But in this case Debret surpassed himself. The allegory was intended to be the first symbol of Brazilian royalty, to seduce the new subjects. The Empire of Brazil was to be depicted in all of its singular pomp. Debret recorded his meeting with the theatre director, who wanted to replace the existing stage curtain depicting the Kingdom of Portugal surrounded by kneeling figures. After all, it was hardly appropriate for the declaration of independence to be celebrated against a backdrop of servitude to the Portuguese Empire. Debret redesigned it to represent ‘the fidelity of the Brazilian population to an allegorical figure representing the imperial government, depicted seated on a throne covered with a rich tapestry supported by palm trees’.7 While the tapestry was reminiscent of Europe, the palm trees were symbols of the sui generis empire in the tropics. The imperial government was represented by a woman in a cloak with a green lining – the colour of the Brazilian forests – and embroidered with gold in an allusion to the wealth of the land. In her left hand she held a shield with the emperor’s coat of arms, and in her right the Brazilian Constitution. Once again a combination of contrasting symbols was presented. In the foreground ‘fruits of the country’ were tipped onto the steps of the throne from a horn-shaped vessel. On the left a boat loaded with sacks of coffee and crates of sugarcane represented the basis of the new empire’s economy.
But the most interesting aspect of the stage curtain was the depiction of the country’s mixed-race population. On one side, the artist portrays a black family’s loyalty to the emerging empire: a boy carrying an agricultural tool accompanies his mother who in her right hand holds an axe for felling trees, and in her left a gun belonging to her husband, who has been called up and is leaving to join the army. In Debret’s words, far from questioning slavery, this African woman is armed in preparation to defend the new monarchy. Dividing the curtain, a ‘white Indian woman’ kneels at the foot of the throne, holding a pair of newborn twins – symbolizing the promise of a peaceful future guaranteed by ‘the assistance of the government’. In the background armed Indians show their support for the new state. Opposite them there are loyal naval officers and one of the founding fathers of São Paulo, and in front of these are Paulistas and Mineiros, ‘equally dedicated and enthusiastic’ holding sabres. Lastly, ‘caboclos kneel in an attitude of respect’. As a last decorative touch the waves of the sea break at the foot of the throne, a reminder of the empire’s unique geographical location.8
Debret’s allegory and accompanying text, reproduced in his book Voyage pittoresque et historique au Brésil, provides perhaps the clearest descriptions of the new state’s aspirations. The various groups that made up the nation would be submitted to the power of the imperial throne, to which they would offer their loyalty. They would in turn be the beneficiaries of ‘civilization’ as introduced by their sovereign into the distant tropics. There is no ‘sign’ of any conflict, neither civil nor political; only union. This would be a unique form of royalty, ruling over its multiracial subjects. The throne, at the centre of the scene, directs the eye towards the allegorical figure representing the emperor, with the letter P and the crown directly above her head, and in her arms a copy of the constitution, the symbol of the western state. The whole stage curtain was conceived to describe a new nation, founded in the tropics, whose essential characteristic was its difference.
