Susan Buck-Morss-Hegel y Haití. La Dialéctica Del Amo-esclavo_ Una Interpretación...

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The Whip and the Watch: Overseers in theParaíba Valley Brazil

BRYAN DANIEL McCANN

To be able to carry a whip and a watch and to bark commands no doubtmeant much to some.1

On October 17th, 1866, three Italian harp-players found the red-bearded co rpse of overseer Manoel Duarte Simöes on the road leadin gto the coffee rows of Comendador Venancio's fazenda. Next to thebody lay a handkerchief, a hat, a jacke t and a whip. The autho ritieslater searched the body and found some tobacco, but Simöes'selaborately-carved pipe had already been stolen.2

In their report of 20 June 1 870, the medical investigators of FranciscoSoare s Mac edo 's corpse described his attire as follows: shirt and pan tsof americano cotton, a jack et of thick broadcloth, and an o verseer'swhip. His shoes were missing.3

José Bastos de Oliveira, killed on 12 January 1879, was wearingcanvas pants, a knit shirt and leather slippers when he died. He hadalso been carrying a whip. In his pockets he carried a lighter, sometobacco, and the key to a pocket watch. The watch itself had beenstolen before the official investigation of the body.4

Like most overseers in Brazil's Paraiba Valley, these three men werePortuguese immigrants, between the ages of twenty-five and forty. All threewere bachelors. All three were killed by slaves they supervised.

The relationship between slave and overseer was, everywhere,inherently contentious, and the coffee plantations of the nineteenth-centuryParaiba Valley were no exception. As the description of the corpses abovesuggest, overseers were caught in a difficult and dangerous position. They

were often hated by the slaves they punished and mistrusted by thefazendeiros, or planters, who employed the m. This was not always true, of

Bryan Daniel McCann is a postgraduate student in the Department of History, Yale University,New Haven, Connecticut 06520.

Slavery and A bolition, Vol. 18, No . 2, August 1997, pp.30 -47PUBLISHED BY FRANK CASS, LONDON


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OVERSEERS IN THE PARAIBA VALLEY BRAZIL 31

course: some overseers cultivated strong ties with their employers, andeventually secured their own land. Others gained the slaves' trust. Moregenerally, few overseers met the brutal fate of the three men mentionedabove. But their stories do reveal some of the general characteristics of theoverseer in the coffee age of the Paraiba Valley: most were singleimmigrants, who had not been in the country long, and who did not staylong in one place of employment. They were linked neither by birth nor bywealth to the networks of patronage that regulated life in the Valley.

These overarching characteristics - short tenure of employment, limitedconnection s to the elite, and a job d escription calling for the frequentexercise of the lash - shaped th e lives of the Paraiba Valley overseers. Th eydid not, of course, completely determine the character of any overseer, orthe rhythm of work on any fazenda, but they did set parameters for thedisplays of power and the tense exchanges at the heart of fazenda life. Th isarticle explores those parameters and demonstrates that in the nineteenth-century Paraiba Valley, the social origins of the majority of overseers ma detheir occupation particularly hazardous. This article intends neither tocondemn the overseers as brutal monsters nor to excuse brutality byshowing its origins in an encompassing system. Rather, beginning with thepremise that the planters of the Paraiba Valley put their overseers on thefront line of the constant struggle between slave-owners and their slaves, itseeks to describe the roles overseers played in that struggle, and howplanters, slaves and the overseers themselves perceived those roles.

The Paraiba Valley runs roughly parallel to the Atlantic coast of south-eastern Brazil and is bordered by the Serra do Mar on the east and the Serrada Mantiqueira on the west. Between these two low ranges the land risesinto soft domes known as meia-laranjas, or half oranges. In the earlynineteenth century these fertile hills within one hundred kilometres of theport of Rio de Janeiro proved ideal for coffee cultivation. Brazil had alreadyseen a seventeenth-century sugar boom peter out and had witnessed theeighteenth-century gold-mines dry up. The coffee industry of the ParaibaValley fuelled another cycle of boom and bust, one that correspondedclosely to the rise and fall of the Brazilian Empire. At Independence in1822, the Valley was only sparsely settled, primarily by planters who hadwon sesmarias-royal land grants-from the Portuguese crown. Many of these

planters based their initial petitions for land on their possession of slaves,setting the precedent for the slave labor of the coffee fazendas. By mid-century, wealthy planters controlled virtually all the land in the Valley andsupplied a coffee trade that filled cups in New York, France and Holland.By the 1880s, however, the Valley was largely ecologically devastated byshort-sighted planting techniques. Brazil's coffee-exporting power hadshifted to the Western lands of São Paulo, where new political elites were


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32 SLAVERY AND ABO LITION

experimenting with immigrant labour. This shift in power helped lay thegroundwork for both abolition in 1888 and the collapse of the Empire thefollowing year.

A brutal regime of plantation labour marked the duration of this shortcoffee emp ire. To meet their tremend ous dem ands for slaves, the planters ofthe Valley relied first on an international slave trade, and, after 1850, on amassive internal trade that brought the slaves of the North and Northeast tothe coffee regions. Once on the fazendas, slaves often wo rked over sixteenhours a day. Both planters and slaves recognized the rigour of plantationwork: a planter from the municipio, or county, of Vassouras, at the centre ofthe Valley, estimated the productive life-span of a plantation slave at fifteenyears. Urban slaveholders threatened to sell recalcitrant slaves 'up country'

to the Valley in the same way that United States masters threatened to sellslaves down river. In the words of Louis Couty, a French traveller of the1880s, 'the urban slave is only sensitive to one threat: that of being sent towork in the country, on the plantation'.5

