BRAZIL — The Illustrated Kindle Guide

The Tupiniquin

The Portuguese

The Jesuit

The Bandeirantes

Republicans and Sinners

Sons of the Empire

The Brazilians

Candangos

Afterword

Slave Market at Rio de Janeiro

A free online guide with a wealth of photos and illustrations giving a unique insight into the novel and its creativity.

I searched for the story of Brazil for five years, a literary pathfinder in quest of the epic of the Brazilian people. In this guide, I share my private journal kept on a mighty journey of twenty thousand kilometers across the length and breadth of a vast country.

Discover the magic that goes into the making of a monumental novel with a first draft of three-quarters of million words written in the old-fashioned way, by hand! A quest driven by a passion for writing and storytelling.

IMAGE CREDITS APPEAR AT END OF GUIDE

Captions from the text of BRAZIL ©2008 Errol Lincoln Uys

Prologue  The Tupiniquin

The village below was the largest his people had built, and had been enclosed by a double stockade of heavy posts lashed together with vines — two great circles that protected the five dwellings arranged around a central clearing. These malocas were no rude forest huts but the grand lodges of the five great families of the clan.

Now the men in the clearing began to dance around the pagé, stamping their feet in such a way that the seedpods tied around their calves shook in unison. from many mouths came the cries:"Now speak, O Voice of the Spirits."

Sex, above all, was the Nambikwara's delight. Making love was good, they said — and they did so with gusto whenever the opportunity arose.

Their passage was relatively easy except in those places where the river roared over a cataract and their small craft was shot through a narrow channel between the rocks.

They passed through two new moons, two men  and a boy, voyaging into the heart of a great continent, as much in harmony with this wilderness as the animals that sought the riverbanks, leaving scant trace of their presence as they moved from one bend of the stream to the next.

JOURNAL

But their innate suspicion of the evil that stalked humans in such mysterious places often made them fearful.

The jaguars rested between the canes, their cold yellow eyes unblinking as they peered into the darkness.

Among the objects in Tocoyricoc's cave was something even more magical to Aruanã — "the lines that remembered." They appeared to be a bunch of bowstrings of different colors and lengths knotted together untidily. Tocoyricoc used a word from his own language to describe them: quipu.

When Aruanã first saw the old man consult it, he'd picked out a red cord. "First knot," he said,"is battle of Black Valley, where a young Tocoyricoc fought. Two and one knots is the age he had, this is his place among the warriors, these, the number of enemy killed."

"What magic is this?"

"It is a away or remembering," he said. "To show what is past."

"This was the land where Master — one you would call Great Chief — arose. Son of the Sun. He came to change our world when I was your age .Before He-Who-Trans-forms, we were a miserable people living as those who see nothing but the forest." His voice shook with emption as he told Aruanã about this great sky-being. He showed the young man his own golden earplugs — "tears of the sun" — and said that they were pitiful things compared with what adorned the Master.

Yware-pemme struck again and again, and quickly there were three groups of women at work in the clearing.

The enemy were being dismembered with bamboo knives and stone ax. The trunks were split, the intestines removed and set aside: these would go with other parts of the viscera into a great broth, which all would sip, taking the strength of the enemy.

The butchers caroused and sometimes squabbled over the joints; the men danced in the clearing and sang with joy at having seen the suffering of the Cariri. So it would go, they warned, with any who dared gnaw the bones of Tupiniquin.

Juriti brought his son; he heard the strong cry and saw the robust little body and was enormously relieved that his efforts thusfar had succeeded. Encouraged, he faced his confinement.

On the beach where he walked for the shells, Aruanã

felt contentment at being alone. One man, alone, at the edge of his world, his bare feet making an impression along great curves of sand.

JOURNAL

And then, at the height of his happiness, came a premonition...

Tiny puffs of cloud had fallen to the end of the earth. Four...five...six...were bunched together just above the horizon. Otherwise the sky was perfectly clear.

They were there, darkening images now, these canoes that had come from the end of the earth.

Book One : The Portuguese

"Sixty-four days out of Lisbon," the fidalgo said, "forty days west of Cabo Verde, and still no Terra de Santa Cruz..."

Cavalcanti did not reply immediately. He was thinking of Gomes de Pina's use of the old name — Land of the Holy Cross — given to the territory by Pedro Álvares Cabral when he discovered it for Portugal in 1500. On the Lisbon waterfront, to men who knew better, it was Terra do Papagaio (Land of Parrots) or Terra do Brasil, named for the brazilwood taken from its wild shores.

What distinguished Sao Gabriel from those rakish caravels was her size — 120 tons against fifty or so; her broad, square sails spreading above a wide beam; her towering castles fore and aft.

Afonso de Albuquerque's name was already a byword for terror among the petty kings and sultans along the coast of India: O Terrível (The Terrible), they called him...

Sofala, Aden, Ormuz, Malacca — all were strategic points on the trade routes across the Indian Ocean, but none was so commanding as Goa. Let the Infidel hold the others, Albuquerque said, and the Indies could be conquered from Goa.

For eighty-four days the ships held out; on the eighty-fifth day, the monsoon over, they could finally weigh anchor. But it was not long before Albuquerque was back, this time in a great armada with 1,700 fighting men. By ten o'clock on the feast day of St. Catherine, the garrison at Goa had fallen.

For three days and three nights the fighting had raged in the city. By dawn on the fourth day, when O Terrível decreed a halt, they had slain six thousand disbelievers, men, women and children, for Portugal — and for Christ.

Gomes de Pina had ordered his vessels tarry in the river while he held a holy vigil in the new church of the Jeronymites, built at nearby Belém in gratitude to God for the passage to India. He'd assembled his family and hangers-on and proceeded to prayerful office — in the manner of great navigators like Vasco da Gama and Pedro

Álvares Cabral, who had knelt in the humble chapel that had stood on the ground now occupied by the majestic limestone monastery.

When his lonely appeal was over, Gomes de Pina had led his entourage to the water's edge, where a boat awaited to carry him to the ships. They were anchored close to the Tower of St. Vincent, a great bulwark that rose on a group of rocks in the Tagus.

Cavalcanti looked at the caravels in the distance, his eyes searching the vast expanse of moonlit sea.

Was it a night like this, in the year of Our Lord Jesus Christ 1492, when Cristovão Colombo first saw Ilha San Salvador? O Santa Maria! The scheming Genoese adventure sailing for Castile and Aragon! O Portugal, robbed by Spanish dogs and the traitors who sail in their ships!

When Columbus was on his third voyage in 1498, the Portuguese navigator Vasco da Gama reached India via the Cape of Good Hope...

Two years later, Pedro Álvares Cabral, commander of the second Indies fleet, veered far to the west, making an unexpected landfall ar Terra de Santa Cruz on April 22, 1500.

At last they stood in toward that wide, beautiful bay. Near the beach they saw the great cross raised by Cabral.

JOURNAL

Aruanã was remembering the day Cabral held the first devotions at this cross: As the pagés of the Long Hairs had gone about their sacred work, the Tupiniquin had followed their actions, kneeling when they knelt, standing with their hands uplifted, and breathing not a word when they were silent.

Who would acknowledge, for instance, that there was a black chief who called himself Affonso I, son of King João da Silva, (John of the Woods) and Queen Eleanor; who ruled his lands not with chiefs and elders but with nobles he addressed as his duques, marquezes, viscondes and baroes?

Cavalcanti's first impression of Mbanza, palace and place of justice of the ManiKongo, was one of confusion. He was taken back by the sight of a wall, like those in Portugal, raised before this city in the heart of Africa.

Affonso I, Lord of the Kongo, sat on a throne inlaid with gold and ivory and draped with leopard skins. He was dressed in the fashion of a Portuguese noble, with scarlet tabard, pale silk robe, satin cloak with embroidered coat of arms, and velvet slippers.

There were women, too, dressed as Portuguese donas, with veils over their faces and velvet caps and gowns. Their gold and jewels were such as few ladies of Lisbon possessed.

"Not east but south," the slaver said. "They are Khoi-khoi who bring copper and ostriches to the kingdom. They live near the Cape." — The Cape of Good Hope, at the tip of Africa.

Sancho de Sousa sent his customs officials to brand the captives, marking their breasts with a red-hot iron. When this was done, Padre Miguel had the slaves assembled and informed them that they were to be baptized.

"You will taste the salt of our faith," he told them. "Your souls, servants, will be free."

In the domed Sala das Armas of Sintra palace on a day in October 1534, the fidalgo Dom Duarte Coelho Pereira sat listening to the Keep of Records, Belchior da Silveira, read part of a petition taken from the royal archives....

JOURNAL

"I don't know this Cavalcanti," Dom Duarte repeated, "but it's obvious he's not fooled by parrots and logs: he sees the one thing that will bring a profit from Brazil."

"Which is?""Sugar! Sugar will be the treasure of our New World!"

Days passed in which Nicolau said little to his family about Dom Duarte's visit. He wandered off alone through the woods, to the very edge of the land, where the blue-gray Atlantic rolled against the rocks.

Cabo da Roça, Sintra

westernmost point of Europe

A start had been made at a settlement also called Santa Cruz, but soon the settlers had moved inland to this more elevated position, and named it Villa do Cosmos, for the saint. Shortly, however, they were seduced by the cadences of the native word Iguarassu (Big River) and had begun to use it for both "stream" and "village."

Dom Duarte had not been happy with this choice of Iguarassu as his main base. A few weeks before, he had seen his "Lisbon": on the coast twenty-five miles to the south, there were seven hills, from any one of which he could look far inland, and which could be admirably defended seaward.

There was at this time an old romance of chivalry and knighthood with its heroine, Olinda, a name meaning beautiful. Dom Duarte found this a perfect description for those seven hills facing the sea: Olinda

Book Two: The Jesuit

In Lisbon, Inácio never strayed far from Francis Xavier's side. When the time came for Xavier's departure, Inácio had wept openly. "Follow Simon Rodrigues," Xavier had consoled him. "Obey his instructions and the Lord will surely indicate His will for you."

Dom João III, entering middle age, was becoming increasingly concerned with the special duty demanded of a Most Catholic Majesty — the saving of his subject's souls. He was distressed when the two Jesuits informed him that his opulent and worldly Lisbon was as wicked and profane a locality as any they expected to encounter in some heathen land. While they waited for a ship, they announced, they would devote themselves to purging the capital.

Perceiving the young man's grace and devotion, Rodrigues had ordered him to Coimbra University — which João III had donated to the Jesuits — to commence the studies he would have followed at Paris. "Arm yourself, Inácio," Rodrigues had said,"to win the minds and hearts of others."

A sugar press stood beneath a palm-thatched roof at one side of the plaza, oxen straining against the great arms that turned the rollers into which men fed the cane stalks.

Near these workers, other blacks and natives of Santa Cruz labored at the molasses cauldrons.

"Build the new mill, Nicolau, not for Engenho Santo Tomas alone but for others...They'll have to bring every stalk they grow to your mill. And you take two out of every three stalks as compensation...."

Governor Tomé de Sousa was aware that beyond the Bahia in the forests of the hinterland were thousands of savage Tupinambá. "So many savages that they would never lack," the governor reported to Lisbon, "even if we were to cut them up in slaughter-houses." He did not balk at punishing those who dared interfere with his plans, and he took such action not for his sake alone but for the glory that should be promised King João in this land. "The Pious," as the king was now called, had made it clear that this time he would tolerate no nonsense from his native subjects.

