On paper, the official principal objective of the French Artistic Mission was to create an academy of arts and sciences in Brazil.17 In actuality, the French spent their time pampering the king and court, which guaranteed their livelihood in the tropics. It fell to the mission to organize and decorate the grand celebrations that the monarchy held in Brazil during the four years before their return to Lisbon, including the wedding of Prince Pedro and Princess Leopoldina, and João’s birthday, accession, and coronation. For these occasions, the French erected monumental arches in the streets of Rio de Janeiro, organized plays and concerts, and commissioned famous paintings. Insomuch as the mission served this purpose it proved useful. After the celebrations, however, the project fell apart. The death in 1817 of its principal patron, Antonio de Araújo e Azevedo, the count of Barca, also dealt a severe blow to the mission. Joachim Lebreton fell into ostracism and retired to a house on Flamengo beach, where he died in 1819.18 “The artists had the greatest disappointment,” observed historian Tobias Monteiro. “With the exception of music, the court was not interested in fine arts. Neither the fidalgos nor the wealthy owned paintings.”
Despite these difficulties, Debret stayed in Brazil for fifteen years. The most well known of all of these French artists and responsible for the best and widest range of imagery from this era, he created paintings, engravings, and notes that meticulously register the landscape, locals, and customs of Rio de Janeiro and its environs; the royal family, including the most famous portraits of João VI; the rituals of the court; and the coronation of Pedro I. His images lend a luster and sophistication to a European monarchy who were little more than a ragtag hodgepodge of regal hillbillies bereft of any real sense of culture. Debret also documented slavery in the Brazilian plantations and cities. In this case as well, he paints sterile, academic scenes that portray black men and women with curvilinear Greek profiles, clean clothes, and uniformly good posture. At no moment do his works reflect on the cruelty and brutality of the mistreatment and beatings that the slaves endured.
Among the arts, the Portuguese court in Rio de Janeiro preferred music by far. Debret estimates that in 1815, Prince João spent 300,000 francs ($3 million today) per year on the maintenance of the Royal Chapel and its company of artists, which included “fifty singers, among them magnificent Italian virtuosi, some of which were famous castrati, and additionally 100 excellent performers, directed by two masters of the chapel.”19 In 1811, the most famous Portuguese musician, Marcos Antonio Portugal, arrived in Rio de Janeiro. From his arrival until the court’s departure in 1821, he composed numerous pieces of sacred music in homage to the crown and the grand events it hosted.
Concerts took place in the Royal Chapel and in the then-recently inaugurated São João Theatre, with 112 loges and seats for 1,020 people in the general audience. Theodor von Leithold, captain of the Prussian cavalry, visited Rio de Janeiro in 1819 and described these spectacles as follows:
There are four or five weekly presentations, which vary among comedies, dramas, and tragedies in Portuguese, and Italian operas accompanied by ballets. The Italian operas are performed in an extremely particular manner. During my stay, the opera Tancredo was performed many times, but I barely recognized it, as it was mangled and mutilated by a terrible orchestra. Madame Sabini and Demoiselle Faschiotti, the sister of one of the castrati of the Royal Chapel, sung passably, largely helped by their physical endowments. The orchestra was greatly reduced in size, and in a word, miserable: only one flautist—a Frenchman—and a cellist caught my attention. The violinists, in fact, are below criticism.20
Rio de Janeiro certainly resisted comparison with London or Paris, but the new habits and rituals imported by the court quickly altered the behavior of its inhabitants. “The opening of the ports and the new dignity of Rio de Janeiro as capital of the entire Portuguese empire attracted businessmen, adventurers, and artists to the city,” relates Jurandir Malerba.21 A former combatant in the Prussian army in the war against Napoleon, the naturalist Prince Alexander zu Wied-Neuwied arrived in Rio in 1815, expecting to find a sleepy colonial village among the tropical jungle. What he found surprised him: “Improvements of every type have been achieved in the capital. She has lost much of her originality, having turned similar to European cities.”22
Three years later, American Navy official Henry Brackenridge had a similar surprise upon entering Guanabara Bay aboard the frigate Congress. “The number of vessels continually entering and leaving the harbor, gave us a high opinion of the commercial importance of the city we were about to visit,” he noted in his diary.