To enforce this ruthless order, the planters of the Paraiba Valley relied onthe law of the land, on their own power, and most immediately, on feitores.The term was somewhat imprecise: feitor could, in certain cases, describeanyone from a slave who supervised other slaves (a slave-driver) to apowerful administrator who governed the fazenda of an absentee planter.But other terms were more common for these occupations: capataz for aslave-driver, and administrador for plantation m anager. I adhere to theseunderstandings, and use feitor (and overseer, its translation ) only to describe

free men hired by afazendeiw to mana ge slaves. The term may have beenvague, but the importance of the occupation was obvious to all. In an 1835agricultural manual, Carlos Augusto Taunay declared that, 'the overseer'svigilance is necessary at all times ... for without it, production of slave laborwill fall low er and lower.... ' C outy echoed these sentim ents, writing that theoverseer's vigilance was 'indispensable, for without this, there will not beregular work.' Another planter, struggling with the transition to free labourafter ab olition, wro te, 'wh atever the advan tages of free labor, one fact is, form e, already verified, for better or for worse, the slave works much harder,than the free man, once he is watched by an overseer.'6

Agricultural manuals offered little advice on how to choose a feitor, oron how man y to hire. In his influential 1848 man ual, Francisco Peixoto de

Lacerda Werneck, an elite Vassouras planter, took for granted that everyfazenda would employ at least one feitor or administrador on coffeefazendas, but said noth ing on the subject of hiring. An othe r autho r of a shortguide to plantation order assumed an administrador and a feitor on everyfazenda, and stressed that they should not be related. (This mea sure wou ldpresumably lessen the planter's risk that his hired hands might conspire


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OVERSEE RS IN THE PARAIBA VALLEY, BRAZ IL 33

against him.) Couty described seeing one supervisor for every band of thirtyslaves, but he did not distinguish between overseers and slave drivers. In1854 the most influential planters of Vassouras established a standingcommittee to confront the possibility of widespread rebellion. They urgedtheir fellow fazendeiros to retain more free men on the plantations in orderto counter the threat. The committee recommended a sliding scale-ratio ofone free person for every 12 slaves, two for every 25; five for every 50;seven for every 100; ten for 200; and so on. The committee did not,however, stipulate how many of these free men should be overseers. Theurgency of their request, moreover, suggests that the actual ratio on theplantations was much lower.7

Indeed, in my own investigation of court proceedings of Vassourascriminal cases involving slaves, I have found that most planters onlyemployed one or two overseers, even if they had as many as 200 slaves.(Although most of these larger fazendas retained an administrador as well.)On most plantations holding more than fifty slaves, overseers were joinedby at least one capataz. (The fazendeiro generally chose these slave-drivers,and confrontation between feitor and capataz was not unusual.) Even thoseplantations with the most extensive ranks of guardians, however, fell shortof the guidelines of the standing committee. Each of the three overseersmentioned above, for example, was the sole feitor on a plantation with morethan fifty slaves. Bento Luis Martins, another Vassouras overseer, wassupervising fifty slaves when he was attacked.8

Regarding the overseer's duties, the manual authors were a bit moreforthcoming, and evidence from traveller's narratives and court proceed ingsadds m ore detail to the picture. The overseers were paid to w atch the slaves,to enforce production, and to guard against rebellion. The task started at firstlight, or even before, when overseers unlocked the senzalas, or slavequarters, and supervised the dawn muster. Slaves lined up in front of thesenzala, generally with women on one side and men on the other, as theoverseers counted to ensure that none had escaped. The morning m uster w asalso the time to send ailing slaves to the infirmary, to pass out the day'stools, and (as advised by Lacerda Werneck) to lead the slaves in two or threeprayers. Following muster, the overseers brought up the rear as the slavegang walked to the fields.9

During the day, the overseer's tasks, like the slave s', varied according tothe season. House slaves, in close contact with the planter family, werebeyond the overseer's purview. Minor chores, such as watching a few cows,or tending the nursery, were generally left to unsupervised slaves, frequentlythe very young or the aged. Slaves with technical skills, such as blacksm ithsand carpenters, also frequently worked unsupervised on the plantation.Lacerda Werneck warned, however, that in dangerous tasks, such as


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34 SLAVERY AND ABO LITION

clearing fallen trees, slaves should be supervised as closely as possible. (Ingeneral, planters attempted to hire temporary free labourers for hazardousjobs, in order to avoid risking their slave property.) The bulk of theoverseer's time, however, was spent supervising the slaves as they tendedthe mature coffee b ush es or harvested their berries. Performed correctly, thischore required constant attention: an 1836 author advised overseers to sendone slave down every other coffee row, and 'in continual movement, tomake sure that they did not break the berries, or mix the green with theripe'.10

In practice, the task rarely proceeded according to this orderly plan.During harvest, slaves needed to work together, as one slave with ajacaz,or large basket, collected the berries that several slaves had sifted inpinheiros, or sieve s. An overse er watching fifty slaves, moreo ver, could nottake the risk of spreading them over one hund red rows. As a result, slavesoften worked in close knots. The overseers occasionally had horses to easetheir own tasks, but more frequently walked among the slaves, brandishinga whip, checking progress. Orderly distribution among the coffee rows,after all , was secondary to production. On some plantations the ov erseer seta minimum weight in berries required from all slaves during harvest. Onothers, the planter set this limit. In almost all cases, the overseer wasresponsible for punishing those who failed to fulfil the requirement.

