chambouleyron, rafael - cacao, bark-clove and agriculture

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Rafael Chambouleyron

Luso-Brazilian Review, Volume 51, Number 1, 2014, pp. 1-35 (Article)

Published by University of Wisconsin PressDOI: 10.1353/lbr.2014.0012

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Luso-Brazilian Review 51:1ISSN 0024-7413, © 2014 by the Board of Regents of the University of Wisconsin System

1

Cacao, Bark-Clove and Agriculture in the Portuguese Amazon Region in the Seventeenth and Early Eighteenth Century*

Rafael Chambouleyron

Este texto discute a cultura do cacau e do cravo no Estado do Maranhão e Pará, nos séculos XVII e XVIII. Seu principal argumento é o de que mais do que derivar do fracasso da produção açucareira na região (modelo colonial exemplar para a América portuguesa), as várias tentativas de desenvolver o cultivo das especiarias amazônicas, durante o século XVII e princípios do século XVIII, decorreram de uma série de circunstâncias e experiências. Esse foi o caso do lento descobrimento e interação com a região amazônica e seus produtos, o declínio do domínio português na Índia, e uma percepção singular de outras experiências coloniais.

“O Maranhão é Brasil melhor e mais perto de Portugal”Simão Estácio da SilveiraRelaçaõ sumaria das cousas do Maranhão, 1624

Portuguese and creole soldiers coming from the northeast of Portuguese America conquered the Amazon region in the beginning of the seventeenth century.1 In the 1620s, distance and the difficulty of travel from the Amazon region to the captaincies of Pernambuco and Bahia, where the Portuguese colonial government was established, led to the creation of an autonomous administrative province in the north, called Estado do Maranhão (or Estado do Maranhão e Grão-Pará). The State of Maranhão was divided into many captaincies, private and royal (the most important of them being the royal captaincies of Maranhão and Pará). Directly dependent on Lisbon, only in the nineteenth century did this region become part of the rest of Brazil.2 In

2 Luso-Brazilian Review 51:1

contrast to other regions of Portuguese America, such as Bahia or Pernam-buco, where sugar cane and sugar mills flourished since the late sixteenth century, the State of Maranhão, during the first hundred years of its coloni-zation, represented a constant source of challenges for the Portuguese crown, which endeavored to develop the region economically.

According to Francisco de Assis Costa, since the beginning of the colo-nization process, the Portuguese had tried to “transform the region into an extension of a colonial economy founded upon agricultural production of goods, based on the use of an African labor force.” However, colonial experi-ence revealed the impossibility of transforming the region into a plantation economy. During the seventeenth century, the region became heavily depen-dent upon an American- Indian labor force, and a variety of local products, primarily Amazonian spices—the drogas do sertão—gathered by the natives in the hinterland, or sertão. Assis Costa therefore notes the confrontation of an “agricultural ideal” with an “extractive reality,” in the approach of the Portuguese crown to the region.3

The historiography has emphasized the importance of this contradic-tion to our understanding of the Amazonian economy and its labor system. In many “classic” works of economic history, such as those written by Caio Prado Júnior, Celso Furtado, Roberto Simonsen, Nelson Werneck Sodré and Arthur Cezar Ferreira Reis, the State of Maranhão formed a contrast to other Portuguese colonial experiences, manifesting the “failure” to implement an economy based on plantations and African slavery.4 According to these types of analyses, a “classic” sugar economy, such as that established in the captain-cies of Bahia and Pernambuco, could not be developed in the Amazon region due to the inadequacy of the region’s fields and to specific economic conjunc-tures.5 According to many authors, it was only in the second half of the eigh-teenth century—when the Marquis of Pombal (Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo) dominated Portuguese colonial policy—, that a proper colonization of the region began. It was only then that the crown seriously intervened to guarantee its political dominion over the vast sertões.

There is no doubt that the Amazon region failed to become a “classical” export economy, at least during the seventeenth and early eighteenth cen-turies.6 Moreover, it is clear that the seventeenth- century “Brazilian experi-ence”—i.e. sugar, tobacco and African slaves—remained an important model for the crown, settlers and authorities, when the “growth and preservation” of Maranhão were under discussion.7 However, historiography has favored an anachronistic Brazilian nation-state bias that ignores other connections—external to modern Brazil, or to the South Atlantic—which help us to under-stand the specificities of colonial Maranhão and Pará.

In fact, if one analyses the development of seventeenth- century Mara-nhão’s economy and occupation from the perspective of a secondary economy

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gravitating around a central and exemplar colonial experience, one neglects other factors which could help to understand the formation of this specific colonial society and economy. The aim of this article is to argue that, rather than deriving from the “failure” of a (“Brazilian”) plantation economy, the many enterprises attempted with the drogas do sertão originated from a particular intersection of historical circumstances and experiences: first, the gradual discovery of, and specific interactions with, Amazonian nature and its products; second, the decline of Portuguese power in India; and third, a unique appreciation of other American colonial experiences, especially that of the thriving cacao economy in colonial Venezuela.

* * *

As mentioned above, historians have depicted the Amazon economy during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries as one based on the extrac-tive industry of the sertão’s spices. However, data reveal that the Portuguese crown promoted the cultivation of many local products, cacao, bark-clove and indigo being the most important. The crown also invested in sugar and tobacco production.8 Therefore, the establishment of an agricultural policy, throughout the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, whether success-ful or not, encompassed both Amazonian spices and “traditional” products such as sugar, as well as cattle in the island of Marajó (in Pará) and in the State of Maranhão’s eastern frontier.9 The Amazonian economy was characterized by the intersection of many crops and types of occupation. In fact, unlike other “conquests” of Portuguese America, there was a strong interrelation between its hinterland—the sertão—and the coastal settlements such as São Luís and especially Belém where the Portuguese established an agricultural economy.10 If sugar production could be seen as an “agricultural ideal” for the region, because of the prosperous experiences in the State of Brazil, it did not preclude other types of agricultural experimentation.

Not by chance, in the 1650s, one of the most influential diplomats and men of letters of the kingdom, Duarte Ribeiro de Macedo, insisted on the importance of developing and cultivating the State of Maranhão’s products, including not only sugar and tobacco, but also cacao, indigo, clove and many others.11 Like many other letrados of the seventeenth- century Portugal, Ri-beiro de Macedo believed in the increasing importance of Portuguese Amer-ica for the development of the kingdom.12

According to Luís Ferrand de Almeida, the ideas of these intellectuals in-fluenced the crown and coincided with an economic crisis in the Portuguese empire. This was particularly clear during the second half of the seventeenth century, when, according to Vitorino Magalhães Godinho, “the imperial economy had undergone a prolonged depression dominated by a crisis in


the sugar, tobacco, silver and slave trades.”13 Ferrand de Almeida points out that the Portuguese crown had to develop new ways to prevent the crisis. Specific policies concerning taxation and trade were among the solutions en-visioned by Lisbon to face the crisis. Thus, Ferrand de Almeida argues that the Crown provided incentives for the extraction and cultivation of the Am-azonian spices in order to compensate for the losses in the Indian Ocean, as well as to mitigate the generalized crisis of the Portuguese empire, related to the Brazilian trade.14 Warren Dean points out that the sugar expansion in the Caribbean and the decline of Portuguese Asiatic empire led to an increasing interest of the Portuguese crown to “cultivate Brazilian products that until then were only collected.”15

The promotion of Amazonian spices, therefore, should not be attributed to the failure to establish a sugar plantation economy. At least three main factors should be considered instead, as mentioned above. First, from the 1640s onwards, when the Portuguese achieved considerable dominion over the region, the recognition of these territorial gains led to a gradual discovery of new potential products. According to the descriptions of the State of Mara-nhão, the spices began to occupy an important place in the region’s character-ization. In the 1680s, for example, Captain Manuel Guedes Aranha stressed that the captaincy of Pará was a conquest “where everyday new products are discovered.”16 Father João de Sousa Ferreira’s America abreviada (1690s) stressed the same idea. Above all the products that could be cultivated in Ma-ranhão were “invaluable spices in its sertões, such as clove, cacao and others that could be found.”17 In 1692, Royal Treasurer Francisco Teixeira de Moraes wrote that, as experience has shown, the State of Maranhão had “precious and many spices.”18

This was the main reason why, throughout this period, the idea of “dis-covery” became so important for the region. In the letters and reports written to Lisbon, the authorities stressed the frequency with which expeditions and journeys entered the sertão to search for new or previously discovered spices. One has the impression sometimes that the sertanejos (the men experienced in the sertões) were sent without even knowing what they were seeking. In 1680, for example, a paper possibly written by Governor Inácio Coelho da Silva defended the revocation of the taxes of all “those new spices that could be discovered in the conquest.” The prince agreed with this suggestion and decided to lift half of the taxes on the “new spices that will be discovered in that State [of Maranhão].” A wealthy Portuguese trader, commenting on the same paper also concluded that the prince should lift the taxes on those sta-ples “that were not yet discovered.”19

The discovery of new spices or new sources of known spices then became a task for authorities, settlers and clerics. In 1656, during an expedition or-ganized in search of gold, the Jesuit Father João de Soutomaior described

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finding several trunks of a tree called burapinima. According to him, this wood could become “a new spice of this State.”20 In the late 1680s, Governor Artur de Sá e Meneses notified the crown of all the progress that the Portu-guese had made in the discovery of new products. With the letter, he sent new samples of long pepper, quinaquina, an herb similar to tea, carajuru (a red dyestuff), and twenty- four kinds of wood for yellow dyestuff. He also informed the king about the unsuccessful enterprises undertaken by Captain André Pinheiro de Lacerda, who had tried to find cochineal, and about a new spice, called puxuri (pixurim), which had been given to him by José de Al-buquerque, to whom he had “entrusted some discoveries.”21 Two years later, the same governor commented to the king that he had ordered all the people who entered in the sertão to try “to discover spices.”22 For the Portuguese, the State of Maranhão was a land of riches; its wealth was hidden, however, and the conquerors had to unveil it.23

Second, the decline of Portuguese power in India in the second half of the seventeenth century affected the Portuguese supply of Indian spices and entailed a general shift in the axis of the empire, from the Indian Ocean to the Atlantic.24 From this change resulted several attempts to transplant eastern products to Portuguese colonies in America.25 Although these experiments took place in the State of Brazil and not in Maranhão,26 there is no doubt that the Portuguese experience in Asia influenced the approach they took to Am-azonian spices. This is clear in texts and descriptions written about the region since the beginning of the conquest.

In 1624, Captain Simão Estácio da Silveira’s Relaçaõ sumaria das cousas do Maranhaõ epitomizes this trend. He extolled the fertility of fields, the salu-briousness of the land, the precious metals and stones that could be found, its sugar cane, and the abundance of woods, edible plants and fruits, as well as hunting and fishing. In his text, Captain Silveira insisted on the many paral-lels that could be drawn with the East. Thus, he asserted that cinnamon sim-ilar to that of Ceylon probably could be found, as well as “clove” comparable to that of Ternate. According to Captain Silveira, Maranhão was an “Oriental Peru.” He was told that “Indian mangoes” and “durians” could also be found, since “this land is at the same latitude as Malacca.”27

Later descriptions drew explicit comparisons with the Indian world.28 In 1648, the Overseas Council wrote a report to the king calling his attention to the spices “similar to those of India which were recently discovered in Maranhão.” The councilors suggested the king to command the governor to investigate what could be discovered about the spices, and “by all means to try to produce some fruits from this discovery” for the royal Treasury and his vassals.29

Years later, in 1679, Father Bartolomeu Galvão wrote that not only was the State of Maranhão “the most fertile land in America,” but it also produced


spices that even when uncultivated were “better than those from India.” He added that if those spices were farmed, they would suffice to make the “king-dom wealthy.”30 João de Moura’s Thought and Discourse (1680s) relates a di-alogue between two “friends.” The author explained how Portugal had been an opulent kingdom when the spices of India arrived at Lisbon. It was pre-cisely the State of Maranhão which could “restore this loss,” since its products could be easily obtained and transported to the kingdom. Moreover, one of the interlocutors explained that there could be no difficulty in developing Indian spices in Maranhão, since “if one considers the climates and qualities of both lands, one concludes that there is no difference between them.”31 If, as asserted by Olaya Echeverría, the “Asiatic lens” had influenced the Iberian conquerors since the discovery of America, there is no doubt that, in the case of the State of Maranhão, it was the straits faced by the Portuguese in India that would modulate the role played by the oriental spices in the region.32

Third, in the case of many other goods, especially cacao, colonial expe-riences other than that of the State of Brazil justified the discovery of and experimentation with new products in the State of Maranhão. In the 1680s, Governor Artur de Sá e Meneses notified the municipal council of Belém that the king had informed him about the excellent quality of a “black wood” (maybe rosewood), recently discovered, considered much better than that of the “Indies of Castile.”33 At the end of the seventeenth century, the for-mer Governor of Maranhão Gomes Freire de Andrade mentioned the use of urucu (annatto) as a dyestuff by the French in Cayenne, and a kind of wood, found in the “Indies of Castile” highly regarded in the “northern na-tions,” both products that the Portuguese could exploit.34 In the 1690s, Inácio Mendes da Costa was granted a license for indigo production based on what he had seen in Curaçao, where, “living for some time, [he] had observed the Dutchmen producing indigo.”35

In pre-Columbian America cacao was already important in the produc-tion and consumption networks of the Maya and the Aztecs.36 As pointed out by Ross Jamieson, these interactions determined that “very soon after the conquest the Spanish conquerors had begun to be influenced by the conquered.”37 Cacao became an important product in many places in Span-ish America, mainly in colonial Mexico, Venezuela (Caracas), and Central America, during the post- conquest period.38 In the Province of Caracas, ca-cao was established as a vital crop and export product in the 1650s, and it be-come even more profitable during the eighteenth century, with the formation of a trade company.39

Although cacao is a product native to the Amazon region,40 the Portu-guese “discovered” its potential in the second half of the seventeenth cen-tury from the Spanish American colonies.41 In the late 1650s or early 1660s,

Chambouleyron 7

a settler born in the State of Maranhão, João Dornelas da Câmara, defended the plantation and exportation of cacao in the State of Maranhão based on the experience of the Indies of Castile, where he had seen the Spaniards cul-tivating it.42 From this time onwards the Crown attempted the development of cacao industry.