As we entered the harbor, a most magnificent scene opened upon us. The noble basin scarcely surpassed by any in the world, resembling a large lake rather than a harbor, expanded majestically, bordered by high woody mountains, interspersed with rocky peaks and precipices; their ridges or spurs sloping down to the water’s edge, in some places terminating abruptly, in others leaving narrow vallies and a thousand beautiful coves or recesses, with sandy beaches. The ridges, or broken grounds, below the mountains, are covered with convents, churches and beautiful gardens, while the little indents or sandy bays are occupied by elegant country seats; a great many of them constructed by Portuguese noblemen, since the establishment of the court at this place, or by English merchants who have grown rich since the opening of trade.23
The advertisements published in the Rio de Janeiro Gazette from 1808 onward provide one of the most entertaining ways to observe the evolution of the sophistication of the habits of carioca society. In the beginning, they offer simple products and services, the domain of a closed colonial society importing few objects and producing almost everything it consumed. These first advertisements cover the hiring of horses and carriages, sales of homes and lots, and basic services such as lessons in catechism, Portuguese, history, and geography.24 Here are two examples of announcements published in 1808:
Whoever wants to buy a residence of multi-story houses facing Santa Rita, talk to Anna Joaquina da Silva, who lives in these houses, or with Captain Francisco Pereira de Mesquita, who has orders to sell them.
For sale: a good horse, a carriage leader. If you have an intention to buy, look for Francisco Borges Mendes, who lives above a shop on the corner of João Baptista alley.25
From 1810, however, the tone and content of these announcements change radically. Instead of horses, houses, and slaves, they offer books, champagne, cologne, fans, gloves, linen, paintings, pianos, porcelain vases, silk sheets, watches, and countless other imported merchandise. “I can’t even begin to explain the abundance and surfeit of French fabrics and bric-a-brac which have flooded the city,” wrote Royal Archivist Luiz dos Santos Marrocos to his sister in Lisbon in 1816. “One no longer sees English fabrics that have all been abandoned, as everyone goes adorned in the French style, except me, as I am of Old Portugal, and no one shall tear me from this fixation.”26 In the March 2, 1816, edition of the Gazette, a Frenchman named Girard announces himself as “the hairdresser of Her Royal Highness Lady D. Carlota, Princess of Brazil, of her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, and of her Royal Highness the Duchess of Angoulême” and offers the following services: “To provide hairstyles in the latest fashions of Paris and London, to cut men and ladies’ hair, to coif men and women’s hair, to dye with the ultimate perfection hair, eyebrows, and sideburns, without causing any damage to skin or clothing; and to provide a pomade that makes one’s hair grow and thicken.” On November 13 of the same year, on 8 Rua do Ouvidor [Ombudsman’s Road], House of Bellard advertises having received “a new assortment of real and fake jewelry, ladies’ hats, French books, dresses and adornments for modern women, scents of all varieties, pendulums, shotguns, and fans.”
