of Chinoiserie sherds represent the earliest
transfer-printed designs were exact copies of Chinese porcelain
motifs. The most enduring Chinese-style pattern was "Blue
Willow,” which began in production around 1790 (Hughes and Hughes
1960). This Chinese motif includes pagodas, boats called junks,
weeping willow and orange trees, and figures in Chinese garb, and
dominated the printed wares from the 1780s to 1814 (Coysh and
Henrywood 1987). After 1850 the willow pattern was used for tea
and table wares, while after 1870, potteries produced Japanese
styles that gained popularity in brown designs on ivory
backgrounds (Miller 1991; Samford 1997; South 1977).
British and American
From 1815 to about 1940, potteries produced a number of
British and American transferprint designs that included cities,
colleges, and country homes with prominently displayed buildings
or landscape features (Miller 1991; Samford 1997). I located a
total of 53 sherds with these patterns. These patterns were
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copies from published prints and travel accounts. British and
American views ceased production with the passage of the
Copyright Act of 1842, which made it illegal for potters to copy
published prints. Pastoral scenes were produced largely between
1819 and 1836, and feature rural-based scenes focusing on farm
animals or people working their land (Coysh and Henrywood 1987).
Classical
Nine sherds with classical motifs on printed wares,
which were popular between 1827 and 1847, were analyzed.
Classical motifs featured columned temples, ruins, urns, draped
figures, and acanthus leaves. The preference for classical motifs
began to wane by the 1840s, and replaced in popularity by
Medieval or Gothic Revival themes (Hughes and Hughes 1960; Miller
1991). Medieval or Gothic Revival patterns were most commonly
produced between 1841 and 1852. They are characterized by
depictions of churches and castles, with details including
arches, turrets, towers, and bastions.
Romantic
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I analyzed 57 total sherds with Romantic themes.
Romantic themes emphasized emotion and intuition over reason and
tradition and were a response to increasing industrialization.
Romantic themed ceramics contained rustic scenes with in stylized
buildings in the background, a water source such as a river or
lake, and human figures or animals strategically placed to
provide a sense of scale (Coysh and Henrywood 1987). Romantic
views were at their peak circa 1831 to 1851, although they
remained popular throughout the nineteenth century. Floral motifs
as center designs and borders were popular throughout the
nineteenth century with peak production between 1833 and 1849
(Miller 1991). Floral vignette border designs featured small
oblong or oval cartouches surrounding a variety of floral,
object, or scenic motifs and were most commonly produced between
1832 and 1848.
Summary
My methodology consisted of organizing and considering
the ceramic sherds and vessels in terms of survey areas divided
into regions and zones. These regions and zones represent the
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occupation areas of specific and individual groups of people
living and working on the hacienda. I compared redware and
imported wares across the hacienda, but I focused the majority of
my analysis on the European imported whitewares. This focus
ensured that I was studying ceramics from the nineteenth century.
The vessel forms provided insight into dining style, which was
influenced by ethnicity, class and occupation on the hacienda.
The analysis of vessel form also enabled a minimum vessel count
to corroborate the findings from the sherd analysis. The
decoration on the ceramics was paramount in determining a minimum
vessel count and the individual tastes of the survey areas. I
utilized ceramics to answer my research questions because
ceramics were mass produced and accessible to most people by the
nineteenth century. Due to the increased accessibility of ceramic
vessels, individuals had the opportunity to express their
identity and taste through their ceramic choices. Ceramic can
reveal the social/class inequality within the hacienda because
invisible factors, like dining style, ethnicity, and wage earning
capacity were constantly influencing consumer choices.
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CHAPTER 6
DATA ANALYSIS
Many historical archaeologists are interested in how ceramic
wares can be used to interpret economic status (Baugher and
Venables 1987; Miller 1980 and 1991; Orser 2005). My research
takes the economics in to account, but also considers the fluid
social dynamics of the nineteenth century and the redefinition of
material ways to enact and express identity as mass produced
goods permeated the global economy. Factory produced fine ware
ceramics were one of the most popular commodities traded across
countries and cultures, showing up in urban as well as rural
archaeological assemblages (Miller 1987). Other historical
archaeology studies (Baugher and Venables 1987; Card 2008; Lister
and Lister 1987; Meyers 2005; Orser 2005; Silliman 2006) have
shown how identity can be revealed through consumer choice.
The people living and working on this Salvadoran sugar
hacienda of my study were actively negotiating identity
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throughout the nineteenth century by consuming ceramic
commodities made accessible by the burgeoning global economy. By
this period in history, everyone had access to imported European
wares, but some had more access than others. Furthermore, even
for those that seemed to have access, the range of choices made
in a relatively small area is striking.
Ceramic Dating
Historical archaeologists use ceramic dates to establish a
chronology and a strong foundation for further interpretation.
Stanley South (1977) created a mathematical formula to calculate
an accurate date of archaeological deposits by using known date
ranges of manufacture for ceramics. Mean ceramic dating
calculates the mean date of all the ceramics with a known
manufacturing age in a sample. The MCD is calculated by using the
mathematical formula, MCD= Σ(d1f1) / Σf1, where the median
manufacturing date for each ceramic type is added to the median
manufacture date multiplied by the frequency of each ceramic
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type. Then that sum total is divided by the sum total of
frequencies of the individual ceramic types.
Some of the limitations to using this quantitative
methodology include the inability to use the formula when median
manufacture date cannot be determined; confusing the meaning of
MCD as mean date of discard instead of mean date of production;
utilizing ceramics with an expansive production date range that
need to be carefully analyzed to determine degree of variation
within the same context; and incorporating antique or heirloom
items dating significantly older than the rest of the assemblage
that can skew the MCD (South 1977).
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Table 1. Mean Ceramic Dates by Region (bold)
and Zone
IMPORTED EUROPEAN WARE TSC
MNV
San Antonio 1881.2 1888.3San Antonio North 1876.2 1886San Antonio South 1895 1895
Los Caminos 1889.6 1886.5
Los Obreros 1876.4 1882.2Obreros South 1881.5 1891.1Obreros Middle 1871.8 1875.8Obreros North 1890.6 1898
Ariete 1874.7 1878.8Ariete Casco 1855 1852.5Ariete North 1879.8 1884.7
Quequeisquillo Norte 1872.3 1877.5Quequeisquillo NorteCenter 1866.1 1870.5Quequeisquillo NorteWest 1878.4 1884.5
Santa Marta 1864.3 1868Santa Marta North 1857.1 1855Santa Marta South 1881.6 1892.5
Miramar 1852.5 1852.6Miramar North 1850 1870
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Overall, the mean ceramic dates confirm that the hacienda
was in use throughout the nineteenth century, especially during
the second and third quarters of the nineteenth century (Table
1). The earliest dated area is Cangrejera Northwest (Table 1).
This is based on one sherd of English soft paste undecorated
porcelain which very possibly was an heirloom piece, a remnant of
a fading tradition. Other data also underscore that this zone
presents an unusual case when compared to the other zones of the
hacienda. So, some changes are chronological, others are
contemporaneous variability. Looking at the settlement shifts per
the MCD dates I will note that the regional level of MCDs masks
the micro-moves at the zone level going on in some of the
regions, like Santa Marta and Cangrejera. As a whole the regional
data appears uniform, but when broken down into the zone level
the individual areas reveal differing tastes and consumer
choices.
There are three chronological divisions that appear to
designate contemporaneous settlements. The earliest chronological
grouping on the hacienda includes all the zones in Cangrejera,
the southern part of Miramar, Santa Marta North and the hacienda
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center, Ariete Casco. These areas were contemporaneously occupied
in the mid-nineteenth century. Within this chronological
grouping, there appears to be an inverse relationship between
Cangrejera and Santa Marta (Table 1). Ariete Casco zone stands
out in this chronological grouping as having a high percentage of
imported Europeanwares and a low percentage of redwares, while
the rest of the regions (Cangrejera, Miramar, and Santa Marta)
have high percentages of redwares and only one of their zones
seeming to collect a high percentage of imported Europeanwares
(Figure 4).
It appears that there is mirroring within and between these
regions by one zone holding the majority of the whitewares in
areas that had limited quantities. Mirroring or imitation is a
behavior in which one individual copies the behavior of another
individual, usually through social interaction (McCracken 1988).
This behavior may include mimicking gestures, language, diet,
style, attitude or objects (Baugher and Venables 1987; McCracken
1988). It seems that those zones with higher percentages of
imported wares in Cangrejera, Miramar and Santa Marta may have
been mirroring the behaviors of those in power at Ariete Casco.
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Figure 4. Chronological Group 1 Ware Percentages based on Sherd Count
Figure 5 shows us that types of dining are fairly consistent
throughout the hacienda with high percentages of cups, bowls, and
hollowwares/pitchers. Cangrejera Northwest does not follow this
trend because there were no vessels identified in that zone.
There is some slight variation , such as in Miramar Southwest,
Miramar South and Ariete Casco.
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Figure 5. Chronological Group 1 Vessel Percentages based on MVC
The ware-level analysis indicates socioeconomic
differentiation on the regional and subregional levels.
Similarly, the decorative analysis presents an idea of the cost
of different patterns that provides an idea of relative wealth
distribution across the hacienda (Figure 6). I noted earlier that
the redware is lead-glazed red earthenware probably of local
manufacture (or Guatemalan manufacture) but are found in
traditionally European forms, such as lebrillos, pitchers and
cazuelas. This ware and decorative variation could correspond to
the presence of debt peonage, wage laborers, overseers and
hacendados who all lived and worked on the hacienda.
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Figure 6. Chronological Group 1 Decoration Percentages based on MVC
The MCDs show a temporal gap between the first and the
second group. This second group is a pretty tight cluster in the
early-mid 1870s. The second group includes Miramar North,
Quequeisquillo Norte Center and Obreros Middle. Obreros Middle
seems to be right in the middle of the very contrasting
Quequeisquillo Norte Center and Miramar North. Miramar North has
a relatively high percentage of redwares at 60.7% when compared
to the other areas in this chronological period (Appendix B).
Obreros Middle holds the second highest percentage of redware
sherds and Quequeisquillo Norte Center holds the third highest
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percentage, but I do not think the ware percentages indicate
mirroring (Figure 7).