How did the Portuguese then organize the systematic exploitation of these Amazonian products?

Cacao

Among local products, cacao became one of the most important staples of the Amazonian economy, especially during the eighteenth century.43 Since the 1670s, the crown decided to spur cacao production and cultivation.44 In-centives from the crown were most likely a result of the news sent from the colony, which indicated the commercial potential of its production. Dornelas da Câmara’s report, probably written in the late 1650s, stressed the benefits of cacao. According to him, it was more advantageous to cultivate cacao than sugar, since it was more valuable and cheaper to produce. That was the rea-son why he offered his services to establish its cultivation in the captaincy of Pará.45 Also in the 1660s, in a lengthy description of the State, Judge Maurício de Heriarte reported that the captaincy of Pará was plentiful in cacao, from “which the settlers do not know how to benefit.”46

Historiography pointed out that the Jesuits pioneered the cultivation (and exploitation) of cacao in the Amazon region.47 According to Father Serafim Leite, the first attempts to plant cacao were undertaken, in 1674, by Father João Felipe Bettendorff, who transported seeds from the captaincy of Pará to the captaincy of Maranhão. There, he distributed the product of the first trees among the settlers. Father Leite argues that it was this first “auspicious event” which encouraged the Crown to exploit cacao cultivation.48

However, the influence of Spanish exploitation of cacao had echoed in the region (and in the papers received at the Court) well before. Father Leite himself quoted a 1664 letter from the governor of the State of Brazil to a Jesuit Father in the captaincy of Ceará (at the eastern frontier of the State of Maranhão). The letter refers to cacao found in that region and in “the Indies,” which according to him had similar climates.49 Years earlier, as mentioned above, Dornelas da Câmara had written about the Spaniards and their suc-cess with cacao cultivation. Not by chance, Dom Pedro II himself recognized Dornelas da Câmara as being “the first person to begin this cultivation in that captaincy [Pará], from the knowledge he had of the Indies of Castile.”50

In a long report presented to the Overseas Council in Lisbon, probably between 1676 and 1677, Dom Fernando Ramirez discussed the conveniences


of cacao and vanilla cultivation. He stressed their utility, since both could be exported to Europe and Africa. Moreover, he argued, there was no other cacao and vanilla but those grown in the Indies of Castile, and this produc-tion could not even satisfy demand for them in Spain. The cultivation and trade of these two staples, therefore, could help to develop and populate the State of Maranhão, as had occurred with sugar in the State of Brazil. He then explained the ways by which cacao was planted in the Indies, and how the sovereign could promote its cultivation. After hearing the royal treasurer of the kingdom and the royal counselor, the Overseas Council suggested that the king should take advantage of Dom Fernando Ramirez’s assistance to spur cacao cultivation among the settlers.51

The new governor and the appointed royal treasurer would be authorized to plant vanilla and cacao, in order to provide an instructive example to the settlers.52 In the years that followed, the governor and the royal treasurer wrote to the court about the success of their efforts. The crown was clearly con-vinced about the need to sponsor cacao production, since in 1680, the prince regent of Portugal had decided to abolish the monopoly that the contrac-tors of chocolate enjoyed in Portugal.53 This measure was taken after a paper probably written by Governor Inácio Coelho da Silva reached the court. The paper advocated that cacao and vanilla should be sold freely in Portugal, and for their market prices. In addition, it proposed that both products should be exempted from taxation. As stated by the Overseas Council, two tradesmen analyzed the text and seconded the recomendations. The Council suggested the abolition of the chocolate monopoly, and the king eventually ordered its abrogation. In addition the king decided to free cultivated cacao, vanilla and indigo from taxation for six years paying half taxes there after.54 Those mar-keting wild cacao would pay half taxes, a clear incentive for planted cacao.55

The governor received this new order (sent in April 1680), and stressed that the settlers were now eager to plant more cacao. The governor also com-plained about the royal treasurer, who had not encouraged the settlers to plant cacao and vanilla, as he had promised.56 In a report about this letter, the Overseas Council drew attention to the settlers’ initiatives which led to the prince to subsidize some of them for their efforts.57 Some years later, in Sep-tember 1684, in the context of a series of official measures to sponsor the State of Maranhão’s economy, the sovereign wrote again to the governor, stressing the utility of the cultivation of cacao and vanilla.58 In 1686, the king com-plained that an insufficient quantity of cacao had been sent from Maranhão; he then ordered the governor to give incentives to those who planted it.59 As was the case for other products, some cacao planters obtained privileges and grants, such as the authorization to bring Indians from the sertão (“descer índios”) to work in the fields,60 and especially sesmarias (land grants).61

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Towards the end of the seventeenth century, the crown incentives did have a noticeable effect. The analysis of sesmarias given to Portuguese settlers reveals how cacao plantations compared to other “traditional” products, such as sugar and tobacco. In the State of Brazil, during the seventeenth century, sugar and, to a lesser extent, tobacco became the most important staples, primarily in the captaincies of Bahia and Pernambuco.62 In the case of the State of Maranhão, not only sugar and tobacco but also local products such as cacao were cultivated. Most of the cacao planters claimed their lands at the end of the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, a sign that the crown’s efforts eventually succeeded.

Although confirmed by the monarchy in the beginning of the eighteenth century, many of these lands were already occupied. In fact, most of the set-tlers demanded a concession of the lands they already cultivated. In Portu-guese America in general, tenure of the land and its economic exploitation were the main arguments for the concession of land grants.63 The formula “possessing and cultivating,” in fact, was a common phrase in the petitions. Small wonder that, in 1699, the representative of Maranhão at the court stated that the settlers had succeeded in producing considerable cacao, “having em-ulated one another.”64 In 1700, Manuel de Barros da Silva, a citizen of Belém, for example, argued that he was “cultivating” a piece of land in the Guajará River, and “had developed large pastures for cattle and had cultivated a large amount of cacao.”65 Years later, Silvestre Vilasboas justified his petition for land in the Laranjeiras River stating that he had cultivated “those lands with many crops, one alembic and more than 12 thousand trees (pés) of cacao.”66

From the 1690s until the beginnings of the 1720s, I found reference to 162 land grants that governors distributed among settlers in the captaincy of Pará in which lands wild cacao was found and could be cultivated. From these, 65 (40%) were dedicated, albeit not exclusively, to the cultivation of cacao.67 Only 16 settlers granted land stated that they had not yet planted cacao.68

Being a considerable open frontier, the captaincy of Pará’s capital, Belém, was gradually surrounded by land grants. The size of these sesmarias was variable, but they did not surpass two leagues, since at the end of his reign (1683–1706), Dom Pedro II established limits for their concession.69

Typically, planters cultivated a number of crops, but the most crucial was cacao. Many of these crops are impossible to identify, and are defined solely as lavouras and roças certainly referring to the cultivation of manioc (the pri-mary starch of Portuguese America adapted from Indigenous agriculture)70 and other foods (mantimentos). Thus, Catarina Alves had along the river Acará her “roças and fields of cattle, and almost 8 thousands trees of cacao.”71 Leão Pereira de Barros occupied a piece of land on the river Guamá with


“5 thousands trees of cacao besides other lavouras.”72 In 1714, Felipe Marinho argued that he had been planting for more than 15 years “trees of cacao and urucu and his roças.”73 Besides his 15 thousands cacao trees, Antônio de Paiva de Azevedo cultivated “all the lavouras the land allows.”74

Cacao cultivation was concentrated on Acará, Guamá and Moju rivers that flow into Guajará Bay in front of Belém. Data suggest that the crown’s effort to promote a cacao industry in the Amazon met with some success.75 In fact, land grants indicate that, in contrast to what Manuel Nunes Dias, Sue Gross and Dauril Alden have stated, cacao production did not come only from collection—the cacau bravo (wild cacao)—but also from culti-vation (cacau manso).76 The use of the words “cacaual” or “cacoal”77 (which could be considered an orchard) and “fazenda” of cacao78 in the land grants indicates the existence of a concentrated plantation of cacao, and not wild cacao found in these lands and then collected. Moreover, many of the set-tlers explicitly stated they were “planting” or “cultivating” cacao in their lands.79

Nevertheless, the gathering of cacao remained important throughout the seventeenth and early eighteenth century. Data from the registrar of the Royal Treasury of Pará, between 1700–1702—the only systematic series we could find—indicate that in this period, 226 canoes went to the sertão for cacao and clove, paying taxes to the Treasury.80 Data from the religious orders’ estates and Indian villages in the late 1720s and early 1730s, after cacao became the most important export product of the region, indicate that wild cacao was far more exploited than the cultivated one. However, the clerics could count on the labor of the many Indians from villages they administered to the extent that their survey of production was organized by estate and Indian villages.81 Planted cacao, produced on lands granted by the crown, therefore, coexisted with the gathering of cacao in the sertões. When the crown established a trade company, the Companhia de Comércio do Grão-Pará e Maranhão, in 1755, cacao was the region’s most valuable crop.82

Unfortunately, there is no way of measuring cacao cultivation and gath-ering with any precision, since, except from the data related to the religious orders, for the late 1720s and early 1730s, we could not find any systematic reference to the production or exports of cacao for the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, a recurrent problem for this period. Only scattered information can be gathered.83 Nevertheless, mention of cacao cultivation rarely appears in the documents before the end of the seventeenth century. In addition, the increase of the tithes of cacao and clove was significant. This increase indicates considerable growth in agricultural production, undoubt-edly a more reliable source than collecting in the sertões. Since the religious orders systematically avoided the payment of the tithes,84 cacao and clove tithes can be an indication of settlers’ exploitation of both products.

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Clove

Like cacao, bark-clove—pau-cravo (Dicypellium caryophyllatum)—repre-sented an important staple for the State of Maranhão. Unlike cacao, however, the Portuguese never succeeded in cultivating it. Clove remained an import-ant product throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth century. The first references to clove appeared in 1645–46. A royal letter issued in August of 1646 ordered the State’s royal treasurer to examine in depth the news that in the private captaincy of Caeté there existed “abundant forests of clove.”85 Two years later, the Overseas Council informed the king that a small box contain-ing some samples of the clove’s bark had been sent to Portugal. The Council’s report about Maranhão’s clove was optimistic. Although different from the Oriental type—it was a bark and not a flower—“in taste it is similar to that of India.” Moreover, it could be profitable for the royal treasury, since the Dutch were “the lords” of India and prevented the Portuguese from exploiting its spices. To avert what had happened in the East, the Council suggested that the king should build fortresses close to the spices.86

In March of the same year, Sergeant- major Felipe da Fonseca Gouveia sent a letter from the Gurupá fortress warning the king about the terrible state of its defenses. He also stated that he had been in the Moluccas and that the clove trees there and in Maranhão “were the same.”87 He even thought that Maranhão’s clove was better. Nutmeg could also be found, like that of Malacca. For the Overseas Council, these discoveries were even more inter-esting than those from Caeté. As the councillors reminded the king, the cap-taincies of Gurupá and Pará, where Sergeant Gouveia had found the clove, belonged to the sovereign, whereas Caeté was a private captaincy, granted to Álvaro de Sousa.88 Small wonder that, two days before this report, the sover-eign had written to the royal treasurer commanding him to respect Álvaro de Sousa’s privileges and donations.89

In October 1648, another report stressed the importance of those spices “recently discovered in Maranhão,” from news sent by the royal treasurer. The Council even suggested that the king should order the newly appointed governor, Luís de Magalhães, to investigate what could be discovered about the spices.90

Some years later, a new report informed the king about more drogas. Ac-cording to the Overseas Council, the samples sent from Maranhão had arrived in such a state that it was impossible to evaluate their worth.91 Apparently, from what could be analyzed, both the sarsaparilla and the nutmeg were con-sidered unsuitable, but the clove met with approval. The Council suggested that Sergeant Gouveia should go to the kingdom and bring samples in perfect condition. In addition, the councilors stressed that everything should be done with all discretion “because those lands are open and without defense.”92


The crown promoted experiments with bark-clove cultivation. Mean-while, settlers harvested the wild bark.93 According to an account likely written in the 1650s by the representative of the State of Maranhão in the court, Sergeant Gouveia had tried to benefit bark-clove without success, since the plants grew naturally only in the distant hinterland. His experi-ences with cultivation were also unsuccessful. Sergeant Gouveia explained this failure on the difference between the fields in the hinterland and those close to the Portuguese communities.94 The account also commented that settlers usually traveled 100 leagues to find clove, taking one month on the journey, only to process about four arrobas of the product (approximately 45 kilograms).95

In 1662, the king received a proposal for the exploitation of the bark-clove as a trade monopoly (estanco). The sovereign ordered the Overseas Council to examine this offer.96 This report revealed the uncertainty about the use of this new spice. The council wrote an account of the first news about the prod-uct and how the Crown had dealt with it. For some councilors the economic benefits of a bark-clove monopoly were not at all clear, but others believed in its potential. The royal treasurer of the kingdom opined that bark-clove should not be granted an estanco. According to him, its economic potential was still uncertain; in addition, it was more useful to “leave this spice for the settlers to send it to the kingdom.” A new report approved this judgment and the sovereign authorized the contract.97 However, there is no more reference about this contract in the documents.