Twice during the long day in the fields, the overseer allowed the slavesto break for meals. Lacerda Werneck recommended the first meal at 8 a.m.,the second at one p.m.: regardless of the hour, however, meals generallyconsisted of black beans and manioc meal, occasionally accompanied bybaco n, or, rarely, by dried beef. In the winter, slaves also received a drink ofcachaca, or sugar-cane liquor. The feitores often ate alongside the slaves,although they were more likely to get a bite of meat. In the evening, thefeitor once again broug ht up the rear as the slaves returned to the senzala.There, he gave them another set of tasks, often including carrying wood tothe big house, stacking corn in the storeroom and milling manioc. Theslaves usually received another meal before the night muster, atapproximately 9 or 10 p.m . At the night muster, the overseer oradministrador onc e again coun ted the slaves, and checked their health.Afterwards, he locked them in the senzala for the night. Both slaves andoverseer ostensibly had Sunday free, but in practice, work continued, if at areduced pace, allowing some free time. Taunay advised that ' the Sundayrest does not mean the cessation of vigilance ... the hours from dawn to tena.m. will be devoted to cleaning and washing ... and rigorous inspection bythe overseers.. . 2

Needless to say, slaves did not always comply with the plantationregimen. Planters faced with unruly slaves had an array of coercive options


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at their disposal. They could wh ip slaves, or put them in stocks. They couldalso threaten any number of other actions, from confinement in the senzalato reduction of privileges. When it suited them they could grant pardon.When disobedience persisted they could send slaves to the house ofcorrection, or sell them to another planter. Most immediately, they couldorder their overseers to whip the slaves. The overseers themselves, on theother hand, had only one recourse when slaves refused to obey: the lash.They could not sell slaves, or pardon any but the most trifling offence. Theycould not, in general, confine slaves in the stocks without the planter'spermission. In the words of André João Antonil, author of an eighteenth-century manual, they were expected to be 'the arms which the master usesfor the good management of the plantation'. They were given no significantauthority to make decisions, but were constantly forced to make decisions,and to enforce those of their employers. Inevitably, they relied extensivelyon their whips.13

That reliance was so complete that the whip became, in the wo rds of onenineteenth-century traveller, 'the insignia of the overseer's command'.Couty describes 'a vision of semi-naked slaves ... guarded by an overseer,frequently brutal and armed with a whip, shouting now and then to keepthem alert'. In his study of Vassouras's coffee economy, Stanley Steinsuggests that the five-tailed w hip know n as a baca hau, or codfish, acquiredthat name through slave wordplay on its resemblance to the overseers'favourite food (a food associated strongly with their Portuguese origins).Stein's etymology remains speculative, but it does convey the closeassociation of the overseer and the chief tool of his trade.14

The overseer's authority to use corporal punishment, a direct delegationof the slave-owner's prerogative, went unquestioned through the greatmajority of nearly four centuries of Brazilian slavery. Even in the late1870s, an era of considerable abolitionist activity, one marked by certainlegal restrictions on the slave-owner's right of corporal punishment, thecentral tenet of that right went unassailed. In 1878, Joaquim Ferreira daSilva, overseer on a V assouras fazenda, was put on trial for the death of theslave Anastácio. After whipp ing the ailing slave, the overseer locked h im inthe stocks without food, water or medical attention, and he died withintwelve hours. Even the public prosecutor building a case against Ferreira da

Silva did not question the legitimacy of the original beating and whipping.In his indictment, he wrote that 'there are no aggravating circumstances[increasing the severity of the crime], in view of the fact that those articles[of the criminal code] which speak of superior arms cannot be understoodto apply to the abuse of an instrument permitted to slaveowners and theirrepresentatives for the punishment and discipline of the slaves.5

Ferreira da Silva was eventually absolved of any wrongdoing the jury


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3 6 SLAVERY AND ABOLITION

came to the dubious conclusion that neither the whipping, nor the night inthe stocks, nor the failure to provide even minimal medical attentioncontributed to the cause of death. The case reveals the hollow promise of th eprogram of gradual emancipation favoured by many during the 1870s andearly 1880s. As the public prosecutor's letter shows, the right to corporalpunishment was considered a sine qua non of slaveholding. As abolitionismspread, the extent of that right came into question, and the governmentfound it necessary, or expedient, to approv e certain limits on the permissib leseverity of corporal punishment. Furthermore, as government bureaucracygrew, investigations into unnatural deaths increased: plantation justice wasno longer as private an affair as it had been in the past. Despite theincreasing presence of the state, however, a jury of slaveholders was

unlikely to decide for conviction in a case like Ferreira da Suva's, evenwhen a lowly overseer (rather than the planter himself) administered theblows.

Even in the years jus t before abolition, then, and despite regulationssuggesting the contrary, issues of corporal punishment of slaves werelargely decided within the boun ds of the plantation. And while the pow er ofcorporal punishment was the principal source of the overseer's authority, attimes it was a burden and a duty imposed from above. The delegation ofauthority to the oversee r allowed th e masters to remove themselves from theuse of direct violence, without lessening in any way their own power. In1860 the Vassouras courts questioned overseer Antonio Barbudo regardingthe brutal death of the slave Constança. He admitted that he had whipped

the victim two hundred times on a single day (one hundred and fifty morethan the existing laws allow ed), but insisted that he had done so unw illingly,and only by order of his senhora. In 1874 an overseer employed by theplanter Leandro de Souza Freitas faced charges for beating a slave from aneighbouring fazenda. The overseer informed the court that, against hiswill, his emplo yer had ordered h im to whip the slave. The overseers in thesecases may have overstated their subjection to the commands of theiremployers in order to escape conviction, but their insistence that at timesthey w hipped o nly by ord er of the slave-owne r suggests that in certain casesoverseers only reluctantly consented to their role as the instrument of themaster's wrath.16

Planters did not reward their feitores with gratitude for assuming their

dirty work. They needed the overseers to enforce order, but disdained themfor their social background, their habits, for their performance of the veryduties crucial to the maintenance of the fazendas. This ambivalenceoccasionally found its expression in the planters' marked disregard for theiroverseers' well-being. When the slave Manuel Maranhao was arrested forthe murd er of his overseer, the slave-ow ner's first official act was to fire off