Despite the flood of British goods, in time the French influence left its mark. The stores of Rio teemed with novelties from Paris. In the June 26, 1817, edition of the Gazette, merchant Carlos Durante advertises to his clients that he has moved from 28 Rua do O
uvidor to 9 Rua Direita, where he offered,
Scents, colognes, pomades, diverse vinegars and essences for the bathroom and dining room, gloves, suspenders, soap, fans of all varieties, brushes and combs of every quality, shoes, slippers for men and women, vests of silk and morocco leather, all from Paris, tobacco boxes of all kinds, necessary for men, sewing-boxes for women, candles, clarified oil for lamps. Straw hats and beaver hats for men and boys; straw hats for women, decorated and non-decorated; silk hats, plumes, ribbons, tulle embroidered with gold and silver, artificial flowers, cashmeres, gloves, veils, twine, raw silk, etc; tables, bathroom mirrors, mirrors of every size with frames and without, prints, precious panels; real and fake jewelry, such as necklaces, earrings, rings, and ornaments; pendulums, pocket watches and music for men and women, champagne at 480 a bottle, a portable grain mill for one slave alone to grind; an assortment of French books, and much other merchandise at comfortable prices.27
In 1824, three years after the court’s departure, chronicler Ernst Ebel visited a store called “Vivienne” on Rua do Ouvidor, which made him feel as if he was in Paris:
Behind a well-polished table sits a Madame or Mademoiselle, elegantly posed, attended by a half-dozen negro women, dressed with care and chosen for their physique, employed to sew. . . . Everything is on demand that the most elegant lady could wish for; naturally, at a high price. In the salon of the maître-coiffeur, if you want to cut your hair, you will be directed to a fanciful parlor, decorated with mirrors, where you can be done up à la française or à l’anglaise and with huile antique, to your heart’s content, at a price left to your discretion; it will be, however, unseemly to give less than a thousand réis.28
The apparel and new habits transplanted by the court appeared in the evenings during performances in the São João Theatre or at Sunday masses. On these occasions, the number of accompanying slaves and servants reigned as an undisputed status symbol. The most rich and powerful had the largest retinues and made a point of exhibiting them as an indication of their social importance. The Prussian traveler von Leithold remarked that even the first-class harlots, “of which there were many,” proudly displayed their escorts in the streets. Whoever didn’t have private servants hired them for masses or events on saint days. “It is a point of honor to present oneself with a numerous entourage. They walk ceremoniously through the streets, at measured steps.”
“It is on Sundays and feast days that all the wealth and magnificence of a Brazilian family is exhibited,” related British traveler Alexander Caldcleugh, who visited Rio de Janeiro between 1819 and 1821.
At an early hour the household prepares for church, and marches, almost without exception, in the following order: first, the master, with cocked hat, white trousers, blue linen jacket, shoes and buckles, and a gold headed cane; next follows the mistress in white muslin, with jewels, a large white fan in her hand, white shoes and stockings; flowers ornament her dark hair; then follow the sons and daughters; afterwards a favorite mulatto girl of the lady, with white shoes and stockings, perhaps two or three of the same rank; next, a black môrdomo, or steward, with cocked hat, breeches and buckles; next blacks of both sexes, with shoes and no stockings, and several others without either; and two or three black boys, little encumbered with clothes, bring up the rear.29
Of course, appearances can deceive. Despite the effort and rapidity of the changes put in place by the prince regent, transforming Brazil proved a much more arduous task than could be seen by observing shops or the pomp of families in the streets of the new seat of the Portuguese court.
XIX
The Chief of Police
The population of Rio de Janeiro exploded during the thirteen years that the Portuguese court relocated to Brazil. The number of inhabitants, 60,000 in 1808, doubled by 1821. Only São Paulo—which transformed into the largest metropolis in South America during the industrialization in the first half of the twentieth century—saw such accelerated growth. Rio de Janeiro had an additional factor: half the population were slaves.1 We can only imagine what such rapid growth meant for a city already short on space, infrastructure, and services that would receive thousands of new residents from Lisbon.
Crime reached record highs. Robberies and assassinations became commonplace. Pirates targeted ships in port. Gangs of hooligans roamed the streets, attacking with knives and stilettos. Prostitution and gambling, while officially prohibited, took place in broad daylight. “In this city and its environs we have been quite affronted by thieves,” relates Royal Archivist Luiz dos Santos Marrocos to his father in Lisbon. “In five days, 22 murders were counted within a small boundary, and one night in front of my door, a thief murdered two people and left a third gravely wounded.”2 Dos Santos Marrocos also complained of too many blacks and beggars in the streets of Rio de Janeiro, noting that most were shamefully dressed.