Figure 7. Chronological Group 2 Ware Percentages based on Sherd Count
There appears to be close mirroring between Quequeisquillo
Norte Center and Obreros Middle seen in the vessel form
percentages and decoration percentages (Figures 8 and 9). Miramar
North has less vessel form and decorative variation when compared
to the other two areas. Generally, Miramar North seems to contain
less expensive wares (undecorated, handpainted and annular),
except for the number of molded sherds which is the highest in
the entire assemblage at 18.2% (Appendix B). Quequeisquillo Norte
Center and Obreros Middle have a variety of vessel forms like
bowls, plates, dishes, platters and pitchers. These two areas
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also have a variety of decorations including transferprint, flown
and sponge. It seems that Quequeisquillo Norte Center and Obreros
Middle were in a close relationship with one another, while
Miramar North is following a separate trend much like the other
areas with high percentages of redware. There is mirroring
between Quequeisquillo Norte Center and Miramar South and Ariete
North in vessel form and decorations.
Figure 8. Chronological Group 2 Vessel Percentages based on MVC
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Figure 9. Chronological Group 2 Decoration Percentages based on MVC
The third chronological grouping spans the mid-1880s to the
late-1890s. All of these areas have MCDs within a year or two of
each other and include Quequeisquillo Norte West, Ariete North,
San Antonio North, Los Caminos, Obreros South, Santa Marta South,
San Antonio South and Obreros North. Contrary to the two prior
chronological periods, all the regions and zones in this temporal
period have a high percentage of imported Europeanware and a low
percentage of redware (Figure 10). This shift suggests that
locally produced redwares decreased in popularity as imported
Europeanware increased in popularity. This change in ceramic
preference might be caused by the decreasing prices of imported
wares due to mass production. Santa Marta South is the only area
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that has 100% imported Europeanware (Figure 10). The entire
settlement at Santa Marta was not contemporaneous and the
chronological gap is pretty big between Santa Marta North and
Santa Marta South. This temporal and taste difference is apparent
in the comparison of the zones within Santa Marta. Santa Marta
North has a low percentage of imported Europeanware and a high
percentage of redware, while Santa Marta South has only imported
Europeanware and no percentage of redware (Figure 10). The zone
of San Antonio South has the lowest percentage of Europeanware
and the highest percentage of redware. This pattern shows that
redware does not indicate high status, diverging from Donna
Seifert’s study that determined redwares as an indicator of high
status (Seifert 1977). According to Figure 10 San Antonio South
has over 80% white ware, which is significantly greater that
Quequeisquillo Norte Center. These statistics indicate a higher
class/caste is not indicated by redware.
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Figure 10. Chronological Group 3 Ware Percentages based on Sherd Count
It seems that the ware percentages gloss over the intersite
variation apparent in the vessel form and decoration comparison.
The areas seem to be following a few different trends. First, in
the chronological group of the late nineteenth century, Obreros
North and South, Quequeisquillo Norte West and Ariete North
present high percentages of cups, bowls and hollowwares. Dining
style does not seem as consistent as chronological group 1. There
are high percentages of cups, bowls, plates and
hollowares/pitchers. San Antonio South, Los Caminos and Santa
Marta South seem to set their own trends with high percentages of
a few vessel forms with low to relatively no percentages of the
other vessel forms. San Antonio South has high percentages of
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bowls, plates and hollowwares. Los Caminos has a very high
percentage of plates composing 50% of the region’s entire
assemblage (Figure 11). Santa Marta South has very high
percentages of bowl/cup (50%) and plate (50%) vessel forms
(Figure 11).
Figure 11. Chronological Group 3 Vessel Percentages based on MVC
The hints of the regional trends become tangible when
considering decoration. Ariete North and Quequeisquillo Norte
West follow a tight trend with high percentages of undecorated
and transferprint, while including a range of other decoration
including flown, handpainted, annular, sponge and molded (Figure
12). Obreros South stands alone with a high percentage of
undecorated and transferprint decoration (Figure 12). Los
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Caminos, Obreros North and San Antonio South follow a trend of
high percentages of transferprint and annular decoration with Los
Caminos showing a little more decorative variation including
flown and handpainted decoration (Figure 12). Considering the
ware, vessel forms and decoration comparisons a few overall
trends emerged. Quequeisquillo Norte West and Ariete North are
mirroring each other, possibly indicating the presence of
hacienda owners or overseers living in these areas. This behavior
is not emulation, rather the showing of solidarity of people of
similar caste because these trends are concurrent (Bell 2002).
The rest of the regions and zones appear to be consuming higher
percentages of imported European imported wares than ever before,
probably due to the increased production and accessibility and
decreased cost of these wares later in the nineteenth century
(Baugher and Venables 1987). Many of the areas contain high
percentages of transferprinted decoration, which also may
indicate mirroring the high status trends of consumption seen
earlier in the century. The time lag between the similar ceramic
trends indicates emulation (Bell 2002). The wide variation in
vessel forms may indicate more unique styles of dining, which
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diverges from the more uniform style of dining seen in the
earlier chronological periods.
Figure 12. Chronological Group 3 Decoration Percentages based on MVC
Ceramic Wares
There is distinct ceramic variability in the regional and
zonal ceramic ware percentages regarding the distribution of
imported European wares and redwares. By this period in history,
everyone had access to imported whitewares, but some had more
access than others. The chronological change, illustrated above,
completely inverted ceramic use from the first chronological
grouping to the third chronological grouping. This variability
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could represent fine scales of class and/or consumer choice. The
changing patterns in the chronological groups indicate the
changing world trends of ceramic preference in conjunction with
to the variable pricing of the ceramic commodities. The higher
status ceramics start out expensively priced but as time
progresses, these ceramics become less expensive due to increased
production. There are some obvious temporal trends influencing
consumer choice on the hacienda, but there are also some more
minute trends within each region and sub-region within these time
periods. Examining the landscape of ceramic decoration within the
imported Europeanwares will be important to get a more accurate
sense of agency. By examining the temporal changes within
individual regions, I hope to address the questions of whether
people had access to pretty much the same goods and choices were
made on the basis of price, or if people had access to a range of
goods and the variability represents personal preferences.
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Table 2. Ceramic Type by Region
Imported European Ware TSC % Redware
TSC % Total %
Quequeisquillo Norte 327 93.40%
236.60%
350100%
Santa Marta 40 29.40%
9670.60%
136100%
Miramar 43 54.40%
3645.60% 79 100%
Table 3. Ceramic Type by Zone
Imported European Ware TSC % Redware
TSC % Total %
Quequeisquillo Norte Center 111 76%
3524%
146100%
Quequeisquillo Norte West 240 96%
104%
250100%
Santa Marta South 3
100.00%
00% 3 100%
Santa Marta North 19 20.20% 75 79.80% 94 100%Miramar North 11 39.30% 17 60.70% 28 100%Miramar South 24 64.90% 13 35.10% 37 100%Miramar Southwest 11 50%
1150% 22 100%
Cangrejera West 47 11.50% 361 88.50%
408100%
127 | P a g e
The regions that demonstrate unusual percentages of ware
types when broken down into zones include Santa Marta and
Cangrejera. These two regions have more redware than imported
Europeanware (Table 2). In fact, these two regions have the
highest percentages of redware compared to imported Europeanware
when compared to the entire hacienda assemblage. Seifert argues
that lead-glazed redwares are a marker of high status (Seifert
1977). Traditionally, archaeologists assume that locally produced
wares were markers of lower status, while imported Europeanwares
(from Spain) were associated as a higher status item (Costin and
Earle 1989). When observed at the sub-regional level, Cangrejera
West and Cangrejera Main hold the highest numbers of redware,
while Cangrejera Northwest has no redware. Similarly, Santa Marta
North holds the next highest number of redware sherds while Santa
Marta South holds none. This area may have been one used for
peninsular, criollo or possibly mestizo overseers or managers.
Meyers notes that “Donna Seifert (1977:105, 116) argues that the
use of lead-glazed wares in Mexico was largely restricted to the
middle and upper classes” (Meyers 2005:39:112-137). Therefore the
ethnicity of the laboring class on the hacienda most likely
128 | P a g e
consisted of versions of those classified as indio, negro or
mestizo who were using the redwares.
As a whole, Santa Marta’s regional assemblage is made up of
mostly redware (Figure 13). When broken down into zones, Santa
Marta South surprisingly contains 100% Europeanware while Santa
Marta North consists of 79.8% Redware and 20.2% Europeanware,
which is closer to the Santa Marta regional ceramic distribution
(Appendix B). Cangrejera has a similar pattern regarding regional
ceramic distribution. Much like Santa Marta, Cangrejera Northwest
has one hundred percent Europeanware ceramics, while Cangrejera
West and Cangrejera Main both have high percentages of redware
ceramics. The zones Cangrejera West and Cangrejera Main might be
attempting to emulate the ceramic percentages of consumption in
the region of Cangrejera (Figure 13). It appears that the people
living in Santa Marta South and Cangrejera Northwest were holding
the majority of the whitewares in areas that do not have many
whitewares.
129 | P a g e
Figure 13. Santa Marta and Cangrejera Ware
The other six regions (Quequeisquillo Norte, Miramar, San
Antonio, Los Obreros, Los Caminos and Ariete) all have more
Imported Europeanware than redware. Regions most similar to each
other based on inter-site ceramic ware percentages include
Quesqueisquillo Norte and Ariete; San Antonio and Los Caminos;
and Miramar and Los Obreros (Appendix B). These regional
similarities could indicate analogous social and economic
conditions that influenced the consumer choices of the people who
inhabited these areas. On the other hand, the regions that are
the most dissimilar to one another include Ariete and Cangrejera
in addition to Quequeisquillo Norte and Santa Marta. These
noteworthy differences in ceramic ware percentages may well point
to dissimilar social or economic status in relation to one
another.
130 | P a g e
For this next part, a series of figures will help explain
the intricacies of the ceramic variability within regions. The
regions with the highest percentages of Imported Europeanware
include Quequeisquillo Norte, San Antonio, Los Caminos and Ariete
(Table 2). When these four regions are broken down into zones,
Table 3 illustrates that the Europeanware percentages in
Quequeisquillo Norte Center, Quequeisquillo Norte West, San
Antonio North, San Antonio South, Los Caminos, Ariete North and
Ariete Casco are higher than the redware ceramic percentages in
these areas. The zones that continue this trend of high imported
Europeanware percentages versus redware ceramic percentages
include, Santa Marta South, Miramar South, Cangrejera Northwest,
Obreros South, Obreros Middle and Obreros North (Table 3).