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an angry letter to the judg e warning that he was prepared to defend his rightof property over the defendant and the slaves who had been taken in aswitnesses. The slave-owner, the Baron of Massambará, resisted twosubpoenas for his testimony. When the authorities finally succeeded inbringing him to court, he kept his responses to a minimum, and avoidedreporting anything that might have further incriminated his slave.17

Like the Baron of Massambará, the fazendeiro employ ers of Bento LuisMartins and José Bastos de Oliveira were summoned to court ininvestigations of slave attacks against their overseers. Like the Baron, theyneglected to respond, only more successfully-they never app eared in court.18

These slave-owners were clearly more interested in protecting theirinvestment in their slaves than in mourning an overseer. Feitores came andwent, frequently, but slaves were a valuable asset that could not be risked.This central truth lay behind much of the tension in themaster/overseer/slave triangle. Even in the apparently unusual cases whereoverseers held their posts for long periods, they did not constitute materialinvestment on the part of the planter. As hired hands they could be risked,sacrificed as part of a general attempt to keep slaves under control.

This put the overseers in a delicate situation. Slaves perceived theirdistance from the slave-owner, and took advantage of that distancewhenever possible. The daily functions of the fazenda, after all, we resubject to constant, low-level negotiation. Even the authors of theagricultural manuals, who generally stressed order above all else and

imagined frictionless plantation hierarchy, saw the need for a certainamount of flexibility. Antonil treated the subject most extensively:

It is proper that the slaves be persuaded that the overseer has muchpower to order them, and to reprimand and punish them whennecessary, but in such a way that they also kno w the y can resort to themaster and that they will be heard according to just ice ... If theoverseers exceed themselves, the master must pull in the reins withthe reprimand that the excesses deserve, but not in front of the slaves,so that they do not in the future rise up against th e overseer, or that theoverseer incurs the harm of being reprimanded in front of them anddoes not dare to govern them. It will be enough that a third personinform the aggrieved slave, and a few others who have been on thefazenda the longest, that the master considered unacceptable th eexcess that the overseer committed, and that the overseer will bedismissed if he does not mend his ways.20

The passage begins to reveal the intricacy of the fazenda relationships. Atthe same time that Antonil warned planters that punishing an overseer infront of slaves could lead to slave rebellion, he recognized the necessity of


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informing slaves that such punishment did, in fact, take place. Thatnecessity had two facets. First, preservation of the absolute authority of themaster - it was imperative that the slaves recognize that the master had thepower to control his overseer. Second, capitulation to implicit slavedem ands for some form of justic e. In recomm ending that the mas ter informnot only the abused slave but the slaves with the most seniority, Antoniltook for granted the existence of a slave community concerned about itstreatment at the hands of the overseers, and suggested that negativeconsequences would ensue if that slave community perceived excessiveabuse. Thus, Antonil implicitly acknowledged that the slaves of a fazendaheld certain common expectations about conditions of labour, and had atleast limited power to demand the fulfilment of those expectations.

Lacerda Werneck treated the issue of everyday negotiation moreguardedly: discussing harvest quotas, for example, he advised that'demands should be adjusted according to the condition of the coffee andthe strength of the slave'. He also recommended offering slaves small cashprizes if they exceeded demands. In his own experience, this pushed themto new standards, which could then be established as the daily minimum.21

Such productivity campaigns could result in immediate peril for theoverseers. Couty recognized that these sudden changes in expectationsfrequently inspired a violent reaction: 'An ov ersee r can wh ip fifty slaves forstealing coffee without running any risk. He might be assassinated the nextday, however, if he reduces or simply alters the customary hours offreedom.'22 Newly hired overseers were on particularly treacherous footing:

they faced an immediate challenge in attempts to assert their authority overa slave force with vested interests in subverting that authority. Slaves whohad established certain practices and patterns with a former overseerexpected new overseers to conform to those standards, at the very least.Fazendeiros, on the other hand, commanded new overseers to improve onefforts of old ones. The consequences could be drastic, as the Vassourascriminal cases demonstrate.

When hired as overseer at Comendador Venancio's fazenda, forexample, Manoel Duarte Simöes's ignorance of the habits of the fazendasoon got him into trouble. Following his murder, many of the slavescomplained to the court about the changes Simöes had m ade. One slave saidthat in the past they had been required to pick three alqueires of coffee a

day, and Simöes had required four.23

Another refined that statement, sayingthat at one time they had been required to pick four alqueires, but that thecrops had deteriorated and the quota had come down to three. Simöes raisedthe quota back to four, inspiring resistance. Several slaves mentioned thatSimöes had turned down an offer of padrinho,2* and that he was generallyfar too severe. Sim öes also attempted to preven t slaves from stealing coffee,


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a practice that the former overseer had allegedly tolerated. Th e contrast w iththat former overseer, who had been fired for laxity, was evidently quitemarked: the slave Barbara informed the court that the slaves in general didnot like Simöes 'because he did not pardon them. He w as always on top ofthem . They had liked [the former overseer] more, they had been accustomedto him, he did not punish them, and he slept in the coffee ro ws and let themdo the same.'25

José de Bastos Oliveira met similar resistance to a sudden change inbehaviour. In early 1879, the owner of the fazenda São João da Barra firedOliveira from his position as overseer. In December of that year, he cameback to the fazenda, and acted as temporary ove rseer while the plante r wasaway. On 18 December three slaves murdered him in the coffee rows. Thedefendants informed the court that Oliveira had always been a crueloverseer and that, upon his return to the fazenda, they had pledged to killhim if he acted as harshly as he had previously. Three days before themurder, they decided that Oliveira's cruelty had not abated, and agreed tokill him the next time he attempted to whip any one of them. In his owndefense, the slave Manuel insisted that because Oliveira had brought hisbarbarous ways back to the plantation, 'they had no other choice' but to killhim.36

