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Deliberations of the Portuguese Overseas Councilon the Estado da Índia: survival 1707-50Yong Huei SimUniversity of Wollongong

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Recommended CitationSim, Yong Huei, Deliberations of the Portuguese Overseas Council on the Estado da Índia: survival 1707-50, Doctor of Philosophythesis, Faculty of Arts, University of Wollongong, 2007. http://ro.uow.edu.au/theses/1735

DELIBERATIONS OF THE PORTUGUESE OVERSEAS COUNCIL ON

THE ESTADO DA ĺNDIA: SURVIVAL 1707-50

Presented to the Faculty of Arts of the University of Wollongong in fulfilment of the requirements for the Degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

from

UNIVERSITY OF WOLLONGONG

by

YONG HUEI SIM (TEDDY)

FACULTY OF ARTS 2007

CERTIFICATION I, Yong Huei Sim (Teddy) declare that this thesis, submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the award of Doctor of Philosophy, in the Faculty of Arts, University of Wollongong, is wholly my own work unless otherwise referenced or acknowledged. The document has not been submitted for qualifications at any other academic institution. Yong Huei Sim 30 May 2007

ABSTRACT

This thesis investigates the survival of the Portuguese Empire in the

East against the backdrop of the rise of the British Empire in India in

the first half of the eighteenth century. The topic is investigated from

the perspective of metropolitan Portugal through the central

institution of the Overseas Council, based in Lisbon. In a nascent

field such as this, the methodology is part hypothesis-testing and

part exploratory using empirical data from the archives of Lisbon and

published primary sources. The register of the Council’s

deliberations and other original documents provide empirical

evidence about the role of leadership in the survival of the eastern

Empire.

With so much focus on the decline studies of the Estado da India

(Portuguese State of India) as well as Portuguese private and

informal enterprise east of India, this thesis sets out to prove that,

despite a series of severe defeats, the Estado was, in a livelier

sense of the word, “alive and kicking”. It shows how the survival and

prolongation of the Estado was dependent upon the centre and on

direct representatives from that centre. It also reveals how this

balance of interests was likely to tilt towards the latter the further

away this periphery was from the centre. In the centre,this thesis

tries to show how the personal style of the leadership of King João V

also affected the administration dealing with the Estado, as well as

the number and quality of leadership sent to India. More concretely,

on the ground in India, it shows how survival was dependent on the

day-to-day instruments of the early modern state, that is, diplomacy,

war, trade and revenue extraction. In the context of the early modern

international environment, the study shows how treaties were forged

to bring the Portuguese respite from hostility, even though they were

not followed to the full letter of the agreement. In terms of war, this

thesis reveals that, despite their severe limitations, Portuguese arms

were able to hold their own, despite suffering periodic defeats. In

terms of revenue extraction, it shows how revenue collection

became less reliant on trade and more dependent on rent. In

exploring the attempt to revive commerce at Mozambique, this study

shows how the endeavour was foiled by self-interests and by an

attitude that was not conducive to business transactions. It also

explores areas of ‘soft’ factors like religion and culture, where the

results of state investment proved uncertain, although they would

translate into factors of colonization in the long term. At the far end of

the Eastern Empire in Timor, the study examines the role of religious

establishments and state intervention in installing a permanent

presence in the first half of the eighteenth century. Back in India, in

examining the much touted revival in the 1740s, it reveals that it

largely consisted of territorial stabilization and had little to do with

later New Conquests.

Finally, this study bridges the gap between what is relatively known

about one of the “less successful” players in a period when the

British power was on the rise.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This thesis began as a result of finding out more about my subject area whilst working as an education officer. The process has since helped me not only to understand my professional area but know more about myself. This project would not have been possible without the support of my family members especially my mother who, at times, bore the brunt of the ups and downs of the project. The project would also probably have stopped without the support of my wife, Sandy, and my mother-in-law. Special thanks to my supervisor (Dr Lorraine White) and her partner (Stewart), who have always and especially nearing the end of the project, provided invaluable assistance; for instance, putting me up at their place. Special thanks also to Professor Adrian Vickers for taking special interest to get the project moving. At the Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, the help from Dr Sintra and the staff is much appreciated. Thanks are also extended to the Fundação Oriente who provided financial assistance for part of the purchase of materials. To all others whom I have not been able to mention, my deep appreciation to those who have helped in one way or another. Teddy 31 Mar 2006

TO JUN, OUR MOTHERS AND LORRAINE

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements 1 Introduction 1 2 Background 32

Portugal and its Empire to 1700 Constraint of Distance and Technology Context of Brazil and Empire

3 Leadership from Lisbon to Goa 56

Court of D. João V and Early Baroque Government Background and Role of Overseas Council The Viceregal Institution

4 Business of India 1 – War and Diplomacy 101

Diplomacy with Protagonists in India War and Reinforcements Peacemaking and Conflicts outside India

5 Business of India 2 – Commerce and Political Economy 142

Trade Activities of Estado and Conflicts Aspects of Revenue Collection Mozambique 1707-50

6 Business of India 3 – Religiosos, Race, State and Extreme

Periphery 175 “Civilizing Mission” Poselytising Enterprises Macao and Sub-Imperialism at Timor

7 Beginning of a Revival? 201

Origins of New Conquests Campaigns, Diplomacy and Stabilization in Commerce D. João V’s Demise

8 Conclusions 226

Appendices A. Glossary 234 B. List of Governors and Viceroys 1668-1750 236 C. Tables 1-4 and Map-Statistics 237 D. Maps 1-6 239

Bibliography 245

Dom João V From Zuquete A.E. directed, Nobreza de Portugal

(Lisbon, 1969), p. 573

Please see print copy for image

1

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

The Estado da ĺndia in the first half of the eighteenth century has, to

date, not been studied in any book-length treatment. A few reasons

may account for this. First, this period coincided with the reign of

King João V and is stereotyped as one of increasing absolutism. Yet,

ruling during a period of transition, Dom (D.) João V’s role was less

‘popular’ than that of his son, who was associated with the

‘enlightened despotism’ of Pombal. In Portugal, dictatorship was only

toppled in the last quarter of the twentieth century. Democracy and

associated liberal ideas are still evolving in Portugal. 1 Hence,

research in autocracy-related topics may be uncongenial. The fall of

communism in the last decade of the twentieth century boosted the

liberal ideology further. 2 Second, extending from this, India, the

supposed backwater of the Portuguese empire in the eighteenth

century, was seen as the last bastion of feudal vestiges and

mercantilist practices of, and by, the Portuguese. Hence, whenever

the king was discussed in relation to India, traditional narratives often

took the route of an un-analytical chronicling of military exploits by

his governors. The preoccupation of the historiography of the East is

largely absorbed with the first half of the seventeenth century and

before. In Portugal, many resources and much attention are still tied

up in research of the glorious period of the sixteenth century

because “there remains much to be studied”.3 This is affirmed by

Wiarda in his Handbook of Portuguese Studies, who ascribes the

reasons for the gap in studies on the Portuguese East to the lack of

orientalists. 4 Third, contemporary materialistic culture is almost

always concerned with success, ‘progress’ and quantifiable

2

improvement. In the early modern period, only the Dutch and British

empires qualified as having achieved hegemony. And while it is still

tolerable to study the British empire, it is more ‘fashionable’ to study

the current American empire for possible signs of decline.5

The linkage of India in the first half of the eighteenth century with D.

João V is apt because his reign of 1707-50 almost spans this entire

period. Here, the focus of the Portuguese second empire is

lopsidedly inclined towards the ‘rich’ and ‘higher priority’ Brazil.

Moreover, the handful of studies covering the end of the sixteenth to

mid-seventeenth centuries is concerned with the causes for decline.

Yet, the remnants of the territories and outposts of the Portuguese

East survived well into the twentieth century. Indeed, Portuguese

India experienced a brief spate of expansion in the second half of the

eighteenth century.6 At the extreme periphery, Macao participated

alongside the great colonial powers such as France and Britain in

the Boxer suppression in China at the turn of the nineteenth

century.7 As an extraterritorial concession, Portuguese Macao even

outlasted British Hong Kong in the reversion to China at the end of

the twentieth century. One of the first salvos of survival (as opposed

to decline) studies was aptly put by Winius in an article, when he

declared that:

the question of why the Portuguese failed to

retain their Asian empire has ceased to have

much meaning in the twenty-first century […]

historians [now] marvel that it held so long in

the face of native enemies and Dutch and

English rivals.8

3

Shortly before this, a book-length cannonade had been fired off by

Ames’ Renascent Empire.9

At this point, a few key terms and concepts need to be clarified:

survival, colonisation and imperialism. In essence, are we talking

about the same thing when we refer to factors for colonisation vis-à-

vis reasons explaining “imperialism”? How does the recent search

for the causes relating to the survival of the Portuguese empire fit

into the picture? The Oxford Dictionary defines “imperialism” as a

system of government by an emperor or similar sovereign over

extensive dominions; “colonialism” is defined as the policy of having

colonies or settlements.10 “Imperialism” is implemented more from

the centre, whereas “colonialism” is carried out by settlers. Pre-

nineteenth century empires of the sea are, therefore, more colonial

than imperialistic.11 “Imperialism” is associated more with nineteenth

century European empires. Later definitions of imperialism extended

the coverage of the term to more than just political control (neo-

imperialism comprising economic and cultural domination), and this

can be seen as being more comprehensive.12 In a sense, imperial

economic extraction at its highest may be equated to colonialism.13

Furthermore, Osterhammel thinks that either concept could exist

without the other.14 In the end, pre-nineteenth century empires may

not have been very “imperialistic” because the issue boils down to

the degree of control exercised (itself limited by advances in

technology).

Closely related to “imperialism” is the term “empire”. In a paper

presented at the Second International Seminar of Indo-Portuguese

History in 1980, Filipe Thomaz raised the idea of seeing the

Portuguese enterprise in the East as a network rather than an

empire, because whatever little of the territories there were consisted

4

of ports and naval outposts linked together by sea routes. In the

same paper, Thomaz also queried whether the classification could

have evolved over time, as there seemed to be evidence of a more

land-based approach during the Habsburg Union (1580-1640) –

seen in the acquisition of Ceylon. Disney raised a similar point,

arguing for a more land-bound research of the Estado in India

because the coastal strip of land in the north that stretched thirty

miles inland in places totalled roughly 1,000 square miles.15 After the

fall of Bassein in 1739, the Portuguese at Goa strove to expand

outwards to create a buffer zone.16 Analogous in practice to a land-

based empire, these lands also contributed taxes and rents to Goa.

Although the actual white population remained small, intermarriage

created a more sizeable mixed population. In this way, one can talk

about a settlement through colonisation (although in no way could

this be compared to the more populous and much larger plantations

in Brazil).

