Prior to the arrival of the colonizers there was a vast contingent of peoples spread across the continent, with a large variety of social, economic and political systems, at local and regional levels. If Cabral’s arrival was a disaster for these populations, there is no reason to describe the losses only in terms of lives, land and culture. There is no static history, and contact and changes continue to be made today. Amerindian practices, religions and beliefs have been gaining greater space as social actors within Brazil, despite still representing a largely ignored political voice. Although we know too little about their history, there is no reason to believe that they were passive subjects of indoctrination by the Jesuits. Padre Antonio Vieira – a Portuguese orator and philosopher of the Society of Jesus, and great defender of the ‘rights of the Indians’101 – attempted in one of his famous sermons to describe the natives he had met in Brazil. After lamenting the modest success of the evangelizing mission, he went on to compare the difference between Europeans and Indians to the difference between marble and a myrtle bush. The Europeans, he said, were like marble: difficult to sculpt, but once the statue had been concluded, it remained intact forever. The Amerindians, on the other hand, were the opposite. They were like a myrtle bush: at first sight easy to sculpt, only to later return to its original form.102 This was the reality that evangelization would have to face. Although the Amerindians appeared to accept the new religion without reacting, they were ‘inconstant’, or ‘worse, ill-disposed towards the new faith and laws’, always returning to their own social mores and cosmologies.
Nevertheless, five hundred years ago, the inhabitants of this immense territory – which had been given a name, but whose frontiers and interior were as yet unknown – seemed to encapsulate everything that was ‘New’: a new and strange form of humanity. To the public in Europe everything about these new lands was exciting and exotic: the people, the animals, the climate and the plants.
Padre Cardim’s treatise, On the Climate and Land of Brazil, was written between 1583 and 1601, translated into English in 1625 (anonymously), and finally published in full in Portuguese in the nineteenth century. Clearly, it took a while to catch on. However, as at the turn of the sixteenth century documents in circulation frequently alluded to one another, the priest’s comments may well have added fuel to the fire of public imagination, according to which ‘Brazil’, the Brazils, the Land of the Holy Cross, the Land of the Parrots, had now become the fascinating land of cannibalism. Padre Cardim made further exotic additions: after enumerating the wealth of Brazil’s natural resources, he went on to reveal the existence of mermaids and mermen, among other imaginary creatures indispensable to Portuguese writers of the time. Cardim concludes, to great effect: ‘This Brazil is another Portugal.’ It was, however, much more than that. Brazil was a different world.
2
The Sugar Civilization: Bitter for the Many, Sweet for a Few
He who beholds in the blackness of night those terrible furnaces perpetually burning […] the noise of wheels, of chains, of people the colour of the very night, arduously toiling and all the while groaning, without a moment’s rest or relief; he who beholds the thunder and chaos of this machinery of Babylon shall not doubt, though he has looked into the very depths of Mount Etna or Vesuvius, that he has seen the likeness of hell.
Padre Antônio Vieira
SO BITTERSWEET: A SUGAR CIVILIZATION
It is hard to understand how this land – located somewhere between heaven and hell – was to gradually become a major centre for sugar production, selling ‘sweetness’ produced by labour derived from the ‘infamous trade in human souls’. It is time to revisit this story, for no chain of events is simply natural – nor a mere gift from the gods. Our propensity to like places, products and sensations is learned, and sometimes these tastes were created or invented at some specific date in history; we identify them and they become familiar. Europeans created companies and colonial societies in the Caribbean and in Brazil; they also created sugar. Humans make food out of almost anything, but their choice and preparation of it varies considerably according to region, social class, generation and gender. Sugar was not only a product, but also a producer of codes and customs. And in the sixteenth century the invention of a desire for sweets was widely cultivated. It is true that fruits and honey had been used as sweeteners long before this, but the new taste for sweets, its transformation into a universal need, occurred at a very specific time in the history of the Western world. It was only after 1650 that sugar, mainly cane sugar – previously the rarest of luxuries – became commonplace, a basic need.