Considering the chronology of the hacienda, it appears that Santa
Marta is mimicking Cangrejera on the sub-regional level.
The regions of Miramar and Los Obreros represent some of the
regions that have the highest percentages of redware in the
hacienda ceramic assemblage (Table 2). In the Miramar region,
there are fairly equal percentages of imported Europeanware and
redware ceramics. The three zones Miramar North, Miramar South
131 | P a g e
and Miramar Southwest support this trend with slight variations
in the exact percentages of imported Europeanware and redware.
Miramar hit its height of occupation about ten to fifteen years
before Los Obreros. Los Obreros region and the region’s zones,
Obreros South, Obreros Middle and Obreros North, all have higher
percentages of Europeanware than redware. Obreros Middle has a
closer percentage of Europeanware to redware. Miramar South and
Obreros South both have the highest percentages of imported
Europeanware leading to a similar interpretation of the issue of
mirroring, as was the case in Cangrejera and Santa Marta. Based
on the chronological distribution of the subregions, Obreros
seems to be mirroring Miramar about ten years later. This leads
to the inverse relationship exemplified in Figure 14.
Figure 14. Miramar and Obreros Ware
132 | P a g e
The San Antonio and Los Caminos regions reveal very high
percentages of Imported Europeanware versus redware ceramics.
These two regions are contemporaneous, occupied in the 1880s. San
Antonio North zone contains the most imported Europeanware
ceramics composing 91.7% of the entire zone’s assemblage (Figure
15).
Figure 15. San Antonio and Los Caminos Ware
Quequeisquillo Norte and Ariete pretty much mirror each
other in ware percentages (Figure 16). These regions and zones
have the highest percentages of imported Europeanwares compared
to the redwares. Quequeisquillo Norte West and Ariete Casco have
the some of the highest Imported Europeanware percentages at 96%
and 94.9%. Quequeisquillo Norte and Ariete regions were occupied
during the same temporal period (Figure 16). Ariete Casco dates
133 | P a g e
earlier than the rest of the regions and zones, dating to the
1850s versus 1870s and 1880s of the other regions. The deeper I
dig into the zones, underneath the façade of the region, there
appears to be more and more variation regarding ware, form and
decoration in Quequeisquillo Norte and Ariete.
Figure 16. Quequeisquillo Norte and Ariete Ware
Based on the analysis of the ceramic ware, it seems that the
regional level of analysis is masking the subregional variation,
which is quite striking in all the regions. The ware-level
analysis indicates economic differentiation on the regional and
subregional levels. This could be evidence for the fine degree of
economic strata appearing in the ceramic assemblage throughout
the hacienda. This ware variation could correspond to the
presence of debt peonage, wage laborers, and overseers, etc. who
134 | P a g e
all worked and lived on the hacienda during the nineteenth
century. There is also a chronological change in wares. The
numbers and percentages of redware steadily decreased in each of
the three chronological time periods. Complementarily, the
numbers and percentages of imported Europeanware steadily
increased as the century progressed. This change in ware
preference may be due to the continual flooding of the market
with European wares or could be attributed to people’s continual
desire to obtain higher status items to create the image of being
a higher status caste. These chronological changes do not present
themselves uniformly across contemporary zones. In fact, trends
in one zone can be exactly the opposite of trends in a
contemporaneous zone, as seen in Obreros South and Miramar North
in the second chronological grouping (Figure 14). Lastly, the
ware analysis reveals levels of mirroring. This means that people
could have been consuming select ceramics in an effort to relate
to the other inhabitants of the hacienda or they could have been
consuming select ceramics to emulate the behavior of those
perceived as powerful or as holding a high caste.
135 | P a g e
Ceramic Form
Form and function analyses are based on the study of the
shapes of pots and other ceramic vessels. This study takes into
account the vessel use as refined hollow tablewares or other
vessels. For the most part, the regions and sub-regions have
consistent patterning within the region, except in the cases of
Santa Marta and Ariete. This patterning did not happen with
wares, but the kinds of dining seem to have been mostly
consistent because the areas have pretty much the same vessel
forms indicating the inhabitants were preparing, serving and
consuming food in similar ways. It seems as though only one
region, Los Obreros, and perhaps one zone within the region,
Obreros Middle, is participating in the genteel action of taking
tea (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 2001). One impediment to this
interpretation is that based on the ceramic sherds, it is hard to
be certain where the teapots/pitchers, etc. occur. The category
Hollowware/Pitcher (Table 4 and 5) might indicate the presence of
vessels used in the tea service. One ceramic sherd possibly
indicates the presence of a teapot in Obreros Middle. Tea was
introduced to England from China sometime in the middle of the
136 | P a g e
17th century. At the time of its introduction, tea was believed
to be therapeutic as well as delicious. Tea drinking quickly
caught on and became a culture unto itself. By the nineteenth
century, tea was a commodity consumed by the masses (Mintz 1985).
At Obreros Middle tea could have been consumed casually or used
as a status indicator. This brings up an interesting issue
because Obreros Middle does not have the highest percentage of
whitewares, but of what they do have, they bother to have a
teapot.
In the mid- and late-nineteenth century, gentility was the
preeminent model of propriety (Praetzellis and Praetzellis 2001).
As a result of the industrial revolution and an efficient supply
network, gentility or higher status became embodied and
symbolized in a specific set of objects, including teawares. The
possession of these objects illustrated the owner’s aspirations
of social acceptance of peers or family. The adoption of colorful
teawares was desirable, no matter how impoverished a household,
to “make an impression in social interactions” (Marshall and Maas
1997:287). In Obreros Middle, as well as those zones who show
the possibility of teawares, these individuals could have been
137 | P a g e
trying to make an impression or a social statement that would
associate them with a higher socio-economic caste, like ladino.
Using teawares may have been an important way to be ladino.
138 | P a g e
139 | P a g eTabl
e 4. C
eramic
For
m by R
egio
n, MNV
Regi
onTabl
ewar
esOther
Vessels
Cup
Bow
l/Cu
p Bo
wl
Sau
cer
Holl
oware/Pitc
her Pl
ate
Platte
r Dis
h
Chamber P
ot Teapo
t
Queq
ueisqu
illo
Nor
te
61.1%
0%
36.6%
0%
15
%
23.7%
4.3
%
3.8
%
0.50%
0%
Sant
a Ma
rta
8.
3%
8.
3%
37.5%
4.2%
0%
37
.5%
4.2%
0%
0%
0%
Mira
mar
7.7%
3.
8%
30.9%
0%
15.
4%
34.6
%
3.8% 3
.8%
0%
0%
Cang
reje
ra
7.4%
1.9
%
38.9%
3.7%
11.
1%
24.1
%
0%
1
2.9%
0%
0%
San
Anto
nio
0%
0%
20%
0%
40%
40%
0%
0
%
0%
0%
Los
Obrero
s
18.8%
0%
31.3%
0%
12
.5%
29.2
%
4.2
%
2.
1%0%
2.1%
Los
Cami
nos
10%
10%
30%
0%
0%
50
%
0%
0%
0%
0%
Arie
te
14.3
%
0%
28.6%
0%
7.
1%
21.4
%
21.
4%
7.
1%0%
0%
140 | P a g e
Table
4. Cer
amic
Form
by R
egio
n, M
NV
Regi
onTa
blew
ares
Othe
r Ve
ssels
Cup
Bow
l/Cup
Bo
wl
Sau
cer
Holl
oware/
Pitc
her
Pl
ate
Pl
atter
Dis
h
Chamb
er P
ot T
eapo
t
Queq
ueisqu
illo
Norte
61
.1%
0%
36
.6%
0%
15
%
23.7%
4
.3%
3
.8%
0.
50%
0
%Sant
a Mart
a
8.
3%
8.3%
37.5%
4.2%
0
%
37.5
% 4
.2%
0%
0%
0
%Mira
mar
7.7%
3.8%
30.9%
0%
1
5.4%
34.6
%
3.8%
3.8%
0%
0
%Cang
rejera
7.4%
1
.9%
38.9%
3.7%
1
1.1%
24.1
%
0%
12.
9%0%
0
%San
Antoni
o
0%
0
%
20
%
0
% 4
0%
40%
0%
0%
0%
0%
Los
Obrero
s
1
8.8%
0
%
31
.3%
0%
12
.5%
29
.2%
4
.2%
2.
1%0%
2.
1%Los
Camino
s
10%
1
0%
30%
0%
0
%
50%
0%
0%
0%
0%
Arie
te
14.3
%
0%
28.6%
0%
7.1%
21.4
%
21.
4%
7.1%
0%
0%
Table
5. C
eram
ic For
m by
Zone,
MNV
Regi
onTabl
ewares
Other
Vess
els
Cup
Bowl/C
up Bo
wl
Saucer
Holloware
/Pitcher
Plate
Platt
er Dish
Chambe
rPot
Teapot
Queque
isqu
illo
Norte Cen
ter
12.1% 0%
37.9%
0%
14%
25.8%
4.5%
4.5%
2%
0%Queque
isqu
illo
Norte Wes
t17
.3% 0
%
36.2%
0%
15%
23.6%
4.8% 3
.1%
0%
0%Santa
Mart
a So
uth
0% 5
0%
0%
0%
0%
50
% 0%
0
%
0%
0%Santa
Mart
a No
rth
6.7%
6
.7%
40% 6.7%
6.7
%
33.3%
0% 0
%
0%
0%Mirama
r No
rth
0% 0
%
0%
0%
75%
25
% 0%
0
%
0%
0%Mirama
r So
uth
14.3% 7
.1%
28 6 %
0%
28.
6%
21.4%
0% 0
%
0%
0%Mirama
r So
uthw
est
0% 0
%
33.3 %
0%
0%
33.3%
22.3%11
.1%
0%
0%Cangre
jera
Wes
t9.5%
0
%
42.9%
4.8%
9.5
%
19
% 0%
1
4.3%
0%
0%Cangre
jera
Nor
thwest
0% 0
%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%Cangre
jera
Mai
n6.1%
3
%
36.3%
3%
12.
1%
27
.4%
0%
12.1%
0
% 0%
San An
toni
o No
rth
0% 0
%
0%
0%
60%
40
% 0%
0
%
0%
0%San An
toni
o So
uth
0% 0
%
40%
0%
20%
40
% 0%
0
%
0%
0%Obrero
s So
uth
40%
0
%
60%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
Obrero
s Mi
ddle
9.1%
0
%
27.3%
0%
12.