Caramaru, "Fish Man," the sole survivor of the wreck of an Indies ship off the shoals north of the Bahia in 1510, had been found between the rocks by the Tupinamba. Caramaru had lived among the savages for more than two decades before the arrival of Dom Francisco Coutinho, one of Dom João's donatários. Dom Francisco had lost his life under a slaughter club. The Tupinamba had spared Caramaru, not only because he was their friend, but also because his wife, Paraguaçu, "Big River," was the daughter of their most powerful chief.

Medium in height, slightly plump and stiff-limbed, Governor Mem de Sá was not given to displays of emotion. Months before, when he learned that the savages had slaughtered his son, Fernáo, twenty years old he'd reacted by withdrawing to his quarters to pray for the child he'd personally ordered into battle.

"Compel them to come in!" the Gospel of St. Luke  urged, and it had become the rallying cry of the Jesuits.

Compel them....Inacio glanced at José de Anchieta, a young brother standing with the group. Brother José was eager to comply with this shibboleth. Anchieta wa often sickly. But his zeal was militant and inspiring, and his craving for the harvest of souls insatiable.

Padre Nobrega, Anchieta and others had gone back to Piratininga. Nine miles from the mameluco settlement, on January 25, 1554, they had established the aldeia of São Paulo de Piratininga.

"They should fear — the Tupiniquin. If they but knew the lessons taught the Tupinambá in these lands."

The lessons Anchieta spoke of had been raids led by Mem de Sá against the Bahia Tupinambá, not successfully pacified since the day of Tomé de Sousa, when they had eaten the degredados. One especially arrogant elder, Bloated Toad had mocked the new governor as the creature of a king who was a baby: He, Bloated Toad, was  man and would do as he had always done, and to prove it, he'd sent his warriors to seize a plump enemy, who was slain by him and eaten in the middle of his clearing. "Come and judge me!" Bloated Toad dared Mem de Sá.

The Tupiniquin simply refused to move. To Padre Inácio's pleas, they responded by showing that their fields were still productive, the thatch on their houses new, the clay of the great pots their women fashioned for beer as fresh as the brew they held. Their people had slain no Long Hairs — why should they move?

The horrors of plague and pox were raging at the malocas of natives not yet contacted by the Portuguese. Crushed as they were by the diseases, they had faced yet another torment — famine.

"If you could see the poor things," said a father reporting on the condition of these refugees," seeking a bowl of manioc. They arrive at a plantation begging the owner to take their children as slaves in exchange for a single meal."

In 1578, King Sebastião "the Desired," a flaxen-haired large-limbed twenty-year-old filled with a sense of grand destiny, assembled sixteen thousand men and set out to conquer Morocco.

At Alcacer-Quibir, south of Tangiers, the force was destroyed and Dom Sebastião himself slain. Less than fifty escaped.

The rout at Alcacer-Quibir had not ended in the sand of North Africa. Dom Sebastião died a bachelor, and the heir to the Portuguese throne was his aged grand-uncle, Cardinal Henriques. Eighteen months after his succession, Henriques died. Phillip II of Spain now claimed and won the throne of Portugal.

Not only had the Portuguese lost the independence of their homeland and empire; they gained new enemies — the English and the Dutch — with whom their new king, Phillip II, had long quarreled.

On the seventh day of their journey, their route took them out of the forest into open country, where the luxuriant vegetation quickly began to give way to an arid cover of spiky bushes and stunted plants. Clumps of bush, stick-dry and dead; spiny cactus bent into grotesque shapes; gnarled branches of stripped trees — caatinga, "the white forest," the natives called this ash-gray landscape.

JOURNAL

Book Three: The Bandeirantes

The bandeiras of medieval Portugal had been small raiding parties sniping at the Moors; at São Paulo, a bandeira was an organized force that set out for an expedition into the sertão, the backlands.

Antônio Raposo Tavares was thirty years old. He had come to São Paulo ten years ago from the plains of Alentejo, in central Portugal, where he spent his youth among the wheat fields and orange groves. Raposo Tavares was a tall, handsome, bearded man, powerfully built, decisive and confident. A born leader who devoutly believed he was destined to make great discoveries in Brazil, he was passionately eager for adventure.

Valentim Ramahlo's family belonged to a great clan of mamelucos related to João Ramahlo, the castaway who had settled the high plateau long before the Jesuits Nobrega and Anchieta arrived to establish São Paulo de Piratininga.

The colegio of the Jesuit fathers stood upon a good vantage point above the Piratininga plain. Here, too, were the Franciscans and Benedictines, their churches raised with care. But most of  São Paulo was a slum of mud-and-wattle hovels planted along dirt-strewn streets.

The Inquisition had not been established in Brazil, but occasionally Visitors were sent to examine the faith of the colonists and to investigate reports that Brazil was a haven for Jewish exiles and lax New Christians. The belief that there were significant numbers of crypto Jews was exaggerated, but Portugal had always been more tolerant of Jews than had Spain, and groups had come to the colony, particularly those with expertise in the sugar industry.

Philip II of Spain, son of the emperor Charles V and Isabella of Portugal, had taken the Portuguese crown in 1581....

And now there was Philip IV, horseman, hunter, lover of art and letters, who, when not engaged in these pastimes, involved his country — and Portugal — in a vicious and exhausting conflict with England, France and Holland.

The Paulistas had been slave-raiding in these lands since long before Amador's birth, leading thousands of Carijo back to São Paulo.

Bernardo da Silva's upper body was encased in a sleeveless leather jacket quilted and padded with cotton twill thick enough to withstand an arrow. Below the waist he wore cotton breeches and boots that extended above the knee. On the belt that secured the quilted carapace was a good-sized pouch, a powder horn and ramrod for his musket, and a sword, knives and small battle-ax

São Paulo itself did not have a population as large as this Jesuit town. The Carijo lived in houses ninety feet long, partitioned into separate family quarters. Walking with the Paulistas toward the reduction square, Amador counted nine rows of houses on either side of the main thoroughfare.

For ten years, Amador da Silva marched with bandeiras that destroyed the remaining eight reductions of the province of Guiara and forced the fathers and the remnant of their great congregations to flee south in the direction of Buenos Aires.

The homestead was a one-storied whitewashed building, its rammed earth walls two feet thick. In the front were two large rooms, on either side of a spacious verandah... the roof made with half-round reddish tiles, pagoda-like, with graceful sloping sides.

JOURNAL

A Dutch armada reached Pernambuco, landing troops on a beach just north of Olinda — then a prosperous city of eight thousand settlers — and seizing the capital the same evening.

Those attending this night's festa included no less a personage than the governor of New Holland, Johan Maurits, count of Nassau Siegen. Capable solder and fine administrator, Maurits also showed himself to be a visionary. He assembled a group of forty-six scientists, scholars, writers and artists from all over Europe and solemnly declared their assignment: "to reveal to the world the wonders of paradise."

Opposite Recife on an island formed by two rivers, the governor was building a new capital, Mauritsstad, a well-fortified town with broad avenues and two canals.

Amador was in the grand house on the plantation he has seen from the ridge overlooking the valley — Engenho Santo Tomás, the property of Fernão Cavalcanti, of an old and illustrious Pernambucan family.

Ribeiro told Amador that during the guerilla war, he had served with two units, the first commanded by Felipe Camarão, a Potiguara chief, and the other by Henrique Dias, a free black.

"I was there when Henrique Dias lost his hand," Ribeiro said. "Oh the brave man — with a sword in the hand that remained, howling like a wild dog, for the Hollanders to come to him...

"And Dom Camarão — he deserves to be made a fidalgo for his services — Dom Camarão saw Affonso Ribeiro chop up three Hollanders, one after the other, with my machete."

In late November 1640, after an overland journey of four weeks from Engenho Santo Tomás, Amador and Segge reached the malocas of Nhandui, a powerful Tapuya chief

Segge cupped his chin in his hand, the tip of his index finger touching his nose. "What more does it need?"

"You're painting a cannibal — a flesh-eating, bone-grinding, mother of pagans. Show this."

One morning four weeks after their arrival, Amador saw that Segge had made some changes in the painting of the Tapuya girl: One hand, resting on her knee, grasped a severed human hand. Segge had given her a basket, which she carried on her back, and protruding from the basket was a human foot.

"Bravo!" Amador exclaimed. "Exactly! A savage for the world to see!"

"There is a lake close to the lands of the warrior women, where the boys are sent. Once a year they hold a ceremony. One boy is chosen to be Son of the Sun. When the Great rains end and the Sun is strongest, this Spirit Man is covered with gold dust. He is taken to the lake and bathes in it."

"The man the Spaniards call 'El Dorado."

Amador and Segge spent ten months, from September 1642 until July 1643, with the Paresí. Here, as Segge said, they were gods come down from Olympus...

"Who were the warrior women, Kaimari?" Amador asked eagerly.

"In the beginning, a race of women ruled earth. A man's only use was to lie with them. The girls born to these women were trained as ferocious warriors. The boys? No one knows what happened to the boys."

"What is your purpose in these lands...of Spain?"

"The purpose?"

"You have traveled far beyond the line," Juan Baptista added. (The line he referred to was the Tordesilhas demarcation of the world dominions of Portugal and Spain.)

"Certainly, Padre," Amador admitted. "Through lands held by savages. The purpose?" He nodded. "We sought Paraupava," he said, using the Tupi-Guarani word for the fabled lake of gold.

"And have you found it?"

Amador plucked at his deerskin breeches. "Had we discovered El Dorado would we be standing before you as beggars?"

"Guajara Mirim," he said, "Little Falls."

The canoes were moving with a strong current, some twenty yards from the left bank. The river was almost a mile wide, its flow north broken in several places by rocky, wooded isles.

JOURNAL

A colony of potbellied spider moneys fretted in the branches above them, chattering defiantly and baring their teeth in mocking grins. Coming downriver, Amador and Segge had seen monkeys of every description: capuchins, their hairstyle similar to the capuche of the Franciscan; the uakari, another monk of the forest; saki, boasting a splendid hood of hair; and the tiny squirrel monkeys, often one hundred together.

The grateful Mundurucu gave Amador and Segge each a shrunken head.

The skull and brains were carefully removed, the skin gently daubed with urucu, the lips sealed with fiber strands. The head was filled with sand and left until it dried and shrank to the size of a man's fist. Then it was ready to be worn around the neck of the warrior who had taken it: a medallion of honor.

The surface of the river would be painted in a way no mortal artist would emulate, passing through a spectrum of shades, from soft pinks and mauves to a fiery blaze that turned the waters of the Rio das Amazonas into molten gold.

JOURNAL

English and Irish parties made persistent attempts to gain a foothold on the northern banks of the lower Rio das Amazonas, the 1620 expedition having been led by Captain Roger North, an officer who'd served with Sir Walter Raleigh. Four years later, Abel O'Brien's cousin Bernard O'Brien settled a group of colonists 250 miles upriver at a place called Pataui, "Coconut Grove."

On Death-Bird Island, the urubu, which had taken flight at the first burst of musket fire, now began to circle back to their territory. And into the channel streamed piranha.

Men who lived to tell of this day would never forget the horror. The blood attracted thousands of the deep-bellied fish, their triangular shaped teeth snapping at those who thrashed about frantically to escape this ultimate enemy. The piranha feasted and the mighty Rio das Amazonas became a river of blood.