From 1650 to 1800, settlers exploited bark-clove. Many attempts to do-mesticate this plant were made, but all of them were fruitless. In 1684, the prince ordered the governor to plant 100 trees of clove close to the Portu-guese settlements, and to try to develop its cultivation.98 It remained, how-ever, primarily a forest product, gathered by the local population. Moreover, like cacao, it was mainly a paraense product (i.e. from the captaincy of Pará), since it did not abound in the captaincy of Maranhão.99

Even if there is no systematic data about clove exports until the 1730s,100 clove gathering appeared to be extensive, at least for the levels of Euro-pean consumption. In 1686, the king determined that three to four thou-sand arrobas of clove per year “were enough to supply Europe” (from 45 to 60 metric tons).101 Apparently, this order was re-stated in 1687.102 That was certainly quite a low limit, if one recalls that only one ship, called Nossa Senhora da Luz, arrived in Lisbon the same year carrying one thousand arrobas of clove “in bulk.”103 Apparently, clove was not only collected from the sertão, but also traded, probably with Indian groups. Some few docu-ments refer to the resgate of clove, which meant some sort of commercial transaction.104

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Cacao and Clove Exploitation and Trade

Cacao and clove became the most important spices of the Amazon economy throughout the colonial period. Not only were both exported to the “king-dom,” but they also played a crucial role in the region’s economy. Until the 1750s, commercial transactions were conducted using both products as “nat-ural” money alongside cotton in cloth and cord as well as sugar and manioc. Settlers and Indians commonly used these products to pay for goods and labor).105

Unfortunately, there is almost no data concerning the production, com-mercialization or even generic references to the disembarkation of cacao and clove in Portugal. An accurate appraisal of their importance as commodities remains difficult, since, there is insufficient data to analyze the relationships established between producers, intermediaries and consumers as part of a “commodity chain approach.”106

However, owing to the importance of these two staples, the crown estab-lished specific tithes for both in the 1670s: the “dízimos do cacau e cravo.” Be-sides taxes paid on both spices when embarked (the “direitos da alfândega”), clove and cacao tithes were usually paid after an auction by a contractor. Thus, clove and cacao also became an important resource for the State of Maranhão’s perennially strapped royal treasury. In 1676, the prince wrote to the councilors of São Luís, reminding them of the problems of “my treasury.” Therefore, as well as the residents in Pará, the settlers should pay the tithes “of all the fruits of the land and taxes on the slaves from the sertão.”107 These tithes were probably established in the early 1670s, since a royal letter re-ferred to another missive sent from the governor in 1674 regarding the form of their collection.108

Indian workers, free and slave, harvested both cacao bravo and manso and bark-clove. Unlike the Caracas cacao plantation, there is no reference to the use of African slaves, although both Indians and Africans worked together in the Amazonian fields where settlers cultivated many crops altogether.109 In-dian workers reigned in the sertões were both clove and cacao were collected, as the Portuguese were entirely dependent on Indian labor force. The Indian labor regime was a source of constant complaint and trouble in seventeenth- and early eighteenth- century Amazon region, as a number of historians have already pointed out.110

The gathering of clove and cacao in the sertões caused a series of prob-lems for the crown and local authorities. From the 1680s onwards the crown tried to address these difficulties. First, there was the problem of falsification. In 1684, the prince sent a provision condemning the mixture of bark-clove with other trees’ barks, in order to make the product heavier. In 1712, the


officials from the custom in Lisbon made clear that falsified bark-clove could lead to the final “extinction of this trade for the natives of that State [Mara-nhão].”111 In the case of cacao, the provision stressed the existence of unripe fruits which rapidly spoiled.112 In 1703, a new instruction complained of a fraudulent load of cacao sent to Portugal. According to this order, the settlers did not process it correctly to make it heavier. In addition, they used to paint wet fruits, to give the impression that they were perfectly ripe.113

If these practices diminished the quality and the “reputation” of Maran-hão’s products, the gathering of spices in the sertões were a source of more serious internal problems. In the case of clove, the method used to collect the bark killed the trees because the settlers did not merely cut the bark, but the whole tree. Dornelas da Câmara had already condemned this practice be-cause it forced settlers to search for this product in even more distant regions, “which will be soon desolated in the same way, and then they will have to find new [places] even further.”114

In 1686, the king recommended that the Governor Gomes Freire de An-drade discuss with Artur de Sá e Meneses, his successor, the excessive cutting of clove. The royal letter warned about the possibility of clove “extinction, since in its harvesting, the same method is used as with pau- brasil, (Brazil’s dye wood which was felled)” and commanded them to discuss the problem.115 The king also wrote to the new governor, and decreed the prohibition of cut-ting young trees for ten years.116 In 1687, Governor Gomes Freire de Andrade prohibited the cutting of trees in the Capim River (Pará).117 According to Freire de Andrade, the Indians who sold bark-clove to the Portuguese, men-tioned above, only cut the bark off using a thread, a technique that should be learned from those “barbarians.”118

Apparently these prohibitions were useless. Clove seemed to disappear towards the end of the seventeenth century. In 1684 the Franciscans of Santo Antônio were authorized to export 100 arrobas of clove and 100 of cacao free from taxes. Thirteen years later, the clerics requested a reform of their grant, since “there is no clove anymore.”119 In 1685, the governor commented that in Pará, the settlers had sent so many canoes after clove that, in a few years, bark-clove would no longer be found.120

One of the gravest problems managing the collecting of spices was the control of men who entered the sertão. In 1692, Judge Miguel da Rosa Pimentel reported that thirty to forty canoes went annually to the sertões.121 In 1686, Governor Gomes Freire de Andrade decided to compel all those who went to the sertão to register their canoes in Belém and in the fortress of Gurupá, and to request a specific license from the captain- major of Pará. His idea was to control the number of boats, the people who traveled in them, and to discover whether they took advantage of this journey to make illegal

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enslavements.122 The king transformed this governor’s order into a law in 1688.123 This decree covered “every person that goes to the sertão for the clove and cacao.”124 At the same time, the sovereign confirmed Freire de Andrade’s order to the captain- major of the fortress of Gurupá to check the license of every canoe harvesting clove and cacao and to register those that stopped in the fortress.125 This order was reinstated in 1691.126

This law caused some inconveniences for the religious orders whose mem-bers did not want to obey it. Royal decrees in 1690 and 1699 commanded the governor to compel the clerics to register their canoes, since they were vas-sals and were required to register their goods with customs officials.127

This practice caused internal problems in some religious orders, such as the Society of Jesus. In his chronicle, Father Bettendorf asserted in the 1670s that the head of the order disapproved of dispatching Indians to collect clove for the Society. Father Bettendorf argued, nevertheless, that “the reason why the reverend fathers of Santo Antônio [Franciscans] send people for the clove and cacao [is] for the expenses of their churches.”128 In 1679, Jesuit Father Antonio Vieira wrote a letter to the superior of Maranhão, admonishing him not to send Indians after clove and cacao, in observation of the Jesuit rule.129

Final remarks

Cacao and clove experimentation and exploitation in the Amazon region in-dicate the importance given to the cultivation of local products as a source of wealth for the settlers and the crown. The projects promoted by Lisbon reveal that the gradual discovery of the Amazonian products increased the crown’s interest in the region. Many of these enterprises were based upon former or contemporary experiences in Asia and Spanish America. Moreover, the decline of Portuguese power in India enhanced the importance given to the Amazonian spices throughout the second half of the seventeenth century.

Three general issues arise from the seventeenth- and early eighteenth- century Amazonian experience. First, the evidence examined here demon-strates the inadequacy of established interpretations that stress that the colonization of the Portuguese Amazon region began with the Marquis of Pombal’s ascendancy in the mid- eighteenth century. Most Brazilian and Bra-zilianist scholarship has insisted that it was only then that a systematic ag-ricultural, administrative, and trade policy was implemented in the region. Pombal’s decisions to end the tutelage of religious orders over Indian villages is also correctly referenced as a significant change of direction for the region. Authors have rightly presented his ministry (1751–1777) as a milestone not only for Portugal, but also for the many provinces that composed her vast empire, including the Amazon.


However, this interpretation often presents a distorted depiction of earlier periods of Maranhão and Pará’s history defined by the lack of a proper colo-nial policy and by the dominion of the religious orders, primarily of the Jesu-its. This is clear in the works of authors who identified the Amazon region as an isolated and poor area of the Portuguese empire before Pombal. Moreover, up to the time of the definition of a specific agricultural policy under Pombal, the region is reckoned to have been abandoned to its own fate: the settlers surviving by the gathering of spices, the hunting of Indians, and subsistence crops; the religious orders thriving to the detriment of settlers; the crown oscillating between both groups but mostly absent from the region.130 Maybe this broader tableau was an image Pombal himself promoted to legitimate his own projects for the region.

Contrary to what was stressed by part of the historiography, the State of Maranhão was far from being abandoned by the crown before 1750. If many of the agricultural and development projects failed (just as Pombal’s did), the crown frequently interfered in the State of Maranhão. In fact, the crown played a crucial role in the region’s development, since it intervened in all aspects of colonial society. It sponsored the population of the region,131 it en-couraged the discovery and exploitation of spices, it tried to define a labor regime,132 and it supported the development of agriculture (most of the lands granted in the captaincies of Pará and Maranhão were given by the governors before Pombal).133 The crown’s intervention in the region, although reliant upon colonial experience, was shaped by the royal treasury’s dearth of re-sources in the region.134 The incapacity of Maranhão’s economy to produce enough wealth to maintain the Portuguese military and bureaucratic appara-tus led to an even larger presence. The crown, after all, viewed the progress of economic activities not only in terms of development, but also with regard to the financing of the royal treasury. At the court, these issues were considered in tandem, and Maranhão’s “failure” to produce growth did not necessitate abandonment. On the contrary, it led to an increasing government inter-vention. The strategic importance of this northern province of Portuguese America, which bordered Spanish, French and Dutch colonies, was reason enough for the Portuguese crown to persist in its efforts to control this exten-sive, frontier territory.

Second, the significant role played by the crown in the region adds a new element to a relatively recent debate in Brazilian and Portuguese historiogra-phy regarding local and central government in the Portuguese empire. One side of this debate emphasizes the limits of Portuguese absolutism, especially after 1640, with the end of Spanish rule, and the ascension of a new dynasty. This school argues that these transformations led to the construction of a corporate government, shared by the king and the members of local elites within the empire. Political rule thus has been understood as a negotiation

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between different levels and sources of power in the “kingdom” and in its colonies overseas.135

The Amazonian experience during the second half of the seventeenth century, however, requires a different perspective. Certainly the crown had to settle with local elites the limits of its own political intervention in the region as historians have stressed for the whole of Portuguese America).136 Never-theless, royal power was increasingly brought to bear on many other sectors of society beyond that of government in the Amazon, such as the population of the region, the agricultural policies related to local products, the complex problems concerning the use of an Indian labor force, and the defense of the region’s frontiers.

Moreover, the local population became dependent on crown intervention for their own survival. Tax exemptions, the organization of the slave trade, and the promotion of commerce were among the many policies established by the central government in Lisbon that benefited the Portuguese and Cre-ole population of the State of Maranhão, throughout the seventeenth and early eighteenth century. Even beyond the white and mestizo population, the crown had to take into account other types of local power. That was the case of the many Indian nations who were essential for the consolidation of Portuguese dominion over the region.137 For the defense of the land, the gathering of spices in the sertões, the cultivation of the fields, and the canoes that became the almost exclusive form of transport in the region, the Portu-guese depended on the Indians, both those who lived among the Portuguese and those who lived in the hinterland in their own traditional communities. These “local powers,” especially the latter ones, were governed by principles and laws not subdued to the logic of the Ancien Regime, so much discussed by the recent historiography. The interpretation of the balance of power be-tween local and imperial forces must thus consider the particularities of each region of the Portuguese dominions; in the case of the Amazon region, the main role played by Indian nations.

A third general reflection concerns the role of the Amazon region within the Portuguese empire, primarily in its relation with Brazil. Throughout the seventeenth century (until the nineteenth century), both parts of Portuguese America, the State of Maranhão and the State of Brazil, were independent of one another and considered to be administratively equivalent components of the Portuguese empire. After the creation of Maranhão’s bishopric in 1677, no aspect of Maranhão’s administration was subjected to the State of Brazil, as it ended ecclesiastical subjection to the bishop of Salvador, in Bahia.138

That does not mean that relationships were not established between these colonial entities. During the 1680s, the authorities of Maranhão and Brazil were increasingly concerned with the “discovery” of a road (caminho) be-tween both States.139 The State of Brazil also offered a model when the question


of Indian labor force was at stake (as was the case in the 1690s, when an ep-idemic of smallpox decimated the indigenous population).140 Some in the Amazon region believed that African slaves, such as those largely employed in the Brazilian coast, represented a solution for the many problems endured by settlers in the region (though this was not a widespread viewpoint).