This current study forms part of centre-periphery studies because it

deals with the linkages between Lisbon centre and the Portuguese

eastern periphery, which have tended to be neglected. The seminal

study by Shils expounding on general centre-periphery relations will

be briefly summarised here since more application will be made of it

in later chapters. The “centre” is designated as the realm of “order of

symbols, values and beliefs which govern society”. It has “little to do

with geography”.17 The centre is also the “realm of action. It is a

structure of activities, of roles and persons, within the network of

institutions, organisations and sub-systems”. 18 According to Shils,

the authority in each of these sub-bodies make up an elite. The elite

choose to uphold that central value system because “human beings

have a need for incorporation into something which transcends their

individual existence”.19 Also, “[t]he lower one goes in the hierarchy,

5

the further one moves from the center of authority, the less likely is

that authority to be appreciated”. 20 The appreciation for those in

authority by those below and in the family units constitutes qualities

which are called secondary values. Shils also adds that “not all

persons who come into positions of authority possess the same

responsiveness to authority”; 21 those who are more capable of

resisting act as traditional brakes to that authority. Hence,

“consensus is never perfect”. He goes on to say that “[t]he mass of

the population in most pre-modern societies live, in a sense, outside

society and have not felt their remoteness”. For Shils, “[m]odern

society rests on technology to integrate the population into a more

unified whole”.22

While Wallerstein’s Modern World System seeks to apply Shils’

concept, it does so without consideration of any voice that the

periphery might have.23 Quite a number of studies have since sought

to use Shil’s idea to look at variations in different European overseas

empires, especially with respect to the Americas.24 With regard to

the East, an earlier study which took a closer look at the interests of

the periphery is Boxer’s Portuguese Society in the Tropics.25 In an

article published in 1990, Ames tried to show that hegemony in

stage-associated models (as in Wallerstein’s system) was fought

and decided not only at the centre, but in the colonies as well.26

In one of the latest books on Portuguese overseas expansion

extending to 1668, Newitt writes that “historians have been

notoriously fickle in their interpretations. It is as though they are

observing the behaviour of some animal without being able to agree

to what species it belongs”. 27 This is as true for Portuguese

expansion as for its decline. Herein also lies the linkage in

discussion between decline and renaissance. Since research on the

6

Portuguese East has focused, up to the present, from the 1660s to

the 1680s, whatever comes afterwards ought not to be classified or

dubbed as decline simply because expansion had ‘fizzled out’. While

there is no consensus on the dating of decline, the Portuguese were

still thought to be expanding in the East in the reigns of kings João III

and Sebastião in some literature. 28 This expansion came to an

abrupt halt with the fiasco of Alcacer Kebir in Morocco and the death

in battle there of the latter monarch. Subrahmanyam writes in his

study on Portuguese Asia that they were already facing a crisis by

the mid-sixteenth century.29 In another evidence of an earlier decline,

Newitt observes that the Portuguese were dismantling the royal

monopolies after the 1550s. 30 Cortesão, the historian doyen of

Portugal, also dated decline from the mid-sixteenth century.31 For

proponents of the thesis positing the Spanish Armada or Habsburg

rule as a cause for decline thesis, such as Oliveira Marques, the first

Portuguese empire deteriorated with the union with Spain in 1580.32

Boxer, meanwhile, thought the Portuguese faced a challenge from

the Dutch at the beginning of the seventeenth century, and after

1663 lapsed into a period of stagnation and further contraction.33 The

inconsistent and at times contradictory observations may be

ascribed to what Newitt describes as a “dialectical rhythm”. These

include: “royal centralisation at a time of popular migration […] the

desire for religious orthodoxy conflicting with racial intermarriage and

cultural syncretism”, the patrimonial order simultaneously existing

with “the professional needs of a worldwide empire; the attempt at

restrictive monopoly” while hoping for “the growth of a global market;

epic and heroic aspirations with a profound sense of betrayal,

corruption and failure”.34

If one can plot a graphic representation of Portuguese activities in

the East against time, the Portuguese East seems to have sloped

7

upwards from around the turn of the fifteenth century, then stagnated

to become a constant or even slightly downward slope from the mid-

sixteenth century, thereafter dropping more rapidly during the

Habsburg Union and spiralling down further during the first decades

of the Restoration. Finally, the line returned to a constant or slight

decline after the 1660s. In this context, Ames’ treatment might

represent a slight upward slope. From here onwards, plotting a

graphical representation becomes problematic, because if the

Portuguese were “contracting” and “declining” thereafter (allowing for

a steep drop again in 1740 with the loss of Bassein), they held on for

another 250 years before having to give up the last of their territories

in Asia! If the glorious expansion period is taken as a yardstick for

Portuguese success, they would never be able to measure up after

the mid-seventeenth century. From another angle, comparison

between the earlier and later Portuguese enterprise in the East might

not be as meaningful as it seems – in the latter, the Portuguese had

made the transition to a more land-based entity. If one accepts the

thesis of a long, drawn-out decline, Portuguese activities in the East

may be seen as cyclical, with short peaks and troughs which

approximate to a gradual declining slope. New research, for

example, on the New Conquests and brief expansion during

Pombal’s period can be seen as contributing to a short peak.

The periodisation discussed so far relates to the official Portuguese

presence in the East. The picture would be quite different if one was

to look at the Portuguese empire as a whole, or factor in the

Portuguese informal existence. Current historiography tends to see

the Portuguese empire in the long haul as a series of first, second

and third empires. In the period of the second empire, an upward

sloping graph would be seen, even if Portuguese Asia was not doing

well, because territories and wealth were rapidly expanding in

8

Brazil. 35 Seen from a global perspective, the Restoration period

might even be plotted as a constant because, while the Portuguese

suffered defeat in the East, it was balanced out by triumph in the

Americas against the Dutch.36

While this thesis does not deny that the centre extracted benefits

from the periphery, it does try to understand the Portuguese official

presence in the East from the perspective of home. This is not an

argument in support of traditional absolutist studies, but there is a

genuine need to understand Portuguese officialdom in the East since

so much attention has been re-directed to the informal presence to

explain Portuguese survival in the East. Members of the Overseas

Council (Conselho Ultramarino, created 1643) as well as viceroys on

the ground continued to engage in a flurry of tasks and duties in the

late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries in an effort to keep

the head of the Estado da ĺndia above water. Even as

Subrahmanyam reduced the Portuguese in Asia at 1700 to “private

traders (trying to keep a distance from Goa) and remnant sub-

imperialists (at Timor)”, acknowledgement was made of the fact that

“diplomacy, finance and the occasional use of force ensured that the

Estado did not teeter on the brink of collapse as is sometimes

assumed”.37

As an intermediary in the communication between the king and

officials in the colonies and an administrative body through which

overseas matters were dispatched for settlement, the Overseas

Council is an important by-subject of this thesis. Yet, the best

monograph on the subject remains O Conselho Ultramarino –

Esboço da sua História by Marcello Caetano, published half a

century ago. His study traces the council broadly from its inception to

an evolved structure in the twentieth century.38 This book, however,

9

reserves little space for the business the council dealt with, or the

subtle changes that might have occurred in its inner workings.39 A

recently completed doctoral thesis by a Brazilian scholar, Edval

Barros, delved into the inter-institutional conflicts between the

Overseas Council and other politico-administrative bodies for the

period of its creation early in the Restoration up to 1661. The work

sheds light on the difficulties of dispatching aid set against the

background of those conflicts.40 Earlier in 2002, a seminal paper by

Erik Myrup revealed how the founding motivations of the council

were more closely tied with the rise of Brazil. He tried to prove this

through an examination of the composition and background of the

members appointed. 41 Elsewhere, brief mention can be found in

Boxer’s Salvador de Sa and the Struggle for Brazil and Angola and

Russell-Wood’s contribution to the recently published História da

Expansão Portuguesa.42 In the former, Boxer briefly describes the

decision-making process of the Restoration government and raised

the possibility that the Overseas Council might also be dealing in

matters of high policy. 43 In Russell-Wood’s chapter entry, the

possibility of changes in the function of the council is raised, and

diminution after 1736 is also noted. Specifically, the expansion of

staff in the Overseas Council is brought up, although neither the

cause of this nor the implications are discussed. 44

This thesis seeks to integrate preliminary work done on early

eighteenth century politico-administrative developments at home to

determine their impact on the management of overseas affairs.

Aligning with the broad direction of this thesis, the context, role and

minutiae relating to the East and India will be examined from

consultations of the Council, as well as documents from extra-

conciliar channels. This is despite assertions made by Myrup that the

Council was oriented towards Brazil.45

10

This investigation of the matters of India, extending from

Subrahmanyam’s observation (referred to above), will undertake to

categorise and look at the activities of the Portuguese from the

perspective of home in the following areas. First, the political and

administrative developments in Portugal, especially those in the

Overseas Council (and to some extent, with direct representatives

on the ground), will be explored in chapter 3. Second, the

consultations of the Council and other documents on India

emanating from the Crown will be examined to determine how the

Portuguese survived there. Specifically, it will determine how

diplomacy and war were utilised as an instrument of state in the

East. This will be the focus of chapter 4. Diplomatic efforts by the

Estado da ĺndia, as seen from documents of the Overseas Council,

will be examined. We will also explore the use of coercive force by

the Portuguese on land and at sea in the event that negotiations

failed. Third, this thesis will determine whether, and how far, trade

and profitability continued to help sustain the eastern empire. This

will be the focus of chapter 5. Revenue statements for particular

years will be examined to determine the sources of revenue. From

this, it will then be possible to assess the importance of commerce

for the Estado da ĺndia in the quest for self-sufficiency in the first half

of the eighteenth century. Finally, chapter 6 will look at how state

support for, and interaction with, religion facilitated or inhibited

survival in the short term. Chapters 4, 5 and 6 will investigate the

period up to the fall of Bassein in 1739. The much touted revival in

the last decade of D. João V’s reign after 1739 will be analysed

separately in chapter 7 from a largely political-economic perspective.

As was mentioned earlier, studies on Portuguese activities in the

Estado da ĺndia in the eighteenth-century, whether formal or

11

informal, are limited. On India, a more comprehensive work that

covers the whole of eighteenth-century India (to 1833) is Silva

Rego’s O Ultramar Português no Seculo XVIII.46 For the eighteenth

century, two further monographs by Saldanha and Lopes are

available for the second half of the century.47 Saldanha’s book can

be misleading at first glance for it only covers a part of the second

half of the eighteenth century under the viceroyalty of the first Count

of Ega. In terms of the conflict with enemies in India, the works by

Pissurlencar and Lobato are elaborate.48 From Pissurlencar’s works

(see the bibliography), The Portuguese and Marathas drew upon

valuable manuscripts such as the Livros das Monções and Livros

dos Reis Visinhos located in the Office of the Governor-General of

the State of India (before the handover), and now located at the

Historical Archive of Goa. Parts of The Portuguese and Marathas

include the verbatim transcription of primary documents arranged

into a flowing historical narrative. In themselves, these studies serve

as first hand sources for further reference. The final chronology on

the fall of Bassein was also drawn, among other printed primary

sources, from several “relations” or reports (both published and

unpublished); for example, Relações of the wars of India or of the

viceroy then in charge, the Count of Sandomil, or Relações of

“events” in the war with the Marathas or infidels. Lobato’s Relações

Luso-Maratas is also narrative, but more analytical; for example, the

issue as to whether the Portuguese pledged themselves as vassals

is taken up vis-à-vis the opinion of Pissurlencar.49 This thesis will

also extend its analysis to the various campaigns to show that the

Portuguese military on land was not as ineffective or hopeless as

has been portrayed, especially when aid was received from home.

On the southwestern coast of India, Jacob’s Rajas of Cochin and

Stephen’s Portuguese on the Tamil Coast cover up to 1720 and

12

1749 respectively.50 From an economic viewpoint, there is no single

work on the Portuguese for the first half of the eighteenth century,

although a chapter entry in the voluminous História da Expansão

Portuguesa noted that the stabilising efforts by the Portuguese were

not examined because of avoidance of Portuguese sources

(presumably by scholars who were unable to work with the

language51). Having said that, it must be acknowledged that earlier

works, for instance, that by Furber, gives useful cross references to

the economic activities of the Portuguese in Asia.52 A compilation of

papers and articles by Shirodkar is worth noting because it

represents one of the most recent updates that draws upon primary

sources relating to military and trade aspects of the first half of

eighteenth-century India. Despite useful segments that reveal

something about the Portuguese decline, the focus of Furber’s work

is on the Dutch and English companies. Shirodkar’s treatment on

trade strategy across the eighteenth century describes the

continuing but frustrating experiences of the Crown in reviving its

trade in India. 53 His evidence will be taken up in chapter 5.