For ten years João Angola had served his master, Menezes, but when the Dutch invaded Pernambuco in 1630, João and forty slaves from Engenho Formosa ran into the sertão. As a fugitive, João Angola received another set of names from the Portuguese, a corruption of "Nganga Dzimba we Bahwe": "Ganga Zumba"

Not only had Ganga Zumba remained free these past fifteen years; he had attracted fourteen thousand runaways to his refuge. His capital, Shoko, was home to six thousand people, their huts lying along three avenues, each of which was a mile long.

He knew that Nayamunyaka envisaged walls and towers such as existed at Great Zimbabwe, but ten years of sporadic effort had produced no more than forty feet of loose foundation. Still the site was called Dzimba we Bahwe ("Place of Stones.)

The two contestants now wheeling and dancing toward each other were the same young men who had trapped the bird as a gift for the Nganga...The rhythms of the berimbau died away. The two men stopped their sparring and turned to face Nhungaza, their ebony skins glistening with sweat, their chests heaving.

Monte das Tobacas rose two hundred feet above ground level and offered a good vantage point in all directions. To the west and south of the hill flowed the Tapicura River; on the eastern side lay an old track used by brazilwood loggers.

Haus and his officers were in the main residence of this old and substantial plantation, the property of a widow, Dona Ana Paes. The dwelling, mill, slave quarters, and outbuildings were sited similarly to those at Santo Tomás; the big house was also double-storied but was built upon stilts.

At Pernambuco in April 1648, the patriots had defeated five thousand Hollanders and their native troops at the Guararapes, a series of hillocks outside Recife.

Far behind the slaves, Olímpio Ramahlo took up the rear of the column, with forty mules and their drivers. Amador's prejudice against his son's pack animals had lessened when he saw their surefootedness and the great burdens they were capable of carrying.

"I feel it in my bones, Olímpio," Procopio would say, and laughing, he would slap his wooden leg — carved by himself and adorned with two wide bands of silver filigree."There are riches here! Your father climbs the highest peaks, but the treasure is down here. Not emeralds. Not silver. Gold!"

Again and again they had found traces — enough to pay for their expedition — but it had taken eleven years before they came to a river, where a single day's work with the bateia produced one thousand oitavos! Procopio was back there now, guarding their precious claim, for many others had become convinced that gold in great quantities was to be found in the highlands of Terra do Brasil.

"Your father..."

Olímpio turned to look at Amador's still form. Immediately he knew. "Now! Here? So near the end?"

"He had his triumph," Procopio Almeida said quietly.

And so, in his sixty-seventh year, with his pouch of emeralds at his side, Amador Flôres da Silva died. In the sertão.

Book Four: Republicans and Sinners

Luis Fialho stood with his back to the others and was looking at Mafra. "Dear God, what a majestic pile! What would those Paulistas searching for El Dorado say? What would the believe but that here, before their eyes, was the palace of El Dorado!"

Marcelino Augusto laughed. "Every stone paid for with the gold and diamonds of Brazil."

Often Luis Fialho's lyrical contemplations had been followed by dark melancholy at the thought of Brazil. He had spoken on America as sensuous and corrupting. It was in Luis Fialho's carefully chosen words, "A hell for blacks, a purgatory for whites."

Crown officials proclaimed a "Forbidden District," some 130 miles in circumference, east of the range known as The Spine. A miner caught extracting diamonds without the king's authority could be thrown into jail or banished to Angola; illegal possession by a slave could bring up to four hundred lashes, often after forced ingestion of a purge of Malgueta pepper to flush out any gems he had swallowed.

The man sat sideways at one of the mahogany tables, an elbow resting on the surface...As arresting as his piercingly intelligent hazel eyes were the cleft in his chin, emphasizing the well-shaped mouth, and a white wig that flowed to his shoulders. He was Sebastião José Carvalho e Melo, and on this day in October 1755, no man in Portugal save the king was more powerful.

"Vieira did not lie," Carvalho e Melo said dryly, referring to the Jesuit who had labored along the Rio das Amazonas. "'Two million dead,' Vieira wrote sixty years ago. How many more since Vieira's day?" He shook his head."No, Vieira did not lie about the butchers of the Amazon," he repeated. "And what would he say if he were alive to see aldeias where hundreds are kept as serfs, where they do forced labor on plantations and roam the forest for products to enrich the Jesuits?"

The palaces of the king and the powerful Corte-Real family dominated the waterfront on the west side of the Terreiro do Paço, the palace square; east of the square was a magnificent quay, and behind it the customs building.

Lisbon had a medieval, congested appearance, its most striking feature its ninety convents, forty parish churches, and several basilicas ....Paulo and Luis Fialho were guests at Dona Clara's four-story house on a precipitous street northeast of Rossio Square in the heart of the city.

JOURNAL

Ten seconds later, there was a devastating shock. The houses opposite Paulo began to sway; the floor beneath him vibrated so violently that he struggled to keep his balance ....A thundering in the earth dulled Paulo's perception of these noises. Terremoto! The word crashed through Paulo's senses. "Earthquake!"

The force of the earthquake produced monstrous tidal waves that raced into the mouth of the Tagus from the southwest. Ships were torn from their moorings and splintered against wharves and quays. Small craft ;laden with refugees crossing to the south bank were swallowed up in the whirlpools.

Few were innocent; the quakes that leveled Lisbon seemed to have cast up from the depths an assembly of assassins, cutthroats, robbers and thieves.

Gazing toward a district where the fires were intense, Carvalho e Melo asked," When London burned, did the Englishmen abandon it?"

"No, Excellency."

"I will rebuild Lisbon," Carvalho e Melo said.

The mansion stood on the high ground that six generations of Cavalcantis had occupied since Nicolau and Helena built that first forlorn and forbidding blockhouse...It was not only its imposing size that gave the Casa Grande distinction but also the harmony with which it blended into the landscape.

Beyond the Casa Grande, the ground sloped gradually toward a river, beside which were located the sugar works, the distillery, and the senzala, the main slave quarters.

The intimate relationship between the slaves of the house and the sinhá and sinhazinha, as the slaves called Senhora Cavalcanti and her daughters, was sometimes subtle and secretive, with confidences no Cavalcanti male was every likely to hear.

From his birth, when the woman who bore him rested on a a soft hide, to burial, when death in a far place might bring internment in a rough shroud, the vaqueiro existed in a world of leather.

"I won't have you whipped or branded, but you'll spend your days and nights in the stocks. When you've served your punishment, you'll work like a young ox to fill the place of the slave who died because of you."

After ten days, Onias lost heart. Then he had sought to end his life in a way known to the 'Ngola of Angola: Sinking to his knees, he had consumed great mouthfuls of red dirt.

Graciliano took charge of the treatment of Onias, who was forcibly administered a powerful emetic. After three days he recovered.

Onias was led to the blacksmith. Here Onias was fitted with a contraption to prevent him from eating dirt: an iron mask that had apertures for his eyes and nose but not his mouth.

It was December 23, 1759. A week ago, a messenger from the Superior at Recife had brought the order that the two priests leave Rosário in compliance with the royal edict.

Leandro Taques spent eleven days along the road from Rosário to Recife. He intended no more than atonement for his sins and omissions, but in this last and darkest hour for the Jesuits of Brazil, the long walk of Leandro Taques was a small triumph.

Today there were thirty Yoruba slaves at the engenho, less than one-fifth of the Cavalcanti slaves. Despite their small number all at the senzala held Ama Rachel in veneration for she was a high priestess of the Yoruba, the yalorixa.

The Yoruba had not abandoned the gods of their people but had come to liken them to the divinities and saints worshipped by the Portuguese. Thus they identified Olurum with the Almighty; his son Oxala, known for his purity with Jesus Christ; and Yemanja, whom they begged to carry them safely across the ocean, with Our Lady.

Black Peter, the carpenter, received the first of 100 lashes. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus....where is Black Peter who was free?" The knout stung his back. "Jesus, Jesus.... here I am a peça!"The thongs struck low across his back. The mulatto shifted position. The next blow landed on his right shoulder blade. "I was free with the padres."

For three weeks after the slaughter of Elias Souza Vanderley and Little George, militia patrols hunted for the fugitives extending their searches west and south toward the sertão but finding no trace of them.

The boards of the choir loft creaked as Padre Viana crossed to the right gallery. Three quarters of the way along the balcony, he stopped and stood with his hands on the railing, glancing down into the chapel, where several candles had been lit.

Bartolomeu Rodrigues was down on his knees, beside Paulo's coffin. His sobbing was interrupted by long silences.

"Hear his weeping, O Lord," Viana whispered. "Console his suffering, I beseech thee."

JOURNAL

In both spirit and boldness, the convoys were a continuation of the mighty pathfinding adventures of men like Amador and Raposo Tavares. A voyage of 3,500 miles to the mining camps, the seasonal river-borne convoys were called "monsoons."

Silva Xavier always traveled with his dental equipment.

"Courage, Senhor Benedito," André said. He flashed his own white teeth, "Joaquim has attended me. There's little pain."

"O my little Jesus."

"There!" Silva Xavier cried triumphantly when it was done, "It is out, senhor."

Benedito Bueno made a dreadful noise and bent to spit into a silver basin Silvestre held up for him.

"Did I speak of revolution?" Silva Xavier waved the sheet of paper in front of Silvestre."These truths are the voice of reason against turmoil. They were given by men claiming their natural rights to reject tyranny." He nodded. "Tiradentes," he said. "Of course, Silvestre, it's far better to save a tooth than to extract it." Then he smiled. "Sometimes, though, the decay is too advanced and there's no choice: The tooth has to be plucked."

Aleijadinho, "The Little Cripple," residents of Vila Rica had begun to call the mulatto since the onset of his affliction. His name was Antônio Francisco Lisboa, and he had designed and built this lovely Church of Saint Francis. His task this morning was to perfect a soapstone cherub above the doorway. Antônio Francisco's leprosy was getting progressively worse, but even as he worked on the small angel with the implements bound to his forearms, his thoughts were on two mighty projects for the future: twelve gigantic Prophets; and a depiction of the Passion of Christ with more than sixty wood-carved figures. "Oh, if God only wills it!" he said aloud.

"Maria was married to an ugly little man, Senhor Richard, a miniaturist of repute. All summer Senhor Jefferson courted Maria, but when winter came, her husband took her home. Her lover was left behind with a broken heart and a damaged wrist." He laughed. "The minister was promenading with lovely Maria in the Cours la Reine along the Seine when, out of joy, he leapt over a fence, fell, and cracked his wrist."

"Ai! The poor thing! I love him for it. This god of liberty, with a heart for sweet romance."

Macedo's payments to the treasury were now 750,000 milreis in arrears — an equivalent of no less than 4,800 pounds in gold. The second great debtor, Joaquim Silvério dos Reis, a tax farmer notorious for suborning and bribing the queen's officials, owed 220,000 milreis, or some 1,400 pounds of gold.

They left Vila Rica with the tropeiros on May 19, 1789, heading south on the road to São João del Rei. The two muleteers were hard-drinking, taciturn men, who asked few questions about André's request to accompany them, though they suspected it was connected with the excitement at Vila Rica.

Silva Xavier wore the garb of a penitent, a plain white robe of coarse cloth that reached his ankles. A length of heavy rope was wound round his neck and tied in a knot above his chest, with the two ends trailing almost to the ground.He walked barefoot, having given his boots to a jailer.

"The criminal Joaquim José da Silva Xavier, known as the Tooth-puller, is condemned to be paraded with hangman's noose through the streets of Rio de Janeiro to the gallows, where he will be executed by hanging. When the criminal his dead, his head will be cut off and his body divided into quarters. The head is to be transported to the city of Vila Rica, where it will be fastened to a tall pole in the most public place to remain there until consumed by time. The legs will be attached to poles along the road to Minas Gerais; the arms will be exhibited at other places where the criminal sowed the seeds of revolution."