During colonial times, however, the State of Maranhão and Pará was not part of the State of Brazil. Even if Captain Simão Estácio da Silveira argued that Maranhão was a “better Brazil,” this statement predated the arrival of the first governor of the State of Maranhão (in 1626) and indicated difference, rather than similarity, with the State of Brazil. Historians have projected the modern configuration of Brazil as a nation into the past such that the Ama-zon region has mainly been explained from a perspective outside its bounds: the colonial State of Brazil, and more specifically the sugar production region. That does not mean that one should ignore the connections between those two parts of the Portuguese conquests in America. It means that one has to connect the State of Maranhão and Pará with Spanish America, with the Atlantic islands, with Lisbon, with the African west coast, and with the State of India, parts of the globe that also helped to shape Amazonian society.141

Notes

*This research was sponsored by the Conselho Nacional de Desenvolvimento Científico e Tecnológico (CNPq), the Fundação de Amparo à Pesquisa do Estado do Pará (Fapesa), and the Fundação para a Ciência e a Tecnologia (FCT). I would like to thank Oscar de la Torre Cueva and Heather Flynn Roller for their corrections and comments. A previous version of this text was read and commented by Professor David Brading, whom I would also like to thank.

1. Concerning the conquest of the Amazon region, see: João Francisco Lisboa, Crônica do Brasil colonial: apontamentos para a história do Maranhão (Petrópolis/Brasília: Vozes/INL, 1976), 67–152; Arthur Cezar Ferreira Reis, Limites e demarcações na Amazônia brasileira. 1. A fronteira colonial com a Guiana francesa (Belém: Se-cult, 1993), 11–45; Carlos Studart Filho, Fundamentos geográficos e históricos do Es-tado do Maranhão e Grão Pará (Rio de Janeiro: Biblioteca do Exército Editora, 1959), 77–163; Guy Martinière, “Geopolítica do espaço português da América. O Estado do Maranhão,” in Nova história da expansão portuguesa. O império luso- brasileiro (1620–1750), ed. Frédéric Mauro (Lisbon: Estampa, 1991), VII, 103–42; Jorge Couto, “As tentativas portuguesas de colonização do Maranhão e o projecto da França equinocial,” in A união ibérica e o mundo atlântico, ed. Maria da Graça M. Ventura (Lisbon: Colibri, 1997), 174–83; Lucinda Saragoça, Da ‘Feliz Lusitânia’ aos confins da Amazônia (1615–62) (Lisbon/Santarém: Cosmos/CMS, 2000), 11–55; Mario Martins

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Meireles, História do Maranhão (São Paulo: Siciliano, 2001), 17–67; Alírio Cardoso, “Insubordinados, mas sempre devotos: poder local, acordos e conflitos no antigo Estado do Maranhão (1607–1653)” (M.Phil. Thesis, Univ. Estadual de Campinas, Campinas, 2002); Guida Marques, “Entre deux empires: le Maranhão dans l’Union ibérique (1614–1641),” Nuevo Mundo Mundos Nuevos, 2010, http://nuevomundo. revues.org/59333; Alírio Cardoso, “A conquista do Maranhão e as disputas atlânticas na geopolítica da União Ibérica (1596–1626),” Revista Brasileira de História, 31, no. 61 (2011): 317–38; Helidacy Maria Muniz Corrêa, “‘Para aumento da conquista e bom governo dos moradores’: o papel da Câmara de São Luís na conquista do Maranhão (1612–1668)” (PhD Diss. Univ. Federal Fluminense, 2011); Cardoso, “Maranhão na Monarquia Hispânica: intercâmbios, guerra e navegação nas fronteiras das Índias de Castela (1580–1655)” (PhD Diss. Univ. de Salamanca, 2012).

2. When the term Brazil is used in this text it is intended to mean the old State of Brazil, contrary to the State of Maranhão.

3. Francisco de Assis Costa, Ecologismo e questão agrária na Amazônia (Belém: EdUFPA, 1992), 4–5.

4. See: Caio Prado Júnior, História econômica do Brasil (35th edn. São Paulo: Brasiliense, 1987), 69–70; Celso Furtado, Formação econômica do Brasil (22th edn. São Paulo: Companhia Editora Nacional, 1987), 66–67; Roberto Simonsen, História econômica do Brasil (8th edn. São Paulo: Companhia Editora Nacional, 1978), 110–47; Nelson Werneck Sodré, Formação histórica do Brasil (3rd edn. São Paulo: Brasiliense, 1964), 128–29; Arthur Cezar Ferreira Reis, A política de Portugal no vale amazônico (2nd edn. Belém: Secult, 1993), 91–96. For a reinterpretation of this viewpoint, see: Antonio Filipe Pereira Caetano, “‘Para aumentar e conservar aquelas partes . . .’: Conflitos dos projetos luso- americanos para uma conquista colonial (Estado do Ma-ranhão e Grão- Pará, séculos XVII–XVIII),” Revista Estudos Amazônicos, VI, no. 1 (2011): 1–20.

5. Concerning the inadequacy of the region’s soils for sugar plantation, see, also: Sue Gross, “Agricultural promotion in the Amazon Basin, 1700–1750,” Agricultural History, XLIII, 2 (1969): 270; Colin MacLachlan, “African slave trade and economic development in Amazonia, 1700–1800,” in Slavery and Race Relations in Latin Amer-ica, ed. Robert Brent Toplin (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1974), 115–18; Prado Júnior, História econômica do Brasil, 69; Maria Regina Celestino de Almeida, “Trabalho compulsório na Amazônia: séculos XVII–XVIII,” Revista Arrabaldes, I, 2 (1988): 103–105; Vicente Salles, O negro no Pará: sob o regime da escravidão (2nd edn. Brasília/Belém: MinC/Secult, 1998), 4–5.

6. For the first half of the eighteenth century (reign of Dom João V), see: Gross, “Agricultural promotion in the Amazon Basin, 1700–1750”: 269–76; MacLachlan, “African Slave Trade and Economic Development in Amazonia, 1700–1800,” 112–45; and Dauril Alden, “The Significance of Cacao Production in the Amazon Region During the Late Colonial Period: an Essay in Comparative Economic hHstory,” Pro-ceedings of the American Philosophical Society 120, no. 2 (1976): 103–35.

7. Concerning the role of African slavery in seventeenth and early eighteenth- century Amazonia, see: Manuel Nunes Pereira, “A introdução do negro na Amazônia,” Boletim Geográfico—IBGE 7, no. 77 (1949): 509–15; Manuel Nunes Pereira, “Negros


escravos na Amazônia,” Anais do X Congresso Brasileiro de Geografia (Rio de Janeiro: Conselho Nacional de Geografia, 1952) III, 153–85; Arthur Cezar Ferreira Reis, “O negro na empresa colonial dos portugueses na Amazônia,” Actas do Congresso Inter-nacional de História dos Descobrimentos (Lisboa: Comissão Executiva das Comem-orações da Morte do Infante Dom Henrique, 1961), V, 2nd part, 347–53; António José Saraiva, “Le père Antonio Vieira S.J. et la question de l’esclavage des noirs au XVIIe siècle,” Annales. Economies, sociétés, civilisations, 22e année, no. 6 (1967): 1289–1309; Colin MacLachlan, “African Slave Trade and Economic Development in Amazonia, 1700–1800”; Sue Anderson Gross, “Labor in Amazonia in the First Half of the Eigh-teenth Century,” The Americas, XXXII, 2 (1975): 211–21; Arthur Napoleão Figueiredo, Amazônia: tempo e gente (Belém: Prefeitura Municipal de Belém, 1977); Mário Mar-tins Meireles, Os negros no Maranhão (São Luís: EdUFMA, 1983); Alden, “Indian Versus Black Slavery in the State of Maranhão During the Seventeenth and the Eigh-teenth Centuries,” Bibliotheca Americana, 1, no. 3 (1984): 91–142; Almeida, “Trabalho compulsório na Amazônia: séculos XVII–XVIII,” 101–17; Salles, O negro no Pará: sob o regime da escravidão; Anaíza Vergolino- Henry & Arthur Napoleão Figueiredo, A presença africana na Amazônia colonial. Uma notícia histórica (Belém: Arquivo Pú-blico do Estado do Pará, 1990); Aldrin Moura de Figueiredo, “Os reis de Mina: a Irmandade de Nossa Senhora dos Homens Pretos no Pará do século XVII ao XIX,” Boletim do Museu Paraense Emílio Goeldi, 9, no. 1 (1994): 103–21; Rosa Acevedo Marin, “Camponeses, donos de engenhos e escravos na região do Acará nos séculos XVIII e XIX,” Papers do NAEA, no. 131 (2000); Flávio dos Santos Gomes, “A ‘Safe Haven’: Runaway Slaves, Mocambos, and Borders in Colonial Amazonia, Brazil,” Hispanic American Historical Review, 82, no. 3 (2002): 469–98; Salles, O negro na formação da sociedade paraense (Belém: Paka-Tatu, 2004); Rafael Chambouleyron, “Suspiros por um escravo de Angola. Discursos sobre a mão-de-obra africana na Amazônia seis-centista,” Humanitas, 20, no. 1/2 (2004): 99–111; Chambouleyron, “Escravos do At-lântico equatorial: tráfico negreiro para o Estado do Maranhão e Pará (século XVII e início do século XVIII),” Revista Brasileira de História, 26, no. 52 (2006): 79–114; Dan-iel Domingues da Silva, “The Atlantic slave trade to Maranhão, 1680–1846: volume, routes and organisation,” Slavery & Abolition (Londres, Inglaterra), 29, no. 4 (2008): 477–501; Benedito Costa Barbosa, “Em outras margens do Atlântico: tráfico negreiro para o Estado do Maranhão e Grão- Pará (1707–1750)” (M.Phil Thesis, Univ. Federal do Pará, 2009); Walter Hawthorne, From Africa to Brazil: Culture, Identity, and an Atlantic Slave Trade, 1600–1830 (Cambridge: CUP, 2010); José Maia Bezerra Neto, Escravidão negra no Grão- Pará (Sécs. XVII–XIX) (2nd edn. Belém: Paka-Tatu, 2012).

8. See: Ana Paula Macedo Cunha, “Engenhos e engenhocas: a atividade açuca-reira no Estado do Maranhão e Grão-Pará (1706–1750)” (M.Phil Thesis, Univ. Federal do Pará, 2009); Chambouleyron, Povoamento, ocupação e agricultura na Amazônia colonial (Belém: Açaí/PPHIST-UFPA/CMA-UFPA, 2010), 121–51.

9. See: Luiz Mott, Piauí colonial. População, economia e sociedade (Teresina: Pro-jeto Petrônio Portella, 1985); Maria do Socorro Coelho Cabral, Caminhos do gado: conquista e ocupação do Sul do Maranhão (São Luís, SIOGE, 1992); Vanice Siqueira de Melo, “Cruentas guerras: índios e portugueses nos sertões do Maranhão e Piauí (primeira metade do século XVIII)” (MPhil Thesis, Univ. Federal do Pará, 2011).

Chambouleyron 21

10. See: Chambouleyron, Monique da Silva Bonifácio, Vanice Siqueira de Melo, “Pelos sertões ‘estão todas as utilidades’. Trocas e conflitos no sertão amazônico (século XVII),” Revista de História, no. 162 (2010): 13–49. For a classical approach of this perspective, see: Eidorfe Moreira, Belém e sua expressão geográfica (Belém: Imprensa Universitária, 1966).

11. Duarte Ribeiro de Macedo, “Discurso sobre os generos p.a o comercio que há no Maranhão e Pará,” 1653. Arquivo Nacional da Torre do Tombo [hereafter cited as ANTT], Manuscritos do Brasil, n. 108. Concerning Macedo’s role in the history of Portuguese economic thought, see: António Sérgio, “Nótulas preambulares,” in An-tologia dos economistas portugueses. Século XVII (Lisbon: Biblioteca Nacional, 1924), XXXVII–XLVII; Moses Bensabat Amzalak, A economia política em Portugal. O di-plomata Duarte Ribeiro de Macedo e os seus discursos sôbre economia política (Lisbon: n.p., 1922); Amzalak, Anciens économistes portugais du Moyen-Age au XVIIe siècle (Lisbon: Institut Français au Portugal, 1940); José Calvet de Magalhães, História do pensamento económico em Portugal. Da Idade Média ao Mercantilismo (Coimbra: Imprensa Universitária, 1967), 258–303; Virgínia Rau, “Política Económica e Mercan-tilismo na Correspondência de Duarte Ribeiro de Macedo,” Do Tempo e da história, 2 (1968): 3–48; Carl Hanson, Economia e sociedade no Portugal barroco (1668–1703) (Lisbon: Publicações Dom Quixote, 1986), 126–57.

12. See: Martim de Albuquerque, O Oriente no pensamento económico português no século XVII (Lisbon: Instituto Superior de Ciências Sociais e Política Ultramarina, 1967); Armando Castro, As doutrinas económicas em Portugal na expansão e na de-cadência (séculos XVI a XVIII) (Lisbon: ICP, 1978); António Almodovar & José Luís Cardoso, A history of Portuguese economic thought (London/New York: Routledge, 1998), 14–35.

13. Vitorino Magalhães Godinho, “Portugal and her empire, 1680–1720,” in The new Cambridge modern history, ed. John S. Bromley (Cambridge: CUP, 1970), IV, 511. See also: Godinho, “Problèmes d’économie atlantique. Le Portugal, les flottes du sucre et les flottes de l’or (1670–1770),” Annales. Économies, Sociétés, Civilisations, 5, no. 2 (1950): 184–97.

14. Luís Ferrand de Almeida, “Aclimatação de plantas do Oriente no Brasil du-rante os séculos XVII e XVIII,” in Páginas dispersas. Estudos de história moderna de Portugal (Coimbra: IHES/FLUC, 1995), 95. See also: Hanson, Economia e sociedade no Portugal barroco, 243–56; Nuno Gonçalo Freitas Monteiro, “A consolidação da dinastia de Bragança e o apogeu do Portugal barroco: centros de poder e trajetórias sociais (1668–1750),” in História de Portugal, ed. José Tengarrinha, José (Bauru/São Paulo/Lisboa: EdUSC/EdUNESP/Instituto Camões, 2000), 127–48.