Shirodkar’s assessment is a dismal one for Portuguese colonial

officialdom, but this thesis will try to present new evidence to

ameliorate this view. Shirodkar’s coverage of the Portuguese military

in the East focuses on the reforms and initiatives of individual

viceroys from the inception of the Estado da ĺndia to the end of the

period covered by the present study (i.e. 1750). Following this line,

he could only, at best, bring out salient points and developments of

the Portuguese eastern colonial military. This thesis will approach

Portuguese war-making more holistically. It will consider war from a

number of perspectives: as a political tool, in terms of strategy,

through an analysis of campaigns, development of professionalism

and advances in the light of European developments. The naval

history of the Portuguese in the East suffers from the same ailment

13

as general historiography in that, other than Ames and Monteiro, no

one has bothered to look at the Portuguese after the Dutch and

English came onto the scene. 54 This thesis will devote some

attention to naval exploits as an adjunct of the discussion on military

endeavours to argue that the defeat of the Portuguese at sea was

not a forgone conclusion. In this regard, while the military history of

the Portuguese in India has been the specialty of Rodrigues, his

coverage only extends to the later years of the Habsburg Union.55

Outside India, East Africa is amply covered by the works of Boxer

(and Azevedo) and Strandes, as well as Newitt.56 The first two look

at coastal East Africa in detail; the episode of the Mombasa failure

and attempts at rescue in the 1730s are analysed. The work by

Newitt is the most authoritative on the interior of East Africa. The

extreme periphery of Macao, with a focus on trade, is the domain of

the work of Souza.57 Portuguese Timor is the subject of a timeless

work by Matos, which covers economic, politico-administrative and

social-religious developments on the island from 1515 to about

twenty years beyond the investigative period of this thesis.58

The main thrust of this thesis is to investigate the factors for the

prolongation of the Portuguese in the East in the first half of the

eighteenth century. Modern historiography has taken half a century

for the investigation of decline to evolve into research about survival.

In terms of the causes for decline, the chronology of developments

can be traced as follows. The first decline literature was that of a

contemporary source by Diogo do Couto. Correa’s Lendas, like

Couto’s, belongs to a category of work which blames corruption for

the decline of the Portuguese in Asia.59 Next comes Danvers’ study

dating from the late nineteenth century which drew heavily on the

early Portuguese chroniclers. In part due to the sources utilised and

14

in part from a Whiggish outlook, he did not deviate too far from the

causes of decline advocated by do Couto.60 Duffy’s Shipwreck and

Empire – Being an Account of Portuguese Maritime Disasters in a

Century of Decline, kicked off the decline literature just after the mid-

twentieth century, identifying the Portuguese mentality – for

example, the lack of business acumen and greediness – as a cause

for decline.61 Cortesão, the widely-cited doyen of colonial studies

during the Salazar regime, pointed to a number of reasons for the

Portuguese decline in the East. These ranged from inadequate

resources to feudalistic corruption and the meddling of the king.62

Outside Portugal, the exiles of the fascist Salazar regime,

Magalhães Godinho and Oliveira Marques, were the first to catch up

with developments in Western historiography in the 1960s, as seen

in the Annales and even Marxist-affiliated approaches to Portugal’s

overseas decline. In terms of Portuguese decline, a structuralist

explanation was imputed – identifying decline in trade figures.63 In

the same decade, Boxer’s seminal work The Portuguese Seaborne

Empire ascribed the reasons of the downfall to lack of luck and the

strength of their enemies. A point often overlooked in this work is the

doyen’s observation that “the Portuguese decadence in Asia was not

equally obvious at all times and places”.64

The historiography of decline went from here in several directions –

Winius’ Fatal History of Ceylon added to the literature which blamed

the Portuguese limitations on their incompetence and resource

constraints.65 Disney’s work attempted to probe into the Portuguese

decline by looking at the establishment and failure of the Portuguese

India Company.66 In the 1980s, though not touching directly on the

Portuguese but on their Iberian Spanish cousins, Israel’s work

represented a new approach in trying to combine explanations from

15

both sides of the picture (that is, from the Dutch and Spanish).67 The

work’s time frame of 1606-61 embraced about forty years in which

Portugal was subsumed under Habsburg rule. On the side of

Portuguese academia, Saraiva, writing in 1979, was more unilateral

in ascribing the Portuguese decline to entanglement in Habsburg’s

wars, namely, that against England in the cross-channel Armada

battle.68 This argument is not new, nor did it go out of favour even in

the 1990s.69

Beginning in the 1990s, there has been a trend towards a more

symbiotic approach to explain the Portuguese decline, as seen in

Subrahmanyam’s work, which incorporated non-European sources.70

Van Veen’s Portuguese Decline – Decay or Defeat utilised the idea

of interacting groups in a network, and concluded with multiple

reasons segmented into a few periods to explain the decline. 71

Winius’ observation in the twenty-first century in regard to decline

and survival studies has already been noted above. Ames’ work,

then, stands at the end of this long line of studies that seek to

explain the admirable prolongation rather than defeat and decline.72

This thesis takes up the spirit of Ames’ work in attempting to explain

how the Portuguese were able to avoid being ousted across the

Estado da ĺndia. In relation to the Marathas, the main antagonist of

the Portuguese in India, this study will also seek to incorporate some

of the latest research to explain their actions towards the

Portuguese.

Perhaps not so noticeable in the literature is the fact that there have

been sporadic attempts to suggest how the Portuguese survived in

the East. For a start, Ames’ work ascribes capable leadership from

the centre by those who were able to implement economically self-

sustaining reforms, military revival and measures in the colonies as

16

an explanatory factor for survival.73 As early as 1951 and 1963, short

tracts on Portuguese colonisation were written during the

government of Salazar by Caetano and Silva Rego respectively.

Both pieces of writing highlighted religious conversion and

assimilation as an activity of Portuguese colonisation. On a second

point, Silva Rego thought that an administration modelled on that of

the metropole assisted the colonisation process, while Caetano

believed it was administrative differentiation on the ground as well as

political uniformity which made the difference in Portuguese

‘success’. Finally, Caetano pinpointed the mutually benefiting system

of economic development, while Silva Rego identified the spread of

language as the sustainer of colonisation.74 It should be noted that

the context of Caetano’s booklet is likely to have been a justification

for the retention of Portuguese colonies overseas. In the same year

of the publication of the booklet – that is, 1951 – the overseas

empire was called “overseas provinces”, as opposed to the

“colonies” referred before.75 From non-Portuguese quarters, it might

be surprising to learn that Furber’s work, which covered

developments of the Dutch and English companies in the orient (to

1800), argued that Portuguese pride, diplomacy with Asian enemies

and Europeans rivals – especially the alliance with the English –

were reasons for the Portuguese staying on.76 In more recent works,

in looking at the evolution of Portuguese overseas strategy, Ferreira

came to some conclusions regarding the continued Portuguese

presence in the East. First, he proposed a spiritual underpinning with

Christianity as a basis. Secondly, he proposed an exploring and

‘superior’ culture grounded in humanism and universalism. Thirdly,

he advocated the importance of political unity and favourable

conditions at home, as well as the adoption of this politico-

administrative model abroad. Lastly, he argued that language also

acted as a unifying factor.77

17

In terms of seeking an explanation for the survival, it would be useful

to distinguish between short-term and long-term factors, and to

understand the relation between them. The “principles of

colonisation” in Caetano’s tract communicated more of the long-term

factors. The use of the term “colonising” implied this. Secondly, how

‘successful’ and ‘lasting’ the Portuguese had been overseas became

increasingly important during the middle years of Salazar’s

dictatorship. In surmising the evolution of overseas strategies,

Ferreira also presented the long-term factors.78 Hence, long-term

factors are those aggregated determinants which can be applied, in

part or whole, to each of the periods analysed in Ferreira’s work – for

instance, the reign of Afonso V, João III to the loss of independence,

the reign of João V, nineteenth century developments (to the

Conference of Berlin), etc. The factors which apply within each

period become short-term ones. Ferreira, however, is not very clear

about these short-term determinants, or how they apply to specific

theatres like India. More immediate or contingent factors can be

found by analysing individual viceregal administrations within each

reign. However, it would call for more than one thesis to complete

such an analysis!

Having highlighted the decline and survival factors from the available

studies, can one talk about a relation between both sets of factors?

Viewing the transition of the factors from a decline- to survival-

perspective may only represent a chronological angle of the

historiography. The factor of leadership can, naturally, be associated

either with the rise, decline or even prolongation of the Portuguese

east. The ‘disinterest’ of the liberal-minded academics and historians

not only leads to the neglect of studies on monarchs (as leaders),

but also to the latters’ de-mystification. For example, Prince Henry

18

the Navigator is no longer seen as the visionary who conceived the

early explorations of Portugal, but as a power-starved noble seeking

out new opportunities for his private monopolies.79 There is also a

division of opinion within academia – for example, while Manuel I’s

role in the eastern expansion was being ravaged by Winius, a

Portuguese publication as late as 2002 continued to look favourably

on the visionary image of the king.80 On the ground, the efforts of

viceroys are better appreciated compared to the initiatives of the

king. While Vasco da Gama and Afonso de Albuquerque are

relatively much more written on, others like Lopo Soares de

Albergaria are not highly regarded. 81 Further down the road,

Disney’s study of the early career of the son of the Count of Linhares

argues against the prevalent trend of mixing the assessment of

Portuguese leadership with an alleged or real systemic flaw (such as

feudalistic practices or corruption), although he is careful to point out

that not all governors were flawless heads.82 The ‘revival’ effort by

Ames also represents the strongest voice over the long haul to

speak in support of the efforts of the centre under Pedro II in the

immediate post-Restoration period.83

This study will look briefly at the system emanating from home by

which the Portuguese operated in the East. The study of this system

is also often enmeshed with larger debates of ideological,

developmental and world system theories. Portugal was one of the

first countries in Europe to break away from feudalism and develop

an early modern state; this in turn enabled it to mobilise resources

and undertake overseas expansion from the fifteenth century. Again,

the very same reason which propelled Portugal onto the world stage

is the one that also contributed to its decline. The more restricted

debate which focuses on the administrative decadence is most

exemplified by the work of Danvers; one might also add Winius’

19

Black Legend of Portuguese India to this. 84 Assuming that the

Portuguese system was perfectly transplanted from home to its

colony at this point in time, Winius argues that Portuguese Asia was

a “uniquely corrupt place” to a degree that exceeded those in

comparable systems in the English East India Company (EIC), Dutch

East India Company (VOC) and even the Spanish empire. Winius

points out that the abnormal circumstance of Portuguese Asia was

not merely a by-product of the era of decline; it arose from a

permanent condition upon which the patronage network, selfish

values of the Portuguese nobility and the problem of distance all

fed.85

In terms of the sources, a systemic study is neither the objective nor

a feasible goal for this thesis. Such an investigation requires the

undertaking of research into the broader overlapping economic

environment, as well as the availability of ample primary data of the

financial and trade structure of the Estado da ĺndia along the lines of

studies undertaken by Magalhães Godinho and Federic Mauro. The

nature of the sources – the consultations of the Overseas Council

and isolated communications between the king and his

representatives or confidants – means that it may not be possible to

paint too concise picture of the centre.