1%
42.4% 6
.1% 0
%
0%
3%Obrero
s No
rth
40%
0
%
20%
0%
30%
0%
0%
10%
0%
0%
Los Ca
mino
s10
% 10
%
30%
0%
0%
50
% 0%
0
%
0%
0%Ariete
Nor
th15
.4% 0
%
23%
7.
7%
15.
4%
0%
30.8%
7.7%
0%
0%
Ari
ete
Casc
o
25%
0%
25%
0%
0
%
25%
0%
25%
0%
0%
Regional charts and charts of the zones to allow analysis of
the regional and zonal variation in form. The most popular vessel
forms are the bowl and plate vessel forms, while the next most
popular forms appear to be cup and hollowware/pitcher (Table 4
and 5). All the regions have quite a few plates, a few larger
pieces, while only Quequeisquillo Norte has a lot of cups which
complements the ware data. I will begin my analysis with the
regions that contain the most tablewares and work my way down to
those with the least amount of tablewares.
Los Caminos region consists of table wares including cups,
bowls and plates. This region presents a straightforward picture
of the dining occurring in this area during the third
chronological group on the hacienda (Figure 17). This seems to be
a semi-formal type of dining with cups and plates for
individuals. There is no evidence of teawares at this site,
indicating indifference towards the practice of taking tea or the
inability to obtain the wares necessary for the tea ceremony.
Another explanation could be that the social drinking of
beverages may have been with native recipes and vessels, such as
141 | P a g e
Tabl
e 5.
Cer
amic F
orm
by Z
one,
MNV
Region
Tablew
ares
Othe
r
Vessel
s
C
up
Bo
wl/Cup
Bo
wl
Sau
cer
Hollo
ware
/Pitch
er
Plate
Pla
tter
Dis
h Ch
ambe
rPot
Teap
otQu
equeis
quil
lo Nor
te C
enter
12
.1%
0%
37.9%
0%
14%
2
5.8%
4.5
% 4.
5%
2%
0%Qu
equeis
quil
lo Nor
te W
est
17.3
%
0%
36.2%
0%
15%
23
.6%
4.8%
3.1
%
0%
0%Sa
nta Ma
rta
South
0%
50%
0%
0%
0%
50
%
0%
0%
0%
0%Sa
nta Ma
rta
North
6.7%
6.7
%
40% 6.
7%
6.7%
33
.3%
0%
0%
0%
0%Mi
ramar
Nort
h0%
0%
0%
0%
75%
25
%
0%
0%
0%
0%Mi
ramar
Sout
h14
.3%
7.1
%
28 6 %
0%
28.6%
21
.4%
0%
0%
0%
0%Mi
ramar
Sout
hwest
0%
0%
33.3
%
0%
0%
3
3.3%
22.
3%11.1
%
0%
0%Ca
ngreje
ra W
est
9.5%
0%
42.
9% 4.
8%
9.5%
19
%
0%
14.
3%
0%
0%Ca
ngreje
ra N
orthwe
st0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%0%
Cang
reje
ra M
ain
6.1%
3%
36.
3% 3%
12.1%
27
.4% 0
%
12.
1%
0%
0%Sa
n Anto
nio
North
0%
0%
0%
0%
60%
40
%
0%
0%
0%
0%Sa
n Anto
nio
South
0%
0%
40%
0%
20%
40
%
0%
0%
0%
0%Ob
reros
Sout
h40
%
0%
60%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%
0%Ob
reros
Midd
le9.
1%
0%
27.3%
0%
12.1%
42
.4% 6
.1%
0%
0%
3%Ob
reros
Nort
h40
%
0%
20%
0%
30%
0%
0%
10%
0%
0%Lo
s Cami
nos
10%
10%
30%
0%
0%
50
%
0%
0%
0%
0%Ar
iete N
orth
15.4
%
0%
23%
7.
7%
15.4%
0
%
30.
8% 7.
7%
0%
0%
Ariet
e Ca
sco
25%
0%
25%
0%
0%
25%
0%
25
%
0%
0%
cacao or other herbally infused drinks in traditional vessels. At
this point, I do not have the locally made earthenware info to
answer this question definitively. I can only provide the
possible explanations for the absence of traditional whiteware
teawares.
Figure 17. Los Caminos Vessel Form
The Ariete region has, by far, the highest percentage of
platter vessel forms which is surprising, as this is the area
without many whitewares to begin with. Ariete Casco has the
highest percentage of dish vessel forms in this area (Figure 18).
Ariete North does not follow the trend set by Ariete Casco in the
mid nineteenth century of high utilitarian tablewares and almost
no serving wares. By the 1880s, it seems that there is more of an
142 | P a g e
emphasis on the vessel forms associated with tea service in this
area.
Figure 18. Ariete Vessel Form
Santa Marta North and Santa Marta South have diverging
patterns. Santa Marta North has vessel forms of plates, saucers
and hollowware/pitchers, while Santa Marta South has a strong
emphasis of cups and plates (Figure 19). These are very different
dining/serving traditions. Santa Marta South’s style of dining
represented is most evokative of the “American style” where there
are many plates and cups for the individuals but keeping the
style semi-formal (Lucas 1994). In contrast, Santa Marta North
has a greater emphasis on tea service wares leading to the
interpretation of formal dining. Santa Marta South is most like
Quequeisquillo Norte region indicating mirroring behavior
143 | P a g e
revealing practices that suggest a desire for those living in
Santa Marta to become associated with those living in the
Quequeisquillo region.
Figure 19. Santa Marta Vessel Form
Quequeisquillo Norte has high percentages of table wares
like cups, bowls, plates and hollowwares/pitchers (Figure 20).
The two sub-regions mirror each other’s vessel form patterning
almost exactly, indicating the same dining styles and perhaps
similar social status and a relationship to one another
considering these sites are contemporaneous. There is one ceramic
ironstone sherd possibly indicating the presence of a chamber pot
in Quequeisquillo Norte Center. The chamber pot is a bowl-shaped
container, often with a handle, kept in the bedroom under a bed
or in a cabinet of a nightstand and generally used as a urinal at144 | P a g e
night (Shakel 2000). In Victorian times, some chamber pots would
be built into a cabinet with a closable cover. Chamber pots
remained commonly used in Europe and North American until the
nineteenth century, when the introduction of inside water closets
started to displace them (Shakel 2000). In Central America, they
could have been in use throughout the nineteenth century, just as
they were in the United States. It took a long time for chamber
pots to give way to indoor plumbing in both rural and urban zones
in North America. Central America was in line with practices in
the U.S.
Figure 20. Quequeisquillo Norte Vessel Form
Los Obreros shows a wide variety of vessel forms ranging
from cups, bowls and plates to dishes, saucers, platters, and a
teapot (Figure 21). There seemed to be intricate meals being
145 | P a g e
consumed within this region, but at the level of the zone,
Obreros North and Middle have the range of vessel forms, while
the south has only bowls. Bowl dining consisted of preparing,
serving and consuming soups and stews where the components of the
meal are all combined and served as one entity, usually in one
course. Conversely, plate dining separated the components of the
meal, i.e. vegetables, meats, breads. Plate dining was conducive
to multiple courses as was found in the more intricate and formal
dining trends. The presence of only bowls in one zone indicates
the intricate formal dining was not occurring uniformly
throughout the region. Considering Obreros Middle was occupied
before Obreros North and South, it appears that Obreros North was
copying the trends of Obreros Middle. There could have been a
contemporaneous hierarchical relationship between Obreros North
(higher status indicators) and Obreros South (lower status
indicators).
146 | P a g e
Figure 21. Los Obreros Vessel Form
Cangrejera has a striking number of bowls and
hollowware/pitchers compared to the other regions (Figure 22).
There seemed to be a lot of stews and liquids being consumed in
this region, much like in Obreros and Obreros South. Cangrejera
Northwest is the only zone that does not adhere to the regional
trends. There were no identifiable vessel forms located in this
area, possibly skewing the overall picture of this region.
147 | P a g e
Figure 22. Cangrejera Vessel Form
Miramar region has a range of table ware and serving forms
(Figure 23). Miramar South and Miramar Southwest mirror this
trend, but Miramar North presents an unusual case where all the
forms consist of platters and plates. Miramar North has a high
percentage of plates. The kinds of vessel forms are similar
between Miramar North and Miramar Southwest including the same
percentages of platters and an emphasis on plates. The zones
within Miramar are contemporaneous. Considering the similarities
between Miramar North and Southwest, these regions probably had a
relationship with one another based on the consistent types of
dining styles and ceramics. Thus providing more evidence that if
similar trends occur contemporaneaously it is mirroring, but when
148 | P a g e
similar trends occur with a time lag the implication is emulation
or donation.
Figure 23. Miramar Vessel Form
San Antonio has the highest percentage of hollowware/pitcher
vessel forms on the regional scale. Similarly, San Antonio North
zone holds the highest percentage of hollowware/pitcher vessel
forms. The sub-regional trends mirror the regional trends of
tablewares including bowls and plates but there is a distinct
lack of cups, dishes and saucers (Figure 24).
149 | P a g e
Figure 24. San Antonio Vessel Form
There was an underlying concern for social control embedded
in late nineteenth century table service that embodies the
centuries emphasis on social order (Lucas 1994). There seems to
be distinct patterning regarding vessel forms amongst the regions
of this hacienda. This patterning leads to the interpretation
that some regions like Cangrejera, Los Obreros and Miramar were
utilizing many vessel forms (tablewares, serving and tea vessel
forms) to have formal dinners with many components, while the
other regions consisting mostly of cups, bowls and plates had
semi-formal meals. The transfer of social information through
encoded messages applied to consumer goods occurs on many levels,
and meanings are placed on material items in the form of “object
codes” that can help define an individual’s place within society
150 | P a g e
(Lucas 1994; McCracken 1988). Most of the regions had some
evidence of tea drinking based on cup, saucer or teapot sherds.
Two regions, Los Caminos and San Antonio, had no indication of
any tea drinking which sets it apart from the rest of the areas
on thia hacienda. This could be an important indicator of
individuals who identify as negro or an equivalent caste, lobo,
that prepares, serves and consumes food in a communal dining
style consisting of stews and soups.
Decoration
Decorative analysis is probably the most common form of
analysis regarding ceramic artifacts (Baugher and Venables 1987;
Hughes and Hughes 1960; Miller 1987; Miller 1980, 1991). An
analysis of decorative style can be sensitive to culturally
explicit and implicit information encoded in the ceramics. Many
archaeologists have developed classification models utilizing
ceramic decoration used to trace social change through time
(Costin and Earle 1989; Fry 2003; Gifford 1960; Lucas 1994;
Meyers 2005; Miller 1987; Samford 1997).