15. Warren Dean, “A Botânica e a política imperial: a introdução e a domesticação de plantas no Brasil,” Estudos Históricos, 4, no. 8 (1991): 218–19.

16. Manuel Guedes Aranha, “Papel político sobre o Estado do Maranhão” [c. 1682]. Revista do Instituto Histórico e Geográfico Brasileiro, 46, 1st part (1883): 8.

17. João de Sousa Ferreira, “America abreviada. Suas noticias e de seus naturaes, e em particular do Maranhão, titulos, contendas e instrucções a sua conservação e augmento mui uteis” [1693]. Revista do Instituto Histórico e Geográfico Brasileiro, 57, 1st part (1894): 141.


18. Francisco Teixeira de Moraes, “Relação historica e politica dos tumultos que succederam na cidade de S. Luiz do Maranhão” [1692]. Revista do Instituto Histórico e Goegrafico Brasileiro, 40, 1st part (1877): 73.

19. Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino [hereafter cited as AHU], Maranhão, caixa 6, doc. 647 (14 Mar. 1680). See also: AHU, Maranhão, caixa 6, doc. 654 (28 July 1681).

20. João de Soutomaior, SJ, “Descobrimento do ouro,” 1656. Documentos dos ar-quivos portugueses que interessam ao Brasil, 8 (1945): 2.

21. AHU, Pará, caixa 3, doc. 279 (30 Nov. 1689).22. The letter, written in Jan. 1691 is included in AHU, Maranhão, caixa 8, doc. 831

(4 Apr. 1691).23. Concerning those hidden riches in the Amazon region, see: Chambouleyron,

“Opulência e miséria na Amazônia seiscentista,” Raízes da Amazônia, I, 1 (2005): 105–24.24. See: Huguette Chaunu & Pierre Chaunu, “Autour de 1640: politiques et

économies atlantiques,” Annales. Économies, Sociétés, Civilisations, 9, no. 1 (1954): 44–54; Frédéric Mauro, Le Portugal et l’Atlantique au XVIIe siècle, 1570–1670. Étude économique (Paris: SEVPEN, 1960); Charles Boxer, O império colonial português (Lis-bon: Edições 70, 1977), 129–49; Boxer. A Índia portuguesa em meados do séc. XVII (Lisbon: Edições 70, 1982); Anthony R. Disney, A decadência do império da pimenta: comércio português na Índia no início do séc. XVII (Lisbon: Edições 70, 1981); Nova História da Expansão Portuguesa—O Império Luso- brasileiro (1620–1750), ed. Mauro; Sanjay Subrahmanyam, O império asiático português, 1500–1700. Uma história política e económica (Lisbon: Difel, 1995), 205–56; Luiz Felipe de Alencastro, O trato dos vi-ventes. Formação do Brasil no Atlântico sul (São Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 2000).

25. See: Ferrand de Almeida, “Aclimatação de plantas do Oriente no Brasil du-rante os séculos XVII e XVIII,” 59–129; José Roberto do Amaral Lapa, “O problema das drogas orientais,” in Economia colonial (São Paulo: Perspectiva, 1973), 111–40. See also: Dean, “A botânica e a política imperial: a introdução e a domesticação de plan-tas no Brasil,” 216–28.

26. Duarte de Macedo, however, did propose the exportation of oriental clove to Maranhão and Pará. See: Stefan Halikowski Smith, “Perceptions of Nature in Early Modern Portuguese India,” Itinerario, XXXI, no. 2 (2007): 27–29.

27. Simão Estácio da Silveira, Relaçaõ Sumaria das cousas do Maranhão [1624]. Reprint from Anais da Biblioteca Nacional do Rio de Janeiro, 94 (1974): 126–27.

28. See: Alírio Cardoso, “Outra Ásia para o império: fórmulas para a integração do Maranhão à economia oceânica (1609–1656),” in T(r)ópicos de História: gente, es-paço e tempo na Amazônia (séculos XVII a XXI), eds. Chambouleyron & José Luis Ruiz- Peinado Alonso (Belém: Açaí/PPHIST-UFPA/CMA-UFPA, 2010), 9–26.

29. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 3, doc. 272 (23 Oct. 1648).30. Bartolomeu Galvão, “Sobre o mesmo [Maranhão and Pará],” Lisbon, 24 Oct.

1679. BA [hereafter cited as BA], cod. 50-V-37, fol. 388.31. João de Moura, “Descripção historica, e política do Estado do Maranhaõ . . .”

[1680s]. Biblioteca Nacional de Portugal [BNP], cod. 585, fols. 10–11.32. Olaya Sanfuentes Echeverría, “Europa y su percepción del Nuevo Mundo a

través de las especies comestibles y los espacios americanos en el siglo XVI,” Historia, 39, no. 2, (2006): 531–56.

Chambouleyron 23

33. Meneses’ report is included in: AHU, Pará, caixa 3, doc. 279 (30 Nov. 1689).34. Freire’s report is included in: AHU, Maranhão, caixa 9, doc. 907 (13 Jan. 1696).35. AHU, cod. 94, fol. 129v (24 Jan. 1691).36. See: Laura Caso Barrera & Mario Aliphat Fernández, “Cacao, Vanilla and

Annatto: Three Production and Exchange Systems in the Southern Maya lowlands, XVI–XVII centuries,” Journal of Latin American Geography, 5, no. 2 (2006): 29–52.

37. Ross Jamieson, “The Essence of Commodification: Caffeine Dependencies in the Early Modern World,” Journal of Social History, 35, no. 2 (2001): 271.

38. See: John Bergman, “The Distribution of Cacao Cultivation in Pre- Columbian America,” Annals of the Association of the American Geographers, 59, no. 1 (1969): 85–96.

39. Concerning cacao production in colonial Spanish America, see: Eduardo Ar-cila Farías, Economía colonial de Venezuela (México: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1946); Michael Hamerly, El comercio del cacao de Guayaquil durante el período colo-nial: un estudio cuantitativo (Quito: Comandancia General de Marina, 1976); Robert Ferry, “Encomienda, African Slavery, and Agriculture in Seventeenth- Century Cara-cas,” The Hispanic American Historical Review, 61, no. 4 (1981): 609–35; Carlos Rosés Alvarado, “El ciclo del cacao en la economía colonial de Costa Rica: 1650–1794,” Mesoamérica, 3, no. 4 (1982): 247–78; Eugenio Piñero, “The Cacao Economy of the Eighteenth- Century Province of Caracas and the Spanish Cacao Market,” The His-panic American Historical Review, 68, no. 1 (1988): 75–100; Piñero, The Town of San Felipe and Colonial Cacao Economies (Philadelphia: The American Philosophical So-ciety, 1994); Robert Ferry, “Trading Cacao: a View from Veracruz, 1629–1645,” Nuevo Mundo- Mundos Nuevos, 6 (2006) http://nuevomundo.revues.org/document1430.html; Murdo MacLeod, Spanish Central America. A Socioeconomic History, 1520–1720 (Rev. edn. Austin: U of Texas P, 2007).

40. Charles R. Clement, Michelly de Cristo-Araújo, Geo Coppens d’Eecken-brugge, Alessandro Alves Pereira, Doriane Picanço- Rodrigues, “Origin and Domes-tication of Native Amazonian Crops,” Diversity, 2 (2010): 78–80.

41. In the early 1640s, news concerning the abundance of cacao in the Amazon river circulated among the Portuguese and Spaniards, spread by the work of Father Cristobal de Acuña, who traveled from Quito to Belém with Captain- major Pedro Teixeira. See: Cristobal de Acuña, SJ, Nuevo descubrimiento del gran rio de las Ama-zonas (Madrid: En la Imprenta del Reyno, 1641), 14v–15.

42. “Papel q. se deu a Rainha D Luiza sobre varias utilid.es do Maranhaõ,” [1650s–1660s]. ANTT, Coleção São Vicente, vol. 23, fol. 234v.

43. See: Alden, “The Significance of Cacao Production”; Robert F. Ferry, “The Price of Cacao, Its Export, and Rebellion in Eighteenth- Century Caracas. Boom, Bust, and the Basque Monopoly,” in Essays on the Price History of Eighteenth- Century Latin America, eds. Lyman L. Johnson & Enrique Tandeter (Albuquerque: U of New Mexico P, 1990), 315, 327.

44. Mauro, Le Portugal et l’Atlantique au XVIIe siècle, 370; Alden, “The significance of cacao production,” 115.

45. “Papel q. se deu a Rainha D Luiza sobre varias utilid.es do Maranhaõ,” fols. 234–234v.


46. Maurício de Heriarte, “Descripção do Estado do Maranhão, Pará, Corupá e Rio das Amazonas” [1662–1667], in Francisco Adolfo de Varnhagen, História geral do Brasil (3rd edn. São Paulo: Melhoramentos, 1934), v. III, 218.

47. Serafim Leite, SJ, História da Companhia de Jesus no Brasil (Lisboa/Rio de Ja-neiro: Portugália/INL, 1943), IV, 158–61. See also: Alden, The Making of an Enterprise. The Society of Jesus in Portugal, Its Empire and Beyond, 1540–1750 (Stanford: Stan-ford UP, 1996), 546–47; Thimoty {Timothy?] Walker, “Slave Labor and Chocolate in Brazil: the Culture of Cacao Plantations in Amazonia and Bahia (17th–19th centuries),” Food & Foodways, 15 (2007): 85–89; Karl-Heinz Arenz, De l’Alzette à l’Amazone. Jean- Philippe Bettendorff et les jésuites en Amazonie portugaise (1661–1693) (Saarbrücken: Éditions Universitaires Européennes, 2010), 338–41.

48. Leite, História da Companhia de Jesus no Brasil, 158–59.49. Leite, História da Companhia de Jesus no Brasil, 160.50. LGM, 47 (13 Jan. 1679). Nevertheless, in a previous letter, the Crown did recog-

nize that the Jesuits had planted “some cacao.” LGM, 46 (16 Aug. 1678). Father Leite seems correct when he stated that the Jesuits where the first to plant cacao in the capitaincy of Maranhão. In a land grant, Governor Inácio Coelho da Silva recognizes that the priests were the first “who planted cacao in this island [of São Luís].” “Con-firmaçaõ de hũa legoa de terra [. . .] o g.or Ign.co Coelho da Silva do Coll.o de N.a S. da Luz do Maranham &. que he a de Anindyba,” 30 Apr. 1678. ANTT, Cartório Jesuítico, maço 82, no. 17. See: Alden, “The significance of cacao production in the Amazon region,” 114–15.

51. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 5, doc. 614 (20 Sept. 1677).52. A royal provision of December 1677 determined the revocation of former or-

ders, which prohibited the officials of the crown from cultivating and trading. These prohibitions were stated in three laws. See: Anais da Biblioteca Nacional—“Livro Grosso do Maranhão,” 66 (1948) [herafter cited as LGM], 19 (9 Sept. 1648); LGM, 21 (17 Oct. 1653); and LGM, 27 (9 Apr. 1655). For the laws revocating these decisions, see: LGM, 42 (1 Dec. 1677) and LGM, 41 (1 Dec. 1677).

53. See: Manuel Barata, A antiga producção e exportação do Pará: estudo historico- economico (Belém: Typ. da Livraria Gillet, 1915), 11.

54. The Treasury Council (Conselho da Fazenda) decided the same, days after. “Alphabeto das rezoluções das Consultas do Conselho da Fazenda,” 1705. BNP, Pom-balina, no. 178, fol. 87v.

55. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 6, doc. 647 (14 Mar. 1680).56. AHU, Pará, caixa 3, doc. 190 (10 Apr. 1681). The sovereign answered this letter

commanding the judge of the State to hear Dom Fernando Ramirez and his explana-tions why he did not accomplish his task. LGM, 60 (20 Aug. 1681).

57. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 6, doc. 654 (28 July 1681).58. LGM, 65–66 (2 Sept. 1684).59. LGM, 73–74 (24 Nov. 1686).60. That was, for example, the case of José Portal de Carvalho, who was granted

20 couples of Indians by the king. LGM, 214 (27 Mar. 1702). Domingos Portilho de Melo Gusmão obtained a similar grant in 1706, when he pleaded for 200 Indians to “work on cacao trees.” AHU, Maranhão, caixa 10, doc. 1083 (1706). In the early

Chambouleyron 25

1720s, Francisco de Melo Palheta obtained Indians for the “cultivation of cacao.” AHU, cod. 269, fol. 193v–194 (30 Jan. 1722); see also: Domingos de Sousa Ferreira. AHU, cod. 269. fol. 196v–197 (31 Jan. 1722); Pedro Portal de Carvalho. AHU, cod. 269, fol. 199v–200 (12 Feb. 1722). I kindly thank Mrs. Fernanda Aires Bombardi for the references on the early 1720s.