The patronage network was also the redistributive system by which

economic benefits were shared in a mutual protective arrangement

between patrons. The theoretical and economic framework of pre-

modern or redistributive exchange was explored as early as 1957 in

a prominent article by Polanyi. 86 The Portuguese arrival and

subsequent activities in the Indian Ocean have been examined in

terms of their redistributive impact by Steensgaard.87 Some of the

figures used by Steensgaard were disputed and further refined by

20

Wake in 1979 – the former, it is claimed, had underestimated the

proportion of pepper brought by the Portuguese to Europe, implying

that the distributive share of the Portuguese had been larger. Wake

argued that, despite whatever debate there might have been on the

revival, the Levant trade seemed to have made up for the shortfall in

commodities the Portuguese were not able to bring in via the Cape

route.88 However, other studies as early as van Leur’s posthumously

published Indonesian Trade and Society have dismissed the

Portuguese impact in terms of shifts and the limited redirection of

trade.89 The overlap between van Leur’s view and the current hot

debates on eighteenth century historiography, spearheaded in part

by prominent scholars such as Bayly, is whether the history of British

India was pervasive or deep-seated enough to be seen as the

history of India.90 The link between the history of hinterland India and

the coming of the earlier European powers, which based themselves

along the coast, is the inland network with coastal colonial ports or

settlements. It is an area which requires much more research.

Closely related to redistribution is the discussion on the semi-

feudalistic versus early modern capitalist construct. The debate

advanced is that the Portuguese mode of operation resembled the

former, while the Dutch and English companies represented more of

the early modern capitalist construct. In another variant of the model

by Newitt, Portugal failed to break through in military professionalism

and organisation because its soldiers were motivated towards the

wrong ends, that is, feudalistic plundering instead of capitalistic

profit-maximising motives.91 Hence, appointment to office was seen

as enhancing the share of plunder; the granting of land was seen as

regularising the revenues of plunder. In the end, Portugal’s “wrong

turn” would relegate the kingdom to the status of a small power.92

However, Newitt was careful to clarify that Portugal’s rise as a

21

promising monopolistic capitalist state had, in the beginning, as good

a chance of succeeding as that of any other state. Steensgaard

himself admitted in the conclusion of The Asian Trade Revolution of

the Seventeenth Century that the difference might just have been a

matter of style in that companies also tried to achieve some form of

redistributive effect. 93 More recent studies reveal that the “early

multinational companies” of the northern Europeans had a heavy

state hand and operated in Asia in much the same way, even

reinforcing what the Portuguese had been practising. Why the

former, especially the English, were able to triumph was ascribed to

the “optimal” mix of state and free forces at work.94 The point of the

discussion up to this stage is that the limited dent made by the

Portuguese in the Indian Ocean trade during their ‘heyday’ was

enough to contribute to their rise, although the increasing share of

private Portuguese (vis-à-vis Crown share) in trade is to be noted.95

The imperfect control the early Portuguese monopolists tried to exert

experienced a continual slide after the mid-sixteenth century, which

contributed to their decline. In Ames’ work, the increasing private

participation in the remaining official Carreira da ĺndia was seen as a

“sign of maturation of the Bragança dynasty” – if the aim was to re-

establish the Carreira, the reduced or even negative profits might be

an accepted necessity, in conjunction with other schemes.96

A further issue is the extent to which rivalries between Asian states

and the coming of the Europeans, along with Portuguese arms, were

involved in the rise, decline and prolongation of the Estado da ĺndia

before the eighteenth century. The Portuguese ability to survive was

more complicated than a mere linear relationship with anarchy on

the sub-continent. When the Portuguese arrived on the scene in the

early sixteenth century, the large northern polity of the Dehli

sultanate had broken down into a Hindu and a number of Islamic

22

kingdoms. In the south, the kingdom of Vijayanagar held sway with a

host of port-sized principalities along the coast. Although the

Mughals had risen in power during this period, it was not until the

1630s they were able to achieve a more complete unification of a

large part of India. The Portuguese thrived in the beginning by

exploiting feuds between the various political entities – the rulers of

Cochin offered friendship to the Portuguese after having learnt of the

uneventful first meeting between the Zamorin of Calicut and Vasco

da Gama; Krishnadevaraya of Vijayanagar was pleased that Goa

was taken by the Portuguese from the Adil Shah of Bijapur.97 To a

certain extent, the Mughal consolidation can be seen as a change in

the overlord-vassal relationship. The Mughals were tolerant of the

Portuguese as long as they did not disrupt the local centres of

revenue and the balance of power. However, fellow Europeans had

actively intruded into the Indian Ocean and were out-competing the

Portuguese by this time (that is, the early 1600s). The Portuguese

tried, in vain, to oust the other Europeans from the scene through an

alliance with the Mughals, and later even tried to exploit their age-old

relationship with the English with, as we shall see later, little benefit.

Ames’ revival period (1668-1683) saw the beginning of a weakening

in the Mughals, as well as intermittent interference by powers

outside of India, for example, by the Omanis of Muscate, who foiled

Portuguese attempts to make a come-back in certain areas. In the

meantime, it seems that the Portuguese managed to stabilise their

position.98

It is widely recognised that the Portuguese enterprise in the East

was forged by naval superiority. On many occasions they prevailed

against overwhelming local numerical odds, for example, in their

victorious sea battle over the Egyptian fleet off Diu in 1509.

Meanwhile, the Portuguese made up for their deficiency in shallow

23

waters by building a galley fleet. Ironically, the Omani threat came at

a time when the Portuguese were supposed to be recovering just

after the mid-seventeenth century. Ames has shown that the

Portuguese were still able to marshal together respectable fire

prowess on the sea. On land, the coastal fortresses continued to be

the vital links of the Portuguese network. However, a number of

these were lost to their Dutch adversaries in the face of resource

inadequacy, rather then because of incompetence. A series of

measures (financial and logistic) strengthened the essentially

‘simplified’ network during Pedro II’s regency.

The Portuguese, however, did not rely on military supremacy alone

to establish and maintain the Estado. The term “soft power” was

coined by Joseph Nye and is used in modern international relations

theory to describe the ability of a political body to indirectly influence

the behaviour or interests of other political bodies through cultural or

ideological means. The basic idea is to get others to “want and

subsequently do what you want” by co-opting them. This factor has

the best chance of working when the actor has a widespread

reputation. Contrasted with the more quantitative realist measure of

power (the number of soldiers, amount of monies or even population

size, etc.), soft power relies on intangibles like the spread of culture,

values or language.99 Applied within a territory to regulate those

under control, this thesis designates instruments or determinants

associated with “soft power” as “soft factors”.

There is ample evidence for the use of soft power in the Portuguese

case. In the Portuguese overseas empire, the religious motive in the

initial exploration and expansion period was overlapped with,

according to Boxer, politico-strategic concerns. First, religion was

part of the crusading drive against the Muslims to liberate the Iberian

24

peninsula and beyond. Second, and extending from the first point, a

scheme was hatched to look for a mythical ally to envelop the

Muslims from the rear in Africa and further afield. In fact, the

reputation for violence of Vasco da Gama and even Afonso de

Albuquerque might be rationalised from this religious context, in

conjunction with their values and mission.100 This fanaticism was

toned down in the face of the strong reactions and resistance they

encountered. Hence, governance of the Estado da ĺndia during the

early years was characterised by religious tolerance. This was

reversed in Goa in 1540 with a change in policy.101 The increasing

dissatisfaction with the imposition of their Catholic religion probably

accentuated Portuguese weakness in competition with the more

religiously-apathetic northern Europeans who arrived at the turn of

the seventeenth century. Nevertheless, religious establishments

have been partly credited with the propagation of the Portuguese

language, which in turn contributed to the survival of Portuguese

settlements.102 While the Portuguese survival in the East might, in

the long run, be ascribed to religion, the short-term impact from

measures regulating faith needs to be weighed up in terms of their

positive and negative effects. In Ames’ work, the contribution of

religiosos (members of monastic orders) to the revival appears

mixed, as reports of their activities depended on the perception of

incumbent viceroys.103 Aversion to absolutist studies and Portuguese sources,

preoccupation with success, (past) glory and Brazil have largely

diverted research away from the Estado da ĺndia in the first half of

eighteenth century. Among some non-Portuguese historians of the

field, a preoccupation with decline in the sixteenth and seventeenth

centuries contributed to the further avoidance of study of the next

half (eighteenth) century. This thesis is situated in an overlap of

25

several areas of specialised historiography. It is part of the

historiography of decline or survival literature; part of the

historiography of the first half of the eighteenth century Portuguese-

Indian studies; part of empire or colonisation studies; and part of

centre-periphery studies. While several sub-areas of the study of the

Estado da ĺndia have been undertaken in part and individually, there

is no single monograph on the Estado da ĺndia in the first half of the

eighteenth century.

In terms of the present study, this opening chapter has reviewed the

literature on decline and survival. It has shown that the determinants

identified in the Portuguese decline are potentially the same ones

that could act as an impulse for revival and prolongation. The gaps in

our knowledge and investigation of the survival factors for the first

half of the eighteenth century will form the crux of this thesis.

To reiterate, the main hypothesis of this thesis is that the Estado da

Índia in the first half of the eighteenth century survived as a result of

leadership emanating from the centre (including direct Crown

representatives dispatched to the theatre), and the instruments of

state wielded by it. To test this hypothesis, this thesis will examine

the effects of politico-administrative changes in metropolitan Portugal

on the management of India. It will also examine the tools employed

by the leadership at the centre (Lisbon) and on the ground (in India).

These tools include diplomacy, war, trade, and revenue extraction as

well as interventionist measures in religion and culture.

This work will fill current gaps and omissions in the literature and

contribute to the wider debate on a number of significant areas -

26

decline and survival studies, centre-periphery studies, eighteenth

century Luso-Indian studies, and empire as well as colonial studies.

27

Endnotes 1 See introduction and conclusion in K. Maxwell and M.H. Haltzel (eds.) Portugal – Ancient

Country, Young Democracy (Washington, 1990). 2 It must be qualified that liberalism, generally taken to be open-mindedness associated with the

right-inclined, is itself complex and hardly a coherent body of ideas. Classical liberalism is anti-

imperialist; mid-20th century liberalism is anti-totalitarianiarn. 3 From a discussion with staff and research students at CHAM of Universidade Nova de Lisboa

during a visit from October to December 2004. 4 I.S. Wiarda, Handbook of Portuguese Studies (np, 1999), pp. 198-213 on the “Far East”. 5 P.M. Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of Great Power 1500-2000 (London, 1989). 6 See chronology in M.T. Barata and N.S. Teixeira directed, Nova História Militar de Portugal II

(Lisbon, 2004), pp. 369-75. 7 G. Clarence-Smith, The Third Portuguese Empire 1825-1975 (Manchester, 1985), p. 3. 8 G. D. Winius, “India or Brazil”, in G. D. Winius, Studies on Portuguese Asia (Aldershot, 2001),

I, p. 1. 9 G. J. Ames, Renascent Empire (Amsterdam, 2000). 10 J. B. Sykes (ed.), The Oxford Dictionary of Current English (Oxford, 1978). 11J. Osterhammel, Colonialism (Princeton, 1996), pp. 13-22; see also D. K. Fieldhouse, The

Colonial Empires (London, 1965), pp. 372-94. 12Ibid., p. 22. 13A. Loomba, Colonialism /Postcolonialism (London, 1998), p. 6. 14 Osterhammel, Colonialism, see discussion on p. 22. 15 A. Disney, “The Portuguese Empire in India” in J.S. Correia-Afonso (ed.), Indo-Portuguese

History – Sources and Problems (Bombay, 1981), p. 154. 16 M. Lobato, “Guerra dos Maratas” in Barata M.T. et al directed, Nova Historia Militar de

Portugal II, pp. 317-29. 17 E. Shils, “Center and Periphery” in The Logic of Personal Knowledge (London, 1961), p. 117. 18 Ibid., p. 117. 19 Ibid., p. 121. 20 Ibid., p. 124. 21 Ibid., p. 123. 22 Ibid., p. 127. 23I. Wallerstein, The Modern World System (New York, 1980). 24See compilations in C. Daniels and M. Kennedy (eds.), Negotiated Empires (New York, 2002). 25C. R. Boxer, The Portuguese Society in the Tropics –1800 (Madison, 1965). 26G. J. Ames, “Colbert’s Indian Ocean strategy of 1664-74 – reappraisal”, French Historical

Studies, 16, 3 (1990), p. 537. 27 M. Newitt, A History of Portuguese Overseas Expansion, 1400-1668 (Abingdon, 2005), p. 252. 28 For instance, S. Subrahmanyam, The Portuguese Empire in Asia 1500-1700 (London, 1993),

see chapter 4.

