to take the necessary measures for his journey to Brazil; and for many months the ships could be seen anchored in front of the Royal Palace, in preparation for safely transporting the magnanimous sovereign to another part of his empire …23
It thus comes as no surprise that, with Europe in a state of turmoil, the Prince Regent’s advisers should resuscitate the idea. As early as 1801 the Marquis of Alorna24 had discreetly broached the subject: ‘Your Royal Highness should arm all your ships as soon as possible […] and put the princesses, your sons and your treasure onboard.’25 At the time the Prince Regent was displeased with the suggestion and was said to have shown ‘great repugnance’. As Portugal’s Foreign Minister in the 1790s, Rodrigo de Sousa Coutinho (the head of the ‘English’ faction) had nurtured similar ambitions for the colony. In preparation for the transfer of the Crown, he made contact with the Brazilian elite, soliciting their opinions on how to improve the management of the mining business and the colony’s administration.26
Meanwhile, the British government was insisting on the transfer of the royal family as quickly possible. In 1806 a British delegation went to Lisbon and informed the government of the imminent danger of an invasion, suggesting that, unless Portugal were determined to confront the French ‘vigorously and efficiently’, a move to Brazil would be the best alternative, for which they could count on British support.27
In July 1807, Napoleon’s patience ran out. The Portuguese ambassador in Paris, Lourenço de Lima, was given the unenviable task of transmitting the emperor’s instructions to Dom João. The message was short and to the point: the time had come for the Portuguese to declare war on the British. They must recall their ambassador from London and demand the withdrawal of the British ambassador from Lisbon, close the ports to British ships, arrest all British residents in Lisbon and confiscate their property. Furthermore, the emperor gave the Portuguese one month, until 1 September, for his demands to be met. Failure to meet the deadline would be considered a declaration of war against France and Spain (also a signatory to the letter). By this time Spain, whose geographical location was equally disadvantageous, had already submitted to the French. But this was not enough for Napoleon, who instructed General Junot, formerly his ambassador to Lisbon, to organize the formation of an armada in Bayonne, on the French–Spanish border.
During all this time Dom João was in poor health and had taken refuge in the palace of Mafra, thirty kilometres from Lisbon.28 There, protected by the thick walls of the monastery, he tried to forget the war. On 12 August he received a visit from his minister Antônio de Araújo de Azevedo, the leader of the French Party, who brought him the news that Napoleon had issued an ultimatum. The caricatural game of neutrality was over. This time the Prince Regent had no choice: he would have to go to Brazil.
Between the receipt of the news and the departure of the court for Brazil, important decisions were taken in secret and the days were filled with frenetic activity, so much so that reports from the time contain contradictory accounts. Nevertheless, this was the start of a defining moment in the history of Portugal and Brazil. It is rare for monarchies to move; when they do, their baggage is heavy. Dom João was no exception. He lived in isolation in the vast palace of Mafra, surrounded by his ancient library and cared for by monks with the aid of bats, which consumed the hordes of insects that invaded the palace. But the Prince Regent was under no illusion: he was aware of the immensity of the task of transferring not only the royal family but also the institutions and the imperial court to Brazil.
It was by no means an easy decision. It was the first time in Western history that the seat of an empire was to be moved to a colony. The situation required the immediate convocation of the Council, whose members included Antônio de Araújo de Azevedo and Rodrigo de Sousa Coutinho.29 The Prince Regent also consulted with his closest friends: José Egídio Álvares de Almeida, head of the Cabinet; João Diogo de Barros, secretary of the Infantado; Tomás Antônio Vilanova Portugal, official of the Treasury; Manuel Vieira da Silva, his physician; and Francisco José and Matias Antônio Sousa Lobato, who were in charge of the Royal Wardrobe. The Privy Council actually first met at the palace at Mafra on 19 August, when, in the heat of the moment, they drafted a document declaring that Portugal agreed to close its ports to the British, but refused to expel them from Lisbon, nor would they even consider confiscating their property.