61. Land grants—the sesmarias—were an old tradition in Portugal, related to the so-called Reconquista against the Muslims, during the Middle Ages. According to António Vasconcelos de Saldanha, after the conquest of the Portuguese territory, it became a means of consolidating the possession of the land. Nonetheless, Vascon-celos de Saldanha and José da Costa Porto have stressed that the development of this institution in the Portuguese kingdom and in its overseas territories followed different paths. In the first case, it was a problem of taking advantage and developing abandoned or misused land. In the case of the colonies, there was the concern to oc-cupy deserted and uncultivated spaces and to populate them. Whatever their destiny was in Portugal, as Virgínia Rau pointed out, what is clear is that with the overseas expansion, the sesmarias became a fundamental element in the colonization of the Islands (Madeira and Azores) and Portuguese America. See: António Vasconcelos de Saldanha, As capitanias do Brasil (2nd edn. Lisbon: CNCDP, 2001), 285 and 289; José da Costa Porto, O sistema sesmarial no Brasil (Brasília, EdUNB, n.d.), 42–43; Virgínia Rau, Sesmarias medievais portuguesas (Lisbon: Universidade de Lisboa, 1946), 14. For a general approach on the sesmarias in Portuguese America, see: Carmen de Oliveira Alveal, “Converting Land into Property in the Portuguese Atlantic World, 16th–18th Century [ies?]” (PhD diss. The Johns Hopkins Univ., 2007).

62. Concerning sugar and tobacco production in seventeenth and early eighteenth- century Portuguese America, see, respectively: Stuart Schwartz, Sugar Plantations in the Formation of Brazilian Society. Bahia, 1550–1835 (Cambridge: Cam-bridge UP, 1998) and Jean- Baptiste Nardi, O fumo brasileiro no período colonial (São Paulo: Brasiliense, 1996).

63. See: Erivaldo Fagundes Neves, “Sesmarias em Portugal e no Brasil,” Politeia. História e Sociedade, 1, no. 1 (2001): 111–39; Nelson Nozoe, “Sesmarias e apossamento de terras no Brasil colônia,” Revista EconomiA, 7, no. 3 (2006): 587–606; Alveal, “Con-verting land into property.”

64. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 9, doc. 981 (21 Aug. 1699).65. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 28, fol. 27 (21 Aug. 1700).66. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 28, fols. 321–322v (14 Nov. 1707).67. 1) José da Cunha de Eça. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 345–346 (granted in

15 Jan. 1694; confirmed in 18 Feb. 1702); 2) Catarina Alves. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 28, fols. 300v–301 (granted in 7 Dec. 1700; confirmed in 9 Jan. 1704); 3) Manuel de Barros e Silva. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 28, fols. 27–28 (granted in 21 Aug. 1700; con-firmed in 10 Mar. 1703); 4) Sebastiana de Sousa Bitencourt. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 27, fols. 110–111 (granted in 28 Nov. 1700; confirmed in 29 Fev. 1702); 5) Antônio de Sousa Moura. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 27, fols. 112v–113v (granted in 29 Nov. 1701; confirmed in 21 Feb. 1702); 6) Francisco Vilela. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 27, fols. 78–79 (granted in 22 Nov. 1701; confirmed in 12 Feb. 1702); 7) Manuel de Passos Moura. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 27, fols. 113v–114 (granted in 10 Jun. 1701; confirmed in


19 Feb. 1702); 8) Sebastião Gomes de Sousa. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 202–202v (granted in 13 Nov. 1701; confirmed in 15 Oct. 1705); 9) Clemente Soeiro Palheta. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 31, fols. 63–64 (granted in 6 Feb. 1702; confirmed in 18 Sep. 1706); 10) José da Costa Tavares. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 27, fols. 292v–294 (granted in 13 Feb. 1702; confirmed in 13 Oct. 1702); 11) Manuel de Vargas & Manuel Fialho de Oliveira. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 31, fols. 87v–88v (granted in 17 Feb. 1702; confirmed in 17 Oct. 1706); 12) Domingos da Costa Ocanha. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 28, fols. 376–377 (granted in 20 Feb. 1702; confirmed in 5 Dec. 1707); 13) Antônio de Paiva de Azevedo. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 172–173 (granted in 29 Aug. 1702; con-firmed in 19 Sep. 1705); 14) Leão Pereira de Barros. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 194v–195 (granted in 10 Oct. 1702; confirmed in 6 Oct. 1705); 15) Luís Vieira da Costa. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 180v–181v (granted in 18 Oct. 1702; confirmed in 1 Oct. 1705); 16) Manuel Alves Lima. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 210–211 (granted in 3 Jul. 1702; confirmed in 17 Oct. 1705); 17) Manuel Rodrigues Chaves. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 63, fols. 246v–247 (granted in 13 Nov. 1702; confirmed in 7 Oct. 1705); 18) Mateus de Carvalho e Siqueira. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 27, fols. 294–295 (granted in 7 Jan. 1702; confirmed in 23 Oct. 1702); 19) Mateus de Carvalho e Siqueira. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 27, fols. 294–295 (granted in 7 Jan. 1702; confirmed in 23 Oct. 1702)—second grant in the same document; 20) Inês do Couto. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 28, fols. 375–376 (granted in 15 Jan. 1703; confirmed in 1 Dec. 1707); 21) Antônio Gonçalves Ribeiro. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 63, fols. 70–70v (granted in 16 Jan. 1703; confirmed in 13 Feb. 1704); 22) Manuel Gonçalves Luís. ANTT, CR, Pe-dro II, liv. 30, fols. 179–180 (granted in 16 Jan. 1703; confirmed in 29 Set. 1705); 23) Amaro Rodrigues Ferreira. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 176v–178 (granted in 20 Feb. 1703; confirmed in 23 Set. 1705); 24) João de Pais do Amaral. ANTT, CR, Pe-dro II, liv. 31, fols. 88v–89v (granted in 12 Mar. 1703; confirmed in 27 Sep. 1706); 25) Manuel Alves de Lima. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 210–211 (granted in 11 Apr. 1703; confirmed in 17 Oct. 1705); 26) João dos Santos. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 55, fols. 111v–112 (granted in 4 Jul. 1703; confirmed in 17 Feb. 1704); 27) Manuel Aranha Guedes. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 175v–176v (granted in 7 Mar. 1703; confirmed in 23 Set. 1705); 28) Manuel de Braga. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 31, fols. 40–41 (granted in 3 Jun. 1703; confirmed in 13 Jul. 1706); 29) Manuel Lopes Reis. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 45, fols. 318–319 (granted in 5 Jan. 1703; confirmed in [12] Feb. 1704); 30) João Monteiro de Azevedo. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 32, fols. 10–11 (granted in 3 May 1705; confirmed in 5 Dec. 1707); 31) José do Couto. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 232–233 (granted in 10 Feb. 1705; confirmed in 6 Nov. 1705); 32) João Vaz de Fre-itas. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 44, fols. 340v–341 (granted in 16 Dec. 1705; confirmed in 19 Jun. 1706); 33) Silvestre Vilasboas. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 28, fols. 321–322v (granted in 11 May 1707; confirmed in 14 Nov. 1707); 34) Francisco Fernandes Moura. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 11, doc. 1124 (granted in 19 May 1707; confirmed in 30 Mar. 1711); 35) Gonçalo Soares Muniz. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 31, fols. 369v–370 (granted in 22 Jun. 1707; confirmed in 15 Oct. 1710); 36) José Rodrigues Coelho. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 34, fols. 70v–71 (granted in 21 Jul. 1707; confirmed in 13 Sep. 1709); 37) Domin-gos de Sousa Freire. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 34, fols. 127v–128v (granted in 11 Jan. 1709; confirmed in 10 Nov. 1709); 38) Manuel Coelho Barros. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 40,

Chambouleyron 27

fols. 151v–152 (granted in 29 Set. 1710; confirmed in 20 Feb. 1714); 39) Pedro da Costa Raiol. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 38, fols. 49–49v (granted in 25 Jul. 1711; confirmed in 13 Jan. 1712); 40) Manuel de Passos Moura. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 43, fols. 208v–210 (granted in 23 Sep. 1711; confirmed in 2 Mar. 1715); 41) Manuel de Oliveira Pantoja. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 38, fols. 275v–276v (granted in 14 Mar. 1712; confirmed in 24 Mar. 1713); 42) Pedro Mendes Tomás. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 40, fols. 51–52 (granted in 5 Apr. 1712; confirmed in 18 Nov. 1713); 43) Manuel Fialho de Olveira. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 42, fols. 26–26v (granted in 22 Jul. 1712; confirmed in 30 Jan. 1714); 44) Mariana Madureira. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 43, fols. 148v–150 (granted in 16 Oct. 1713; 20 Feb. 1715); 45) David Ferreira. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 45, fols. 275v–276 (granted in 17 Nov. 1713; confirmed in 20 Feb. 1717); 46) Esperança de Freitas. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 43, fols. 147v–148v (granted in 23 Oct. 1713; confirmed in 18 Feb. 1715); 47) Felipe Marinho. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 44, fols. 124–125 (granted in 4 May 1714; confirmed in 21 Mar. 1716); 48) Francisco de Jesus Maria. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 46, fols. 243v–244v (granted in 19 Oct. 1714; confirmed in 17 Mar. 1716); 49) José de Sousa de Azevedo. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 51, fols. 302v–303v (granted in 19 Mar. 1716; confirmed in 25 Jan. 1718); 50) Pedro Portal de Carvalho. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 44, fols. 350v–351v (granted in 18 Apr. 1716; confirmed in 19 Feb. 1717); 51) Diogo Pinto de Gaia. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 59, fols. 13v–14v (granted in 15 Jun. 1717; confirmed in 18 May 1720); 52) Antônio de Sousa Soeiro. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 56, fols. 93v–94v (granted in 15 Mar. 1718; confirmed in 25 Nov. 1720); 53) Bárbara de Medeiro Bitencourt. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 125, f 168v–169v (granted in 15 Mar. 1718; confirmed in 9 Dec. 1718); 54) Xavier de Sousa Ataíde. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 62, fols. 269–270 (granted in 17 Mar. 1718; confirmed in 7 Mar. 1722); 55) Manuel de Pas-sos Moura. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 125, fols. 185–186 (granted in 5 Apr. 1718; confirmed in 18 Dec. 1718); 56) Luís de Faria Esteves. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 66, fols. 99–100 (granted in 21 Apr. 1718; confirmed in 2 Nov. 1720); 57) Leonarda Muniz. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 53, fols. 169–169v (granted in 16 May 1718; confirmed in 8 Mar. 1720); 58) Antônio Travassos de Miranda. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 127, fols. 179v–180v (granted in 21 Jul. 1718; confirmed in 30 May 1725); 59) Pedro Martins de Braga. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 59, fols. 86–87 (granted in 5 Sep. 1718; confirmed in 5 Feb. 1721); 60) Manuel de Oliveira Pantoja. APEP, Sesmarias, liv. 2, fols. 55–56v (granted in 21 Oct. 1718; confirmed in 6 Mar. 1725); 61) Francisco Roberto Pimentel. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 56, fols. 98v–99 (granted in 19 Apr. 1719; confirmed in 6 Jan. 1721); 62) André Correia Albernaz & Domingas Evangelho. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 61, fols. 36–36v (granted in 29 Jul. 1721; confirmed in 27 Feb. 1722); 63) Domingos de Araújo & Inácio Marques. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 60, fols. 274v–276 (granted in 21 Feb. 1721; confirmed in 25 Nov. 1722); 64) José de Oliveira da Cunha. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 60, fols. 110v–111v (granted in 27 Jul. 1721; confirmed in 14 Jan. 1722); 65) José Velho de Azevedo. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 60, fols. 64–65 (granted in 2 Aug. 1721; confirmed in 23 Jan. 1722).

68. Those of José da Cunha de Eça, Clemente Soeiro Palheta, Domingos da Costa Ocanha, Luís Vieira da Costa, João de Pais do Amaral, Manuel Alves de Lima (1703), João Vaz de Freitas, Francisco Fernandes Moura, José Rodrigues Coelho, Manuel de Passos Moura, Pedro da Costa Raiol, Manuel Fialho de Oliveira, Mariana Madureira,


Pedro Portal de Carvalho, Leonarda Muniz, Manuel de Oliveira Pantoja (see previous note).

69. Porto, O sistema sesmarial no Brasil, 74–78; Alveal, “Converting land into property,” 203–206.

70. See: Roberto Borges da Cruz, “Farinha de ‘pau’ e de ‘guerra’: os usos da farinha no extremo norte (1722–1759)” (M.Phil Thesis, Univ. Federal do Pará, 2011).

71. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 28, fols. 300v–301 (granted in 7 Dec. 1700; confirmed in 9 Jan. 1704).

72. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 194v–195 (granted in 10 Oct. 1702; confirmed in 6 Oct. 1705).

73. ANTT, CR, João V, liv. 44, fols. 124–125 (granted in 4 May 1714; confirmed in 21 Mar. 1716).

74. ANTT, CR, Pedro II, liv. 30, fols. 172–173 (granted in 29 Ago. 1702; confirmed in 19 Set. 1705).

75. Alden, “The significance of cacao production in the Amazon region,” 115.76. Manuel Nunes Dias, “O cacau brasileiro na economia mundial—subsídios

para sua história,” Stvdia, 8 (1961): 27; Sue Gross, “The Economic Life of the Estado do Maranhão e Grão Pará, 1686–1751” (Ph.D. diss., Tulane Univ., 1969): 10; Alden, “The Significance of Cacao Production,” 115.

77. Those of Sebastião Gomes de Sousa; Luís Vieira da Costa; Manuel Gonçalves Luís; Gonçalo Soares Muniz; Manuel Coelho Barros; Manuel de Oliveira Pantoja (see note 68).

78. Those of Clemente Soeiro Palheta; José da Costa Tavares; Mateus de Carvalho e Siqueira; Esperança de Freitas; Felipe Marinho; Francisco de Jesus Maria; José de Sousa de Azevedo; Antônio de Sousa Soeiro; Xavier de Sousa de Ataíde; Francisco Roberto Pimentel (see note 68).