With all its exuberance of detail, Debret’s stage curtain was no more than a formal presentation of a situation that did not actually exist. The monarchy was by no means stable and the atmosphere in the country was far from calm. In the first place there was the evident contradiction between a monarchy acting as a civilizing force and the deeply rooted regime of slavery throughout the territory. It was a sort of legalized, ‘moral’ violence, a system not only official, but accepted as natural throughout the country. In 1808 the total population of Portuguese America was 2,424,463, of which 31.1 per cent were slaves.9 In Salvador, for which there are no precise figures, it is estimated that in 1807 blacks and mestizos, both slaves and freemen, accounted for 80 per cent of the approximately 51,000 inhabitants of the town. In 1835 this figure had grown to 72 per cent of the population estimated at 65,500.10 In Rio de Janeiro in the same year the total population had grown to 79,321, of which 45.6 per cent were slaves.11 These people, by definition, had no rights and could not even be considered citizens. The slave-owners still feared the example of the Haitian revolution in the late eighteenth century. They lived in a situation where there were ‘six slaves for every master and where, consequently, those who desired vengeance were in a majority of 6 to 1’.12
At the beginning of the nineteenth century, when periodicals were rare but gossip was plentiful, Haiti was frequently in the headlines and the subject of discussion in the pharmacies – the location of choice for hearing the latest news. There was talk about the slave rebellions that ravaged the island, leading to a general loss of control, or conversely, to the Africans gaining control, which, in the language of the time, implied the lack of many essentials: rules, government and rationalism. With no access to objective news from the island, fear prevailed. Information was vaguely understood: the wealthiest French colony – the Pearl of the Antilles, as that part of the island was called – was in a state of upheaval. In the eighteenth century, Haiti had been Brazil’s competitor in the sugar trade, in which it had held a considerable advantage. The colony was also known for the remarkable ratio of slaves to whites. In 1754 there were 465,000 slaves to just 5,000 whites, an even greater disproportion than existed in Brazil at the time. Even so, the situation in Haiti cast a shadow over the fearful Brazilian elites.
The first slave revolt in Haiti had occurred in 1754; though rapidly repressed by the French, they were unable to quell the clamour for independence. The second revolt was sparked off by the outbreak of the French Revolution and spread throughout the entire island after the Jacobins’ 1791 declaration abolishing slavery in the French colonies. The revolutionary process lasted for twenty-three years, during which there were many setbacks. But what made the greatest impression on the Brazilian elite was in 1804 when Jean-Jacques Dessalines – a freed slave – expelled the French from Haiti and declared himself ‘emperor’. European countries and their Caribbean colonies immediately imposed a blockade on Haiti that was to last more than sixty years, the consequences of which are still in evidence today. As for those in power in Brazil, they feared Haiti like the Devil himself. Repercussions of the 1804 revolutionary events in Haiti were felt throughout the country, as several restrictive measures were taken, among them the increasing centralization of power in post-independent Brazil. The country reinvented itself as staunchly anti-Haiti: in contrast to the island governed by Africans, Brazil was white, Christian and civilized.
This was in part a reaction to the unstable situation in Brazil. Not all of the provinces immediately embraced the independence movement centred in Rio de Janeiro. Minas Gerais and the southern provinces declared they were in favour of consultation regarding the acclamation of Dom Pedro. Pernambuco swore its allegiance in December 1822, although it had taken the precaution in September that year of electing its own deputies. Since the territory was so vast and communications difficult, Goiás and Mato Grosso only declared their allegiance in January 1823. Rio Grande do Norte, Sergipe and Alagoas, in the northeast, then followed suit. However, the four provinces in the north – Pará, Maranhão, Piauí and Ceará – together with Cisplatina in the extreme south and, as mentioned, Bahia, remained faithful to the Courts in Lisbon.13
Foreign nations were equally divided. Brazil’s Latin American neighbours initially refused to accept the new situation, suspicious of a country that had maintained the monarchy rather than follow in the footsteps of the new republics; and, what was more, it had enthroned a Portuguese emperor as the head of the new state. However, the United States, already exerting hegemonic influence over the American continent, recognized Brazilian emancipation from Portugal in 1824. Meanwhile, troops loyal to Lisbon resisted in the provinc
e of Cisplatina, but were finally expelled from the country in November 1823. Their departure was followed by the beginning of the war for Uruguayan independence, which lasted until 1825, in which the enemy was no longer Portugal, but Brazil.