151 | P a g e
Historically, the desire for decorative ceramic wares in
specialized forms motivated consumers to replace older vessels
with more stylish refined ceramic wares during the latter half of
the eighteenth century (Martin 1989). It is clear from this
hacienda data that people living and working on the hacienda were
engaged in the international market with the same consumer zeal
sweeping the rest of the world. The acquisition of decorative
ceramics by the debt peons, wage laborers, overseers, etc. was a
signal of an individual’s ability to participate in the growing
market economy of the nineteenth century. However, the motives
that drove each individual most likely differed. Wealthy land-
owners or overseers may have demonstrated their political, social
and economic power through the ceramics they purchased and
whether they could purchase them in sets. Laborers may have been
indicating their relationship to their superiors on the hacienda,
their capability of earning small sums of cash and their mobility
outside of the hacienda through the acquisition of select
decorative pieces.
152 | P a g e
153 | P a g e
Tabl
e 6.
Cer
amic Decor
atio
n by
Reg
ion, T
SC
Regi
ons
Unde
corate
d
T
ransfe
rprint
Flow
n
H
andpainted
Annula
r E
dgew
are
S
pong
e
Mold
ed
Queq
ueis
quillo
Nor
te
39.7%
28.6
%2.7
%8.4%
15
.8%
0.3
% 3.3
% 0.
6%
Sa
nta
Mart
a 65
%
15
%0%
2.5%
10%
0%
5%
2.5%
Mi
rama
r
54.
5%
0%
0%9.
1%
29.5
%
0%
0%
6.9%
Ca
ngre
jera
6
6.3%
2.9%
0%2%
21.2
%
0%
2.9%
3.8%
Sa
n An
toni
o 43.
7%
31
.3%
6.3%
0%
18.7%
0%
0%
0%
Lo
s Ob
rero
s 42.
3%
26
.7%
1.4%
8.5%
18
.3%
0%
2.
8%0%
Lo
s Ca
mino
s
14%
51
%7%
14%
14%
0%
0%
0%
Ar
iete
3
8.9%
27.8
%3%
2.8%
22.1%
2.8%
0%
2.8%
154 | P a g e
Table
6. C
eramic
Dec
oratio
n by
Regio
n, T
SC
Regi
ons
Undeco
rated
Trans
ferp
rint
Flown
Han
dpai
nted
Annula
r
E
dgewar
e
Spo
nge
Mold
ed
Queq
ueisqu
illo
Norte
3
9.7%
28.6%2
.7%
8.4%
15
.8%
0.3
%
3.3
% 0.6%
Sa
nta Ma
rta
65%
15%
0%2.
5%
10%
0%
5%
2.5%
Mi
ramar
5
4.5%
0%0%
9.1%
29
.5%
0%
0%
6.9%
Ca
ngreje
ra 6
6.3%
2.9%
0%2%
21
.2%
0%
2.9%
3.8%
Sa
n Anto
nio
4
3.7%
31.3
%6.
3%0%
18
.7%
0%
0%
0%
Lo
s Obre
ros
4
2.3%
26.7
%1.
4%8.5%
18.3
%
0%
2.
8%0%
Lo
s Cami
nos
14
%
51%
7%14
%
14
%
0%
0%
0%
Ar
iete
3
8.9%
27.8
%3%
2.8%
22.1%
2.
8%
0%
2.8%
Tabl
e 7.
Ceram
ic D
ecorat
ion
by Zone,
TSC
Region
Undeco
rate
d
Transfer
Flown
Handpa
inte
d
Annular
Ed
gewa
re
Sponge
Mo
lded
Queque
isquil
lo N
orte
Cente
r45
.9%
19.8
%2.8%
1
0.8%
18%
0%1.8%
0.9
%Qu
eque
isquil
lo N
orte
West
40%
30.4%
3.4%
6
.7%
14.2
%0.
4%4.1%
0.8
%Sa
nta
Marta
Sout
h33
.3%
33.3%
0% 0
%33.3
%0%
0%
0%
Santa
Marta
Nort
h57
.8%
21%
0% 5
.3%
5.3%
0%5.
3% 5
.3%
Mirama
r Nort
h54
.5%
0%0%
1
8.2%
9.1%
0%0%
1
8.2% Mi
rama
r Sout
h54
.2%
0%0%
8
.3%
33.3
%0%
0% 4
.2%
Mirama
r Sout
hwes
t45
.5%
0%0%
0
%54.5
%0%
0%
0%
Cangre
jera W
est
73.2%
2.4%
0% 0
%19.6
%0%
2.4%
2.4
%Ca
ngre
jera N
orth
west
100%
0%0%
0
%0%
0%0%
0
%Ca
ngre
jera M
ain
61.7%
3.3%
0% 5
%21.6
%0%
3.4%
5%
San An
tonio
Nort
h63
.6%
18.2%
0% 0
%18.2
%0%
0%
0%
San An
tonio
Sout
h0%
60%
20%
0
%20%
0%0%
0%
Obrero
s Sout
h44
.4%
55.5%
0% 0
%0%
0%0%
0%
Obrero
s Midd
le49
.1%
16.3%
1.8%
7
.3%
21.9
%0%
3.6%
0%
Obrero
s Nort
h20
%53
.3%
0% 2
0%6.7%
0%0%
0
%Lo
s Ca
minos
14%
51%
7% 1
4%14%
0%0%
0%
Ariete
North
38.7%
32.3%
3% 3
.2%
12.9
%3.
2%0%
6.5
%Ar
iete
Casco
33.3%
0%0%
0
%66.7
%0%
0%
0%
The MVC provided an overall review of the ceramic
decorations and vessel forms used to express identity across the
hacienda (Table 8). Overall, annular decoration is the most
popular choice across vessel forms from cups to dishes. The
popularity of annular decoration could be that it was relatively
inexpensive when compared to the more expensive decorations like
transferprint and flown (Miller 1991). Based on the charts below
(Figures 24-32), I argue that each region has its own “style”
that is distinctive. This distinctive style may point to agency.
The ceramic decoration that seems to be the most prevalent in
this assemblage includes undecorated, annular, transferprint
green, transferprint red, handpainted Adams, transferprint blue
and transferprint purple. On the other hand, the decoration least
represented in this assemblage include sponge/spatter, blue
edgeware, transferprint Staffordshire, handpainted other,
transferprint black and mulberry flown. All the ceramic
decorations date from the eighteenth century through the first
quarter of the twentieth century, the time period spanning the
industrial and consumer revolutions (Miller 1980 and 1991). This
155 | P a g e
Table
7. Cer
amic
Decor
atio
n by
Zon
e, T
SC
Regi
on
Undeco
rate
d
Tran
sfer
Flo
wn
Hand
pain
ted
Ann
ular
Ed
gewa
re Sp
onge
Mold
edQu
equeis
quil
lo Nor
te C
enter
45.9
%19
.8%
2.8%
1
0.8%
18%
0%1.
8%
0.9%
Queq
ueis
quil
lo Nor
te W
est
40%
30.4
%3.
4%
6.7
%14
.2%
0.4%
4.1%
0
.8%
Sant
a Ma
rta
South
33.3
%33.3
%0%
0
%33
.3%
0%0%
0
%Sa
nta Ma
rta
North
57.8
%21%
0%
5.3
%5.
3%0%
5.3%
5
.3%
Mira
mar
Nort
h54.5
%0%
0%
18.
2%9.
1%0%
0%
18.
2% Mira
mar
Sout
h54.2
%0%
0%
8.3
%33
.3%
0%0%
4
.2%
Mira
mar
Sout
hwest
45.5
%0%
0%
0%
54.5
%0%
0%
0%
Cang
reje
ra W
est
73.2
%2.4%
0%
0%
19.6
%0%
2.4%
2
.4%
Cang
reje
ra N
orthwe
st100%
0%0%
0
%0%
0%0%
0
%Ca
ngreje
ra M
ain
61.7
%3.3%
0%
5%
21.6
%0%
3.4%
5
%Sa
n Anto
nio
North
63.6
%18.2
%0%
0
%18
.2%
0%0%
0
%Sa
n Anto
nio
South
0%60%
20%
0
%20
%0%
0%
0%
Obre
ros
Sout
h44.4
%55.5
%0%
0
%0%
0%0%
0
%Ob
reros
Midd
le49.1
%16.3
%1.
8%
7.3
%21
.9%
0%3.
6%
0%
Obre
ros
Nort
h20%
53.3
%0%
2
0%6.
7%0%
0%
0%
Los
Cami
nos
14%
51%
7%
14%
14%
0%0%
0
%Ar
iete N
orth
38.7
%32.3
%3%
3
.2%
12.9
%3.
2%0%
6
.5%
Arie
te C
asco
33.3
%0%
0%
0%
66.7
%0%
0%
0%
was a time when individual agency was being negotiated and
expressed through the newly accessible commodities, like
ceramics.
In the Ariete region, you see relatively higher numbers of
undecorated and annular decoration (Figure 25). Ariete Casco,
occupied in the 1850s, reveals high numbers of undecorated
ceramics compared to the rest of the assemblage and only one
decoration, annular, comprises the rest of the assemblage. In
contrast, Ariete North dated to the third chronological group,
zone has a much wider range of decorated types. Ariete North zone
seems to have the bulk of the decorated ceramic variation in this
region including purple, blue and green transferprint,
handpainted and annular decorations. Some of the more unique
decorative styles found in the assemblage include edgeware,
molded and flown, all of which are found in Ariete North. One
explanation of the discrepancy between the two zones could be the
increased availability of the decorated wares by the end of the
nineteenth century. Another explanation is choice, which explains
why other areas have a wide variety of patterns, motifs, etc.
156 | P a g e
Figure 25. Ariete Decoration
The distributions of Cangrejera are highly similar, but once
again, annular decoration is higher in one zone, Cangrejera West
(Figure 26). The zones mirror the regional trend for the most
part, except for Cangrejera Northwest which is composed entirely
of undecorated sherds. All of the Cangrejera Zones were
contemporaneous, which highlights the discrepency between
Cangrejera Main, Cangrejera West and Cangrejera Northwest. This
kind of patterning suggests the ceramic choices were from the top
and handed down to the people living in Cangrejera Main and
Cangrejera West.