Whereas honey has been known since the early days of human history, sugar, and especially sucrose – a substance extracted from sugarcane – appeared much later and has only been widely consumed for the past five hundred years.1 In 1000 CE only very few people were aware of the existence of sugar, but by the seventeenth century the aristocracy and wealthy middle classes had become ‘addicted’ to it. It was adopted by Western medicine because it was thought to have healing properties, it penetrated the literary imagination of the time, and was a constant presence on the tables of ‘good society’.
The first known references to sugarcane come from New Guinea, dating back to around 8000 BCE. Two thousand years later it reportedly found its way to the Philippines, India and possibly Indonesia. References to actual sugar-making only began to appear with regularity after 350 CE, in India, becoming more frequent around 500 CE. The Arabs brought sugarcane to Europe with their invasion of Spain in 711. They established the art of sugar-making and the taste for different ‘types of sweetness’. In addition to its use in medicine and cooking, sugar began to be used to simply ‘sweeten’ everyday items such as tea, bread and pies. By that time, sugarcane plantations could be found in northern Africa and on a number of Mediterranean islands, most notably Sicily. But with the Crusades sugar consumption increased markedly, largely due to the expansion of the sugar trade between Africa and Europe.2 From then on, sugar was on the list of precious trading goods – which included pepper, cloves and cinnamon. It became a staple for monarchs, essential to princesses’ dowries, to nobles’ wills, and so on and so forth.
The development of the spice trade and the routes along which the traders travelled have mainly been well documented. It is less clear, however, why these products became so popular and what led the rich and powerful of Europe to develop a taste for piquant foods, seasoned with pepper, smoked, aromatic, cured, oily, spicey, or, quite simply, sweet. The most convincing explanation is that before the arrival of these products food was in general dull and monotonous. Thus, more varied and exotic flavours, to satisfy even the most unusual tastes, were welcomed. Sugar was also easy to preserve. It was this combination that ensured its place as an object of desire and power in the hands of kings and merchants. Before long it had become a staple, with investment in the production and sale of sugar increasing to meet the growth in demand.
This was the case for the Kingdom of Portugal, which saw in this market a solution to the problems it faced in both Africa and America. An additional factor that led to the Portuguese monarch’s decision to promote sugar production was that the industry that had previously flourished in the Mediterranean, especially in Sicily and Moorish Spain, had begun to wane. And so, under the auspices of Prince Henry of Portugal,3 the first sugarcane saplings were brought from Sicily and initially planted on the island of Madeira, which soon became the largest single producer of sugarcane in the West. By the early sixteenth century it was producing over 177,000 arrobas4 of white sugar and 230,000 of Muscovado sugar,5 as well as other inferior grades.6
But the growth of the sugar trade on the island was as swift as its decline. From there it rapidly spread to the Azores, Cape Verde and São Tomé. Initially it was the Genoese and Venetians who controlled the trade from these Atlantic islands. Around 1472, however, Flemish merchants, who by then controlled the distribution of commodities to the Portuguese market, took over the trade. For s
ome time Portugal had been establishing commercial and financial ties with Genoese and Flemish bankers who provided them with access to credit for essential investments. The Netherlands, in fact, had taken an interest in Brazil long before the creation of the West India Company in 1621. There was considerable trade between Portugal and the Low Countries, with Dutch ships supplying Portuguese ports with merchandise from northern Europe – wheat, timber, metal and manufactured goods – as well as Dutch products, including fish, butter and cheese. On the return journey they carried cargoes of timber, rock salt, wine, spices and medicinal herbs from East Africa, to which, later on, they added sugar from Brazil. Not infrequently, under Philip II and III7 of Spain, a country hostile to Protestant Holland, Spanish fleets blockaded the Portuguese ports to prevent Dutch ships from entering. But despite these temporary disruptions the trade continued.