One of the councillors at the meeting reminded those present of other monarchs who, as a result of the Napoleonic Wars (which by then had lasted for more than ten years), had ‘temporarily absented themselves from their capitals and their states in order to safeguard their sovereignty and independence’. The roll call included:
The King of Spain, on French soil, begging for Napoleon’s protection; the King of Prussia, a fugitive from his own capital, which was held by French troops; Stathouder, claimant to the throne of Holland, who had taken refuge in London; the King of the Two Sicilies living in exile from his beloved Naples; the royal families of Tuscany and Parma, adrift in Europe; the King of Piedmont banished to the court of Cagliari; the Doge of Venice and the Council of Ten reduced to pawns on the political chessboard; the Tsar of Russia ceremoniously receiving French allies and swearing friendship to safeguard his throne in St Petersburg; the Scandinavian countries on the verge of imploring Napoleon to appoint one of his marshals as king; and, from time to time, the Holy Roman Emperor and the Pope himself, forced to abandon their eternal, intangible thrones.30
He concluded by proposing that the British government be contacted immediately and requested to place its ships at Portugal’s disposal.
A second meeting took place on 26 August, during which a further attempt to postpone a decision was obvious. An envoy of the British government, Lord Strangford, informed London that the Portuguese planned to gain time by feigning to prepare for war against Britain. The Portuguese knew it was no longer possible to escape from Bonaparte, so-called ‘preparations’ would be only for show. Another topic at the meeting was more controversial: whether or not to send the Prince Regent’s eldest son, Pedro, Príncipe de Beira, to Brazil, as a way of preserving the monarchy. This course of action meant that if Portugal went to war, the House of Bragança and its principal colony would be safe.31 There was no lack of opinions on this matter. Some argued that sending the Prince Regent’s son Pedro would be better than sending the entire royal family, which was currently made up of ‘a lunatic, her listless son and a load of children’.32 Others were concerned that the sudden disappearance of the royal family would anger the people.33
Despite the urgency of the situation, three weeks were to pass before Dom João reconvoked the Council, on 23 September. Napoleon had repeated his demand for the closure of the ports and the seizure of British subjects and their property. Portugal insisted that it was only prepared to close its ports to the British. Faced with this deadlock, the French and Spanish representatives in Lisbon gave a final date for their ultimatum: 1 October.34 Meanwhile the dialogue with the British continued and the flagships Afonso de Albuquerque and Dom João de Castro, the frigate Urânia and the brig Voador were made ready to set sail from the mouth of the Tagus river as soon as the Prince Regent commanded.35
As the month of September came to a close, the tension increased. The French and Spanish ambassadors, fulfilling their threat, withdrew from Lisbon. Meanwhile, the Prince Regent finally conceded full powers to his ambassador in London, Domingos de Sousa Coutinho, Rodrigo’s brother, to secretly negotiate the terms of an agreement with Britain. In September, instead of reconvening the Council, Dom João instructed the members to meet without him. Opinions on the departure of his son Pedro to Brazil were divided, with some in favour of an immediate alliance with the French and others of arming the royal fleet for the defence of the port or for a sudden departure of the entire royal family. The only thing that changed was the tone of the meeting, increasingly grave, and marked by anxious appeals for urgent action.