157 | P a g e
Figure 26. Cangrejerea Decoration
Unlike many of the other regions, Los Caminos has a
relatively low frequency of undecorated ceramics and a wide
variety of decorated types, a pattern similar to Ariete North
(Figure 27). This region has the most variability within one
region out of all the regions on the hacienda. Los Caminos
contains a high percentage of transferprint decoration, similar
to most of the other regions in the third chronological group.
Figure 27. Los Caminos Decoration
158 | P a g e
Miramar shows parallel trends in zones in that undecorated
wares are a high percentage of all ceramics, there is no
transferprint, and an there is an emphasis on both annular wares
and handpainted Adams (Figure 28). The high percentage of molded
ceramics also distinguish this region from others and from one
zone to the next. Miramar South and Miramar Southwest were both
dated to the first and earliest chronological group on the
hacienda and show similar trends. Miramar South does diverge from
the pattern with slightly higher percentages of molded ware.
Miramar North was inhabited during the second chronological
grouping and maintains those patterns from the first
chronological group. This could be a form of emulation or
possibly family tradition that connected the people living in
these ares socially and economically.
159 | P a g e
Figure 28. Miramar Ceramic Decoration
Quequeisquillo Norte has a high percentage of undecorated
ceramics, but also has a wide variety of ceramic decorations
(Figure 29). The level of consistency in ceramic decoration
across the zones is surprising considering that the zones were
occupied sequentially beginning with Quequeisquillo Norte Center
and continuing with Quequeisquillo Norte West. Much like Miramar
this could be the result of emulation or family tradition. The
two zones adhere to the same decorative patterns including
transferprints, flown, handpainted, annular, edgeware, sponge and
molded. This region represents all but one of every decoration
present in the ceramics on this hacienda. Quequeisquillo Norte
West is imitating the ceramic decorations found in Quequeisquillo
Norte Center almost exactly.
160 | P a g e
Figure 29. Quequeisquillo Norte Decoration
San Antonio contains a high percentage of undecorated
ceramics, but remains highly varied in ceramic decoration. San
Antonio South has the highest percentages of decorated ceramics
and this trend is continued by San Antonio North with
transferprint, flown and annular decoration (Figure 30). These
sites were occupied contemporaneously and shared similar tastes
in ceramics.
161 | P a g e
Figure 30. San Antonio Decoration
Los Obreros, like Los Caminos, shows a wide degree of
decorative variability throughout the region and subregions.
Obreros South has the least amount of ceramic variation in the
subregional level, while Obreros Middle and Obreros North show
similar patterns in ceramic decoration (Figure 31). Obreros
Middle was occupied in the second chronological group before
Obreros North and Obreros South. Obreros North seems to be
mimicking Obreros Middle, while Obreros South is making a
distinctive statement.
Figure 31. Los Obreros Decoration
Santa Marta has high percentages of undecorated whiteware,
especially in Santa Marta North. Santa Marta North also has the
162 | P a g e
most decorated ceramics in Santa Marta including transferprinted,
handpainted, annular, sponge and molded (Figure 32). Santa Marta
South has ceramics evenly divided between undecorated,
transferprint and annular decoration, all makign up 33.3% of the
entire assemblage (Table 7).
Figure 32. Santa Marta Decoration
When examining all the regions, there are some patterns that
cross-cut regions. All the regions reveal high undecorated
ceramics as well as high annular decorated ceramics. The first
chronological grouping most strongly represents this trend.
During the second chronological grouping, Miramar North continues
the trend of high undecorated ceramics and high annular ceramics,
while Obreros Middle and Quequeisquillo Norte Center diverge from
163 | P a g e
the preexisting patterns with a greater variety of decorated
ceramics. The third chronological grouping contains a wide
variety of decorated ceramics, following the trend begun in the
second chronological group, with high percentages of
transferprint ceramics. Santa Marta South disregards these trends
and conforms to the trends of the first chronological period
(high undecorated and annular ceramics). Some regions that have
very consistent ranges of decoration include Cangrejera, Miramar,
Quequeisquillo Norte and San Antonio. The trends within these
regions are sustained throughout the nineteenth century. The
similarity of these sub-regions throughout the nineteenth century
could be explained by mirroring behavior used by the sub-regions
to associate themselves socially and economically with the
previous inhabitants of the region, most likely family members.
The high annular decorations can be explained by the relatively
inexpensive price for these decorated imported wares, making
these wares more accessible to those on the hacienda; Or the
popularity of annular wares could be based on regional
preferences, as some of the areas also had some of the expensive
wares (Miller 1991). The regions that have diverging patterns
164 | P a g e
include Ariete, Los Obreros and Santa Marta. These regions
display individual “tastes” emerging on the sub-regional level.
One explanation of the differences is that more kinds of
decorated ceramics became accessible to the people in these areas
due to wider distribution and more affordable prices by the end
of the nineteenth century (Miller 1991). Another explanation is
that the people living on the hacienda were able to save wages
and increase their purchasing power. This increased the
purchasing power of the individual allowing them to express
individual “taste” in a wider range of ceramics.
Decoration can tell us how expensive the wares are, but many
archaeologists have also interpreted decoration in terms of
social and moral preferences. Most of my MVCs are well within the
range of the Cult of Domesticity, which Wall and others have
argued is expressed by preferences for paneled Gothic and edged
wares (Wall 1994). My category of molded wares is composed about
50% by paneled gothic wares. Cangrejera Main and Miramar have the
most paneled Gothic and edged wares in the first chronological
time period. Miramar North in the second chronological grouping
holds the highest percentage of gothic and edged wares accounting
165 | P a g e
for 18.2% of the decorated vessels in this area (Appendix B). By
the third chronological period on the hacienda, Ariete North and
Quequeisquillo Norte West are the only remaining areas to have
any molded gothic wares in their assemblages (Appendix B). The
presence of this decoration can be an indicator of nineteenth
century social trends, like the cult of domesticity, influencing
consumer choices on the hacienda. What becomes apparent when
considering the assemblage as a whole is that the chronology
seems to show a falling out of favor with the wares of
domesticity including shell-edged, chinoiserie teaware and floral
gilting. What is notable is the emphasis on colorful
transferprints and annular wares, which contradicts Wall’s thesis
(1994). The percentage of transferprint decoration increases with
each consecutive chronological period. By the third chronological
group, transferprinted wares compose over half of the ceramic
decoration among most of the regions and sub-regions (Figure 12).
With the introduction of the new liberal regime, rise in modern
manufacturing, and an increasingly immigrant laborer population,
traditional models like the cult of domesticity did not fit the
new social framework and were replaced by the turn of the century
166 | P a g e
with the idea of productive individuals participating in society
and the economy not tethered by gender roles. These new policies
drastically diverged from the institutional regime that
established wage laboring systems in Central America in the
sixteenth century. The liberal regime was attempting to liberate
the peasants from tradition, such as communal land holding,
native religion, clothing, etc. to be a productive individual for
the state. The hacienda’s regions and zones were occupied during
and following a time of massive social and political
reorganization. Consequently these areas could have been
inhabited by an influx of people dependent on the hacienda
through systems of debt peonage, wage laborers, and occupying
higher status roles of overseers. I have been discussing the
hacienda as though it remained stable in the face of these
population shifts. The data suggest in actuality, the casco was
established early on and the mosaic of labor and managers shifts
both spatially and in their use of material culture. Whether it
is all one hacienda or not is not historically certain, but there
are enough commonalities to say the people living and working
167 | P a g e
around this hacienda area were participating in a linked social,
economic and political system.
Historically, the desire for decorative ceramic wares in
specialized forms motivated consumers to replace older vessels
with more stylish refined ceramic wares (Martin 1989). It is
clear from this hacienda data that people living and working on
the hacienda were engaged in the international market with the
same consumer zeal sweeping the rest of the world. The
acquisition of decorative ceramics by the debt peons, wage
laborers, overseers, etc. was a signal of an individual’s ability
to participate in the growing liberal market economy of the
nineteenth century. However, the motives that drove each
individual most likely differed. Wealthy land-owners or overseers
may have demonstrated their political, social and economic power
through the ceramics (sets) they purchased. Laborers may have
been indicating their relationship to their superiors on the
hacienda, their capability of earning small sums of cash and
their mobility outside of the hacienda through the acquisition of
select decorative pieces. The ceramic decoration that seems to be
the most prevalent in this assemblage includes undecorated and
168 | P a g e
annular. The popularity of annular decoration could be that it
was relatively cheaper when compared to the decorations like some
transferprints and flown.
Matched Sets and Design Motifs
The design motifs found in this assemblage express ideas
about self. Usually a diversity of types is interpreted as high
status, but I will look at the issue of sets in two charts that
summarize how many of what vessel forms and decorative types are
present in the assemblage. This will show if there are ceramic
sets, which can be an indicator of status and individual “taste”
(Bell 2002).
169 | P a g e
170 | P a g e
Tabl
e 8.
Hac
iend
a Mini
mum
Vessel
Cou
nt*
Regi
onTabl
ewar
esOt
her Vessel
s Cu
pBowl
/Cup
Bowl
Sauc
erHoll
owware
/Pitcher
Plate
Platter
Dish
Chambe
r pot
Teapot
Pear
lwar
e (dec./
unde
c.)
0
0
2 0
10
2
0
00
Porc
elai
n5
010
2
28
0
8
00 Ir
onst
one
0
01
0
06
0
0
10 WW
Und
ecor
ated
10
0
25 0
218
2
1
01
WW S
taff
ordshire
0
0
0 0
01
0
0
00
WW R
ed T
ransfer
3
0
6 0
13
0
0
0
0WW P
urpl
e Transf
er4
0
9 0
44
4
0
00
WW B
rown
Transfe
r2
0
0 0
03
0
0
00
WW B
lue
Transfer
5
0
9 1
611
1
0
00
WW B
lack
Transfe
r1
0
3 0
11
0
0
00
WW G
reen
Transfe
r1
0
3 0
15
2
0
00
WW F
low
Blue
1
04
0
02
1
0
00 WW
Flo
w Mu
lberry
0
0
0 0
10
0
0
00
WW H
andp
ainted A
dams
1
0
13 0
68
1
2
00
WW H
andp
ainted O
ther
4
0
3 0
10
0
0
00
WW A
nnul
ar7
5
19 1
1221
1
6
00
WW M
ocha
1
06
0
50
0
0
00 WW
Blu
e St
raight
Ed
gewa
re0
0
0
00
1
2
0
00
WW S
pong
e 2
1
4 0
47
0
1
00
WW M
olde
d1
01
0
30
1
1
00
*This
tally
is b
ased o
n a
study
of v
esse
l ri
ms a
nd b
ases.