Silva Xavier accepted the sentence with quiet dignity, not the slightest trace of fear in his uncompromising blue eyes.

Book Five: Sons of the Empire

The stranger was a Portuguese from São Paulo. He had come to the fazenda leading a great caravan through the caatinga.

"Escravos," Chico Tico-Tico explained.

Antônio Paciência knew they were slaves. "Where are they taking them?"

"South to the lands of coffee."

Fazendeiros like Heitor Ferreira were the great men of the earth, the rich. Modesto had yet to see one of the ricos who was not a branco, a white, or a branco da terra, a white of the earth — a senhor of color with sufficient prestige or wealth to be accepted as white.

The slaver bought Antônio Paciência for three hundred milreis, the equivalent at the time of 150 dollars, a good price for a slave boy in the northeast sertão, though the Portuguese expected to receive double this amount when he sold the boy at São Paulo. The slaver was Saturnino Rabelo, a man in his mid-fifties. Previously engaged in the African slave trade, for the past four years Rabelo had been engaged in a lucrative traffic of slaves from north to south Brazil.

Dom João saw hope of preserving intact the Bragança's American estate. "Should Brazil decide to separate from Portugal," he told Crown Prince Pedro," let it be under your leadership, my son, not that of an adventurer."

Short and stocky, with a handsome face dominated by large brown eyes, Dom Pedro had thrived in his exotic place of exile. Generous and friendly, Pedro was also impulsive, emotional, and had shown a passion for lovemaking. Week after week, he would hasten from São Cristovão palace in search of new lovers from all classes and races.

In 1817, the plain flaxen-haired Archduchess Maria Leopoldina sailed for Brazil, where she married Dom Pedro. Pedro had been awed by his wife's superior intellect, particularly her abiding interest in botany and mineralogy. But neither marriage nor the birth of their first child distracted Pedro from his paramours.

On September 7, 1822, messengers from Rio de Janeiro overtook Dom Pedro's party at a small stream called Ipiranga. They were carrying dispatches from Minister José Bonifácio and a letter from Pedro's wife, Leopoldina: "Pedro, this is the most important moment of your life. Today, Brazil, which under your guidance will be a great country, wants you as her monarch."

Dom Pedro made his decision. "The Cortes is persecuting me. I am an adolescent, they say. I am a Brazilian! Now let them see their adolescent... I proclaim Brazil forever separated from Portugal. From this day hence, our motto is: Independence or Death!"

After the death of Leopoldina, Dom Pedro's emissaries succeeded in gaining for him the hand of an enchanting Bavarian princess, Amélie of Leuchtenberg, granddaughter of Napoleon and Josephine Beauharnais.

Dom Pedro celebrated the arrival of his seventeen-year-old bride by creating the Order of the Rose in her honor: Love and Fidelity was its motto.

Antônio Paciência had heard others talk respectfully of this Dom Pedro Segundo, a poderoso do sertão with power over not merely one fazenda but all Brazil.

"Is this his fazenda?" he asked at a big ranch where Saturnino Rabelo had sought further purchases.

"No Pedro Segundo has a grander house at Rio de Janeiro. Ask Policarpo to tell you about it."

Policarpo told Antonio that he had seen not only the palace but Dom Pedro Segundo himself, riding along the Rua Direita in an open carriage with eight cream colored horses plumed with gold feathers.

"'Long live Dom Pedro Segundo! Long live our emperor of Brazil!' I shouted," said Policarpo, his face radiant.

Dom Pedro wore his crown reluctantly, yearning for the retreat of a contemplative and scholarly life and dreading the storms of statesmanship.

"Were I not emperor, I should like to be a teacher,' He said on occasion. "What calling is greater or nobler than directing young minds?"

At the Corte, Dom Pedro and his American aristocrats lived with a semblance of European elegance, scrupulously observing court etiquette, worshipping foreign ideas, and devotedly following the latest French fashions.

At the small bay of Botafago, with the Sugar Loaf to one side, between thick groves of large-leafed banana trees and stately palms, stood the sparkling white mansions of viscounts, barons, generals. Tropical plants flourished, dense and deeply green, gaudy blossoms of scarlet lilac and blue mixed with the rose and other English imports.

Half the city's population were black and mulatto slaves: The narrow streets teemed with half-naked men fulfilling the age-old promise that homens bons be spared the curse of manual toil in Brazil.

"What is your name?"

"Policarpo, senhor."

"Where do you come from?"

"Mozambique, master."

Saturnino Rabelo interjected: "In my fields, Your Honor — a strong and uncomplaining worker." There was a belief that blacks from Mozambique and Angola were natural enemies of labor, as opposed to those from the Gold Coast, who had a reputation for diligence.

Off to the right, amid

tufted royal palms and luxuriant bushes and flowers, stood the mansion occupied by the baron of Itatinga and his family.

She was tempestuous, with the fire seldom absent from her small black eyes and with a sharp tongue, but she was a lively, enchanting creature, especially when others gave her their undivided attention. This she had no difficulty at all commanding, for Teodora Rita Mendes da Silva was the wife of Ulisses Tavares, baron of Itatinga.

On September 12, 1864, after the midday meal, life aboard the packet Marqués de Olinda came to a standstill. The privileged among the passengers and crew retired to bunks and hammocks and wicker chairs; others sought a shaded patch of deck as the Marqués de Olinda steamed up the Rio Paraguay at a steady six knots.

Two days earlier, the Marqués de Olinda had dropped anchor at Asunción to take on coal. In this dry season, the capital of Paraguay lay thick with red dust that swirled up against one-storied houses, mud huts and lean-tos.

Construction gangs were busy at work throughout the city. Presidential palace, opera house, cathedral; shipyard, arsenal, iron foundry, telegraph office, railway — after centuries of colonial slumber, Paraguay was in the midst of an industrial revolution, attracting hundreds of skilled European engineers and craftsmen.

"Perhaps Solano López has a purpose in building his war machine," Telles Brandão said.

Mendonça looked up expectantly. Coronel Frederico's eyes were half open.

"Emperor López, the Napoleon of the Plata!"

"And a crown for his Irish princess?" Mendonça said, a glint in his beady eyes.

Telles Brandão smiled at this reference to eliza Alicia Lynch, mistress of Solano López. "You jest, Sabino. There's talk at Buenos Aires that López has crown and scepter on order from Europe."

"What a beauty!" said Telles Brandão. "Her skin is alabaster; her eyes are blue-green. La Lynch is tall, with a seductive figure. When she crosses a room, from her crown of reddish hair to her small feet —.a goddess!"

Eliza Lynch was nine when her father fled Ireland for France in the great famine of 1845. At fifteen, she was given to Quatrefages, a French officer, who took her to Algiers. Some say she left him for a Russian noble; some, that Quatrefages deserted her. When López met her in Paris, she was nineteen and rid of Quatrefages. La Lynch has given López five sons; but the word is he'll never marry her, not while he's so eager to infuse his line with royal blood."

The Tacuari ran up signal flags ordering them to stop immediately. The Marqués de Olinda ignored the command. And then, without warning, there was a roar and a flash, and the cannon on her poop deck threw a shell across the bows of the Marqués de Olinda.

M. Armand trembled with excitement as he reached for some papers on the Broadwood. "Humbly, Baron, for your kindness, your welcome, I give you both — Teodora Rita's Waltz!"

It was as lovely and romantic a valse as the brilliant melodies from mirth-loving Vienna, danced for the first time this night, so far, far away from the thunder gathering at the Plata.

Early morning on June 11, 1865, nine Brazilian warships were anchored ten miles below Tres Bocas, with the Riachuelo, a stream flowing into it from the east. The flagship was the Amazonas, a 195-foot, 370-ton wooden frigate, the only paddle wheeler among the nine ships.

To get a better view of the enemy, Admiral Barroso had climbed up onto one of the Amazonas's paddle boxes. "make this signal to the squadron."

Barroso glanced swiftly along the line of his ships. Then he addressed the midshipman with orders for signal flags to be flown with two commands:

The first was for the ships to engage the enemy at close quarters. The second was inspired by the glory of Trafalgar sixty years ago: "O Brasil espera que cada um compra o seu dever!" — "Brazil expects that every man will do his duty!"

Full steam ahead, her great paddle wheel churning the water, the Amazonas came down before the three-knot current. On and on she rode, belching black smoke from her stack and red flame from the mouths of her cannon, steaming directly for the Paraguarí, the newest vessel in President López's fleet.

She struck the Paraguarí amidships, her ram buckling iron plates, smashing through the enemy's bulwarks.

In truth, Policarpo was lazy, and had resented the regimen of the plantation, particularly at harvest time, when the slave bell rang at 5:00 a.m. for assembly and prayers in front of the mansion before work in the coffee groves until dusk.

The move to the senzala had been almost as traumatic as being sold away from Mãe Mônica. Cast among the mass of Itatinga's 220 slaves, Antônio had experienced deprivation that went far beyond being stripped of the nice clothes he had worn on parade in front of Teodora Rita's guests or denied the food from the fazenda's kitchen.

When the ninety-two voluntários of Tiberica left the town square, the baron's grandson had ridden at the head of them.

Included in the column, marching three abreast, had been twenty-seven slaves from fazendas in the district. Some had tramped along with bewildered looks, for they feared this service for which their masters had volunteered them.

Antônio Paciência marched beside Policarpo Mosssambe, the pair among six chosen from Itatinga as voluntários da Patria.

"Macacos...macacos...macacos."

General Juan Bautista Noguera intoned the epithet with a deadly calm as he watched the river armada draw near the low-lying banks where the Rio Paraguay fell into the Paraná.

Four thousand soldiers were in position along the banks of the Upper Paraná, an invasion by the Allies accepted as inevitable for months.

"Macacos...macacos...macacos."

War steamers, transports, flat barges, and canoes as far as they eye could see. And to challenge them, Cacambo with two hundred men and boys, most of them carrying flintlock muskets and machetes.

Sweeping down on the right toward the Argentinian flank, thundering out of the cover of a palm forest, came seven thousand cavalrymen with two thousand foot soldiers running up behind them. Pouring directly from the estero in a frontal assault on the Bateria Mallet were five thousand infantrymen, with four howitzers. Altogether some 23,000 men, the bulk of Paraguay's army.

By noon of May 24, 1866, five minutes after the Paraguayans' rocket signal to commence the attack, the battle of Tuyuti was raging along the whole line of the allies.

"Ai, Jesus Christ! How Terrible!" António cried. "Some are so small and thin, there's nothing to burn."

The Paraguayan dead were being heaped up in alternate layers. Of 23,000 men sent into battle, six thousand were dead and seven thousand injured. The Allied losses were four thousand.

Luke's torpedoes varied in size from 50-pounders to a monster boiler-plated 1,500-pounder, the stationary weapons were anchored so that they drifted four to five feet below the surface; those sent downstream floated attached to barrels or demijohns.

Policarpo had worked his way about six feet into the abatis.

"Policarpo!" Antônio shouted. "Come down! We'll burn it!"

Policarpo had his back to Antônio; he raised the ax for one last swing.

An instant later, the shell exploded at the front edge of the tangle of trees, hurling Policarpo Mossambe high into the air.

Several hundred mothers and daughters served in a Paraguayan women's corps, working in the hospitals, cleaning the barracks and campgrounds, and cultivating fields. The women sent deputations to the marshal president asking to be drilled as soldiers and allowed to fight, but López had turned down these requests.