By this time the topic of the ‘
journey’ to Brazil was no longer restricted to government circles. Rumours abounded and the hectic activity in the shipyards and at the port aroused speculation and anxiety among the people. Further suspicion was caused by royal instructions to the heads of the Church, in Lisbon and the provinces, requiring them to deposit their silver in specified locations for inventory. The public’s response was to solicit divine intervention. Public prayers and Masses were held; the Cardinal celebrated the Eucharist with the Collecta pro quacumque Tribulatione36 and on 18 October a grand procession left the Igreja da Graça and solemnly made its way through the streets of the city.37
British citizens were also seen going about their business in the streets; their objective, however, was rather more practical. They were selling their goods and preparing to board the ships that Britain had sent to rescue British subjects. They were also increasingly alarmed by the recurring attempts of the Portuguese government to ease the situation by making a show of its allegiance to France: a decree closing the ports to British ships was issued on 22 October. Nonetheless, what only a few people knew was that this was part of a double game. On the very same day a secret treaty was signed in London: Portugal would close its ports to British ships, but at the same time it would allow them to occupy the island of Madeira and would open one of the Brazilian ports for the importation of British goods with a reduction of taxes. In return, a British fleet would escort the royal family if it decided to leave for the colony, and would only recognize the legitimate heir of the House of Bragança as King of Portugal.38 Thus the Portuguese government became embroiled in a situation of its own making: on the one hand publicly favouring the French, while on the other secretly holding talks with the British. A friar who lived on the banks of the Tagus, after being informed of the closure of the port to the British, wrote to the Prince Regent: ‘The government’s secrets are a mystery that cannot be understood by reason alone.’39
Let us calculate dates. The quickest route to send mail between Paris and Lisbon, by land, took ten to eleven days. Thus, between sending a letter and receiving the reply almost a month went by; whereas from London to Lisbon letters were sent by sea, a process that could take only a week.40 Therefore, the delayed response between nations was also aggravated by the practical problem of messages getting through. And this was precisely what happened in early November. Although Portugal had declared its support for France on 22 October, it only learned about Napoleon’s latest demands on 1 November, demands Napoleon had dispatched on 15 October: ‘If Portugal does not do what I wish, the house of Bragança will no longer reign in Europe.’ Furthermore, to put an end to the double game, the emperor sent an army under the command of General Junot, which was already crossing the Pyrenees.41
But the Portuguese still wanted to defer. From one side, the Viscount of Anadia,42 arguing in favour of the policy of secrecy, suggested the property of the British might be confiscated and then ‘secretly returned’, and that the port should remain open so that ‘individuals […] may leave the country under the semblance of flight’.43 On the other hand, an attempt was made to please the French emperor by sending an envoy to congratulate him on his conquests, bearing a splendid gift of diamonds.44 Once again the delay in communication foiled these plans. France and Spain had already signed a treaty dividing Portugal into three parts: Entre-Douro and Minho would go to the Queen of Etruria – a kingdom Napoleon had created in Tuscany with Florence as the capital; the Alentejo and the Algarve would be given to Spain; and the largest part – Beira, Trás-os-Montes and Estremadura – would go to France. The Portuguese American colonies would be divided up between the successors of the new monarchs of Portugal.45 Bonaparte was also playing a double game: while threatening on the one hand, he held out the offer of negotiations on the other, thus managing to retain the Prince Regent in Lisbon. It is possible that Dom João still had a few cards up his sleeve: although his planned departure for Brazil escorted by a British fleet had been confirmed, in absolute secrecy, he continued to flirt with Napoleon.
England grew tired of waiting. George Canning, the British Foreign Secretary, informed the Portuguese government that he would accept the closure of the ports but that any other measure taken against British subjects would be considered a declaration of war. And there was worse: if the Prince Regent decided against the move to Brazil, the British would start to bombard the capital. The atmosphere in Lisbon was now so tense it had begun to affect the inhabitants’ daily routine. Everywhere military preparations were under way and a torrent of prayers and gossip engulfed the town. A devout churchgoer spread a rumour around the city: she had received a revelation that if the monarch left for Brazil, his ship would sink. When the premonition reached the ears of the Prince Regent it left him in a ‘state of confusion’.46 To add insult to injury, by this time food was becoming scarce in the markets: meat and wheat were in short supply and on 16 November a decree was issued rationing flour.47
The Portuguese government’s representative in London, Domingos de Sousa Coutinho, was worried.48 He wrote to the Prince Regent warning him that the squadron that had been sent to save him would turn its guns against Lisbon should he make an agreement with the French. Coutinho did not yet know that the Portuguese delegates in Spain and France had been ordered to leave. Nor had he been informed that the Marquis of Marialva49 was on his way to Paris to pay his compliments to Bonaparte. Meanwhile, Dom João had no idea that France and Spain had already decided to carve up Portuguese territory through the Treaty of Fontainebleau.50 What was more, the Prince Regent’s counsellors could never have dreamt that in three days’ time – on 11 November – Le Moniteur, the official journal of the French Empire, would make public the resolution to remove the House of Bragança from the throne. The Regent’s future was now hanging in the balance: the solution to his predicament depended on the time it took to deliver the journal from Paris to Lisbon.