Like Simöes and Oliveira, the Portuguese overseer Bento Luis Martins,hired at the fazenda São José in 1844, attempted to impos e a strict regim eof authority on slaves who were accustomed to different habits. The threeslaves who attacked him reversed the traditional exemplary punishment:they tied up the overseer and whipped him. According to one of theparticipants, the slave Cirio, they meted out this punishment 'in order toshow him what it means to be whipped'. In explaining the crime, thedefendants and the other slave informants (as slaves they could not be legalwitnesses) gave examples of Martin's excessive cruelty: he had turneddown a padrinho, he had whipped the slaves too frequently, he had notgiven them enough time to eat, and had given the rest of their food to hishorse. This last offence, apparently a deliberate attempt to assert powerthrough an aggressive show of force and disdain for the slaves, provokedparticularly indignant testimony, and the slaves declared it a clear exampleof the transgression of acceptable limits.27 Thus, in each case, slavesconcentrated on an incoming overseer's violation of customary standards.In all these ways - in their general duties, in their reliance on the lash, intheir tenuous position at the nexus of a moral econom y - the overseers ofthe nineteenth-century Paraiba Valley were not unlike overseers in otherplantation economies. Even the scorn they incurred from the planter classwas not unique. Eugene Genovese suggests that most of the overseers of theUnited States South were 'floaters who usually lived up to the reputation of


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4 0 SLAVERY AND ABOLITION

their class, the po white trash, and created for all overseers a particularlybad reputation'.28 The difference was one of degree, not kind: the overseersof the Paraiba Valley had a particularly bad reputation, and the plantersscorned them with particular intensity. For they were not merely part of ashiftless underclass, they were resident aliens, target of nativist resentmentas well as elite disdain.

The Vassouras criminal cases suggest that the vast majority of theseoverseers were poor Portuguese immigrants. Francisco Soares Macedo, forexample, was from the Ilha de São Miguel in the Azores. Antonio da SilvaAlmeida, feitor on a neighbo uring plantation and a witness in Mac edo 'scase, was from the same island. Bento Luis Martins was also Azorean , fromIlha Terceira. Many came from the mainland, as well, such as Jerónimo

Siqueira Vasconcellos, from São Thiago de Piaes, and Manoel Gonçalves,from Porto (although Porto, when given in court as a place of origin, mayhave designated the immigrant's port of embarkation rather than home city).Indeed, in a sample of forty Vassouras criminal cases involving slaves, Ilocated fourteen overseers, twelve of whom were Portuguese immigrants.The sample is small, but so lopsided that it cannot be ignored, and itcorresponds to anecdotal evidence. In an 1858 letter, for example, theplanter Lacerda Werneck noted both the predominance of the Portugueseamong feitores and their irritating tendency to shift from one post to another,complaining that 'after abandoning their first master, they subjectthemselves to a third and a fourth before they serve well'. Secondaryevidence adds further support: in his study of the Vassouras plantations,

Stanley Stein called attention to the vast influx of indigent Azoreanimmigrants at mid-century, and referred to 'the Portuguese, so often hiredas overseers'.2 9

This w as unusual: in the sugar-growing regions of the Northeast, and evenin the province of Rio de Janeiro in the late eighteenth century, mostoverseers were free mulattos.30 While these men had none of the socialadvantages of the landowning class, they had been born in Brazil and weretied to the landowning class through webs of patronage and allegiance (andoften through acknowledged, albeit illegitimate, paternity). In contrast, thepo or Portuguese imm igrants in Vassouras confronted a landholding structurecontrolled by the coffee barons, denying them the oppo rtunity to acquire theirown land, and found on ly limited roles in the local patronage n etworks. Th ey

joined the social stratum of the free poor, largely consigned to moving fromone menial job to another. Many lived on the outskirts of town in an areaknown as Portuguese Gully, pursuing trades such as house-painter, daylabourer, and ambulant vendor. Others lived and worked on the property ofth e greatfazendeiros, either as feitores, administradores, or lavradores (thosewho worked the land of a large property-owner in relative autonomy).31


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4 2 SLAVERY AND ABO LITION

a crucial element of local political machines: as agregados, or dependants,of a g iven fazenda, they would be expected to vote in the man ner prescribedby the fazendeiro (although this would apply, of course, only to naturalizedimmigrants). This combination of disdain and dependence added to theambiguity of the immigrant's position, and to that of the overseer inparticular.33

A brief consideration of Com endador Venancio's fazenda at the time ofManoel Duarte Simöes's murder will clarify this unusual position. InOctober 1866 Venancio had five Portuguese immigrants living on hisproperty. One was the overseer Simöes. Another was Jerónimo SiqueiraVasconcellos, who had been an overseer on the fazenda under the previousowner, and who had remained as a lavrador. The other three were recent

immigrants, all around the age of twenty, working for Vasconcellos.Venancio was aware that Vasconcellos regularly traded rum and tobacco tothe slaves of the fazenda in return for stolen coffee. He had dismissed theprevious overseer for permitting the trade and consorting with Vasconcellos.Yet he failed to remove Vasconcellos from the fazenda. He may haveallowed the lavrador to remain in order to help guard against rebellion (onthe presumption that, despite friendly relations with the slaves,Vasconcellos would still oppose any uprising), or in return for politicalallegiance. Regardless of the reason, the result was that Vasconcellos'sillicit trade continued.