Portugal, the Motherland, demurred, finally accepting its colony’s independence in 1825. It should come as no surprise that the British offered their services to mediate the negotiations. To this end, they sent a special representative, Sir Charles Stuart, to Portugal with the task of negotiating the terms of Brazil’s independence. A series of conferences were organized in Lisbon where the matters discussed included the royal succession, mutual support in the form of ships and soldiers, financial restitution – both to the Portuguese government and to private citizens – and the negotiation of a trade agreement. It was decided that there would be reciprocity in the treatment of citizens between the two nations, hostilities would cease, Portugal would be compensated for advance payments, and trade relations would follow the basic principle of a 15 per cent tax on imports. But the question of financial restitution remained. Portugal demanded payment for all the objects that had been left in Rio de Janeiro. The total amount equalled half the Brazilian public debt to Britain in 1807, or the ‘bagatelle’ of 12,899:856$276 réis. The document entitled ‘List of the objects which Portugal has the right to claim from Brazil’, drawn up at the fourth conference in Lisbon, on 15 April 1825, included furniture, silverware, warships, military officers’ salaries, freight charges for the transportation of troops, military divisions, weapons, artillery and the notorious Royal Library, which alone was evaluated at 800:000$000 réis.14 15
Once the negotiations had been concluded and the bill was paid, the British turned their attention to curbing Brazilian presence on the African continent and to thwarting the plan for an independent Angola, which could then be incorporated into the empire.16 The Portuguese colonies in Africa reacted in different ways to Brazil’s emancipation. In Guinea, Angola and Mozambique groups of slave traders joined ranks with rebels from Rio de Janeiro. It is no coincidence that the Kingdom of Dahomey was the first country to recognize the Brazilian Empire. In Angola, a pamphlet produced in Brazil invited Benguela to join the ‘Brazilian cause’.17
But Great Britain was determined to suppress the slave trade. It had abolished human trafficking in its empire in 1807, and now began to take action against the countries that still practised it. Without a doubt Brazil was the largest market. The activities of the British Navy were to change the fundamental structure of Brazil’s social hierarchy and work practices, which were still based on the continued importation of African slaves. Vast sums of money had been accumulated from this transatlantic traffic and from the sale of slaves on the domestic market. This commerce created a direct link between Brazil and Africa and was dominated on the American side of the Atlantic by Brazilian and Portuguese merchants in major ports such as Salvador, Rio de Janeiro and Recife.18
It should not be forgotten that at the beginning of the nineteenth century the slave trade was one of the most profitable businesses in the colony, with the slave traders themselves forming a part of the country’s elite.19 Between the mid-sixteenth and the mid-nineteenth centuries, Brazil imported approximately four million slaves, 40 per cent of the total number transported across the Atlantic between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries. Of this total, 80 per cent entered the country in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the majority coming from outposts in Angola, the Congo, the Gold Coast, the Bay of Benin and Cape Verde. The system was deeply rooted in Brazilian society, consolidating social hierarchies, the wealth of elites and systems of political power.
Great Britain meant to charge dearly in return for its protection of the royal family on their 1808 journey to Brazil, and this included the question of slave-trafficking, which was broached in the first treaty between the two nations. Britain’s campaign for abolition arose from a combination of economic, political and humanitarian interests. Both Portugal, and later Brazil, did all they could to evade the pressure. In the treaty of 1810, as has been seen, Dom João had accepted the gradual elimination of the slave trade in principle but, in fact, had done nothing. Five years later the Congress of Vienna gave its support to the abolitionist campaign. But it was only in July 1817 that the suppression of the traffic was formalized, with judicial commissions established on both sides of the Atlantic to evaluate the seizing of ships and to set free the Africans encountered on-board. The Portuguese-British commission based in Rio de Janeiro only prosecuted one ship, in 1821: the schooner Emília bringing slaves from the Gold Coast. The 352 Africans were declared free, registered, and given letters of emancipation. Housing was provided for them in public and private institutions. This was, however, an isolated case, perhaps not surprisingly given that the superintendent of police at the time, Paulo Fernandes Viana, was notorious for his association with wealthy slave traders.