It i
nclu
des
only i
mpor
ted
refine
d ware v
essels t
hat
date t
o the
seco
nd a
nd t
hird
quart
ers
of t
he n
ineteent
h centur
y.
Contex
ts wit
h decal de
coration (
post 1880)
were ex
clud
ed fro
m th
is s
tudy
.
171 | P a g e
Tabl
e 8.
Hac
ienda
Mini
mum Ve
ssel
Cou
nt*
Region
Tablew
ares
Othe
r Ve
ssel
s Cu
pBo
wl/C
upBo
wlSa
ucer
Hollowwa
re/P
itcher
Plat
ePl
atter
Di
shCham
ber
pot
Teapot
Pearlw
are
(dec./
unde
c.)
0
02
0
10
2
0
0
0Po
rcel
ain
5
010
2
28
0
8
0
0 Ironst
one
0
01
0
06
0
0
1
0 WW Und
ecor
ated
10
025
0
218
2
1
0
1WW
Sta
ffor
dshire
0
00
0
01
0
0
0
0WW
Red
Tra
nsfer
3
06
0
13
0
0
0
0
WW Pur
ple
Transf
er4
09
0
44
4
0
0
0WW
Bro
wn T
ransfe
r2
00
0
03
0
0
0
0WW
Blu
e Tr
ansfer
5
09
1
611
1
0
0
0WW
Bla
ck T
ransfe
r1
03
0
11
0
0
0
0WW
Gre
en T
ransfe
r1
03
0
15
2
0
0
0WW
Flo
w Bl
ue1
04
0
02
1
0
0
0 WW Flo
w Mu
lberry
0
00
0
10
0
0
0
0WW
Han
dpai
nted A
dams
1
013
0
68
1
2
0
0WW
Han
dpai
nted O
ther
4
03
0
10
0
0
0
0WW
Ann
ular
7
519
1
1221
1
6
0
0WW
Moc
ha1
06
0
50
0
0
0
0 WW Blu
e St
raight
Ed
geware
0
00
0
01
2
0
0
0WW
Spo
nge
2
14
0
47
0
1
0
0WW
Mol
ded
1
01
0
30
1
1
0
0
*This
tall
y is b
ased
on
a study
of v
esse
l ri
ms a
nd b
ases
. It
inc
ludes
only
imp
orte
d
refine
d ware
vesse
ls t
hat
date
to
the
seco
nd a
nd t
hird
quart
ers
of t
he n
inetee
nth
cent
ury.
Contex
ts with de
cal decora
tion (post
188
0) wer
e ex
cluded
fro
m this
stu
dy.
Table 9. T
rans
ferp
rint
Decor
atio
n, TSC
Tra
nsferpri
nt Motif
T
rans
ferpri
nt
Border
Land
scape
Classical
Me
dieval
N
ature
Ch
inoi
seri
e
Greek
Key
Medici
Geomet
ric Cla
ssical Nature
GreekKey
Medici
Geomet
ric
Queque
isqu
illo N
orte Cente
r 8
0
0
12
0
1
2
0
40
2
3Qu
eque
isqu
illo N
orte West
19 0
4
96
0
4
4
1
172
4
6Sa
nta
Mart
a Sout
h
0
0
0
00
0
0
0
0
00
0
0Sa
nta
Mart
a Nort
h
1
0
0
00
1
0
0
0
10
0
2Sa
n An
toni
o Nort
h
0
0
0
20
0
0
0
0
00
0
1Sa
n An
toni
o Sout
h
2
0
0
01
0
0
0
0
10
0
0Ob
rero
s So
uth
0
0
0
20
0
0
1
0
10
0
1Ob
rero
s Mi
ddle
1
0
0
00
0
0
2
0
30
2
1Ob
rero
s No
rth
2
0
0
21
0
0
0
0
30
0
0Lo
s Ca
mino
s
5
1
0
00
0
0
0
0
30
0
1Ar
iete
Nor
th
8
0
0
10
0
0
0
0
30
0
5Mi
rama
r No
rth
0
0
0
00
0
0
0
0
00
0
0Mi
rama
r So
utn
0
0
0
00
0
0
0
0
00
0
0Mi
rama
r So
uthwes
t
0
0
0
00
0
0
0
0
00
0
0Ca
ngre
jera
Main
0
0
0
00
0
0
0
0
00
0
0Ca
ngre
jera
West
0
0
0
00
0
0
0
0
00
0
0Ca
ngre
jera
North
west
0
0
0
00
0
0
0
0
00
0
0
Matched sets have been used to determine social status in
historical studies (Bell 2002). Appendix A shows the vessel
forms, decoration and design motif for all the zones on the
hacienda. This tables yields interesting results. The zones with
the most complete matched sets include Quequeisquillo Norte
Center, Quequeisquillo Norte Center West, Obreros Middle and
Ariete North. These areas are not necessarily the ones that had
the most whiteware, which may indicate the people choosing
ceramic sets are making a particular choice. All these areas
share some of the older and more scarce ceramic decorations
including porcelain gilded, molded, blue edgeware, and flown. The
Quequeisquillo Regions have abundant transferprint decoration in
many colors on many vessel forms. The zones that had very little
to no matched sets include Santa Marta, San Antonio, Obreros
South and Obreros North, Los Caminos, Miramar and Cangrejera.
These areas had few ceramic decorative motifs across a few select
vessel forms. The particular choices for ceramics sets could have
been motivated by price, taste and the desire to identify with a
172 | P a g e
Tabl
e 9.
Trans
ferp
rint D
ecor
ation, T
SC
Tra
nsfe
rprint
Mot
if
Trans
ferprint
Bord
er
Land
scap
e Cl
assi
cal
Medi
eval
Nat
ure Ch
inoiserie
GreekKe
y
Medi
ci
Geom
etric
C
lassic
al
Nat
ure
Gr
eekK
ey
Medi
ci
Geom
etric
Queq
ueisqu
illo
Norte
Cen
ter
8
0
0
1
20
1
2
04
0
2
3Queq
ueisqu
illo
Norte
Wes
t
19
0
4
9
60
4
4
117
2
4
6Sant
a Mart
a So
uth
0
0
0
0
00
0
0
00
0
0
0Sant
a Mart
a No
rth
1
0
0
0
01
0
0
01
0
0
2San
Antoni
o No
rth
0
0
0
2
00
0
0
00
0
0
1San
Antoni
o So
uth
2
0
0
0
10
0
0
01
0
0
0Obre
ros So
uth
0
0
0
2
00
0
1
01
0
0
1Obre
ros Mi
ddle
1
0
0
0
00
0
2
03
0
2
1Obre
ros No
rth
2
0
0
2
10
0
0
03
0
0
0Los
Camino
s
5
1
0
0
00
0
0
03
0
0
1Arie
te Nor
th
8
0
0
1
00
0
0
03
0
0
5Mira
mar No
rth
0
0
0
0
00
0
0
00
0
0
0Mira
mar So
utn
0
0
0
0
00
0
0
00
0
0
0Mira
mar So
uthw
est
0
0
0
0
00
0
0
00
0
0
0Cang
rejera
Mai
n
0
0
0
0
00
0
0
00
0
0
0Cang
rejera
Wes
t
0
0
0
0
00
0
0
00
0
0
0Cang
rejera
Nor
thwest
0
0
0
0
00
0
0
00
0
0
0
particular social caste resulting in emulation, imitation or
social solidarity. Ariete, Queisquillo, Miramar South and
Cangrejera Northwest all seem to identify as a higher caste,
possibly due to the areas as homes to hacienda owners or
managers. Ariete Casco is setting the trend by being the earliest
example of the ceramics trends in the nineteenth century. San
Antonio and Los Caminos identify with the middle castes emulating
the higher caste ceramic trends. The remaining regions and zones
display strong local identities, either Pipil native or African
or Yucatecan migrant by retaining higher quantities of redware
while still participating in the international market, perhaps
through hand-me-downs from those at the top of the hacienda
system.
One interesting previously unexplored question is that of
design and motif preference across the hacienda. Is there a
preference for more consistency in regards to color and design,
more vessels of blue transferprint in more forms, or are there
more vessels of a particular pattern in different colors? Table 9
shows a clear preference for nature and landscape that cross-cuts
173 | P a g e
the hacienda assemblage. Leone argued that local elites
manipulated their landscapes to demonstrate their control over
nature and social relationships (Leone 1988, 1995, 2005).
This kind of motif selection seems surprisingly consistent
across the hacienda through time as well. The mocha and annular
decorated ceramics were the most prevalent around the hacienda,
appearing in Quequeisquillo Norte West, Quequeisquillo Norte
Center, Ariete Casco, Santa Marta, and Obreros Middle. Mocha ware
is part of the factory produced slipware group of refined
earthenware ceramics decorated with applied slip decoration.
There is a dendritic transferprint design (Nature Motif) that
showed up in Quequeisquillo Norte West and Obreros Middle in
various colors. The motif resembles tree-like or branching
markings.
Another decorative motif that appeared in Quequeisquillo
Norte West and Santa Marta North transferprint is the Greek Key
and Dragon’s Breath pattern. This pattern is a meandering
decorative border that was constructed from a continuous line,
shaped into a repeated motif. This represents a traditional
174 | P a g e
decoration harkening back to the Hellenic cultural empire. The
Medici motif was located in three areas, Quequeisquillo Norte
West, Quequeisquillo Norte Center and Obreros Middle. There are
quite a few vessels decorated with blue and purple transferprints
and it seems that the nature motif is consistently preferred
throughout the hacienda. Based on the data, there is a
consistence of color and design but more so there is a preference
for more vessels of a particular pattern or motif in different
colors. This ceramic preference and patterning suggests a fairly
consistent ideological view across the hacienda throughout time,
possibly due to the historically authoritarian Spanish
infrastructure that organized hacienda life through a strong
hierarchical ideology.
Summary
If there is a class structure shown by ceramics, one would
expect (Bourdieu 1986) that people of the same class would have
similar taste in decoration, dining style, and cost of the
ceramics. Some areas have displayed inverse patterns (at least
in ware type), while the patterning in form is consistent, and
175 | P a g e
the patterning in decoration is distinctive. This inverse
patterning could be an indicator of a strong local identity and
higher indio status by retaining redwares in higher percentages,
while also displaying the desire and ability to participate in
the European market.