28

29 Ibid., chapter 4. 30 Newitt, Op. cit., p. 162-65. 31 J. Cortesão, O Ultramar Português Depois da Restauração (Lisbon, 1971). 32 See for instance, A. H. de Oliveira Marques’ work, Breve História de Portugal (Lisbon, 1995). 33 C. R. Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire 1415-1825 (London, 1969), see chapters 5 and 6. 34 Newitt, Op. cit., p. 254. 35 See introduction in M. Newitt (ed.), The First Portuguese Colonial Empire (Exeter, 1986). 36 Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire, this is hinted on p. 148, chapter VII details of

developments in Brazil. 37 Subrahmanyam, Op. cit., pp. 195-96. 38 M. Caetano, O Conselho Ultramarino (Lisbon, 1957). 39 Ibid., for relevant period, see pp. 37-46. 40 E. de Sousa Barros, “Negocios de Tanta Importancia”, unpublished PhD thesis, Universidade de

Rio de Janeiro, 2004. 41 E. L.. Myrup, “To rule from afar – Brazil and the making of Portugal’s Overseas Council 1642-

1833”, paper presented at the “Imperial (Re)Visions: Brazil and the Portuguese Seaborne Empire”

seminar, Yale University, 1-3 November 2002. 42 A. J. R. Russell-Wood, “Governantes e Agentes”, in F. Bethencourt and K. Chaudhuri (eds.),

Historia da Expansao III (Lisbon, 1998), pp. 169-92. Also, C. R. Boxer, Salvador de Sá and the

Struggle for Brazil and Angola (London, 1952), pp. 160-63. 43 Boxer, Salvador de Sá and the Struggle for Brazil and Angola, pp. 160-63. 44 Russell-Wood, “Governantes e Agentes”, p. 169. 45 Myrup, Op. cit. 46 A. da Silva Rego, O Ultramar Português (Lisbon, 1970). 47 A. V. de Saldanha, A Índia Portuguêsa e Politica do Oriente de Setecentos (Lisbon, 1989); M.

de J. dos M. Lopes, Goa Setecentista – Tradição e Modernidade (Lisbon, 1999). 48 A. Lobato, Relações Luso-Maratas, 1658-1737, (Lisbon, 1965). For P.S. Pissurlencar, for

instance, The Portuguese and the Marathas (translated by P. Kakodkar) (Bombay, 1975). 49 Lobato, Relações Luso-Maratas, p. 98. 50 H. K. Jacob, The Rajas of Cochin 1663-1720 (New Delhi, 2000); S. J. Stephen, Portuguese on

the Tamil Coast 1507-1749 (Pondichery, 1998). 51 52 H. Furber, Rival Empires of Trade in the Orient (Minneapolis, 1976). 53 P.P. Shirodkar, Researches in Indo-Portuguese History (Jaipur, 1998), entry on “Trade Strategy

in 18th Century”, pp. 115-36. 54 Ames, Renascent Empire. S. Monteiro, Batalhas, Combates de Marinha Portuguesa (Lisbon,

1996). 55 See, for example, V. L. G. Rodrigues, “A organização militar da Provincia do Norte durante o

século XVI e principios do século XVII”, Mare Liberum 9 (1995), pp. 247-59; “Da Goa de

29

Albuquerque á Goa seiscentista: aspectos da organização militar da capital do Estado da ĺndia”,

Revista Militar, 51, 1 (1999), pp. 59-93. 56 C. R. Boxer and A. de Azevedo, Fort Jesus and the Portuguese in Mombasa (London, 1960); J.

Strandes (J.F. Wallwork trans.), The Portuguese Period in East Africa (Nairobi, 1968); M. D.

Newitt, Portuguese Settlements on the Zambesi (London, 1973). 57 G.B. de Souza, The Survival of Empire (London, 1986). 58 A. T. de Matos, Timor Português (Lisbon, 1974). 59 D. do Couto / A. Farinha de Carvalho, O Soldado Pratico (Lisbon, 1979). See also J. B.

Harrison, “Five Portuguese Historians” in C. H. Philips (ed.), Historians of India, Pakistan and

Ceylon (London, 1961/1967) pp. 159-161 and 163-164 for discussion of early Portuguese

chroniclers. 60 F.C. Danvers, Portuguese in India – Being a History of the Rise and Decline of Their Eastern

Empire (London, 1894) I-II. R. S. Whiteway’s work, Rise of Portuguese Power in India (London,

1899), falls into this category, too, as a result of relying on the same sources. 61 J. Duffy, Shipwreck and Empire (Cambridge, 1955), pp. 165-68. 62 J. Cortesão, O Imperio Português no Oriente (Lisbon, 1968), pp. 188-202 and his O Ultramar

Português depois da Restauração, pp. 11-84. 63 V. Magalhães Godinho, Os Descobrimentos e a Economia Mundial I-IV (Lisbon, 1963-71). 64 Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire, pp. 106-49. 65 G. D. Winius, The Fatal History of Ceylon (Cambridge, 1971). 66 A. Disney, Twilight of the Pepper Empire (Cambridge, 1978). 67 J. I. Israel, The Dutch Republic and the Hispanic World (Oxford, 1982). 68 J. Hermano Saraiva, História Concisa de Portugal (Lisbon, 1979), p. 197. 69For example, A. Pimenta’s work, Elementos da História de Portugal (Lisbon, 1937). Oliveira

Marques’ work, Breve Historia de Portugal. 70 Subrahmanyam, Op. cit. 71 E. Van Veen, Decay or Defeat? An Inquiry into the Portuguese Decline in Asia 1580-1645

(Leiden, 2000), pp. 227-42. 72Ames, Op. cit. 73 Ibid., see chapter V. 74M. Caetano, Colonising Traditions, Principles and Methods of the Portuguese (Lisbon, 1951). A.

da Silva Rego, Principios e Métodos da Colonização Portuguesa (Lisbon, 1943). 75D. L. Wheeler, “Portugal, India and the Goa Question” in A. Disney and E. Booth (eds.), Vasco

da Gama and the Linking of Europe and Asia (New Delhi, 2000), p. 456. 76Furber, Rival Empires of Trade in the Orient, p. 26. 77J. B. Ferreira, A Evolução do Conceito Estratégico Ultramarino Português (Lisbon, 2000), p.

206. 78 Ibid., refer structure and topical division in contents page. 79M. Newitt, “Prince Henry and Origins of Portuguese Expansion” in M. Newitt (ed.), The First

Portuguese Empire, p. 33.

30

80J. V. Amaro Pissarra, Chaul e Diu (Lisbon, 2002), pp. 8-9. See also L. F. Thomaz, “Factions,

Interests and Messianism” in Indian Economic and Social History Review 28 (1991), pp. 97-109.

G. D. Winius, “The Building of Portuguese India – Few Thanks to the King” in A. Disney and E.

Booth (eds.), Vasco da Gama and the Linking of Europe and Asia (Oxford, 2000), pp. 484-95. In

this chapter entry, Winius took the opportunity to rail at the role of the monarchy in Portuguese

eastern overseas expansion and at the end of the article, credited any remaining part the king might

have played to his fortunately unsuccessful “fumbling”. Winius reminded the reader that, even

during its heyday, Portuguese India was secondary in consideration when weighed against

enterprises nearer home. Yet, under Manuel I, the Crown insisted on an expedition in the east

arising from his rivalry with the Catholic kings (his parents-in-law) of the neighbouring Spanish

monarchy. Given the inadequate support, it was the gung-ho and opportunistic people on the

ground who carried the day and established the Portuguese foothold in the east. Winius goes into

further detail about meddling from the centre – for example, the attempted division of the Estado

to assert the Crown’s hold on factions, or the move to squeeze more revenue, which led to the

adoption of the concession system. Both schemes either did not take permanent shape or, if tried,

did not yield much result. In the end, Winius asserts that it was able people in the lower social

scale, as well as those “not recognized”, who helped to sustain the empire. The kings and their

councillors from home were more of a liability than a help. As Winius asserts, the structure created

by “all others little associated with the centre” might have lasted indefinitely; “had not the Dutch

(and to a lesser extent, the English) arrived with hostile intent and superior resources to dismantle

it” (p. 495). 81Biographies have appeared on Vasco da Gama, Afonso de Albuquerque and even Francisco de

Almeida, but no such work has been done on Lopo Soares de Albergaria. 82A. Disney, “The Estado da Índia and Young Nobleman Soldier”, Mare Liberum 5 (1993), pp. 65-

75. 83Ames, Op. cit. 84 G. D. Winius, The Black Legend of Portuguese India (New Delhi, 1985). 85 Ibid. See also A. Disney, Book Review of Black Legend of Portuguese India in South Asia (Jun

1987), pp. 91-93. 86K. Polanyi, “The Economy as an Instituted Process” in C. Arensberg, H. Pearson and K. Polanyi

(eds.) Trade and Market in Early Empires (London, 1962), pp. 243-70. There were other scholars,

for example J. Hicks, who differed on aspects of the thesis, who conjectures that, for instance, the

pre-modern mercantile economy period was longer than that suggested by Polanyi. 87 See N. Steensgaard, Asian Trade Revolution of Seventeenth Century (London, 1973). 88O. Prakash, New Cambridge of History of India – European Commercial Enterprise in Pre

Colonial India (Cambridge, 1998), p. 48. 89 J.C. van Leur, Indonesian Trade and Society (The Hague, 1955). 90C. A. Bayly, “Van Leur and Indian Eighteenth Century” in L. Blusse and F. Gaastra (eds.), On

the Eighteenth Century as a Category of Asian History (Aldershot, 1998), pp. 289-302.

31

91M. Newitt, “Plunder and the Rewards of Office in the Portuguese Empire”, in M. Duffy (ed.),

Military Revolution and the State (Exeter, 1980), pp. 15-16. 92Ibid., pp. 23-27. 93Steensgaard, Asian Trade Revolution of Seventeenth Century, see conclusion of book. 94See J. Glete, War and State in Early Modern Europe (London, 2002). 95See J. C. Boyajian, Portuguese Trade in Asia under the Habsburgs (London, 1993). The limits of

this work are discussed in O. Prakash, New Cambridge History - European Commercial

Enterprise in Pre Colonial India, pp. 339-40. 96Ames, Op. cit., pp. 111-12. 97D. Costa, “Indo-Portuguese Relations” in P. M. Joshi and M. A. Nayeem (eds.), Studies in

Foreign Relations of India (Hyderabad, 1975), pp. 150-155. 98 Ames, Renascent Empire, see conclusion. 99J. Nye, “Propaganda Isn’t the Way: Soft Power”, http://www.ksg.harvard.edu/ updated 28 Nov

2005. Book by the author, Soft Power – Means to Success in World Politics (New York, 2004). 100See A. Disney, “Vasco da Gama’s Reputation for Violence”, Indica 32, 1 (1995). 101 M. Pearson, New Cambridge History – The Portuguese in India (Cambridge, 1987), p. 170. 102A. L. Ferronha (ed.), Atlas da Lingua Portuguesa na História e no Mundo (Lisbon, 1992), pp.