Dona Ana Néri had been fifty-one, living comfortably at her home outside Salvador, Bahia, when she badgered the military authorities to let her sail for the Plata. She'd become a legend, not only for her compassion toward both friend and foe, but also for fearlessness in passing through the very fire of battle to aid the wounded, a mission that had brought her the deepest sorrow a mother can know:

Following a skirmish near the esteros, Dona Ana had found one of her own sons dead at the edge of the morass.

At Humaitá, men and boys waited at eighty-four cannon at the Bateria de Londres and other gun emplacements. Some were battle-hardened veterans. Some child gunners waited gallantly beside cannon the muzzles of which they could reach only on tiptoe.

"Cease fire!" Tuttle looked up to see the battery commander standing there.

"Cease fire?" Tuttle asked incredulously.

"Stop shooting at the monitor. Watch closely, Major. There are one hundred and fifty men out there. They'll storm her decks and take her prize."

Through the winter of 1868, a cold miserable four months, the Allies laid siege to Humaitá. The three thousand defenders deceived the Allies into believing their strength to be much greater with rows of Quaker guns — leather-bound tree trunks — and a frequent clangor of brass and drums.

Antônio Paciência and Urubu were still out searching for wounded, wandering across this landscape of horrors at Avaí. Arms, legs, heads, torsos had been scattered by shell blasts; hundreds of men were strewn haphazardly in unnatural positions, their bodies broken and contorted; as many horses littered the area, huge, stiff, with flies swarming upon their warm carcasses.

From, the spires of Asunción's cathedral on the third Sunday of January 1869, the peal of bells rang out over the capital as the marquês de Caxias and his commanders gathered to thank God for victory.

As the marquês and his officers raised their voices to heaven, outside the cathedral the scene was closer to hell.

The rape of the Mother of Cities began slowly...

Most officers were sick and tired of the war and began to talk of the need to offer López terms for an honorable surrender.

A thousand miles away His Imperial Majesty Dom Pedro thought differently. What was needed was a young commander capable of reinvigorating the imperial army and leading the hunt for López — a bandit upon whose head His Majesty now placed a reward.

The raiders did not travel quietly. They burst into Pirayu from their base camp to the south in a locomotive hurtling past the dark slopes of Mbatovi Mountain, with two tattered red, white and blue banners of the Republic of Paraguay streaming to each side of the engine's smokebox, its chimney spewing a fiery rain of hot ash and cinders.

There was a wood just south of the plain at Acosta Ñu. In the fading light tiny black dots could be seen emerging from out of the trees, scuttling through the macega toward the Paraguayan lines; they looked like so many squads of small, dark peccaries bolting through the grass. And like wild pigs, they provided excellent sport for cavalrymen who rode them down, sticking them with their lances.

Those tiny figures dashing across the macega were the mothers of boys in the trenches. They had hidden in the woods all day watching the progress of battle and were running to see if their children were dead or alive.

Francisco Solano López then spoke his last words: "¡Muero con mi patria!" ("I die with my country!")

There was never a truer epitaph.

In five years of war, ninety percent of the men and boys of Paraguay were slain.

Paraguay, the land of the Guarani, was dead.

Book Six: The Brazilians

At Recife on a Sunday afternoon in November 1884, a crowd filled the Teatro Santa Isabel and overflowed onto the Campo das Princesas in the city center. Those unable to get into the building surged toward its open windows hoping to catch a glimpse of Joaquim Aurélio Nabuco, lawyer and journalist, the man of the hour in Brazil.

"Handsome Jack," his friends called him. He was over six feet tall. His dark, wavy hair was parted in the center, his moustache luxurious.

"Our opponents tell the world that because the womb of the slave is free, slavery is extinct in Brazil. That law is a sham. Consider the female slave born on September,ber 27, 1971, the day before the law came into effect. Her mother's womb was not free so she remains a slave, who at the age of forty, 1911, may bear a child. If this ingênuo's ("innocent's") owner refuses the indemnity, the ingênuo can be kept in provisional slavery until the age of 21 — 1932. Seventy years after Lincoln's proclamation, Brazil will have a generation languishing in the senzalas.

The Casa Grande dominated the landscape like a bulwark against change. Five generations of Cavalcantis had controlled the plantation from this grand old mansion.

"I could love no place as much as the valley of my family," Fábio told Joaquim Nabuco. "For generations, the Cavalcantis of Santo Tomás have been on these lands. The great estate of our forefathers has been subdivided by inheritance, but even now, twenty thousand acres belong to the engenho, three-quarters of which have never been cultivated. For us, a blessing, for the future; for Brazil, a curse?"

JOURNAL

For eight months, Dr. Fábio Cavalcanti worked with other doctors at Fortaleza, Ceará, among the tens of thousands who fled the drought in the interior. The refugee camps were a hecatomb; 15,390 souls were carried out to trenches during one month alone. The seca was a calamity of nature, but the improvidence, filth, and abject poverty of the stricken people streaming to the coast — Fabio saw this as the work of man.

The most inviting aspect of Rosário was the luxuriance of its setting. Tamarind, manguiero, cashew, wild bananas flourished beside cultivated groves of coffee, orange, lemon. Ancient forest giants bearded with moss toward above gardens with roses, carnations, lavender.

Henrique put his hand on Celso's shoulder" "I know it's difficult for you, Celso, a Cavalcanti of Santo Tomás, but think of the day this rotten institution ceases to exist in Brazil — the hour when men like your father are free, too. The chains of slavery bind them no less than those they hold in bondage."

On the fourth night, confident of success now, Celso and Slipper George led the final dash to Itamaracá Island. At 3:00 A.M., they stood with all fifty slaves on the broad bank of a river separating the island from the mainland. The slaves were ferried to Itamaracá ten at a time on a jangada that had been left at this crossing point by members of the Termite Club.

"Oh, my boy, what a lovely thing you've done!"

"We brought fifty slaves, Agamemnon!"

"No, Celso — "

"Yes, Agamemnon. Fifty!"

"Not slaves, Celso. They are free!"

On September 11, 1886, the day for the inauguration of Usina Jacuribe, the procession entered the cavernous iron building and moved beside a long feeder tray to the massive Fives-Lille mill.

Padre José asked the Lord's blessing on this great piece of machinery and sprinkled holy water in its direction.

"In this golden moment, I raise my eyes to a new horizon," said Rodrigo Cavalcanti, Baron of Jacuribe."The engenhos have struggled against competition from many quarters—from the sugar-beet producers of Europe to the cane growers of the West Indies. The usina will be our salvation."

Many years since the engenho had a resident priest, the small sanctuary was well maintained; its woodwork varnished, the walls immaculately white, and the altar gilded.

"Celso."

It seemed as if Celso had known all along his father was there.

"I came to give thanks to our Lord, Senhor Pai."

In the first half of 1887, reports of desertions and mass rumors of mass runaways reached Sáo Paulo. The coffee harvest had been underway since April, and the Paulista planters were confident that this season's berries would reach their drying terraces.

As Firmino Dantas and Aristedes strolled across the praça at Tiberica, they spoke of Italian immigration.

"There's no hope in Italy for the peasants," Aristedes said."When I toured the country, I saw the depth of poverty. God only knows, but the families who land at Santos can hope for a life better than they've every known."

Babá Epifánia, a big, square-faced woman in her early fifties, had come to Brazil from the lands of the BaKongo in 1847, transported illegally after the abolition of the slave trade. Bought by Ulisses Tavares, Epifánia had served as wet nurse at Itatinga, suckling numerous da Silva infants, Aristedes and his sister, Carmen, among them. When the baron died, babá Epifánia had been among ten favorites slaves manumitted according to the term of Ulisses Taveres's will.

Cadmus Rawlings had come to Brazil after the Civil War, along with several hundred families of Confederate exiles now scattered from the banks of the Tapajós to the coffee lands of São Paulo. Some emigres struggling in ramshackle dwellings in the Amazon jungle were demoralized but others were making a go of it in their new homeland, especially a group of farmers at Santa Barbara, who had achieved success growing a succulent watermelon, the "Georgia Rattlesnake."

On October 24, 1887, 4,500 runaways now living in Jabaquará quilombo witnessed a unique procession. First came a company of thirty drummers, musicians with the berimbau and xaque-xaque, and a huge cart with the "Queen of Liberty" — babá Epifánia, reveling in her hour of glory.

On May 13, 1888, ten days after the opening of Parliament by Princess Isabel acting as regent for Dom Pedro, who was in Europe, an Act abolishing slavery in Brazil completed its passage through both houses.

In the fair-tale setting on Ilha Fiscal, most nobles and Frock Coats, secure in the knowledge that the empire had survived previous outbreaks of republicanism and other manifestations of discontent, were confident that the monarchy would ride out this storm.

Aristedes and Anna Pinto were staying at Clóvis Lima's house in the suburb of Flamengo. Colonel Clóvis was still with those loyal to the emperor, but Aristedes knew were it not for the the hesitancy of older men such as Clóvis and Marshal Deodora da Fonseca, the army would be in open rebellion.

The packet Alagoas carrying the Braganças to exile in Europe rode slowly past the island of Fernando do Noronha.

His Majesty stood on the deck, the breeze ruffling his white hair. "Saudade," he said, thinking aloud."Saudades do Brasil."... An expression of profound melancholy.

Antônio Conselheiro was from the town of Quixeramobim, in the province of Ceará, where he was born in 1828 as Antonio Vicente Mendes Maciel. By 1876, he was known as The Counselor and was attracting a wide following to his "Camp of the Good Jesus."

For sixteen years, he roamed the sertáo, passing through the caatinga from fazenda to fazenda, vila to vila. Finally, in 1893, The Counselor, sixty-five years old, found a permanent refuge: Canudos.

A vast, uneven plain rose behind the Vasa-Barris. Near the river stood a massive unfinished church with two huge towers; to its right in an open area was a dilapidated chapel. Behind the church were several substantial buildings. Behind these, in barrios spreading across the Vasa-Barris, five thousand mud-walled homes, with a labyrinth of streets and alleys.

The outlaws numbered several hundred, but by late 1896, an estimated twenty thousand souls were gathered on the plain, the majority of them sertanejos whose most serious offense had been to turn their backs on the poderosos de sertão. All had heard the voice of Hope calling them to the New Jerusalem.

As Antônio Paciência entered his house, he heard a small voice: "Papai?"

"Yes, Juraci."

Juraci Cristiano was almost four an a half years old. "I heard the guns, Papai."

He ruffled his son's hair. "You were frightened?"

The child did not answer the question. "Papai killed the macacos?" he asked.

"We saw many fall."

"God's Thunderer," a Whitworth 32-pounder brought to silence the voice of the false prophet...Thin-legged and scrawny, Teotônio shot forward at the heels of the leaders. The jagunço and three other men carried spluttering grenades, but they threw them too soon, and the missiles exploded in front of the Whitworth.

The fourth expedition came close to repeating the earlier disasters until the supply trains began to get through from Monte Santo. During August, three thousand reinforcements had arrived, coming to replace two thousand men wounded or exhausted from illness.

Canudos came under daily bombardment as the siege lines advanced east and west of the plain in mid-September. The towers of the new church were leveled to the ground, the walls blasted apart, the guns moved here smashed. One hundred sixty-seven rebels died at the church, but others still went willingly to defend the huge pile of rubble where Antônio Paciência himself had labored to build the temple of New Jerusalem.