79. That was the case of Manuel Barros da Silva; Sebastiana de Sousa Bittencourt; Antônio de Sousa Moura; Francisco Vilela; Manuel dos Passos Moura; Antônio de Paiva de Azevedo; Leão Pereira de Barros; Manuel Alves Lima; Amaro Rodrigues Ferreira; Antônio Gonçalves Ribeiro; Inês do Couto; Manuel Aranha Guedes; Ma-nuel de Braga; Manuel Lopes Reis; João Monteiro de Azevedo; Silvestre Vilasboas; Felipe Marinho; Diogo Pinto de Gaia; Antônio Travassos de Miranda (see note 68)

80. BNF, Port. 39, fols. 60v, 61, 63v, 67v, 69, 76v–77, 79v.81. Jesuits’ estates produced 5.8% of all the amount exploited by the Society of

Jesus (total of 5,100 arrobas). In the case of the carmelites, cultivated cacao consisted of 9.5% of their production (total of 4,200 arrobas). Governor Alexandre de Sousa Freire (1728–1732) produced these data on the religious orders’ estates and economic production. AHU, Pará, caixa 13, doc. 1223 (c. 1730). I kindly thank Mr. Raimundo Moreira das Neves Neto for this document.

82. Concerning the Companhia de Comércio, see: Tito Augusto de Carvalho. “As companhias portuguezas de colonização,” Boletim da Sociedade de Geographia de Lis-boa, 19ª- série (1902): 311–27; Dias, “As frotas do cacau da Amazônia (1756–1777): sub-sídios para o estudo do fomento ultramarino português no século XVIII,” Revista de História, 24, no. 50 (1962): 363–77; Dias, “O cacau brasileiro na economia mundial—subsídios para sua história,” Stvdia, 8 (1961): 7–93; Dias, A Companhia Geral do Grão

Chambouleyron 29

Pará e Maranhão, 1755–1778, 2 vols. (Belém: Universidade Federal do Pará, 1970); António Carreira, A Companhia Geral do Grão-Pará e Maranhão (o comércio monop-olista Portugal- África-Brasil na segunda metade do século XVIII), 2 vols. (São Paulo/Brasília: Companhia Editora Nacional/INL, 1988).

83. See: AHU, Maranhão, caixa 6, doc. 638 (7 Aug. 1679); AHU, cod. 17, fol. 301A (31 Oct. 1679).

84. João Lúcio de Azevedo, Os jesuítas no Grão-Pará: suas missões e a colonização (2nd edn. Coimbra: Imprensa da Universidade, 1930), 238; Alden, “Economics Aspects of the Expulsion of the Jesuits from Brazil: a Preliminary Report,” in Conflict and Continuity in Brazilian Society, ed. Henry H. Keith & S.F. Edwards (Columbia: U of South Carolina P, 1967), 25–65; Alden, The Making of an Enterprise, 461–73; Paulo As-sunção, Negócios jesuíticos: o cotidiano da administração dos bens divinos (São Paulo: EdUSP, 2004); Raimundo Moreira das Neves Neto, “Um patrimônio em contendas: os bens jesuíticos e a magna questão dos dízimos no estado do Maranhão e Grão Pará (1650–1750)” (MPhil Thesis, Univ. Federal do Pará, 2011), 109–50.

85. AHU, cod. 275, fol. 91 (13 Sept. 1646).86. AHU, cod. 14, fols. 130–130v (22 Aug. 1648). In another consulta the Council

stressed that these fortresses should be paid by the royal treasury and that the king could divide the region in captaincies to better occupy it. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 3, doc. 267 (18 Sept. 1648).

87. In a document certainly written years later, Sergeant Gouveia was described as an “experienced man [baqueano] of several years in India.” AHU, Pará, caixa 2, doc. 105.

88. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 3, doc. 265 (5 Sept. 1648).89. AHU, cod. 92, fols. 116–116v (3 Sept. 1646).90. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 3, doc. 272 (23 Oct. 1648). In a consulta made in 1649,

the Overseas Council stressed to the king that Governor Luís de Magalhães was sent with special orders to inquire about the right time to collect bark-clove. AHU, Ma-ranhão, caixa 3, doc. 279 (18 Jun. 1649).

91. In 1650, the king commanded the governor to send samples of the new spices. AHU, cod. 275, fol. 267v (14 May 1650).

92. AHU, cod. 14, fols. 373–373v (15 Feb. 1652).93. It was also exploited by the crown itself. In 1676, for example, the royal trea-

surer proposed to the prince the dispatch of two “large canoes” to collect clove in the captaincy of Maranhão, and the gathering of 100 arrobas of cacao and 200 of clove in the captaincy of Pará. This was a means for financing the construction of three for-tresses, without “disturbing the people.” AHU, Maranhão, caixa 5, doc. 611 (20 Sept. 1677). Analyses of bark-clove were also ordered by the crown, in order to estimate its value. See: ANTT, Conselho Ultramarino, Livro 1 (Decretos), fol. 130 (5 Mar. 1688).

94. In 1687, Governor Gomes Freire de Andrade informed that in the time of Dom João IV (dead in 1656), thirty thousand plants of bark-clove were cultivated on the Capim River without success. AHU, Pará, caixa 3, doc. 259 (Belém, 24 Jan. 1687).

95. AHU, Pará, caixa 2, doc. 105 (Second half of the seventeenth century).96. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 4, doc. 459 (9 Sept. 1662).97. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 4, doc. 461 (5 Oct. 1662).


98. LGM, 68 (2 Sept. 1684).99. See: Heriarte, “Descripção do Estado do Maranhão, Pará, Corupá e Rio das

Amazonas,” 218; Aranha, “Papel político sobre o Estado do Maranhão,” 9.100. Concerning exports from the captaincy of Pará, from 1730 until 1777, see:

AHU, Pará, caixa 80, doc. 6627 (31 Aug. 1778).101. LGM, 75–76 (24 Nov. 1686). See an examination of this order and the re-

sponses of Gomes Freire de Andrade and Artur de Sá e Meneses in AHU, Pará, caixa 3, doc. 260 (18 July 1687); and AHU, cod. 274, fols. 58v–59 (7 Nov. 1687).

102. This new order is referred in a letter to the governor written in 1690. AHU, cod. 268, fol. 71 (18 Oct. 1690).

103. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 7, doc. 736 (22 Feb. 1686); AHU, Maranhão, caixa 7, doc. 767 (14 Dec. 1686); AHU, cod. 93, fols. 424v–425 (22 Dec. 1686).

104. AHU, Pará, caixa 3, doc. 258 (20 Nov. 1686); AHU, Pará, caixa 3, doc. 263 (Belém, 19 July 1687).

105. See: Alam da Silva Lima, “Do ‘dinheiro da terra’ ao ‘bom dinheiro’: moeda natural e moeda metálica na Amazônia colonial (1706–1750)” (M.Phil. Thesis, Univ. Federal do Pará, 2006); Alam da Silva Lima & Chambouleyron & Danilo Igliori, “Plata, paño, cacao y clavo. ‘Dinero de la tierra’ en la Amazonía portuguesa (c. 1640–1750),” Fronteras de la Historia, 14, n. 2 (2009): 205–27.

106. See: Steven Topik, Carlos Marichal & Zephyr Frank, “Commodity Chains in Theory and in Latin American History,” in From Silver to Cocaine: Latin American Commodity Chains and the Building of the World Economy, 1500–2000, eds. Topik, Marichal & Frank (Durham: Duke UP, 2006), 1–24.

107. LGM, 39–40 (19 Sept. 1676).108. LGM, 38–39 (19 Sept. 1676).109. Chambouleyron, “‘Tapuios entre os pretos’. Mano de obra y cultivo en la Ama-

zonía del siglo 17,” in Sociedades diversas, sociedades en cambio. América Latina en perspectiva histórica, eds. Gabriela Dalla Corte et al. (Barcelona: Universitat de Barce-lona, 2011), 177–86.

110. Concerning Indian labor in the State of Maranhão and Pará, prior to Pombal, see: Azevedo, Os jesuítas no Grão-Pará; Leite, SJ, História da Companhia de Jesus no Brasil, vol. IV; Arthur Cezar Ferreira Reis, O Estado do Maranhão—catequese do gentio—rebeliões—pacificação. Reprint from the second volume of Anais do IV Con-gresso de História Nacional (Rio de Janeiro: Departamento de Imprensa Nacional, 1950); Mathias C. Kiemen, OFM, The Indian policy of Portugal in the Amazon region, 1614–1693 (Washington: The Catholic U of America P, 1954); Alden, “Black Robes Versus White Settlers: the Struggle for ‘Freedom of the Indians’ in Colonial Brazil,” in Attitudes of Colonial Powers Toward the American Indian, eds. Howard Pechman & Charles Gibson (Salt Lake City: U of Utah P, 1969), 19–45; Colin MacLachlan, “The Indian Labor Structure in the Portuguese Amazon, 1700–1800,” in Colonial Roots of Modern Brazil, ed. Alden (Berkeley/Los Angeles: The U of California P, 1973), 199–230; David Sweet, “A Rich Realm of Nature Destroyed: the Middle Amazon Valley, 1640–1750” (PhD Diss., Univ. of Wisconsin, Madison, 1974); Gross, “Labor in Amazonia in the First Half of the Eighteenth Century”; Sweet, “Francisca: Indian Slave,” in Struggle and survival in colonial America, eds. David Sweet & Gary Nash (Los Angeles: The

Chambouleyron 31

U of California P, 1981), 274–91; Heloísa Liberalli Belloto, “Trabalho indígena, regal-ismo e colonização no estado do Maranhão nos séculos XVII e XVIII,” Revista Bra-sileira de História, 4 (1982): 177–92; Alden, “Indian Versus Black Slavery”; Alden, “El indio desechable en el Estado de Maranhão durante los siglos XVII y XVIII,” América Indígena, XLV, no. 2 (1985): 427–46; Maria Regina Celestino de Almeida, “Trabalho compulsório na Amazônia: séculos XVII–XVIII”; Nádia Farage, As muralhas dos sertões (São Paulo: Paz e Terra, 1991); António José Saraiva, “O Pe. António Vieira e a liberdade dos índios,” in História e utopia (Lisboa: Ministério de Educação/Instituto de Cultura e Língua Portuguesa, 1992), 13–52; Beatriz Perrone- Moisés, “Para conter a fereza dos contrários: guerras na legislação indigenista colonial,” Cadernos Cedes, 30 (1993): 57–64; Antônio Porro, O povo das águas: ensaios de etno- história amazônica (Rio de Janeiro: Vozes, 1996); John M. Monteiro, “O escravo índio, esse desconhe-cido,” in Índios no Brasil, ed. Luís Donisete Benzi Grupioni (São Paulo: Secretaria Mu-nicipal de Cultura, 1992), 105–20; Monteiro, “Escravidão indígena e despovoamento na América portuguesa: S. Paulo e Maranhão,” in Brasil nas vésperas do mundo mo-derno, ed. Jill Dias (Lisbon: CNCDP, 1992), 137–67; Ângela Domingues, “Os conceitos de guerra justa e resgate e os ameríndios do norte do Brasil,” in Brasil: colonização e escravidão, ed. Maria Beatriz Nizza da Silva (Rio de Janeiro: Nova Fronteira, 2000), 45–56; Mauro da Costa de Oliveira, “Escravidão indígena na Amazônia colonial” (MPhil Thesis, Univ. Federal de Goiás, Goiânia, 2001); James O. Sousa, “Mão-de-obra indígena na Amazônia Colonial,” Em Tempo de Histórias, 6 (2002): 1–18; Barbara Sommer, “Colony of the Sertão: Amazonian Expeditions and the Indian Slave Trade,” The Americas, 61, no. 3 (2005): 401–28; Márcia Eliane Alves de Souza e Mello, “Des-vendando outras Franciscas: mulheres cativas e as ações de liberdade na Amazônia colonial portuguesa,” Portuguese Studies Review, 13, no. 1 (2005): 1–16; Almir Diniz de Carvalho Júnior, “Índios cristãos: a conversão dos índios na Amazônia portu-guesa (1653–1769)” (PhD Diss., Univ. Estadual de Campinas, Campinas, 2005); Décio de Alencar Guzmán, “Encontros circulares: guerra e comércio no Rio Negro (Grão-Pará), séculos XVII e XVIII,” Anais do Arquivo Público do Pará, 5, t. 1 (2006), 139–65; Mello, “Para servir a quem quizer: apelações de liberdade dos índios na Amazônia Portuguesa,” in Rastros da Memória: histórias e trajetórias das populações indígenas na Amazônia, eds. Patrícia de Melo Sampaio & Regina de Carvalho Erthal (Manaus: EDUA, 2006), 48–72; Guzmán, “A colonização nas Amazônias: guerras, comércio e escravidão nos séculos XVII e XVIII,” Revista Estudos Amazônicos, vol. III, no. 2 (2008): 103–39; Camila Loureiro Dias, “Civilidade, cultura e comércio: os princípios fundamentais da política indigenista na Amazônia (1614–1757)” (MPhil Thesis, Univ. de São Paulo, São Paulo, 2009); Mello, Fé e império (Manaus: EdUA/FAPEAM, 2009), 243–317; Arenz, De l’Alzette à l’Amazonie; Fernanda Aires Bombardi, “‘Para o serviço dos moradores’: descimentos particulares na Amazônia colonial,” in Anais do 3º- En-contro Internacional de História Colonial: cultura, poderes e sociabilidades no mundo atlântico (séc. XV–XVIII) (Recife: EdUFPE, 2011), 1067–74; Rafael Ale Rocha, “A elite militar no Estado do Maranhão: poder, hierarquia e comunidades indígenas (século XVII)” (PhD Diss. Univ. Federal Fluminense, 2013).