Some regions are highly consistent, like Quequeisquillo
Norte. The three zones within this region follow similar trends
in ware distribution, vessel form, and decoration. The
inhabitants of these zones were probably overseers or managers on
the hacienda able to save wages and enthusiastically participate
in the international market (Appendix C). Other regions display
mirroring behavior, like San Antonio and Los Caminos and
Quequeisquillo Norte and Ariete. Los Obreros shows similar
patterns between the zones in vessel form and decoration. This
mirroring behavior is an attempt to mimic the buying patterns of
those seen in a position of power and synthesize a relationship.
Quequeisquillo Norte, Los Obreros and Los Caminos show similar
tastes in ceramic form and decoration. These areas appear to be
trying hard to create and represent their identity through their
176 | P a g e
colorful ceramic choices. Santa Marta and Cangrejera are two
sites that are not contemporaneous but reveal similar trends in
vessel form (Table 5) as well as in decoration (Table 7) or lack
of decoration. The only vessel forms are cup/bowl and plate seen
in Santa Marta South. This seems quite austere compared to the
abundance of vessel forms found in the other zones. Similarly,
the only decoration in the two zones is found in Santa Marta
South and includes blue transferprint and annular decoration.
Again, compared to the other zones, variation in decoration is
rather lacking. The Ariete region could have been the location of
the hacienda owners, who became absentee owners by the nineteenth
century based on the low number of ceramic sherds. Some regions
display inverse relationships, like Miramar and Los Obreros and
Santa Marta and Cangrejera. These regions displayed different
ware, vessel and decorative preferences, indicating the
individual tastes of these groups based on their socioeconomic
status.
Orser states that individuals and social groups try to amass
various kinds of capital to reify and enhance their positions
within society (Orser 2005). Orser incorporates Bourdieu and Marx
177 | P a g e
into this argument further clarifying that labor is embodied in
economic capital as well as cultural capital that can be
converted into currency and objectified through a complex network
of past and present social relations (Orser 2005). The people
living and working on this hacienda were utilizing the ceramics
to negotiate and display their status on the hacienda and by
obtaining ceramics made available through international trade
markets.
Social power, or agency, is exemplified by the ability of
groups of people to acquire artifacts or goods through any number
of processes including market trade and patina (McCracken 1990).
Patina is the quality of age that indicates longevity,
durability, family legacy, value and ultimately power.
178 | P a g e
CHAPTER 7
DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSIONS
Artifacts carry meaning. The hacienda ceramics were both
utilitarian and symbolic (Orser 2005). This research should be
considered a preliminary exploration of social power and identity
at a nineteenth century sugar hacienda in Western El Salvador.
The simple yet extensive organization of labor at this sugar
hacienda was underscored by a complex set of power relations. The
acquisition of specific ceramics gave individuals some social
power and agency in an environment of historical European
domination (Bell 2002; Baugher and Venables 1987; Deagan 1983;
Rothschild 2006; Skibo and Schiffer 2008).
Social Power and Agency
The structural hierarchy of social power woven throughout
the strata of owners, overseers, managers and laborers on the
hacienda is clearly evident in the ceramic discrepancies and
179 | P a g e
distribution on and around the hacienda. The three chronological
grouping on the hacienda help clarify the specific patterns of
consumption in each region’s ceramic assemblage. There was
evidence of class corroboration, like in the examples of Ariete
and Quequeisquillo Norte, where the same ceramic ware, vessel
form, decoration and decorative motifs were chosen or passed down
through family by the people in this area. This helped secure the
social, political and economic position of these individuals at
the top of the hacienda system. If there was a time lag between
similar patterns, the evidence pointed towards emulation, as in
the cases of San Antonio, Los Caminos and Los Obreros. These
regions exhibited similar ceramic trends, but about thirty years
after they first appeared on the hacienda. In addition, there
were some people who had high numbers of whitewares throughout
these chronological periods, which indicates a class boundary
with those who had low numbers of whitewares throughout the
chronological periods.
Ceramics are durable and therefore ever-present on
historical archaeological sites. Their ware, form and surface
decoration make them highly identifiable markers of function,
180 | P a g e
status and cultural association. Historical archaeologists have
noted that there is a correlation between European-made ceramics,
copied or imported ceramics and the social status and ethnicity
of their users (Skowronek 1998). In Spanish colonized areas,
ceramics and other objects were used to assert dominance and
superiority over a native people. As time progressed, the
increasingly mestizo society identified with the Spanish desire
to create a facsimile of the Old World using the material culture
that served as ethnic-status indicators. In the late eighteenth
and early nineteenth centuries due to the liberal Bourbon
Reforms, European made table wares outnumbered non-European
ceramics. This trend goes against Skowronek’s thesis that the
percentage of European imported wares decreased compared to
locally made redwares.
Social power, or agency, is exemplified by the ability of
groups of people to acquire artifacts or goods through any number
of processes including market trade and patina. Those on the top
of the hacienda social network displayed their more expensive
table wares in their assemblages. Those striving to emulate the
high class attempted to purchase cheaper ceramics in similar
181 | P a g e
vessel form and with similar decorative motifs. Those areas that
indicated strong lower class identities still participated in the
Atlantic World conversation by consuming select imported vessels
either through individual purchase or through hand-me-downs.
Research Questions Addressed
Some of the questions left to be answered at the beginning
of this research included to what extent did various individuals
on a nineteenth sugar hacienda in western El Salvador participate
in the consumer revolution? The extent of an individual’s
participation in the international trade market depended on their
ethnicity which was directly tied to their social caste in
nineteenth-century El Salvador. All of the regional ceramic
assemblages on the hacienda contained a mixture of imported
Europeanwares and locally made redwares. In some manner, whether
it was direct purchasing power or handed down ceramics, every
individual had varying levels of access to the goods produced by
the international market.
Secondly, was there an indication of the ethnicity of the
people who were living and working in this region—transient
182 | P a g e
laborers from Africa and the Yucatan or native Salvadorans known
as the Pipil? Yes, based on the ware, vessel form and decorative
choices it is possible to determine what range of ethnicities
were present at any one area. For example, the remnants of a
teapot were discovered in Obreros Middle. Participation in the
tea culture of the nineteenth century could have been an
important social symbol to those who identify as ladino. Another
example is the presence of only bowl vessel forms found in
Obreros South. This could be an important indicator of
individuals who identify as negro or an equivalent caste, lobo,
that prepares, serves and consumes food in a communal dining
style consisting of stews and soups. The strong preference for
nature and landscape motifs in transferprint decoration is an
hacienda-wide trend that suggests a national identity expressed
in varying degrees by the amount of vessels consumed with this
decorative motif. This trend makes sense when considering the
relevant historical context of the Pipil rebellions spurred on by
passionate and vocal individuals like Anastasio Aquino who
exemplified a nationalistic ideology, which was captured in the
nature and landscape theme.
183 | P a g e
Thirdly, there remains was the question of the social
hierarchy of the individuals living and working around the
hacienda. This question was one of the main foci of my research.
Based on the ware, vessel form and decorative ceramic data
throughout the hacienda, I was able to identify distinct regions
and even sub-regions that revealed individual tastes and
personalities within and between the regions and zones of the
hacienda. Based on three chronological groups, I was able to
identify the probable location of the hacienda owners, managers
and overseers who would probably identify with the higher
peninsular and ladino castes. The ceramic signatures of these
upper and middling classes consist of the earliest examples of
pricey ceramics and ceramic sets in transferprint, molded,
gilded, Adams/handpainted and flown decorations; lower
percentages of local redware as compared to imported whiteware
especially during the first chronological period; and a wide
array of vessel forms including tea wares (saucers, cups, dishes)
and serving vessels (platters, hollowwares and dishes). In
Obreros Middle, as well as those zones who show the possibility
of teawares, these individuals could have been trying to make an
184 | P a g e
impression or a social statement that would associate them with a
higher socio-economic caste, like ladino. Using teawares may have
been an important way to be ladino. The regions that were the
most likely to have provided a home to the upper and middle
classes were Ariete, Quequeisquillo Norte, Miramar, Cangrejera,
Los Obreros and Los Caminos. In addition to the higher classes,
the middling and lower classes, like mestizo, negro and indio,
were suggested by their emulative and mirroring consumer choices.
The ceramic signature of the lower classes consist of later
examples of the ceramics thought of as “high class,” like
transferprint; higher percentages of redware as compared to
imported whiteware, especially in the earlier chronological time
period; and less variety of vessel forms, usually concentrating
on cups, bowls, and hollowwares. The regions that exhibited these
class indicators include San Antonio, Los Caminos, Santa Marta,
Los Obreros and Cangrejera. Returning to an earlier question, do
common people only gain a voice because elites let them, I
believe that this is a case where both sides are using one
another to reach their goals (hegemonic-counterhegemonic). The
elite wanted to maintain their power within the political and
185 | P a g e
economic networks in El Salvador, using the indios as a mass of
bodies to back them up. The common people, indios, were using the
elite to overthrow the Spanish power so that they could gain more
rights and eventually overthrow elite power.
Lastly, I asked what do the settlement pattern and ceramics
reveal about the construction of identity at sugar production
sites in the Early Republican Period of El Salvador? The
turbulent Early Republican period in El Salvador’s history was
riddled with warfare, economic booms and busts, increasing
modernization, and political discontent. Laborers and managers
in the sugar industry had various ethnic backgrounds and faced
different working conditions, but all had to adjust to a new
Liberal social regime. The framework for the social organization
of labor operated during a time when the Salvadoran state became
increasingly connected to the global market, creating a
crossroads of Pipil, creole, ladino, and European traditions. As
the ceramic evidence above shows, laborers and managers at this
nineteenth century hacienda reacted in similar and contrasting
ways materially. The hacienda system relies on profitable
production structured by economic, political and ideological
186 | P a g e
hierarchical control (Orser 1988). This was a time when
individual agency was being negotiated and expressed through the
newly accessible commodities, like ceramics. At this production
site, people of all socio-economic statuses interfaced and
negotiated identity and power influenced by the new liberal
regime. Despite the differences, most all regions embraced a
mixture of imported fine wares and locally made wares. The
creolized assemblages show that ceramic goods transcended
community, ethnic, and class boundaries, re-forming the
expressions of identity.
187 | P a g e
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