Simoes attempted to stop the trade, but despite his vigilance severalslaves managed to visit Vasconcellos's cabin during the two-week tenure ofthe new overseer. His attempted restrictions, moreover, inspired slaveresistance. Sebastiao Soares, one of the most active participants in the trade,crafted the plot of the overseer's murder. During the trial, several of theslave informants surmised that Vasconcellos himself had a part in themurder, but the lavrador was cleared of all charges. Venancio himself ne verappeared in court. As overseer, then, Simoes had been in a delicatesituation: Venancio expected him to stop the coffee-theft and to restoreproduction to previous levels, but gave him little support. And hiscompatriot Vasconcellos proved no ally. His murder cannot be considered asurprise.36

Some overseers responded to their ambiguous position by cultivatingclose ties with the slaves. Referring to Venancio's former overseer, forexample, the slave Elias asserted that 'he had known him for a long time ...and that he liked him, and was well-liked in return'. And in 1860 one ofLacerda W emeck 's slaves ran away to the house of his former overseer andrefused to return. Lacerda Werneck sent another overseer after the slave,unsuccessfully, and eventually had to call in the local police to bring theslave back.37


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OVER SEERS IN THE PARAIBA VALLEY, BRA ZIL 4 3

Sexual relationships between overseers and slaves were also common,though even less easy to track in the documents. In 1711 Antonil warnedplanters against the tendency of overseers to abuse 'the female slave whodid not want to consent to sin'. Such abuse occurred frequently: during theclosing years of Brazilian slavery, abolitionists used reports of the sexualabuse of slaves to emphasize slavery's ills, bringing brutal crimes to publiclight. It is the unforced relationships within the fazenda that disapp ear fromthe historical record almost completely, only appearing in the criminalcases, for example, when associated with some disturbance. The Portugueseimmigrants in general frequently cultivated relationships with slave women.When they crossed fazenda boundaries and threatened the slave-owner'scontrol, such relationships drew the attention of the authorities, leaving a

paper trail. In 1856, for example, the Portuguese vendor Manoel AlvesCan ella unsuccessfully attempted to whisk Firmina, his slave lover, away tothe interior. And in 1855 the slave Raphael Pardo killed the immigrantManoel Moreira da Cunha after the pair had vied for several months for theaffections of the same slave woman. Indeed, Portuguese men acquired areputation for such relationships: Couty suggested that 'the Portugueseimmigrant has a taste for black women'. Stein attributed this reputationprimarily to demographic necessity: cut off from the social circles of theplanter class, the vast numbers of immigrant bachelors 'could ill affordracial prejudice'.38

Elite ostracism of the poor Portuguese, then, created certain bonds, or atleast similarities, between these immigrants and slaves. The Swiss diplomatJ.J. Von Tschudi, during his mission to Brazil in the 1866s, noted that youn gmen from the Azores were the only immigrants who consented to workalongside the slaves in São Paulo, writing, 'they see nothing extraordinaryin this'.39 For the overseers, however, these bonds were not without cost.Social distance from the planter class increased the danger of the difficulttask of enforcing plantation order. The planters depended on poorimm igrants as a group to fill certain limina l, temp orary roles, such as that ofoverseer, but individual overseers were dispensable. Thus, intimaciesbetween immigrants and slaves notwithstanding, the image that remainsfrom a consideration of the Paraiba Valley feitores is one of tension andperil.

Bento Luis Martins, in his initial statement to the police, offered themo st gripping impression of that peril. Within hou rs of his near-fatal attackby the slaves he supervised, Martins related a blood-curdling tale of slaverevenge for past abuses and institutional domination. He alleged that all buttwo of the fifty slaves he had supervised whipped him, each one taking upthe lash several times. Two of the slaves had com e forward to beat him w ithhoes, but the leader of the slaves had insisted that they kill him by whipp ing,


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'as the whites do to slaves'. While he was tied to a tree, one of the slavesbegan to throw dirt on his face, screaming, 'In your land do they haveblacks, too?' The rest of the slaves followed this example, flinging mud atMartins until his face was bruised and blackened.

The first free witnesses to arrive at the scene, several minutes after theattack, gave no indication that this mud-flinging had taken place, andmentioned no wounds on the victim's face. Three slaves were eventuallyconvicted for the attack, but the court was satisfied that the others had nottaken part. M artins ' tale, then, mu st be considered at best wild exag geration:none of the slaves who had witnessed the incident gave testimony evenremotely similar, and Martins himself did not repeat the tale in any laterstatement to the court. Even as fiction, however, the story reveals the fears

and preoccupations of a new overseer attempting to impose authority onresistant slaves. Martins was clearly frightened of the slaves he supervised,regarded his own authority as tenuous, and feared being treated as a slavehimself. This was an extreme case, but such fears were not irrational for apoor immigrant in the Paraiba Valley, distrusted by the planters, yet reliedon to bear the brunt of the consequences for slave discontent.40

This essay began with a summary of what the overseers wore becausethe slaves themselves, in their testimony, concentrated on such details.Aga in and again slaves men tioned the ove rsee r's jacket, or slippers, or hat;his pipe, his watch, and, above all, the ever-present whip. These meagreobjects marked the difference between overseer and slave. Slaves were notusually given jackets and were not allowed to wear shoes. Some slaves had

pipes, but those pipes were not generally as fine as the one stolen offSimöes's corpse. A watch would have been far beyond the acquisitive reachof a plantation slave , at least by any legitimate m eans. And Olive ira's w atchalso signified his command over the slaves' time, his authority to set thepace of their labours. Its disappearance - like that of Macedo's shoes andSimöes's pipe - marked his final defeat, the last reduction of his authority,the brief negation of the power of the whip and the watch.