111. Arquivo Geral da Alfândega de Lisboa, Casa da Índia, no. 49, fol. 19v (2 Apr. 1712).


112. AHU, cod. 93, fol. 378 (2 Sept. 1684). The execution of this law, however, had to be discussed with the local Councils, in order to be better implemented and to develop the trade of both products. See: Annaes da Biblotheca e Archivo Publico do Pará [hereafter cited as: ABAPP], I (1902): 82 (2 Sept. 1684).

113. ABAPP, I, p. 120 (31 Jan. 1703).114. “Papel q. se deu a Rainha D Luiza sobre varias utilid.es do Maranhaõ,”

fols. 232–232v.115. AHU, cod. 268, fol. 52v (24 Nov. 1686).116. LGM, pp. 75–76 (24 Nov. 1686). This royal order was re-stated in 1688, see:

LGM, p. 104 (14 May 1688).117. AHU, Pará, caixa 3, doc. 259 (Belém, 24 Jan. 1687). The Overseas Council sug-

gested that the crown should re-state this local prohibition (bando) as a law. AHU, cod. 274, fol. 56 (24 Apr. 1687).

118. AHU, Pará, caixa 3, doc. 263 (Belém, 19 July 1687).119. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 9, doc. 946 (12 Nov. 1697). The king sent a letter to the

governor asking his advice about the matter. AHU, cod. 268, fol. 126v (18 Mar. 1697).120. AHU, Maranhão, caixa 6, doc. 726 (São Luís, 15 Oct. 1685).121. Miguel da Rosa Pimentel, “Informaçaõ do Estado do Maranhaõ,” Lisbon,

4 Sept. 1692, no. 43. BA, cod. 50-V-34, fol. 199.122. A royal letter issued in 1691 referred to the fact that some settlers used to

bring “slaves hidden in the clove,” ABAPP, I, 99 (18 Oct. 1690).123. A similar order had been issued years earlier by Governor Francisco de Sá

e Meneses, who stayed in Belém. However, it seems this order was not taken into consideration by the crown, which only enforced Freire de Andrade’s bando. BA, cod. 51-V-43, fols. 37–37v (Belém, 18 Dec. 1682).

124. LGM, 87–88 (23 Mar. 1688).125. LGM, 90 (23 Mar. 1688).126. ANTT, Conselho Ultramarino, Livro 1 (Decretos), 143v (23 Jan. 1691); AHU,

cod. 94, fols. 157–157v (6 Feb. 1691); LGM, p. 113 (6 Feb. 1691).127. LGM, 108 (17 Oct. 1690); LGM, 193 (20 Nov. 1699). In 1687, an important

jurisconsult of the kingdom, Manuel Lopes de Oliveira, wrote a report about the religious orders that sent their “subjects” to take clove and cacao in the sertões. Ac-cording to Lopes de Oliveira, the religious orders did not have the right to go to the sertão by ecclesiastical privilege, but as vassals of the king, and hence the sovereign could forbid their presence in the hinterland. “Parecer q. na Junta dos Neg.os do Maranhaõ deu M.el Lopes de Oliv.ra sobre a lei q. se pertendia fazer p.a q. Eccle-siasticos naõ tirassem especiarias,” 29 Nov. 1687. ANTT, Manuscritos da Livraria, n. 1051, 103–105 (copy). This document was recently published, see: Alírio Cardozo & Chambouleyron, “O advogado do império: um jurista discute o direito de comér-cio dos padres do Maranhão no século XVII,” Ciências Humanas em Revista, 4, no. 1 (2006): 159–66.

128. João Felipe Bettendorf, SJ, Crônica da missão dos Padres da Companhia de Jesus no Maranhão [1698] (Belém: SECULT, 1990), 251.

129. Antônio Vieira, SJ, “Carta ao Padre Superior do Maranhão,” 1 Feb. 1679. Brotéria, 45, no. 4 (1947): 472.

Chambouleyron 33

130. See for example: Raimundo Lopes, O torrão maranhense (Rio de Janeiro: Typ. do Jornal do Commercio, 1916), 216–17; Furtado, Formação econômica do Brasil, 65–68 and 89–92; Prado Júnior, História econômica do Brasil, 69–75; Moacyr Paixão e Silva, Formação econômica do Amazonas (período co). Reprint from Anais do III Con-gresso Sul- Riograndense de História e Geografia (Porto Alegre, 1940), 31–37; Simonsen, História econômica do Brasil, 162; Reis, A política de Portugal no vale amazônico, 91–110; Jerônimo de Viveiros, História do comércio do Maranhão (1612–1895) (São Luís: Associação Comercial do Maranhão, 1954), I, 67–69; Ernâni Silva Bruno, História do Brasil. I—Amazônia (São Paulo: Cultrix, 1966), 71–93; Gross, “The economic life of the Estado do Maranhão e Grão-Pará,” 192–207; Reis, Síntese de história do Pará (Belém: Amazônia Edições Culturais, 1972), 57–63; David Sweet, “A Rich Realm of Nature Destroyed: the Middle Amazon Valley, 1640–1750,” I, 55–70; Bandeira Tribuzi, Formação econômica do Maranhão (São Luís: FIPES, 1981), 11–17; Leandro Tocantins, Amazônia: natureza, homem e tempo (Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira, 1982), 44–54; Adélia Engrácia de Oliveira, “Ocupação humana,” in Eneas Salati et al., Amazônia: desenvolvimento, integração e ecologia (São Paulo/Brasília: Brasiliense/CNPq, 1983), 170–71; Otávio Mendonça, Presença portuguesa na Amazônia (Belém: Conselho Es-tadual de Cultura, 1984), 23–24; Ciro Flamarion Cardoso, Economia e sociedade em áreas coloniais (Rio de Janeiro: Graal, 1984), 94–104; Alden, “El indio desechable en el Estado de Maranhão durante los siglos XVII y XVIII”; Sebastião Barbosa Caval-canti Filho, A questão jesuítica no Maranhão colonial (São Luís: SIOGE, 1990), 22–26; Farage, As muralhas dos sertões, 23–53; Marilene Correa da Silva, O paiz do Amazonas (Manaus: EdUA, 1996), 46 and 83; Meireles, História do Maranhão, 191–98; Maria de Nazaré Angelo- Menezes, “Histoire sociales des systèmes agraires dans la vallée du Tocantins—Etat du Pará—Brésil: colonisation européenne dans la deuxième moitié du XVIIIe siècle et la première moitiè du XIXe xiècle” (Ph.D. diss., Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales, 1998); Angelo- Menezes, “O sistema agrário do Vale do Tocantins colonial: agricultura para consumo e para exportação,” Projeto Historia, 18 (1999): 237–59; Rosa Acevedo Marin, “Agricultura no delta do rio Amazonas: colonos produtores de alimentos em Macapá no período colonial,” in A escrita da história paraense, ed. Rosa Acevedo Marin (Belém: NAEA, 1998), 53–91; Márcio Souza, Breve história da Amazônia (Rio de Janeiro: Agir, 2001), 70–71 and 86–87.

131. Chambouleyron, Povoamento, ocupação e agricultura na Amazônia colonial, 29–76.

132. For a recent discussion, see: Guzmán, “A colonização nas Amazônias: guerras, comércio e escravidão nos séculos XVII e XVIII”; Dias, “Civilidade, cultura e comér-cio: os princípios fundamentais da política indigenista na Amazônia (1614–1757)”; José Alves de Souza Jr, Tramas do cotidiano: religião, política, guerra e negócios no Grão-Pará do setecentos (Belém: EdUFPA, 2012); Mello, Fé e império, 243–317; Mello, “O Regimento das Missões: poder e negociação na Amazônia portuguesa,” Clio. Re-vista de Pesquisa Histórica, 27, no. 1 (2009): 46–75.

133. See: “Catalogo nominal dos posseiros de sesmarias,” Annaes do Archivo Pú-blico do Pará, III (1904): 5–149.

134. See: Chambouleyron, “Mazelas da Fazenda real na Amazônia seiscentista,” in Tesouros da Memória. História e patrimônio no Grão-Pará, eds. Aldrin Moura de


Figueiredo & Moema Bacelar Alves (Belém: Ministério da Fazenda/MABE, 2009), 13–28.

135. For a general idea of this debate, see the many collective works published in the last ten years: António Manuel Hespanha, ed., História de Portugal. 4. O Antigo Regime (1620-1807) (Lisbon: Estampa, 1998); João Fragoso, Maria Fernanda Bicalho & Maria de Fátima Gouvêa, eds., O Antigo Regime nos trópicos: a dinâmica imperial portuguesa (séculos XVI–XVIII) (Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira, 2001); Ma-ria Fernanda Bicalho & Vera Lúcia Amaral Ferlini, eds., Modos de governar: idéias e práticas políticas no Império português. Séculos XVI a XIX (São Paulo: Alameda, 2005); Nuno Gonçalves Monteiro, Pedro Cardim & Mafalda Soares da Cunha, eds., Optima pars: elites ibero-americanas do Antigo Regime (Lisbon: ICS, 2005); Laura de Mello e Souza, O sol e a sombra: política e administração na América Portuguesa do século XVIII (São Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 2006); Antônio Carlos Jucá de Sam-paio, Carla Maria Carvalho de Almeida & João Luis Ribeiro Fragoso, eds., Conquis-tadores & negociantes: história das elites no Antigo Regime nos trópicos. América lusa, séculos XVI a XVIII (Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira, 2007); Ronaldo Vainfas & Rodrigo Bentes Monteiro, eds., Império de várias faces: relações de poder no mundo ibérico da Época Moderna (São Paulo: Alameda, 2009); Laura de Mello e Souza, Júnia Ferreira Furtado & Maria Fernanda Bicalho, eds., O governo dos povos, (São Paulo: Alameda, 2009); Francisco Bethencourt, “Configurações políticas e poderes locais,” in A Expansão Marítima Portuguesa, 1400–1800, eds. Diogo Ramada Curto & Fran-cisco Bethencourt (Lisboa: Edições 70, 2010), 207-64.

136. Concerning these questions for the State of Maranhão, see: Alírio Cardoso, “Insubordinados, mas sempre devotos”; Joel dos Santos Dias, “Os ‘verdadeiros con-servadores’ do Estado do Maranhão: poder local, redes de clientela e cultura política na Amazônia colonial (primeira metade do século XVIII)” (MPhil. Thesis, Univ. Federal do Pará, 2008).

137. Concerning the importance of the Indian groups for the understanding of colonial Portuguese America, see note 110 and: História dos índios no Brasil, ed. Manuela Carneiro da Cunha (São Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 1992); Monteiro, “As populações indígenas do litoral brasileiro no século XVI: transformação e re-sistência” in Brasil nas vésperas do mundo moderno, ed. Jill Dias (Lisbon: CNCDP, 1992), 121–36; Monteiro, “Armas e Armadilhas: história e resistência dos índios,” in A Outra Margem do Ocidente, ed. Adauto Novaes (São Paulo: FUNARTE/Compa-nhia das Letras, 1999), 237–56; Monteiro, Negros da terra: índios e bandeirantes nas origens de São Paulo (São Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 1994); Denise Maldi, “De confederados a bárbaros: a representação da territorialidade e da fronteira indígenas nos séculos XVIII e XIX,” Revista de Antropologia, 40, no. 2 (1997): 183–221; Cris-tina Pompa, Religião como tradução: missionários, Tupi e “Tapuia” no Brasil colonial (Bauru: EdUSC, 2003); Maria Regina Celestino de Almeida, Metamorfoses indígenas: identidades e cultura nas aldeias coloniais do Rio de Janeiro (Rio de Janeiro: Arquivo Nacional, 2003).

138. A translation of the Bull into Portuguese was published in Francisco de Paula e Silva, Apontamentos e notas para a historia ecclesiastica do Maranhão (Salvador: Typ. de S. Francisco, 1922), 52–55. Concerning the bishopric of Maranhão, see also

Chambouleyron 35

César Augusto Marques, A Igreja no Maranhão (São Luís: Fundação Cultural do Ma-ranhão, 1977), 3. According to Dom Felipe Condurú Pacheco, from 1677 onwards the bishop of Maranhão became suffragan of Lisbon. Felipe Condurú Pacheco, História eclesiástica do Maranhão (São Luís: Departamento de Cultura do Maranhão, 1969), 16. In 1684, Dom Pedro II requested the creation of the bishopric of Pará. Only in 1719 it was officially created by the bull Copiosus in misericordia (4 March 1719), but the first bishop arrived only in 1724. See: Alberto Gaudêncio Ramos, Cronologia eclesiástica da Amazônia (Manaus: Typ. Fênix, 1952), 14 and 18.

139. For an introduction to this topic, see: João Capistrano de Abreu, “Os camin-hos antigos e o povoamento do Brasil,” in Capítulos de história colonial e Os cami-nhos antigos e o povoamento do Brasil (2nd edn. Brasília: EdUnB, 1998), 255–59; Pedro Puntoni, A guerra dos bárbaros. Povos indígenas e a colonização do sertão nordeste do Brasil, 1650–1720 (São Paulo: Hucitec/EdUSP, 2002), 27–29.

140. Concerning the problem of Indian and African labor forces in sixteenth- and seventeenth- century Brazil, see: Stuart B. Schwartz, “Indian labor and New World plantations: European demands and Indian responses in northeastern Brazil,” The American Historical Review, 83, no. 1 (1978): 43–79.

141. See: Serge Gruzinski, “Local, global e colonial nos mundos da Monarquia católica. Aportes sobre o caso amazônico,” Revista de Estudos Amazônicos, II (2007): 11–28.

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