110-11. 103Ames, Op. cit., pp. 67 and 74.

32

CHAPTER 2

BACKGROUND TO THE ESTADO DA ĺNDIA IN THE 18TH CENTURY

Portugal and its empire received a new lease of life after the

Restoration of 1640.1 This chapter will outline the situation at home

in Portugal and in the Portuguese East during the half-century

background prior to the turn of the eighteenth century, with added

attention being given to the last twenty years. How early modern

overseas empires were governed before the Industrial Revolution

has always been a subject of fascination for historians of empire. In

this respect, the constraints of distance vis-à-vis technology and

other difficulties will be taken up. While this thesis has chosen to

focus on the Portuguese East in the eighteenth century, Portuguese

activities in the Americas and rest of the empire will be discussed in

the context of symbiosis with the East.

Portugal and the Estado up to 1700 The innovative spirit of Ames’ work has been raised in the

introductory chapter. This impact is conveyed in different arenas of

his main argument. 2 The stabilisation and reliance on councils

established the modus operandi at the heart of the attempted

Portuguese resurgence. High policies were decided in the Council of

State in Lisbon. His study also describes the early operations,

advice, and limits of the Overseas Council. Another facet highlighted

in his study was the jostling of court politics: Queen Marie

Francoise’s pro-French faction which tussled with the remnants of

those associated with the dominant minister under Afonso VI (the

Count of Castelo Melhor) and those who helped to depose that king

33

in the 1667 palace coup. Beneath this, the grandees aligned

themselves to gain favour and influence. Ames reveals that the

nobility became more distinctly differentiated, and that those at court

also grew to be more dependent on the Crown. In the colonies in the

East, the government of the Estado da ĺndia reflected “centralising

tendencies of the late medieval and absolutist period”.3 Here, Ames

asserts that the traditionally-held view that the administrative

structure of the Estado was unsophisticated is misleading. Given the

reduced territories of the Estado, he argues that this structure was

“adequate and necessarily simple”.4 Evidence for a revitalized land

and sea force in the Estado is marshalled to prove the point. On the

economic front, Ames points out that the economic history of

Portuguese Asia is fraught with a similar problem to the general

historiography of Portuguese colonial history, that is, there is an

excessive focus on the ‘glorious’ period and that of the disastrous

seventeenth century. Ames affirms the Crown’s continual

participation and goes on to argue in support of the stabilisation of

the Carreira da ĺndia. At the end, he argues that the Pedro II (regent,

later king) had intended that the East was going to be as important

as gold-producing Brazil!5

The main criticism of the work, as pinpointed in several reviews of

his book, is that the events in this work are seen largely from the

viceroy’s desk, and that he neglects those who preferred to remain

at arms-length from Goa.6

The views of Ames can be supported with the unpublished thesis of

Edval Barros, who focuses on the overseas struggles of Portugal in

the early Restoration period from the perspective of the Overseas

Council.7 In a period when the Crown was possibly still trying to

decide which theatre to forfeit, the thesis reveals not only the early

34

operational problems of the Overseas Council, but also the lengthy

period needed to arrive at decisions, for example, on the dispatch of

reinforcements to India vis-à-vis the other theatres. In the same

period, the formation of a company whose functions overlapped to

some extent with those of the nascent Overseas Council, further

complicated the decision-making process of the centre. On top of

this, there were inputs from the Junta do Comércio and the Câmaras

in the colonies. As if this was not enough, the Treasury Council

(Conselho da Fazenda) in Lisbon, which originally had considerable

influence over these matters, and which continued to control aspects

of finance, insisted on having a say in matters. Finally, the king might

arbitrate on the outcome without consultation with some or all of

these bodies.8 From this, it can be seen that many interested parties

participated in the process of making a particular decision at home,

and that an image of India can be constructed from the perspective

of some of them.

The last years of Pedro II’s rule in Portugal and developments

abroad receive very little treatment in the available literature.9 When

considered together with his years of regency (1668-83 as regent,

1683-1706 as king), Pedro II’s rule over Portugal came close to forty

years. For a new dynasty consolidating its authority, his long tenure

of power was beneficial. 10 Despite evidence indicating a strong

centre-led revival, the period of his monarchical rule (1683-1706)

seems to pale a little in comparison with his term of regency (1668-

83). The period of Pedro II’s kingship saw the service of six

governors (of whom four were viceroys) and two interim

governments in India (see list of governors etc. in appendix B). In the

transition from regency to kingship, the viceroyalty in India under D.

Francisco de Távora, Count of Alvor (1681-86), witnessed the

overrunning of the fort at the island of Jua by Shivaji (ruler of one of

35

the main Hindu peoples on the west coast), and the invasion of

Salcete and Bardez by his son, Shambaji.11 In terms of defensive

measures, this prompted the creation in 1686 of the first cavalry unit

in the provinces under threat.12

The death of Shivaji in 1680 coincided with the decision of the

Mughal emperor Aurangzeb (r. 1658-1707) to push into the Deccan

the following year. For Aurangzeb, the impulse for the move came

primarily from prince Muhammad Akbar’s moves (son of Aurangzeb)

to rally the Maratha and other Deccan powers, along with dissatisfied

Mughal officials, against his father. Within a decade, the Mughals

had succeeded in killing Shambaji (Shivaji’s son) and propped up his

grandson under queen regent Yesu Bai. 13 Opposition continued

under Shivaji’s brother, Rajaram; and afterwards, under the latter’s

son, Shivaji II. In short, the Maratha polity was unstable from 1680,

and the settlement which extended into the 1700s followed the line

of Shivaji’s grandson with concession given to the Rajaram faction

(that of Shivaji’s brother) to appease the latter.14 Hence, Shambaji’s

offensives, though menacing, were intermittent; the Portuguese were

saved by their other vacillating enemy, the Mughals.

The effects of Maratha raids, however limited, were felt by the

Estado. From documents of sessions of the Conselho do Estado at

Goa, it is clear that the Province of the North also apparently came

under attack by the Marathas.15 An entry authorised the fifty-sixth

governor (D. Francisco de Távora) in his capacity as general of the

Straits and Ormuz to mount an amphibious operation to aid Chaul.16

Viceroy D. Francisco de Távora’s other external ventures included

attempts to re-establish a commercial link with Japan. He also

sought the help of a fidalgo (nobleman) to initiate friendly relations

36

with Cambodia, Siam and Cochin China. This is substantiated by

documents of sessions of the Conselho do Estado at Goa in which

the count met up with the Junta of Missions (Junta dos Missões) to

discuss the augmentation of the padroado real (royal patronage over

the church), as well as to exclude French clerics from those lands.17

The Count of Alvor’s term in office was also marked by the beginning

of serious contemplation of shifting the capital from Goa to

Mormugão (see appendix D map 1) because of the increased

unsuitability of Goa. A voting session of the Conselho do Estado at

Goa that took place in January 1684 in the fort of São Tiago on the

island revealed all were in support of the move.18 Meanwhile, internal

dissensions began to erupt – the clashes between different

religiosos (members of monastic orders) came to a head during the

viceroyalty of D. Pedro António de Noronha de Albuquerque, Count

of Vila Verde (r. 1692-98), when it was decided that artillery pieces

had to be mounted in convents! A session in June 1693 made a

decision to “denaturalise” (i.e. expel) a padre (priest) for causing

scandals and unrest (inquietude).19

While the governorships of D. Rodrigo da Costa (1686-90) and D.

Miguel de Almeida (1690-91) were barely documented in the

Assentos, the succession of D. António Luís Gonçalves da Câmara

Coutinho (1698-1701), following the term of D. Pedro António de

Noronha de Albuquerque (1671-77), once again shifted the attention

of Goa abroad to the western part of the Estado da Índia. D. Rodrigo

did authorise an expedition of socorro (aid) to Mombasa and engage

the neighbouring local entities, as is indicated in a session of the

Conselho de Estado at Goa in October 1688.20 The episode of the

loss of Mombasa is amply covered by Boxer’s and Strandes’

studies.21 To sum up in relation to Mombasa, Boxer and Strandes

37

are in broad agreement about the numbers involved on the

Portuguese side – 2,500 (Strandes) to 3,000 (Boxer) – Boxer’s total

includes 2,500 armed men and 1,500 armed natives (Swahilis), while

Strandes’ figure of 2,500 armed troops includes “others” (including

women!), and his figure of 1,500 armed natives again includes

“others”. They again differ slightly over the number of Portuguese in

the fort: Strandes says there were more than 50 Portuguese soldiers

and officers, while Boxer claims there were fewer than 100.22 Among

some of the native participants and allies, evidence points to their

frequently changing loyalties during the siege. As for the conduct of

the enemy, Strandes writes that assaults of the fort were undertaken

in an “undisciplined” way, devoid of “any knowledge or equipment of

the science of war of siege”.23 The Portuguese had the opportunity of

being re-supplied twice, but the situation continued to deteriorate

over the period of three years. Both Boxer and Strandes also agree

that there was a lack of “initiatives” and “decisive actions” on both

sides. 24 Strandes appears to attribute the main causes of the

Portuguese failure to the lack of leadership, especially in the relief

force, and more to an underlying systemic failure, while for Boxer,

the general ineptness of the Portuguese is the key issue, given they

had been established there for a century.25 Boxer also attributes the

problem to the misplaced strategy of the viceroy at Goa – namely the

ineffective deterrence of the enemy in the Persian Gulf.26 Strandes

thinks that the “constant bickering and wrangling” among leaders,

among other lesser reasons, was a contributory factor. This was

seen, for example, in the rivalry between the fidalgo commander of

the relief fleet, Luis de Mello Sampaio, and the lieutenant-captain of

sailor origin, Joseph Pereira de Brito. 27 In trying to explain the

outcome, and perhaps to show that every effort had been made to

save Mombasa, Viceroy D. António da Câmara Coutinho gave the

losses as 1,000 Portuguese and 10,000 natives killed. The actual

38

figures for casualties, inferred from their original strength, must have

been much lower. There was an attempt to relieve Mombasa when

news of the catastrophe arrived in Lisbon – an expedition of 900

men, including qualified engineers and a siege-train, was

dispatched. However, this was wrecked by bad weather after

assembling at Aguada and the project was then abandoned.