NOTES

Th e author wishes to thank Sandra Lauderdale Graham a nd Adelci da Silva do s Santos fo r adviceand assistance, and the Latin American Institute of the University of New Mexico for researchfunding.

1. Eugene Genovese, Roll Jordan Roll: Th e World t he Slaves Made (New York: RandomHouse, 1974), p.370.

2 . Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Sebastiāo Soares, Vassouras 1866, C a r t ó n od o Primeiro Ofício de Vassouras, auto de corpo de delicto, fl.4 (Carório records hereaftercited as CPOV). The pipe proved to be a red herring in the investigation of the case. Thepolice originally suspected t he slave Adāo of the crime, as he was a known p ipe smoker, andh ad m ysteriously acq uired a new pipe on th e day of the murder. Adāo s pipe did indeed turn


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OVER SEERS IN THE PARAIBA VALLEY, BRAZI L 4 5

out to be Simões's, but Adão had not been involved in the crime. He acquired the pipe fromSebastião Soares, one of the killers, who had stolen the pipe from the corpse.

3. Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Manuel Maranhão, Vassouras, 1870, CPOV,auto de corpo de delicto, fl.5.

4. Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendants, Gil Africano, Manoel, Vassouras, 1879,CPOV, auto de corpo delicto, fl.7.

5. C.F. Van Delden Laerne, Brazil and Java: Report on Coffee Culture in America Asia andAfrica (London: W.H. Allen & Co., 1885), p.369; Stanley Stein, Vassouras: A Coffee County1850-1900 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1957), p.369; Sidney Chalhoub,Visôes da Liberdade: urna história das ult imas décadas da escravidão na côrte (Rio deJaneiro: Companhia das Letras, 1990) pp.31-2; Louis Couty, A Escravidão no Brasil 1881,trans. Maria Helena Rouanet (Rio de Janeiro: Fundação Casa de Rui Barbosa, 1988), p.76.

6. Carlos Augusto Taunay, as cited in Affonso de Escragnolle Taunay, História do Café noBrasil (Rio de Janeiro, 1939) v.l V, p.288; Louis Couty, Escravidão p.77; Emilia Viotti daCosta, Da Senzala a Colônia (São Paulo: Difusão Européia do Livro, 1966), p.214.

7. Francisco Peixoto de Lacerda Wemeck, the Barão de Pati do Alferes, Memória Sobre a

Fundção de urna Fazenda na Província do Rio de Janeiro 1848 (Rio de Janeiro: FundaçãoCasa de Rui Barbosa, 1985), p.61; F.A. Veiga de Castro, 'Um Fazendeiro do seculo passado',Revista do Arquivo Municipal São Paulo, 97 (1944) p.40; Couty, as cited in HumbertoMachado, Escravos Senhores e Café (Rio de Janeiro: Editora Cromos, 1993), p.89;Instructions for the Standing Committee Appointed by the Planters of the County ofVassouras 1854 (Rio de Janeiro: Episcopal de Guimarães & Co. Publishers), translated bySandra Lauderdale Graham, pp.2-5.

8. Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Sebastião Soares, Vassouras, 1866, CPOV;Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Manuel Maranhão, Vassouras, 1870, CPOV;Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendants, Gil Africano, Manoel, Vassouras, 1879,CPOV; for a fuller discussion of plantation ratios and the role of the capataz, see BryanMcCann, 'Slavery Negotiated: Tension on the Middle Ground, the Paraíba Valley, Brazil',1835-1888 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, M.A.) pp.72-87.

9. Lacerda Werneck, Memória pp.61-62. Lacerda Wemeck occasionally interchanges theterms feitor and administrador and does not appear to make a clear distinction.; A.E.Taunay, História v.l V, pp.298-300.

10. The Dutch agriculturalist Delden Laerne wrote the most precise description available ofplantation routine in the Paraiba Valley. (Laerne wrote in the early 1880s) Delden Laeme,Coffee Culture; Lacerda Wemeck, Memória p.62; Padre Ferreira de Aguiár, as cited in A.E.Taunay, História v.V, p. 18.

11. Delden Laerne, Coffee Cultivation p.390; A.E. Taunay, História v.l V, p.300; LacerdaWerneck, Memória p.67; Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Sebastião Soares,Vassouras, 1866, CPOV.

12. Carlos Augusto Taunay, as cited in A.E. Taunay, História v.l V, pp.290; A.E. Taunay,História pp.298-300; LacerdaWerneck, Memória pp.62-64; Juízo Municipal, ProcessoCriminal , defendant: Januário Congo, Vassouras, 1844, CPOV; Veiga de Castro,'Fazendeiro', p.41.

13. André João Antonil, Cultura e Opulência do Brasil 1711 (São Paulo: EdiçõesMelhoramentos, 1976), p.83. Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: JoaquimFerreira da Silva, Vassouras, 1878, APOV.

14. Adele Toussaint Samson, A Parisian in Brazil (Boston: James H. Earle, 1891), p.76 ; Couty,Escravidão p.77; Stein, Vassouras p. 135.

15. Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Joaquim Ferreira da Silva, Vassouras, 1878,CPOV, fls. 2-7.

16. For a related discussion on overseers and masters, see Silvia Lara, Canpos da Violénciap. 163; Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Antonio Barbudo, Vassouras, 1860.Arquivo da Prefeitura de Vassouras, fls.2-5, 15-22 (hereafter cited as APV); JuízoMunicipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Leandro de Souza Freitas, Vassouras, 1874, APV,fls.2-4 , 13. Slave-owners did not always delegate their authority of corporal punishment, ofcourse. In an 1856 letter, Lacerda Werneck recounted his difficulty with a recalcitrant slave:


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SLAVERY AND ABOLITION

About a month ago I laid open his back, but he became worse and the only thing left is tokill him, which I will not do.' Rio de Janeiro, Arquivo Nacional, Seção de ArquivosParticulares, A Famil ia Werneck, Cod. 112, Vol 3, Copiador 1, fl.352.