"When I left Salvador, I thought I had a good idea of what to expect," Euclides da Cunha said. "The farther away from the coast, the more I felt that not only was I entering a foreign land; I was journeying into the past. If the sertanejo is pariah owing to his poverty and ignorance, it's because for three centuries we concerned ourselves with building up out civilization at the coast, abandoning a third, perhaps more, of our nation in these backlands.

"These criminals, as the major calls them, are mostly the descendants of the bandeirantes, the bedrock of our race..."

Placido himself did not know exactly how old he was, but he had been born in the time of King João of Portugal, His failing eyesight did not prevent "Woodcutter," as was known to all from working on an immense carving he called "Gabriel," an eight-feet high angel.

"They're sending us their women and children," an officer told Celso Cavalcanti.

Some children were naked; some women wore only a cloth around their privates, their breasts encrusted with dirt. Some walked silently; some wept; some begged water; some cried aloud that Conselheiro should see them and carry them to Heaven.

Three days later, the government soldiers stormed a trench, killing the last defenders, among them a mulatto and a venerable caboclo. They died side by side, these two fanatics who answered the call of Antônio Conselheiro.

One was Placido de Paulo, Woodcutter, who had come late to the fight in silent anger after he had seen great angel Gabriel go up in flames.

The other was Patent Anthony, who asked little of the great men on the earth and had got nothing: Antônio Paciência — Brasileiro!

JOURNAL

New Jerusalem was razed. In the interests of science, Antônio Conselheiro's body was dug up and the head cut off and dispatched to the Bahia, where it was to be probed for indications of madness.

"The races have intermingled here for four centuries. If I stand in the Praça de Sé at the Bahia, I see around me people of every shade: blacks; whites; mulattoes; morenos; caboclos. This is the reality of Brazil: a new race is evolving here in the tropics, not a pale imitation of the Europeans."

"Alberto Santos Dumont has set all Brazil awhirl."

"It's unnatural. It's dangerous — "

"And it's grand!"

Brazilian national pride had soared in the weeks since Santos Dumont made the first recognized flight in Europe, covering 722 feet in his 50-horse-powered "aerodromo."

Long before they reached Usina Jacuribe, the air reeked of sugarcane.

"Well, my inventor of aerodromos, what do you think of this machine?"

Juraci looked at the hillocks of cane in the mill yard. "All this will be crushed?"

"Everything you see and many, many tons more."

"There will be a mountain of sugar!"

Epilogue: The Candangos

(under construction)

Roberto Cavalcanti was fifteen when he first took off alone from a dirt strip outside Tiberica. In 1944, he volunteered for the Brazilian Air Force, joining four hundred men of the First Pursuit Group attached to the U.S. 350th Fighter Group.

In Northern Italy, Roberto's squadron flew in support of a  Brazilian land force of 25,000 men attached to Mark Clark's Fifth Army along the "Gothic Line." Hitler had predicted the Brazilians would be ready to take the field against him the day Brazil's snakes took to smoking pipes; consequently the Brazilian soldiers called themselves "the Smoking Cobras."

"Dreamers, all of them!" Amilcar declared."A city built on nothing, rising out of nothing..."

The day before at Anapolis, five hundred miles north of São Paulo, Dr. Juscelino Kubitschek had signed a proposal to build a new capital on the high central plateau.

"You're right, Pai, Brasília has long been a dream — "

"Another El Dorado."

"No, Pai — a new beacon for Brazil."

Roberto picked up a saltcellar and dramatically placed it on front of him on the table. "Brasília!" he announced. He drew a line from it across the clothe with a fingernail. "Rio, six hundred miles southeast." Then he drew five more lions radiating from the salt cellar in different directions. "Roads to unite the country, to draw our people together, The new capital, he declared passionately would alter the colonial mentality, put an end to the inertia that kept Brazil clinging to lands near the coast.

"Pelé! Pelé! Pelé!" Three young boys, two of whom were sons of Anacleto and MAria, played outside in the dirt, kicking a soccer ball. Futebol was an obsession with them, playing with as much gusto as if they were members of the national team that had captured this year's World Cup.

Francisco Julião, a 43-year-old Recife lawyer was one of the few willing to represent the peasant and small farmer. The society called simply "the League," by its members, in the mouths of its opponents became the "Ligas Camponêsas," the Peasant Leagues, evoking memories of a failed attempt by Brazilian Communists to start a peasant movement.

As Juraci looked back at the deserted house, he found himself thinking of the Casa Grande.

For centuries, the mansion had symbolized the conquest of l;ands, and the senzala and the shanty the conquest of man. Today, the Casa Grande and the home of Anacleto Pacheco, worlds apart and yet inseparable, were both empty and deserted. But God knew, the way of life they both represented hadn't changed.

"Go?"

"With the pau-de-arara." In the "parrot's perch," roosted in the back of a truck, a man could ride for a thousand miles and more to areas where there was work — and hope.

"To São Paulo?" Juraci asked.

"No, Dr. Juraci. Brasília! That's where the jobs are."

In the rain forest during the wet season from October to April, the torrential downpours brought work to a standstill, and stranded road builders had to be supplied by parachute drops of food and medicine. Across the cerrado, a sea of mud also slowed down construction, but wherever work could continue it did, the struggle to clear the first the same as in ages past, inch by inch.

JOURNAL

The trailblazers were followed by six-man gangs with machetes and saw, slashing through the undergrowth, cutting loose cablelike lianas, felling tree after tree, selecting the best wood for lumber and leaving the rest for the fires, the smoke from the conflagrations visible for miles behind.

JOURNAL

Where the destruction was complete, bulldozers and Caterpillars lurched forward to shove aside charred timbers and uproot blackened stumps. Only then could the engineers and laborers begin preparing the roadbed for the gravel-surfaced highway that would link Brasília with the mouth of the Rio das Amazonas.

"Xavante?" da Silva asked softly, from the edge of the canes.

With a slight motion of his arm, Salgado beckoned Roberto forward.

A lone Xavante stood on the opposite bank, motionless, his eyes turned toward them. A young warrior in the prime of manhood. His naked body was streaked with urucu dye. One hand held a long bow, the other a war club.

Colonel Cândido Mariano Rondon, an army engineer and explorer, absolutely forbade the slaying of the tribes whose villages lay along the route of the telegraph line. "Die if necessary, but never kill," Rondon, himself half native, told his men.

Rondon began a lifelong battle against those who saw the survivors of the great native tribes as bestial and deserving extinction, especially is they occupied lands where these was rumor of gold and diamonds or where the forest could be destroyed to make way for cattle.

Six thousand men died during the five-year construction of the Madeira-Mamoré railroad. Izaias Salgado was there when a gold spike was driven home and the work completed. One year later, the rubber boom collapsed, exports from the Far East surpassing those of the Amazon Basin. Within a decade, the railroad was abandoned.

"Within a year, a quarter will be dead," Bruno said. "We ask too much of them. We take a stone ax out of their hands, give them a shirt and trousers, and expect them to step into our word just like that. The Vilas Boases know what they're talking about when they say it takes fifty or sixty years for a tribe to adapt its way of life."

The Vilas Boas brothers had founded the Xingu Indian Reservation along the river of that name in Mato Grosso. The brothers contacted a dozen small tribes in an area of more than 10,000 square miles, living with them and gaining their respect — and beginning a struggle to have the region declared a federal reservation.

An endless parade was inching along the mall toward the Plaza of the Three Powers. Ten thousand men, led by a dozen bands...They were the men who had built Brasília: the candangos.

That evening Amílcar da Silva stood alone at a window on the twentieth floor of one of the twin skyscrapers. Amílcar gazed out, not at the gleaming city below, but far off into the distance, to where the cerrado was darkening.

This vast sertão, not only over the next hill or across the next river, but deep within the soul. A call to Paradise or to Hell for our forefathers. Were they out there now, Amador Flôres da Silva and Benedito Bueno — all who had opened the way for this conquest? Were the old bandeirantes gazing back in awe at this city — this El Dorado they had sought for so long.

JOURNAL

Afterword: March — April 2000

For forty years, Canudos lay below Cocorobó barrage, nothing visible except a grassy island, where goats and sheep grazed, rowed over by a herdsman. The year 1996 brought one of the worst drought in memory. Week after week, the waters of Cocorobó fell, until the ruins of Canudos began to emerge under the red, hit sun.

Most prominent were the remains of the Counselor's church, standing on one of the knolls. Two arches and supporting walls of the huge rectangular sanctuary had survived cannonades from the Whitworth batteries and "God's Thunderer." Below the church lay the trench where Antônio Paciência stood with the handful who fought until the end of their world.

It was now recognized that the 20,000 who died were not a bandit rabble but landless peasants scourged by drought and abandoned by their government. Most were black people and mulattoes scorned by racist elites of the day, who favored a "whitening" of Brazil and weren't against exterminating a barbarian race in the backlands.

Padre Antonio "Tôninho" Paciência looked at the trench, where his forbear had perished. "A hundred years since the last shot was fired," he said. "And still the battle goes on."

Most residents of Magdalena labor  for a pittance as field workers; bóia fria, they're called, literally "cold meal," for they head off at five in the morning, eat a cold lunch beside the canes, and return around seven in the evening. By the time they get home, their supper of rice, beans and manioc is cold.

The sharecropper, Luiz Alves de Sá took out the MST flag and hoisted it to the top of the pole.

A cheer rose from all who lifted their eyes to the red banner floating against the sky.

Padre Tôninho bad them join in a prayer of thanks.

When the worship ended, Luiz Alves said what was on everyone's mind: "Nothing will get me off this land — my land."

A few more shots in the air and the justiceiros roared off.

The defenders of Affonso Ribeiro gave a mighty shout. Husbands hugged their wives. Parents grabbed children and hoisted them on their shoulders for a victory march through the camp. It was not over, they knew, but they'd won the first battle. The soil they trod was a step closer to being their own.

"The army of the streets is constantly on the lookout for recruits. It takes them at any age and moves them rapidly through the ranks. In no time at all, the kids are in the front lines, fighting for their lives," says Dona Mariette.

At the dawn of the twenty-first century, Mariette da Silva is in the vanguard of a new revolution. It required no force or visions of El Dorado but began with one man who changed the conscience of Brazil.

Herbert "Betinho" de Souza opened the nation's eyes to the misery around them when he launched Citizen Action Against Poverty and for Life.

"Betinho gave face to millions who were pariahs in their own land. No one expects poverty to end tomorrow. The rich are  getting richer and the poor poorer than ever, but they are no longer faceless. When the weakest and littlest one gives up life for lack of food, we cannot say we didn't know," says Dona Marietta.

Tajira beached the canoe and bounded across the plaza, shouting a greeting as he ran. The past years could have been an ordeal for an Old Devil, with his world turned upside down, but it was not so. Instead he knew only joy, and sometimes a tinge of regret that he had not had a son of his own.

"While this old devil has strength left, I want us to leave Kaimari and take the bus from Pimento Bueno. It will be a long. hard journey."

"Where are we going?

"To find your father's people."

JOURNAL

They reached the futuristic capital built in 1,000 days in the late 1950s toward sunset. The Candangos are fiercely proud of the white marble palácios and towers riding on the savannah. — For a boy from the forest of Kaimari, visiting Brasília was like being on the moon or Mars even; everything was a wonder to him.

Arací painted Tajira's face with lines of red urucu dye. Then she helped him put on a headdress crowned with the brilliant red and blue feathers of Macaw...

"We ask God to forgive the sins committed against the human rights and dignity of the Indians, the first inhabitants of this land, and the blacks who were brought to this country as slaves..."