The task of imposing order on the chaos went to the magistrate and court commissioner Paulo Fernandes Viana. Born in Rio de Janeiro and trained at the University of Coimbra, Viana became superintendent of police by charter in 1808, a post that he held until 1821, the year of his death. He had a role equivalent to both mayor and secretary of public safety. More than this, however, he acted as a “civilizing agent” in Rio de Janeiro.3 It was his job to transform a colonial, provincial, uncultured, dirty, dangerous village into a European-style capital worthy of hosting the Portuguese monarchy. His mission included filling swamps, organizing the water supply, arranging rubbish and sewage collection, paving roads and illuminating them with whale-oil streetlamps, and constructing thoroughfares, bridges, aqueducts, fountains, passageways, and public squares. He also oversaw policing the streets, issuing passports, observing foreigners, monitoring the sanitary conditions of slave warehouses, and arranging accommodation for the new inhabitants that the city received with the arrival of the court.4
One of the most influential assistants to the prince regent, he had an audience with him every other day.5 He claimed it “a duty of the police to keep the people busy and to promote love and respect for the sovereign and his royal dynasty.”6 Furnished with broad powers, he meddled in practically everything. Squabbles among families and among neighbors, arguments between slaves and masters, the organization of festivals and public spectacles, the distribution of foreign books and newspapers, individuals’ behavior inside and beyond their homes—nothing escaped his scrutiny. In an official letter to the police commander in January 1816, he ordered that all stray dogs be killed, “as they make this city unbearable, and tolerating them in this sweltering weather may lead to maladies, as they lunge at, bite, and frazzle the populace.”7 In another such letter, he ordered the military guard to curb “whistling, shouting, foot-stomping, and other uncivil behavior practiced by the populace” during theater performances.8
In his new and thankless role, Viana had as one of his first tasks to change the very architecture of the city. He had to execute João’s orders to replace the austere wood window trellises with windowpanes. “Being now a court, Rio de Janeiro needed properties of another order, that ennoble and beautify it,” registered one official.9 But the measure was enacted not just for aesthetic reasons: Windows hidden by trellises could be used in ambushes against the Portuguese court.
The crusade to change local customs met obstacles given the massive presence of slaves in the city, creating a permanent source of social tension especially after the revolts in 1791 by captive blacks in St. Domingue—Haiti today—resulted in bloodbaths among the white settlers. “Slaves are forever natural enemies of their masters: they are kept in place by force and violence,” wrote José Antonio de Miranda in a pamphlet that circulated in Rio de Janeiro in 1821 analyzing the political situation in Brazil and Portugal. “Everywhere that whites are outnumbered by slaves and wherever there are many castes, disruption of the status quo . . . may lead to a death sentence and bloodbath for the whites, as was in the case in St. Domingue, and this may happen anywhere that slaves a
re greater in force and numbers than free men.”10
Viana favored slavery but didn’t think it looked good on display in a city inhabited by a European court. Blacks, dressed in rags, congregated in the streets and squares on Sundays and holidays to play sports; practice capoeira, a Brazilian martial art accompanied by music; and hold drum circles. When they committed any wrongdoing, their owners reserved the right to have them whipped in the public square. A report of the superintendent in 1821 reveals that one third of all slave prison sentences punished “crimes against public order.” Recorded in police bulletins under the generic banner of “disorder,” this category included fights, drinking binges, forbidden sports—such as capoeira—and physical aggression.11 Petty thievery and possessing weapons, including razorblades, were met with severe punishment. A slave often received two hundred to three hundred lashes for having a razor or practicing capoeira.12
“Capoeira was a symbol of African culture, which slaves proudly displayed in the streets of Rio de Janeiro,” relates historian Leila Mezan Algranti. It also served as a means of self-defense, feared by the police who patrolled the city. Blacks could be arrested simply for whistling the rhythm of capoeira, wearing caps with yellow and scarlet ribbons—a symbol of capoeira matches—and even carrying musical instruments used in these events. A police report of April 15, 1818, reveals that “José Rebolo, a slave of Alexandre Pinheiro, was arrested for using a headpiece with red and yellow ribbons.” He had a knife in his possession as well. His punishment was three hundred lashes and three months in prison.13
In Viana’s opinion, none of this stood in keeping with the new elegance and refinement that Rio de Janeiro ought to display in the presence of the royal family. According to the superintendent, in a city hosting a court, whipping slaves in a public square was “truly indecent.” Above all, though, it could provoke unnecessary revolts.14 As a result, his countermeasures included the prohibition of meetings among slaves in public places. Whippings continued—but in closed quarters under the supervision of the superintendent general of police, far from the eyes of the nobility and foreigners who moved through the streets.
1808: The Flight of the Emperor Page 17