After the decline of the plantations on Madeira, sugarcane production was to flourish in São Tomé. By this time slaves were already being used to work on the plantations. In 1516 alone 4,000 slaves disembarked on the island and by 1554 the local population consisted of 600 whites, 600 mulattoes and 2,000 slaves. With its proximity to the African coast the island later became an Atlantic market for the trafficking of slaves to the New World. When its sugar industry declined in the mid-sixteenth century, São Tomé turned entirely to the trafficking of slaves, receiving ‘supplies’ from Senegambia, Angola and Benin.
Sugar production in São Tomé turned out to be an excellent training ground for future activities in Brazil. Production methods, internal organization, the proportion of slaves to colonists – all the lessons learnt on the island – were assimilated and later applied. Even slave uprisings, especially in 1574, weighed heavily on the minds of the plantation owners as they headed towards the colony in America. Nevertheless, the Portuguese had learned from the experience. Although they had no precise idea of the extent of the territory of the New World, they knew the coastline relatively well and they understood the need for it to be populated, if only to prevent the foreign invasions that were starting to occur along the coast. On the other hand, by that time sugar, along with other spices, was fetching increasingly higher prices in an expanding European market.
Thus, combining business with pleasure – the need to populate the colony and the desire to make handsome profits – the policy of merely populating the territory was replaced by a new form of colonization, with a different purpose. Until that time Portugal had limited itself to selling the commodities it had found in its new domains (as it had done with brazilwood in the early days of the colony). But now the colonial enterprise aimed at achieving more substantial results, which required a production system that would serve the European markets on an ongoing basis. The need to populate the land went hand in hand with the desire to exploit it for profit. And nothing could be more profitable than the monoculture of sugarcane. Portugal had ample experience in its cultivation, as well as how to market and distribute it. Although the Crown was still very far from controlling the whole of its territory, it was clear that the abundant availability of land would attract large investments.
Thus the primary goal, rather than settling the population, became the large-scale production of specific products to be traded in Europe. A new type of tropical colony came into being, directed at the cultivation of crops that thrived in the temperate climate and for which there was constant demand in Europe. Their economies were entirely directed at supplying European, rather than domestic, demand, so that at times there was not an ounce of sugarcane left for consumption in the colony.
At any rate, a system was developed based on huge landholdings – the plantations – specializing in the large-scale production of a single export crop. In this new modern era, economic survival required highly specialized production in dependent economies, a system designed to maximize the colony’s resources and secure profits abroad. Sugar was ideally suited to all of these requirements, to the delight of European consumers with their insatiable appetite for the new powdered sweetness. As we know, demand can be created, and consumption is often dictated by fashion. Black tea, for example, which contains caffeine, was consumed as a stimulant in Asia, but in the West for its calming effects. It was taken at five in the afternoon in preparation for a good night’s sleep.8 Now sugar became the craze, no longer as a medicine, but as an extravagance: more sweetness, more flavour, more calories and more happiness.
SUGAR ARRIVES IN BRAZIL
The earliest record of sugar and plans for its production in Brazil date back to 1516, when Dom Emmanuel9 ordered hoes, axes and other tools to be distributed to ‘those who were to populate Brazil’, and that ‘a capable and skilful man be found to establish a sugar mill there …’10 As can be seen, the idea was to profit from the new land before it could become a problem. This was, after all, the ‘whole point of colonization’: populate the new land, but always with Lisbon’s interests in mind.
Although premature, the monarch’s plans would slowly consolidate. An expedition under the command of Martim Afonso de Sousa left Portugal for Brazil in December 1530 with the first saplings of sugarcane aboard. They were planted along the coastline of São Vicente, where Martim Afonso built the first sugar mill in 1532. It became known as the Engenho do Governador. A few years later it was sold to a Flemish merchant and renamed the Engenho São Jorge dos Erasmos, the ruins of which exist to this day. In 1534 the king, Dom João III,11 established the system of hereditary captaincies. He divided the coastline of his American colony into fifteen segments, which he donated to twelve Portuguese aristocrats to administer. Martim Afonso received the captaincy of São Vicente where the sugarcane plantations thrived. In general, however, the outcome was disappointing: some of the captaincies were never even colonized, while others suffered from isolation and attacks by the Indians.