A few days later, Portugal recalled its ambassador to the Spanish court and the Spanish reciprocated by recalling theirs from Lisbon. On 16 November the British squadron appeared at the entrance of the port of Lisbon with an army of seven thousand men.51 Meanwhile the court – which continued to ignore Napoleon’s ultimatum – still favoured an understanding with France. What was not known in Lisbon was that Junot’s troops had already arrived at the border and were stationed in Alcântara. The days that followed were tortuous. In consultations with Lord Strangford it was decided that the British fleet would be commanded by Admiral Sidney Smith. Smith had ample experience and proven ability as a naval officer. While still a lieutenant he had served with distinction at the British victory at the Battle of the Saintes, near Dominica, in April 1782 – starting thereby a history of his belligerent relations with France. He had acted as a marine official, and for his central role in the defeat of Russia he had received a commendation of Knight of the Order of the Sword, and the title of ‘Sir’ attributed by the British government.
Although Smith experienced many adventures during his career, let us recall just a few here: in Turkey he had acted as an amateur spy and proceeded to successfully attack the French on the coast of Brittany. Even so, Smith’s escapades did not always work out: he was captured in 1796 and spent two years in The Temple (prison) in Paris. But by then he was a living legend and, once freed, was known on both sides of the Channel as the Lion of the Sea. After one such escapade, Smith was carried through the streets of London, whose citizens considered him a sort of redeemer of the British. His reputation was firmly established at the 1798 battle against the French in Egypt. He commanded troops including Turks, Albanian mercenaries, Syrians, Kurds, and British sailors and marines, managing to halt the advance of Napoleon’s troops. The ships under Smith’s command staged a two-month blockade; and after half of the French troops had been killed, Napoleon ordered the survivors to retreat.
Daring and independent, with vast experience of naval battles against the French, Smith was the ideal person to command the expedition that would escort the royal family to
Brazil. He may have lacked experience of crossing the Atlantic in the company of royalty, but his reputation, bravery and strong personality ensured his capacity to defend his charges. Even Dom João, despite his stubbornness, was beginning to admit that there was no other option.
News in Lisbon that the French army had arrived on the frontier coincided with Smith’s decision to order a blockade of the mouth of the Tagus river. The city was alive with rumours about the British army, the Spanish, and ‘other spectres that haunted that time of tribulation’.52 The differences between the French and English factions now pushed them further and further apart. Rodrigo de Sousa Coutinho, the ‘Anglophile’, argued in favour of resistance and, if necessary, a rapid departure for Brazil. Antônio de Araújo de Azevedo, the ‘Francophile’, was still in favour of an understanding with France. Lord Strangford needed to exert all his powers of diplomacy. From Admiral Smith’s ship he wrote to Dom João promising that all hostilities would be forgotten and British support guaranteed, as long as his departure were immediate:
I’ve realised it is my duty to remove from His Majesty’s mind all hopes of arranging affairs with the country’s invaders, terrifying Your Majesty with sombre and lugubrious descriptions of the situation of the capital, which I left just a short time ago, and perhaps, in turn, entice Your Majesty with the brilliant prospects that lie ahead …53
As final proof of his argument, he handed the Prince Regent a copy of the inflammatory Moniteur. That was the last straw. On the night of 24 November 1807 the Regent summoned the Privy Council and informed them that the French troops had reached Abrantes. At a forced march they could arrive in the capital within three or four days. The preparations for departure began. A Government Junta of the Realm was appointed to govern in the sovereign’s absence; its first action was to prepare an announcement to be made by the Prince Regent. In the early hours of 27 November, followed by the royal family, the Regent boarded the ship that was to take him to the New World. No sooner were they aboard than the stampede began: a seething mass of government officials, state councillors, civil servants, ministers’ relations and members of the nobility with their families and friends, all desperate to find a place on-board one of the ships of the royal fleet. It was a scene from Dante’s Inferno: wives separated from husbands, parents from children, brothers from sisters, overcrowded ships jam-packed with people – a panic-driven reign of chaos. The fleet sailed on the morning of Sunday, 29 November. Later that day Napoleon’s troops entered Lisbon.
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