Pataxo, Xavante, Nambikwara, Yananomi and Indians from all over Brazil listened solemnly by the sands of Coroa Vermelha, as descendants of the discoverers asked forgiveness for the sins and errors of five centuries.

There was no Tupiniquin to hear the apologia.

Image credits

Titlepiece

[1] "Slave Market at Rio" from Journal of a Voyage to Brazil And Residence There During Part of the Years 1821, 1822, 1823, Martha Graham,  The Project Gutenberg EBook

The Tupiniquin

[1] Woodcut from Hans Staden: True Story and Description of a Country of Wild, Naked, Grim, Man-eating People in the New World, America, 1557

[2] Bry, Theodor de. Collection des Grands and Petits Voyages.1592 London: Molins, Ltd., 1921, copper-plates illustrating Hans Staden ibid.

[3] Nambikwara, Levi Strauss, Claude, Tristes tropiques.  Tr. by J. Russell.  New York: Atheneum, 1963.   [first published in 1955]

[4] Errol Lincoln Uys, Brazil: The Making of a Novel

[5] Unesco

[6] Errol Lincoln Uys, Brazil: The Making of a Novel

[7] Two jaguars, Wildlife Smuggling Rises in Brazil. November 2001 BBC

[8] Quipukamayuq: quipu y yupana, from Chronicle of Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, c 1615, Commons Wikimedia

[9] quipu, Meyers Konversationlexikon, 4th Edition, 1888, Commons Wikimedia

[10] Sunrise over Machu Picchu, Peru, Allard Schmidt, Commons Wikimedia

[11] Woodcut from Hans Staden: True Story and Description of a Country of Wild, Naked, Grim, Man-eating People in the New World, America, 1557

[12,13] Bry, Theodor de. Collection des Grands and Petits Voyages.1592 London: Molins, Ltd., 1921, copper-plates illustrating Hans Staden ibid.

[14] Jean-Baptiste Debret (1768-1848), Famille un Chef Camacan se preparant pour une Feste . Ca. 1820-1830. Aquarelle, 18,6 x 29,3cm Commons Wikimedia

[15, 16]  Errol Lincoln Uys, Brazil: The Making of a Novel

[17] Landing of Pedro Alvares Cabral, artist, Oscar Pereira da Silva,  Museu Paulista , São Paulo

The Portuguese

[1] Map, 1519 - Terra Brasilis, "Atlas Miller", Lopo Homem-Reinéis, Biblioteca Nacional de França , Paris.

[2] Caravel, from A Short Introduction to the Caravel, George R. Schwartz

[3] Portrait of Afonso de Albuquerque in Goa (India). Mixed technique on wood (182 x 108 cm). National Museum of Ancient Art, Lisbon, Portugal.

[4] Ormus1572, Civitates Orbis Terrarum, tavola XXIX, di Braun e Hogemberg MAPPE DI CITTA

[5] Map of the City and Portuguese Port of Goa, India, Detail of Port and Merchant Shipping, 1595, artist, Johannes Baptista Van Doetechum the Younger, Bridgeman Art Library

[6] Boats in Goa, illustration from Jan Hughen Van Linschoten, artist, Johannes Baptista Van Doetechum the Younger , Bridgeman Art Library

[7] Jeronimos Monastery, Lisbon, image from Sacred Desinations

[8] Belem Tower, Lisbon, Wikimedia Commons

[9] Christopher Columbus, posthumous portrait by Florentine painter Ridolfo Ghirlandaio (1483-1561), Wikimedia Commons

[10] Vasco Da Gama, illustration for Os Lusiadas by Camoes, 1880 edition, Ernesto Casanova, (Library of Congress)

[11] Pedro Alvares Cabral, in Pedro José FIGUEIREDO, Retratos e elogios dos varões e donas que illustram a nação portugueza... Lisboa, Officina de Simão Thaddeo Ferreira, 1817 retrato. Wikimedia Commons

[12] Errol Lincoln Uys, Brazil: The Making of a Novel

[13] Second Mass in Brazil, artist, Vitor Meireles, Museu Nacional de Belas-Artes, Rio de Janeiro

[14] Histoire des Voyages, Engraver, Pierre Duflos (1742-1816), New York Public Library digital gallery

[15] artist Thomas Astley, 1745, Wikimedia Commons

[16] artist unknown, Wikimedia Commons

[17] English edition of Theodor Johann de Bry, c. 1527-1598, and Johann Israel de Bry, second series, the Petits Voyages(Frankfurt, 1598-1613) From an undated print of an engraving by Basire from a picture by Olfert Dapper, 'Plate 192. No. 111. Vol. 2. p. 401'. Overall Size: 9.5" x 7" c 1740

[18] Samuel Daniell, 1805, A Hottentot, a Hottentot woman, a Kaffre, a Kaffre woman, de.wikipedia.org

[19]Heroes of the Dark Continent and How Stanley Found Emin Pasha , J.W. Buel. 1890, Historical Publishing Company, Philadelphia, PA, St. Louis, MO.

[20] Errol Lincoln Uys, Brazil: The Making of a Novel

[21] Sintra Palace, Paco Real de Sintra

[22] Wikimedia Commons

[23] Alcides Fontes Freitas

[24] author unknown, vintage postcard

The Jesuit

[1]  Painting in the style of Jesuit brother and artist Andrea Pozzo, see "A saint and his image," Cristina Osswald

[2] Portrait by Antonis Mor of King João III (John III) of Portugal, ca. 1550, oil on canvas, 101 x 81 cm. Original in Fundación Lázaro Galdiano, Madrid, Spain.

[3] photo, GoLisbon, the Complete Lisbon and Portugal Guide

[4,5 ] Willem Piso, Historia naturalis Brasiliae.… Leiden: Hackium; Amsterdam: Elzevirium, 1648

James Ford Bell Library, University of Minnesota

[6] J. Blaeu, Rerum per octennium in Brasilia et alibio nuper gestarum, Amsterdam, 1647 See

Maps on the African Slave Trade.

[7] Manoel Victor Filho. Grandes Personalidades da Nossa História, vol 1, Abril Cultural, 1969).

[8] Illustration from epic poem, Caramuru, Santa Rita Durão, artist anon. Literatura Colonial Brasil

[9] Source unknown, Wikimedia Commons

[10] Cândido Portinari, óleo sobre madeira, 0,56 x 0,46, acervo do Banco Itaú, acervo do Banco Itaú; Society of Jesus, Bahia Province

[11] Oscar Pereira da Silva, 1903,  Cores Primnarias; see also A História de São Paulo por suas Imagens, Revista Electronica de Ciencias

[12] Albert Eckhout, 1641/1644, "Tupi Woman and Child," Royal Art Museum of Copenhagen

[13] Ocupações Indígenas na Baía de Guanabara - Primeiros Ocupantes, Guilherme Peres, Pesquisador e membro do IPAHB

[14] Albert Eckhout, National Museum, Copenhagen

[15] Portrait of King Sebastião by Cristvão de Moraes, Wikimedia Commons

[16] Battle of Ksar el Kebir (1578); Museum of the Forte da Ponta da Bandeira, Lagos, Portugal , Wikimedia Commons

[17] Errol Lincoln Uys, Brazil: The Making of a Novel

The Bandeirantes

[1] Jean Baptiste Debret, Soldados Indios de Mogi-das-Cruzes. Bibloteca Virtual

[2] Antônio Raposa Tavares. Oil, Manuel Victor Filho. Museu Paulista/SP

[3] Bendito Calixto, João Ramalho shows Martim Afonso de Sousa the way to Piratininga, Gallery of Palacio de São Joaquim, Rio de Janeiro

[4] photo, Wikimedia Commons

[5] Copper engraving intitled "Die Inquisition in Portugall", by Jean David Zunner from the work "Description de L'Univers, Contenant les Differents Systemes de Monde, Les Cartes Generales & Particulieres de la Geographie Ancienne & Moderne" by Alain Manesson Mallet, Frankfurt, 1685, Wikimedia Commons

[6] Diego Rodríguez de Silva y Velá zquez (1599 - 1660), Philip IV, Ca. 1623 - 1624, Oil on canvas, 24 7/16" x 19 3/16", Meadow Museum, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Algur H. Meadows Collection

[7] Indian slaves, artist, J. M. Rugendas. Centro Cultural. São Paulo

[8] Brasil Barroco

[9] photo, Unesco

[10] On the Trail of Jesuit Mission Art, Gauvin Alexander Bailey

[11] Errol Lincoln Uys, Brazil: The Making of a Novel

[12] John Ogilby's atlas, America: Being the Latest, and Most Accurate Description of the New World, London, 1671, Wikimedia Commons

[13] Johann Moritz von Nassau-Siegen, 1603-1679, oil-painting portrait in 1637 is preserved at Siegerlandmuseum of Siegen.

[14] Recife and Mauritsstad, Frans Post, from Dutch Portuguese Colonial History

[15] Engenho with Chapel, Frans Janszoon Post, 1667, Foundationm Maria Luisa and Oscar Americano

[16] Henrique Dias, from Military Photos Net

[17] "Felipe Camarão", painted by Victor Meirelles de Lima (1832-1903)

[18, 19] Albert Eckhout, National Museum, Copenhagen

[20] This model is on display in the Gold Museum, Bogotá, Colombia

[21] photo, Fundação Nacional do Índio - FUNAI

[22] map, from Entradas e Bandeiras

[23] Errol Lincoln Uys, Brazil: The Making of a Novel

[24] photo, David M. Jensen, Wikimedia Commons

[25] Wikimedia Commons

[26] Errol Lincoln Uys, Brazil: The Making of a Novel

[27] Hilliard, Nicholas, 1547-1607, National Gallery, London

[28] Eurico Zimbres, Wikimedia Commons

[29] R. Wampers, Wikimedia Commons

[30] photo, Elza Fiuza, Agencia Brasil

[31] Quilombo Buraco do Tatu, EA, from A Quilombagem

[32] photo, Jan Derk, Wikimedia Commons

[33] Rugendas, J.M. Voyage pittoresque et historique dans le Br a sil. Paris: Engelmann et Cie, Paris, 1834 " Jogar Capüera ou Dance de la Guerre " (Playing Capoeira or War Dance.)

[34 from Sosigenes Bittencourt, Fragmentos

[35] archives of Joaquim Nabuco Foundation, Pernambuco, Casa Forte

[36] Batalha de Guararapes (1879), Victor Meirelles. Museu Nacional de Belas Artes, Brasil

[37] Reenactor Dario de Oliveira e Silva, Associação do Movimento Tropeiro de Carambeí

[38] photo, Treasure News

[39] from  Entradas e Bandeiras

[40] illustration, SAGA - A Grande História do Brasil - Volume 2, São Paulo: Abril Cultural, 1981

Republicans and Sinners

[1] Steel engraving. Institute in Hidlburghausen. ca 1850.