Nevertheless, both Boxer and Strandes are still full of praise of the

‘endurance’ and ‘spirit’ by which the defenders had dragged out the

siege. The desperate attempt to revive commerce in the area of

Mozambique was also never far from the minds of members of the

Council of State at Goa.28

A survey of further documents of sessions of the Conselho do

Estado at Goa reveals that there was a constant preoccupation with

securing adequate finance for manning defence. During the tenure of

D. Francisco de Távora (1681-86), the special committee of the

Three Estates at Goa (Junta dos Tres Estados, representing, as it

did the three estates of nobility, clergy and commoners in the

metropolis) had to be convened to raise additional extraordinary

sums. This was in addition to loans from religiosos and extractions

from various other dues. At one point, concerns about manpower

were also rife, and prisoners from Goa were offered the chance of

freedom in exchange for participation in the wars. The cause of the

inadequacy of manpower was raised in one session and blamed on

“rising inflation”.29

In the metropolis during this time, despite efforts in the glass, textile

and iron industries, the failure of the push for industrialisation driven

by the fourth Count of Ericeira led to the indefinite postponement of

this program. The fate of the attempted industrialisation was sealed

39

when, at the turn of the eighteenth century, the first trickle of gold

began arriving from Brazil obviated the need for reform.30

Constraints A number of structural constraints inhibited the Portuguese

enterprise in the East. Travel between the centre and the Estado

was determined by the seasonal winds of the tropics. Leaving

Lisbon, “India-bound vessels sailed south to Madeira and then were

carried by north-east trades and Canary current”.31 From there,

they headed south-east and south from Cape Verde

and swept westwards to avoid the doldrums and

towards the coast of Pernambuco south of Cape São

Roque. Then, they picked up the Atlantic gyre and

Brazil current. The south-east trades carried them

further west to about 20° south when they picked up

the southern westerly which would carry them east-

south-east round the Cape of Good Hope.32

From there, the ship had the option of sailing through the

Mozambique Channel, up along the coast of East Africa and east to

India, or of sailing north-east from the south of Madagascar, then

north-east and finally, east to India. Both routes relied on the

southwest monsoon, which blows from May to September, to take

them to India. Returning ships “more or less sailed their outward

route in reverse as far as the Cape of Good Hope”, catching the

north-east monsoon which blows from October to April. After the

Cape, ships reverted to the south-easterlies which carried them

north-west up to the equator. Here, “vessels were subsequently

compelled to tack because of north-easterly winds. Then, the high

pressure system would take them to the Azores”.33 En route home,

40

stopovers also included Santa Helena and Mozambique. The Azores

and Santa Helena would increasingly give way to ports in Brazil in

the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It was also not unknown

for a ship to travel non-stop between Lisbon and Goa.34

In sailing to Goa, a ship would normally leave in the second half of

March or first half of April, and would take about six to seven months

to reach its destination. The return journey would take about the

same time after roughly a four-month stay at Goa, with a ship

reaching Lisbon in August or September the following year.35

Goa was not always the final destination for ships leaving Lisbon. In

the first half of the eighteenth century, the few vessels sailing further

for Macao or Timor would leave Goa in April or May. They would

usually make a stop at Melaka and, if everything went smoothly,

would arrive at Macao in June or August. Those going to Timor

would still stop at Melaka, but leave for the place only in January of

the following year, and take a month to sail to their destination. As

for a ship coming back from Banda, a vessel returning from Timor

probably departed in July and was back in Melaka by August. On the

way, the ship could also stop at Batavia (headquarters of the Dutch

VOC on the island of Java). For ships which did not have to return to

Goa, they could also sail directly via the Sunda Straits for the Cape

of Good Hope. At Melaka, as with ships from Macao, vessels would

stay and wait to sail until the following January, and reach Goa in

about mid-March. All in all, the extra leg beyond Goa took roughly

another year. Naturally, there were variations in the time spent on

such voyages and these could vary wildly, especially if the ships

failed to catch the monsoons.36

41

Aside from distance, time and climatic conditions, communications

with the Estado were also constrained by the technology available.

There were significant scientific and technological developments in a

number of relevant areas in the first half of the eighteenth century.

This was the case, for example, with the search for longitude.

Though the general principles of longitude were sufficiently well

understood by the early eighteenth century, difficulties associated

with its practical application were not resolved until well after 1750.37

In relation to ship design, the division and number of sails (in other

words, the rigging) on ships were refined and became more

complicated. Though it is harder to trace developments in hull

design, one of the most important, by far, was the sheathing of the

ship’s hull. Although copper sheathing had been suggested as early

as 1708, the first serious experiment on an English ship only took

place in 1761.38 With regard to Portuguese ships, there has been

much discussion about their nature and design. Discussion initially

revolved the vessel known as the “nau”. Although it is possible to

distinguish between a nau and a galleon in the sixteenth to

seventeenth centuries, and between a nau and a fragata (frigate) in

the seventeenth to eighteenth centuries, in practice, that distinction

was often blurred.39 The issue of ship type vis-à-vis its size is an

issue of interest which overlaps with the broader trend in ship

development and can be used to prove that the Portuguese were not

retarded in this area during the seventeenth and eighteenth

centuries. Portuguese “Indiamen” (essentially carracks and galleons)

before 1570 seldom exceeded 1,000 tons. During the Habsburg

period (1580-1640), their tonnage is said to have spiralled “out of

control”, reaching up to 2,000 tons.40 Parallel developments indicate

that, as warships began to be differentiated from merchantmen

during the course of the seventeenth to eighteenth centuries.

However, English East Indiamen defied this trend – they continued

42

to increase in size and armament. In the last quarter of the

eighteenth century, they displaced up to 1,500 tons, and carried as

many as forty guns in a reaction to piratical activities and a

continually hostile environment in the Indian Ocean. For comparative

purposes, in 1650 a three-decker English ship-of-the-line was

approximately 1,500 tons and only increased towards 2,000 tons by

1750.41 Portuguese experiments and their subsequent emulation of

Dutch and English advances resulted in smaller and sleeker ship

designs in the Restoration and post-Restoration period, as Ames

and Monteiro have pointed out. 42 If the nau was not specifically

distinguishable in the eighteenth century, the English case

demonstrates that changes in the size of Indiamen were not

necessarily an inferior development. Moreover (as will be discussed

in chapter 4), the Portuguese did have ships-of-the-line (of more

than seventy guns) going to the Indian Ocean, and a distinction was

made for fragatas in cases where a fleet was assembled. In terms of

the speed of the ship, Indiamen invariably travelled more slowly than

a frigate or comparable ship-of-the-line, but it should be stressed that

the initial design had given priority to cargo maximization. 43

Nevertheless, improving roteiros (sailing directions) probably

continued to reduce the length of journeys, albeit in a miniscule way.

Even so, incremental improvements should not be discounted

because in 1817, heavily-laden English Indiamen astonished the

world by sailing from the Canton River to the English Channel in a

little over three months!44 On other aspects, as Parry indicates, there

was little change on board ship for on sailing vessels, “sails, spars,

boats and anchors [continued] to be manhandled with the help of

elementary mechanical devices” (even in the nineteenth century).45

To sum up, although Portuguese experiments with Indiamen did not

turn out well, they made improvements and caught up with

developments in warships.

43

Whatever state of technology upon which a naval vessel is built to no

guarantee of its safe passage because the latter is dependent on an

array of factors. It is not clear whether shipwrecks became more

severe in the first half of the eighteenth century.46 In view of the

incomplete nature of records of the general letters of the Casa da

ĺndia, where gaps have been noted from the 1710s to the 1730s, a

more exhaustive source is required to uncover the exact number of

ships dispatched, and ship wrecks.47 One entry specifically mentions

a “burning ship” in Bahia around 1739.48 At other times, the letters

make mention of “not having news from India for the previous

year(s)”. In terms of classification, the general term “nau” was used

except in cases where a smaller auxiliary vessel such as, a patache

or churra was involved. In terms of departure and home-coming,

ships left Lisbon mostly in March or April. The evidence indicates

that ships returning from Goa usually left in the months of December

and January. In terms of ships leaving from Lisbon, the timing given

in the Casa’s letters fitted with the norms (i.e., departure in March or

April) described at the beginning of this section. However, it seems

from the letter that ships on the return journey tended to leave a little

earlier (i.e., as early as December compared to the months of

January or February quoted in Russell-Wood).49

At the heart of the issue is whether distance really did matter to

communication and control in the early modern period. Beyond

certain advancements, developments in ship technology were not

able to overcome the problem of distance for some time to come.

However, this was a constant with all the other operators in a given

theatre. The enormity of delays in communications is well illustrated

in the following. Given Philip II of Spain’s attention to, and

investment in, the courier system in Europe and the Spanish empire,

44

the urgent news of his succession to the Crown of Portugal in 1580

was delivered via an overland courier to Ormuz before being taken

on board a ship for Goa. The news took ten months to get to Goa, a

little more than a year to reach Melaka, and one year and four

months to reach Macao. 50 The overland courier arrangements

already in place lapsed for a few years upon João V’s succession,

although the secretary of state reinvigorated the system to facilitate

communications in later years.51 Given that India had second priority,

and on top of the constraints of the time, messages probably

continued to take six months or more to reach their destinations

during the first half of the eighteenth century.

Context of Empire When viewed on its own, the Portuguese East may not convey the

full dynamics of the Portuguese overseas empire. There was no

doubt that voyages to Brazil, or more precisely, those linked to the

Atlantic trade, were capturing the attention of many of the available

carriers and naval resources of Portugal. The rise of Brazil was

already apparent in the half century before 1700. The Brazil fleet

returning to Porto in 1718 numbered sixteen naus. In 1720, the

returning Brazil fleet consisted of 28 ships. In 1725, 34 ships from

Brazil were registered.52 Another indicator to support this trend is the

extent of emigration. Even in years of depression in the late 1670s,

at least eighty peasants continued to embark annually for the New

World. Ten years later, nearly 2,000 men headed for the West when

signs of recovery were beginning to manifest themselves in the

1680s.53

In terms of commercial exchange, trade between the western and

eastern parts of the Portuguese empire was tacitly understood to be

closed from the beginning. This was due to the need to protect the

45

Crown monopoly and its benefits. After an initial period of settlement

and cultivation (of sugar), a more sophisticated system of

administration was put in place in Brazil only in the 1540s-1570s. In

1594, the increased hostilities with other Europeans prompted the

Habsburgs to ban navigation and commerce from the East to the

West of the Portuguese empire then under its control. Painstaking

steps were taken to curb foreign and unauthorised Portuguese

access – prohibited goods were to be confiscated, those involved

could face banishment or even the death penalty; for their part,

informers would receive half of the goods seized as a reward.54 In

the immediate post-Restoration period in the 1670s, trade between

Brazil (and Portugal) and Mozambique was freed up. However, up to

the period covered by this thesis – that is, 1707-50 – the debate

involving the wisdom and benefits of this measure continued to

plague two generations of kings and his councils and advisers. Up

until the end of the reign of João V, Mozambique was considered to

be subsidiary and subordinated to the Estado da ĺndia. 55 One

concern was whether the introduction of trade from Brazil would

deprive Goa of the trade in ivory and gold that it increasingly needed.

The other concern was over the loss of revenue that the Casa da

ĺndia would suffer. The counter-argument was that the increased

trade between Brazil and Mozambique, and possibly even with India,

would be more beneficial than harmful for the Estado. In relation to

the affected revenues of the Casa da ĺndia, a governor of Brazil

proposed that Brazilian goods be purchased at a certain cost price

and sold at a margin of profit to reimburse the Casa. Nevertheless,

pessimists, such as those sitting on the Junta do Tobaco (Junta of

Tabacco), remained skeptical about the reciprocal benefits of the

exchange to Brazil.56 Evidence from an entry of March 1721 relating

to Brazil in the collection of the Casa de Cadaval indicates a concern

over the flow of commodities dispatched to the dominions. Concern

46

was also expressed about an overlap in jurisdiction between the

Conselho da Fazenda and responsibility of the Casa da ĺndia. The

view was that, in the absence of decision by the king on the matter, a

certificate would be sufficient, hand-in-hand with checks by the

guarda-mor (chief guard). Meanwhile, contractors (in other words,

tax farmers) were to be diligent and ensure the proper collection of

the dues and taxes granted to them.57

In the eighteenth century, it is said that “the Crown continued to be

more liberal” – a law of November 1709 permitted viceroys and

governors to be involved in trade activities “under certain

relaxations”, while a resolution of March 1734 allowed Portuguese

ships sailing from the Estado to sell their merchandise at Bahia. In

the latter case, ships involved had to pay a ten per cent customs tax,

as well as a security deposit (to the Casa da ĺndia at Lisbon).58

In his Golden Age of Brazil, Boxer describes how the triangular trade

of 1695-1750 between the metropole, Brazil and Angola in west

Africa involved manufactured products from Portugal and Europe,

African commodities, and goods from India. The main two main

commodities from Angola were slaves and ivory. 59 From Brazil,

sugar had ceased to be a main product after the hike and slump in

prices in the third quarter of the seventeenth century. After 1680,

tobacco began to emerge as a main export from Brazil, in tandem

with the recovery of the world economy. 60 Aside from tobacco,

woods, hides and precious metals from Brazil were also traded.61

Exchange might be carried on in any direction. Goods from India like

cloth and spices came partly from mounting smuggling activities, as

well as through authorised traders. The heavy duties on the trade

went to maintain the garrisons and pay the salaries of the officials,

as well as to provide subsidies to the clergy.62

47

The discovery of precious metal and minerals in Brazil and its

contribution to the metropole is worthy of mention here. For a start, it

should be noted that not all of Portuguese Brazil was thriving

equally. In the province of Maranhão-Pará, Pará was relatively

prosperous while Maranhão was struggling. Paraiba was “booming

and povertised” at one and the same time as well.63 In the area of

Ceará, sugar production was abundant; yet back payments to its

soldiers persisted.64

A survey of documents on Brazil in the collection of the Casa de

Cadaval reveals that officials from Brazil petitioned the centre on

issues roughly similar to those received from India – on the desertion

of soldiers, on not raising enough money (from sugar production) to

pay for soldiers, and on coordination with padres who were entrusted

with local defence. 65 Throughout the eighteenth century, the

production of gold in Brazil is said to have amounted to one hundred

million pounds sterling, from which Lúcio de Azevedo estimates the

Crown took 22 of a hundred of a fraction. As for diamonds, an

equivalent of nine million pounds sterling was produced. After 1750,

however, the output of gold and diamonds was drastically reduced.