Between 1825 and 1826 a new treaty was signed as part of the negotiations for Great Britain’s recognition of Brazilian independence. The new constitution drawn up by the Constituent Assembly in 1823 included José Bonifácio’s recommendation that slavery should be eliminated in the medium term. However, the article (number 254) that foresaw ‘the gradual emancipation of the African slaves’ was removed from the 1824 Constitution, in which no mention of slavery was made. Yet another treaty, drawn up between 1826 and 1827, determined that ships transporting slaves be treated as pirate vessels. But this was merely for appearances: between 1826 and 1830 there was a dramatic increase in slave-trafficking, a result of the fear of imminent abolition. Whereas in the first half of the decade approximately 40,000 slaves had been transported, between 1826 and 1829 the figure rose to more than 60,000 a year. Nothing had changed. There were innumerable ways to circumvent the laws. Scandalous impunity of the traffickers continued to prevail.20
This open and insidious attitude opposing the prohibition of slave-trafficking contributed to the precarious nature of slave alforria (or freedom), to collusion with the illegal enslavement of African newcomers, and to freed men and men of colour having no guarantee they would not once again be forced into slavery. The onus of proving their freedom fell upon them, in a country where freedom itself was becoming an increasingly rare ‘good’, and difficult to sustain. In any case, the policy of defending the slave trade and maintaining the system of slavery was at the heart of the formation of the new Brazilian state. Thus, the founders of the empire engaged in a discourse of ‘gradual abolition’, all the while preserving the state apparatus of slavery. The most important consideration, at the outset, was to guarantee the continuity of trade relations with the United States and Europe, all the while maintaining the traffic in slaves. Thus the Brazilian government remained intimately connected with the infamous trade, an issue that, in spite of the pressure from Britain, was to take many years to resolve. The new nation, in this crucial formative phase, excluded large sectors of society from citizenship – Indians, slaves and women – and postponed the prospect of abolition to an indeterminate date in the future.
With so many weaknesses, the Brazilian Empire was born trying to hide structural problems. The situation is best summed up by the character Tancredi in Giuseppe di Lampedusa’s novel The Leopard: ‘If we want everything to stay the same, everything must change.’ Slavery remained untouched, as did the monoculture of sugarcane and the vast estates owned by the elite. Above all, nothing had been done to reconcile internal political differences or to deal with the fundamental question of the distribution of power between the national authority in Rio de Janeiro and the regions.
DOMESTIC CRISIS: AN EMPIRE DIVIDED
The country still remained politically divided. Although the final form of Brazilian independence represented a victory for the conservative Coimbra group led by José Bonifácio and his brothers, divisions immediately became apparent. There was no agreement, for example, about the basic structures on which the new state should be built. During the first two years – between 1822 a
nd 1824 – this debate was centred around Brazil’s first constitution. The process for the election of the deputies was set in motion and the Constituent Assembly first met in May 1823.
At the Constituent Assembly, groups with very different positions confronted each other. The ‘moderate liberals’ wanted to limit reforms granting greater political and civil freedoms: to consolidate the achievements of independence without compromising the existing social order and status quo. This group was composed of rural landowners and merchants from Minas Gerais who had ties to the court and were associated with politicians and military officers of the bourgeoisie.21 They mainly wanted political and institutional reforms aimed at limiting the powers of the emperor. They defended the constitutional monarchy, subject to a division of powers, with greater authority for the Chamber of Deputies and an independent judiciary. They had no interest in democracy, nor in general enfranchisement.
The ‘exalted liberals’ wanted more far-reaching reforms, including social and political changes. Although there were divisions within the group, broadly speaking, members wanted a federal system, the separation of Church and State, incentives for Brazilian industry, universal suffrage, the gradual emancipation of the slaves and, in some cases, the establishment of a democratic republic.22 They were behind various alternative political projects, generally advocating greater citizens’ rights and the reduction of social inequalities.
Both groups, however – the moderate and the exalted liberals – were united against the ‘Portuguese party’ made up of Portuguese and a few Brazilians who supported an absolute monarchy and wanted absolute powers for Dom Pedro I. The ‘moderate’ and ‘exalted’ liberals together formed the Brazilian party because both groups wanted the monarch to be answerable to the parliament. There was one more group, the ‘Bonifácios’, led by José Bonifácio, whose followers defended a strong, centralized constitutional monarchy and the gradual abolition of slavery.
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