[2] Jean-Baptiste Debret, Wikimedia Commons. See also  The Atlantic Slave Trade and Life in the Americas James S. Handler and Michael L. Tuite Jr. (c) 2006 Virginia Foundation for the Humanities and University of Virginia

[3] Carlos Julião, Extraction of diamonds at Serra Frio, Bibloteca Nacional, Rio de Janeiro, see also

Rede da Memória Virtual Brasileira

[4] "Marquês de Pombal," artist, Louis-Michel van Loo (1707-1771), Museu da Cidade, Lisbon

[5] Arquivo Ultramarino de Lisboa, see Vidas Lusofonas

[6] Ribeira Palace and Square, Lisbon, Wikimedia Commons

[7] Miguel Vieira, Wikimedia Commons

[8] Museu da Cidade, Lisbon, see also The Earthquake Engineering Online Archive

[9] Zimmermann, W.F.A. Der Erdball und sein Naturwunder ... Berlin: G.Hempel, 1881

[10] Museu da Cidade, Lisbon, see also The Earthquake Engineering Online Archive

[11] J.P. Le Bas, Ruins of the Praca de Patriarchal (Patriachal Square) (after the Lisbon earthquake of 1755), 1757, from the Le Bas series, Bibliotheque Nationale de France, Paris, see also The Earthquake Engineering Online Archive

[12] Gilberto Freyre, Case Grande e Senzala, courtesy Joaquim Nabuco Foundation

[13] Engenho in Pernambuco, Henry Koster, Travels in Brazil (London, 1816)

[14] Spix and Martin, Brasil Revisitado: palavras e imagens / Carlos Guilherme Mota, Adriana Lopez. - São Paulo: Editora Rios, 1989. see also Brasil Africana/Slavery

[15] photo, Turismo Sertanejo, Aboio, o canto do vaqueiro

[16] Jean-Baptiste Debret, from Bibliteco Virtual, Bibvert

[17] Jacques Arago, Souvenirs d'un aveugle. Voyage autour du monde par M. J. Arago . . . (Paris, 1839-40), see also The Atlantic Slave Trade and Life in the Americas James S. Handler and Michael L. Tuite Jr. (c) 2006 Virginia Foundation for the Humanities and University of Virginia

[18] Jesuit Priest, 18th Century, Wikimedia Commons

[19] Jean-Baptiste Debret, from Biblteco Virtual, Bibvert

[20] photo. Chat-Verre Christophe, UNESCO Slave trade archives

[21] Rugendas, J.M. Voyage pittoresque et historique dans le Br asil. Paris: Engelmann et Cie, Paris, 1834.

[22] Errol Lincoln Uys, Brazil: The Making of a Novel

[23] "Partida da Monção", 1897, Almeida Junior, Museu do Ipiranga , São Paulo, Brasil

[24] Pierre Fauchard, Dental Instruments, Wikimedia Commons

[25] Tiradentes, from Unificado

[26] Sara and Iaian, Wikimedia Commons

[27] Maria Cosway, engraving. courtesy wiki.monticello.org

[28] Virtual museum, Ministry of Finance of Brazil

[29] Jean-Baptiste Debret, from Biblteco Virtual, Bibvert

[30] Reposto de Tirandentes, Leopoldina de Faria,  National Historical Museum of Brazil

[31] Tiradentes Esquartejado, Pedro Américo (1843-1905), Wikimedia Commons

Sons of the Empire

[1] Rugendas, J. M. Voyage pittoresque et historique dans le Br asil. Paris: Engelmann et Cie, Paris, 1834.

[2] Jean-Baptiste Debret, Wikimedia Commons. See also  The Atlantic Slave Trade and Life in the Americas James S. Handler and Michael L. Tuite Jr. (c) 2006 Virginia Foundation for the Humanities and University of Virginia

[3] author unknown, Wikimedia Commons

[4] Partida da Rainha para Portugal, Jean-Baptiste Debret, from Biblteco Virtual, Bibvert

[5]Simplício Rodrigues de Sá (?-1839), Wikimedia Commons, courtesy Museu Imperial, Petropolis, R.J.

[6]Desembarque de princesa real Leopoldina, Jean-Baptiste Debret, from Biblteco Virtual, Bibvert

[7] Francois Rene Moreaux, 1844, Wikimedia Commons, courtesy Museu Imperial, Petropolis, R.J.

[8] Jean-Baptiste Aubry-Lecomte, 1829, Wikimedia Commons

[9] Antonio Candido de Menezes: Dom Pedro II, Museu Julio de Castilhos, Porto Alegre, Brazil

[10] Dom Pedro II's study, courtesy Museu Imperial, Petropolis, R.J.

[11, 12] Original steel engraving, E. Willmann. 1867 Antique Prints, Marc Dechow

[13] Jean-Baptiste Debret, from Biblteco Virtual, Bibvert

[14] Rugendas, J.M. Voyage pittoresque et historique dans le Br a sil. Paris: Engelmann et Cie, Paris, 1834 See also  The Atlantic Slave Trade and Life in the Americas James S. Handler and Michael L. Tuite Jr. (c) 2006 Virginia Foundation for the Humanities and University of Virginia

[15] Fazenda Paraiso, Vale do Paraiba patrimonio cultural

[16] Jean-Baptiste Debret, from Biblteco Virtual, Bibvert

[17] Paraguay River, Wikimedia Commons

[18] Perry-Castaneda Library Map Collection http://www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/

[19] The Port of Asunción, Bibloteca Virtual Miguel Cervantes

[20] Carvalho Delgado. Historia Geral, Wikimedia Commons

[21] Errol Lincoln Uys, Brazil: The Making of a Novel

[22] Historia y Arqueología Marítima , Argentine

[23] A Strauss Dance Suite

[24] courtesy, Brazilian Navy Museum, Rio de Janeiro

[25] Batalha de Riachuelo, Victor Meirelles, Wikimedia Commons

[26, 27] Viktor Frond, image courtesy of MultiRio

[28] Hendrik Jacobus Vinkhuijzen, Germany, 1867, Wikimedia Commons

[29, 30] Itapiru, April 1866; Tuyuti, 1866, Candido Lopez, Colección Museo Histórico Nacional, Buenos Aires

[31] Uruguayan 24 de Abril battalion at Tuyuti, from Fondo Museo Historico Nacional, Montevideo

[32] Harper's Magazine, April 29, 1865, see also The Siege of Mobile Alabama in the Civil War

[33] photo, The War in Paraguay, Lt.Col George Thompson

[34] Victor Meireles,artist, Grandes Personagens da Nossa Historia, volume 3, Editora Abril Cultural, São Paulo, 1973, acervo Camara Municipal de Salvador, Wikimedia Commons

[35] Errol Lincoln Uys, The War in Paraguay

[36] Passage of Humaitá, Candido Lopez, Colección Museo Histórico Nacional, Buenos Aires

[37] photo, Bombardment of Humaita Cathedral, Colección Museo Histórico Nacional, Buenos Aires

[38] Paraguayan war dead, Museo Mitre, Buenos Aires

[39] Jan Pesula, Wikimedia Commons, see also Railtrips

[40] Brady-Handy Photograph Collection (Library of Congress), LC-DIG- cwpbh - 04006

[41] 1861-era locomotive, photographed c 2000, Sapucai, Paraguay, HISTARMAR - Historia y Arqueologia Marítima

[42] Child soldiers of Paraguay, Colección Museo Histórico Nacional, Buenos Aires

[43] L:a Paraguaya, Juan Manmuel Banes, 1879. Museo Nacional de Artes Visuales de Montevideo

The Brazilians

[1] Eduardo Valadares, Wikimedia, Creative Commons

[2] photo, A. Ducasble, courtesy Joaquim Nabuco Foundation

[3] photo, Geraldo Gomes, Engenho Morenos, courtesy Joaquim Nabuco Foundation

[4, 5] Errol Lincoln Uys, The Making of Brazil

[6] Original steel engraving drawn by Fleury, engraved by Chavannes. 1838. Antique Prints, Marc Dechow

[7] Angelo Agostini, Brazilian cartoonist, "Resisting Emancipation" 1880, Wikimedia Commons

[8] Itamaraca Island, Pernambuco, photo, Recife Guide

[9] from Sugar Processing, Latin American Studies,

[10] Fives-Lille engine, 1906, from International Steam Co UK

[11] Errol Lincoln Uys, The Making of Brazil

[12] Pátio de Fazenda de café 1859, Foto-Litografia de Victor Frond/S.Sisson

[13] "Os Imigrantes" (1910) de Antonio Rocco , acervo da Pinacoteca , see also Oriundi

[14] Ama de leite. Casa-Grande e Senzala em Quadrinhos. Gilberto Freyre, desenhos de Ivan W. Rodrigues. Fundação Gilberto Freire/Recife

[15] George Bjerg, The Confederados

[16] J. Marques Pereira, see Quilombo Jabaquara 1900

[17] Wikimedia Commons

[18] Francisco Aureliano de Figueiredo e Melo (1856-1916), 1905, courtesy National Historical Museum of Brazil

[19] photo, courtesy National Historical Museum of Brazil

[20] photo, Henschel, Wikimedia Commons, courtesy National Archives of Brazil

[21] source unknown, courtesy Joaquim Nabuco Foundation

[22] Canudos, Wikipedia Commons

[23] photo, Flavio de Barros, see also A Historia de Canudos

[24] photo, courtesy Joaquim Nabuco Foundation

[25] War of Canudos, Wikimedia Commons

[26] Cel Pedro Paulo Cantalíce Estigarríbia, Canudos, courtesy Regimento Osorio

[27,28] photo, Flavio de Barros, see also A Historia de Canudos, and Guerra de Canudos

[29] Leo Reynolds, Flickr

[30] Flavio de Barros, see also A Historia de Canudos, and Guerra de Canudos

[31] photo, Cunudos blog

[32] Flavio Barros, see also Guerra de Canudos

[33] Tamiris, a Brazilian child, Gregory Smith, Carf's Photostream Flickr, see also , Carf, Children at Risk Foundation

[34] Santos Dumont, Brazilian Govenrment Archives, Public Domain images.

[35] Fábrica do engenho Junco, em Nazaré da Mata. 1998, Geraldo Gomes, photo, courtesy Joaquim Nabuco Foundation

Epilogue: The Candangos

[1] Julio Caesar Guedes Antunes, Sala de Guerra

[2] Brazilian Expeditionary Force, Wikipedia, from Brazilian Army Historical Archives

[3] Juscelino Kubitschek at Clube Militar 1959, from Brazilian Arquivo Nacional/Agência Nacional.

Os Anos Juscelino Kubitschek

[4] Reproduzido da Revista Brasília, jan. 57. (CPDOC/FGV/R 511) from Brazilian Arquivo Nacional/Agência Nacional. Os Anos Juscelino Kubitschek

[5] Pelé, from FIFA website/Foto-Net

[6] Francisco Juliao, from Geraldo Freire

[7] Errol Lincoln Uys, The Making of Brazil

[8] Roberto Faria, from Jotamais.com

[9. 10] Errol Lincoln Uys, The Making of Brazil

[11] a Amazon, os Indios e eu, photo, Jack Chang/ McClatchy Newspapers

[12] Xavante, Brazil. from FUNAI, Fundação Nacional do Índio

[13] Wikipedia Commons, see also Vidaslusophonas, Candido Rondon

[14] Errol Lincoln Uys, The Making of Brazil

Afterword

[1] Errol Lincoln Uys, The Making of Brazil

[2, 3] photo, Canudos, Arquelogia Brasileira

[4] photo, Abelardo Alves, Sinergia Paulista

[5] Roberto Vinicius, Center for Latin American Studies, U.C. Berkeley, Spring 2008

[6] photo, MST archives, Sem Terra, Brazil

[7] photo, Gregory Smith, Carf, Children at Risk Foundation

[8] from The Betinho Project at Ryerson University

[9] Errol Lincoln Uys, The Making of Brazil

[10] Agencia Brasil, Wikimedia Commons

[11] José Cruz, Agencia Brasil, Wikimedia Commons

Home Page| Excerpt | Author |Interview |Reviews |Links |Riding the Rails |