In fact, ever since the beginning of the Brazilian colonization, indigenous groups had tried to resist Portuguese domination, either by fleeing or by taking up arms. The latter strategy provided the Europeans with the pretext to wage a so-called ‘righteous war’ to enslave them. But, since they were on their ‘home turf’, opportunities for individual flight were innumerable, and preventing the slaves from escaping proved to be truly difficult. Although rare, there were also records of occasional uprisings, in which the Indians murdered their owners and escaped en masse.
Towards the end of the sixteenth century these uprisings became a clear indication that the contrasting cultures and economies were set on a collision course. The Portuguese called this type of collective slave, and mainly indigenous, revolt Santidade.12 Behind these uprisings lay a messianic cult that promised an end to slavery and white rule and the coming of a future when peace would reign. As the process of colonization progressed, these prophecies of a time without evil had become explicitly anti-Portuguese in spirit. Indians began launching attacks on the sugar plantations and taking in runaway slaves.
The most important of these insurrections erupted in the Recôncavo baiano13 – the Santidade de Jaguaripe in the 1580s.14 The insurgents combined elements of Tupinambá ritual, which promised an earthly paradise, with Roman Catholic symbols that held out the promise of future redemption. Despite the expeditions the Portuguese sent against them, the group continued to grow. In 1610 the governor of the wealthy captaincy of Bahia reported the group to be 20,000 strong. In 1613 the Portuguese began a war of extermination against the Santidades, and all references to them cease after 1628.15
The few regions that were successful under the captaincy system combined sugarcane production with (at least an attempt at) peaceful coexistence with the Indians. Sugarcane was planted in all the captaincies that had been colonized – from São Vicente to Pernambuco – with saplings brought from Madeira and São Tomé. Mills were erected in Porto Seguro16 and Ilhéus in the captaincy of Bahia, as well as in São Vicente. The efforts of Martim Afonso de Sousa to introduce the cultivation of sugarcane were so successful that by the end of the sixteenth century more
than a dozen sugar plantations had been established in the Baixada Santista.17
However, the difficulty of obtaining labour was considerable. Among the causes of this were the Jesuits’ increasingly ostentatious protection of the Indians, and the frequency with which the latter managed to escape. Other important factors were the substantial investments required and the constant need to stave off foreign invasions. The outcome was that only two of the captaincies were successful: Pernambuco and São Vicente. But not even the thriving sugar plantations of the latter were to last. With the departure of the donee, who returned to Portugal in 1533, the captaincy of São Vicente was governed directly from Lisbon and became the target of a series of foreign attacks. In January 1615 the Dutch admiral Joris van Spilberg delivered the coup de grâce: he invaded the shores of São Vicente (now the state of São Paulo) and proceeded to raid, sack and then torch the emblematic and once imposing Engenho São Jorge dos Erasmos. With such constant setbacks and so few incentives, its owners thought it best to abandon the venture.
These events marked the beginning of the migration of sugarcane production to the northeast, and the consequent dramatic increase in the volume of exports to Europe. Areas of fertile alluvium soil in the region, known locally as massapê, were found to be ideal for the production of sugarcane. Many years later, in 1930, Gilberto Freyre18 was to describe it in poetic fashion: ‘It’s a gentle soil […] The gentleness of the massapê contrasts with the terrible, wrathful creaking of the dry sands of the scrublands […] The massapê is noble and resistant. It has depth.’19 Freyre, in his usual style, presents the soil as predestined for the plantation of sugarcane, and thus for nurturing the distinctive culture of Brazil’s northeast. And in fact he was right: the massapê did have the right characteristics for the successful cultivation of sugarcane. The hot climate of the region, the high humidity, and the vast network of natural waterways for transporting the product to the coast, in addition to its relative proximity to Portugal – the favourable winds and shorter distance greatly curtailed the journey – turned sugarcane into the champion of the Portuguese Empire. The centre of gravity shifted. The attention and strategic measures of the Portuguese Empire were no longer directed at India, but at Brazil.
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