17 . Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Manoel Maranhão, Vassouras, 1870, CPOV,testimony of Barão de Massambara, fl.45 and appended letter.

18 . Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal; defendant: Januario Congo, Vassouras, 1844, CPOV;Juízo Munic ipal, Processo Criminal; defendant: Gil Africano, Vassouras, 1879, CPOV.

19 . Genovese describes a similar situation in the American South: 'Any sensible master,notwithstanding all pretensions and professions, trusted his slaves against his overseer.Overseers came and went; the slaves remained.' Genovese, Roll Jordan Roll p. 17.

20. Antonil, Cultura p.83.2 1 . Lacerda Wemeck, Memória p.67 . Lacerda Werneck even uses the word 'en godo' - an

enticement, or decoy - to describe the scheme.2 2 . Couty, Fscravidao pp.96-7.2 3. When used as a measurement of volume, the alqueire equalled approximately 13.5 litres.

Stein, Vassouras p.293.

24. The custom of padrinho on the plantations takes its name from the language of formalgodparenthood, but was an informal custom of temporary sponsorship of a wayward slave.By securing such sponsorship, generally from a free person outside the plantation, slavescould escape punishment. See McCann, 'Slavery Negotiated', pp.12-30.

25. Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal; defendant: Sebastião Soares, Vassouras, 1866, CPOV,first testimony of informant Barbara.

26. Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal; defendant: Gil Africano, Vassouras, 1879, CPOV,second testimony of informant Manoel.

27. Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal; defendant: Januário Congo, Vassouras, 1844, CPOV,testimony of slaves Círio, Antônio Moçambique, João Congo.

28. Genovese, Roll Jordan Roll p.1 3; see also William Kauffman Scarborough, The Overseer:Plantation Management in the Old South (Baton Rouge: Lousiana State University Press,1966), p.5.

2 9. Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Manoel Maranhão, Vassouras, 1870, CPOV;Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Januário Congo, Vassouras, 1844 , CPOV;Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Sebastião Soares, Vassouras, 1866, CPOV;

Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Gil Africano, Vassouras, 1879, CPOV, fl.9;Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Claudino, Vassouras, 1854, APV; all othercases Processos Criminals, CPOV; Lacerda Werneck, letter of 25 Nov. 1858, ArquivoNacional, AP29, familia Werneck, microfilm 6, PY692.53, also cited in Eduardo Silva, a rōes e Escravidão: Três Gerações de Fazendeiros e a Crise da Estrutura Escravista (Riode Janeiro: Nova Fronteira, 1984) p.196 ; Stein, Vassouras pp.126-8, 156-7.

30. Stuart Schwartz, Sugar Plantations in the Formation of Brazilian Society: Bahia 155 0-1 835(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985) pp. 132- 60; Silvia Lara, Campos daViolencia: Escravos e Senhores na Capitania do Rio de Janeiro 1750-1808 (Rio de Janeiro:Paz e Terra, 1988), pp.165-83.

31 . Stein, Vassouras pp.1 26- 8; Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: SebastiãoSoares, Vassouras, 1866, CPOV.

32. Stein, Vassouras p. 127; Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Chico Tropeiro,Vassouras, 1854, CPOV; Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: José Gonçalves daSilva, Vassouras, 1881, CPOV, first Statement of defendant; Juízo Municipal, ProcessoCriminal, defendant: Manoel Maranhão, Vassouras, CPOV, 1870, auto de arrecadacão dosbens do fallecido.

3 3. Eugene Ridings, Business interest Groups in Nineteenth-Century Brazil (Cambridge:Cambridge University Press, 1994) p p . 8 0 - 1 , 90,3 20; June Hahner, Poverty and Politics: theUrban Poor in Brazil 1870-1920 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1986),pp. 147-8.

34. Instructions for the Standing Committee pp.2-5; The census found 1,073 Por tuguese menamong a free population of 19,085. Diretoria Geral de Estatística. Recenseamento dapopulação do Império do Brasil a que se procedeu no dia primeiro de agosto de 1872. Rio


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OVERS EERS IN THE PARAIBA VALLEY, BRAZI L 4 7

de Janeiro: Leuzinger, 1873-76.35 . On the free poor and the political role of agregados see Richard Graham, Patronage andPolitics in Nineteenth Century Brazil (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1990), pp.34-5,7 1.

36 . Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal , defendant: Sebastião Soares, Vassouras, 1866, CPOV,esp. first testimony of informants Adan, Elias, Augusto, second testimony of defendantSebastião Soares, first and second testimony of Francisco Bemardes da Costa.

37. Juízo Municipal, Prucesso Criminal, defendant: Sebastião Soares, Vassouras, 1866, CPOV,first testimony of informant Elias; Silva, Barões p.155.

38 . Antonil, Cultura p.84; Correspondence of the President of the Province of Rio de Janeiro,1884, Section P.P., Caixa 174, Arquivo Estadual do Rio de Janeiro; Juízo Municipal,Processo Criminal, defendant: Manoel Alves Canella, Vassouras, 1856, CPOV; JuízoMunicipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Raphael Pardo, Vassouras, 1855, esp. firsttestimony of witnesses Eduardo Henrique Trindade, Jose Luís Araujo; Couty, Escravidãopp.60-1; Stein, Vassouras p.157.

39 . J.J. Von Tschudi, Viagem as Províncias do Rio de Janeiro e São Paulo 1866 (São Paulo:Livraria Martins, 1953), pp .130-1.

40. Juízo Municipal, Processo Criminal, defendant: Januário Congo, Vassouras, 1844, CPOV,initial statement by the victim.

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