Cortesão has estimated that for the reign of João V, the Crown

reaped eleven million pounds from the “royal fifth” and from

capitations from a total of one hundred million pounds of minerals

produced. 66 Overall, the benefits of the wealth to metropolitan

Portugal were not all that clear. While it boosted the personal

extravagance of João V and his pet religious projects, as well as

some grandiose public works, the progress and “modernisation” of

the state was not appreciably advanced.67 The reasons for the less

than effective exploitation of this windfall, and for the failure of

48

industrialisation in the second half the seventeenth century, lie in a

web of complex causes that are beyond the scope of this thesis.

What is of concern to this thesis are the effects and resulting

linkages for India of the rise of Brazil. Despite the prevailing logic

and other evidence (discussed in the earlier section on Portugal to

1700), instances involving both continents (i.e., that of south America

and the sub-continent of India) sometimes lead one to re-question

the priority given to India. In one instance cited by Boxer during the

viceroyalty in India of the Count of Assumar, a decision was made to

send aid from the centre to India when simultaneous troubles also

erupted in a region of the Americas; this affected the reinforcements

which were supposed to head for Sacramento.68 In another instance

concerning a debate to open up trade from Brazil to India dated in

February 1700, a governor of Bahia raised the prospect that Lisbon

could dispense with the costs of regular reinforcements to India if it

was willing to free up trade in the ports of Bahia, Pernambuco and

Rio de Janeiro. There were, as he said, many “idlers” and

“wanderers”, nobles and other poor there who were “ready and

desirous” of serving in India. In addition, at the time of writing, the

governor reported that he had “four colonels, each having 900 to one

thousand men”, who could be sent to India on a rotating basis. More

importantly, he declared, these could be paid for by revenues

generated from trade, if it was liberalised. Furthermore, the trip from

Brazil to India would take only three months, which would reduce the

number of deaths and sick arriving there. This would translate into

savings for royal revenue, even if the Crown had to pay for expenses

in the first place.69 In yet another instance of a proposal to send aid

to the Estado in the 1690s, merchants from Salvador made a similar

offer to pay not only for troops, but also for the cost of clothing them

if the governor-general would take up their petition.70 In an unusual

49

example of an actual military contribution, Shirodkar, quoting from

Pissurlencar, writes of a ‘Joan of Arc’ from Brazil who disguised

herself as a male, and fought against the Bounsulos in military

campaigns in India during 1705-06, just prior to D. João V’s

ascension to the throne!71 Increasingly, ships voyaging to India were

also being built in Brazil. During the viceroyalty of the Count of

Galveas (1735-49), for example, an order was made for the

construction in the ribeira (dockyard) of Salvador of a nau with 60

artillery pieces that was to sail in the Carreira da ĺndia. In this case,

the cost was also to be defrayed from the donativo real (donation to

the king) and the royal fifth raised from gold production in Bahia.

Calculations from a historian of Brazil reveal that of at least thirty

ocean-going vessels built in the Bahian shipyards between 1665 and

1822, “at least fourteen saw service on routes to Asia”.72

Turning the tables, it is now time to consider what impact India had

on Brazil. Attempts were made to transfer Indian skills and crops to

Brazil relatively early on, although the results were equivocal. The

initiatives for this can be traced to as early as 1588, when Philip II

asked for the viceroy of India to send settler-weavers to Brazil

because “there were good prospects in cotton materials which could

be made into sails there”. 73 Such a conception was proposed

secretly during the reign of João V’s father (the main protagonist of

Ames’ renaissance) with the aim of making Portugal a “considerable”

economic power. The plan called for spice plants such as cinnamon,

clove, pepper, nutmeg and ginger “to be procured with great care”

and sent to the governor of Brazil.74 This was given its first trial at the

beginning of 1680, and was pursued by at least two viceroys. At a

later date, expert cultivators were also dispatched from India to

Brazil. The first wave of ships which brought the plants there were

not to sail freely to any other ports and were “to be brought back” to

50

Portugal if they were found “roaming”. 75 The secrecy is

understandable when one considers how Portugal’s fortunes might

have been revived (in a period of crisis) if the plan had been

successful. Despite Dutch control of the Maluku islands, Portugal

would have regained its role as arbiter of these valuable

commodities, as well as the markets for them.76

Towards the end of seventeenth century, the proportion of Brazil’s

share in colonial commerce had gradually become so important that

one source even asserts that the Junta do Tobaco actually controlled

Portugal’s trade with India.77 While India never came to be so run

down, the idea of using Brazil to boost the wealth and status of the

king and state of Portugal was a realistic measure to adopt. As one

recent study has revealed, Luis da Cunha advocated in a

memorandum of 1735-36 that the king take on the title of emperor

and move to Rio de Janeiro so that an

integrated empire with European, American, African and

Asian components hand-in-hand with an articulated

commercial network of supply and demand involving the

Atlantic Ocean, Indian Ocean and seas of East Asia.78

could materialise. João V, however, did not take up the idea;

consequently, as a talented member of the Overseas Council

prophesised before his death in 1732, Brazil, which would “weigh far

more heavily than [Portugal]”, would “not consent to be ruled by the

smaller and poorer”.79

It would appear, then, that despite some evidence for the

stabilisation and even revival of Portugal and its empire, the latter

51

part of Pedro II’s reign seems to have stagnated or slipped back into

some decline, especially in India. From a more holistic perspective

though, India need not be seen in isolation, nor need it be seen as a

backwater. While the relative reality of the riches and importance of

Brazil cannot be denied, the Portuguese empire of the seventeenth

and eighteenth centuries was a cosmopolitan empire, and there

were ample opportunities for interaction and mutual benefits. Given

the distance and other limitations of the early modern period, the

continued survival of the Portuguese enterprise was an admirable

feat, despite the lack of progress in many places. The dynamics of

that effort will be discussed in detail in the next few chapters.

52

Endnotes 1 For an overview of the Restoration, see for instance, J.V. Serrão, História de Portugal (Póvoa de

Varzim), part I. 2 G. J. Ames, Renascent Empire (Amsterdam, 2000), pp. 39-58 and 93-148. 3 Ibid., p. 116. 4 Ibid., p. 119. 5 Ibid., pp. 93-148. 6 See reviews of this book by J. Lorimer in The Canadian Journal of History (2002), p. 601; M.

Pearson in The International History Review (Sep 2001), pp. 657-59, and S. Subrahmanyam in The

American Historical Review (Dec 2001), pp. 1756-57. 7 E. de Sousa Barros, “Negocios de Tanta Importancia : O Conselho Ultramarino e a disputa pela

condução da Guerra no Atlântico e no ĺndico (1643-1661)”, Unpublished PhD Thesis,

Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro, 2004. 8 Ibid., pp. 60-80, 140-82 and 314-337. 9 Aside from disparate works listed following this narration, the most comprehensive treatment is

contained in a brief analysis to 1720 by V. M. Godinho, “Portugal and Her Empire” in J. Bromley

(ed.), New Cambridge Modern History VI (Cambridge, 1970), pp. 509-39. 10 His son, D. João V’s long rule stretched over 43 years. Linked to an illegitimate offshoot of the

founder of the Avis dynasty, the Bragança family had been a plausible source of contention for the

throne, it was ostracized, and even exiled for suspicion of treason during D. João II’s reign (1481-

95). 11 A.E. Martins Zuquete, Tratados de Todos os Vice-Reis e Governadores da India (Lisbon, 1962),

pp. 163-69. 12 P. P. Shirodkar, “Development of Military Services in Goa during Portuguese Regime 1510-

1750” in Researches in Indo-Portuguese History II (Jaipur, 1998), pp. 57-60. 13 J. Richards, New Cambridge History of India –The Mughals (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 217-224. 14 S. Gordon, New Cambridge History of India –The Marathas (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 95-112. 15 Conselho do Estado – administrative body, akin to Council of State at home, advising the

viceroy. 16P. S. Pissurlencar, Assentos do Conselho do Estado IV 1659-95 (Goa, 1956), document 157.

Here after, referred to as ACEG. 17ACEG IV, document 154. 18ACEG IV, document 160. 19ACEG IV, document 168. 20ACEG IV, document 164. 21 See C. R. Boxer and C. de Azevedo, Fort Jesus and the Portuguese in Mombasa (London,

1960); J. Strandes, The Portuguese Period in East Africa (Nairobi, 1968). 22 Boxer and Azevedo, Portuguese in Mombasa, pp. 60-61; Strandes, Portuguese in East Africa,

pp. 215 and 235. 23 Ibid.

53

24 Boxer and Azevedo, Portuguese in Mombasa, p. 72; Strandes, Portuguese in East Africa, p.

236. 25 Ibid. 26 Boxer and Azevedo, Portuguese in Mombasa, p. 72. 27 Strandes, Portuguese in East Africa, p. 236. On similar problems linked to the social and

professional origins of naval appointments in Spain, see D. Goodman, Spanish Naval Power,

1589-1665 (Cambridge, 1997), especially chapter 7. 28ACEG, document 166. 29ACEG, documents 155, 158, 159, 162 and 163. 30See Godinho, “Portugal and Her Empire”, pp. 509-39. See also Oliveira Marques, History of

Portugal I (New York, 1972), pp. 379-93. 31 A. J. R. Russell-Wood, The Portuguese Empire – A World on the Move (Baltimore, 1998), p. 35. 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid., in addition, pp. 36 and 37. 34 C.R. Boxer, “Carreira da India” in C.R. Boxer (ed.), From Lisbon to Goa (Aldershot, 1984), I,

pp. 55-56. 35 Ibid. 36 Russell-Wood, A World on the Move, pp. 37-39. 37 J. H. Parry, Trade and Dominion (London, 1971), pp. 222-25. One of the methods for

establishing the local and standard meridian time of an astronomical event, for example, was that

of measuring the moon’s position and distance; tabulation tables were submitted and tests carried

out in the 1750s. Competition from the clock-makers resulted in a watch-type chronometer being

submitted to the British Board of Longitude in 1761. 38Ibid., pp. 208-11. 39C. R. Boxer, “The Carreira da India” in C. R. Boxer, From Lisbon to Goa (Aldershot, 1984), p.

34. In “Navigation between Portugal and Asia in 16th and 17th Centuries” in C.K. Pullapilly et al

(eds.) Asia and the West – Encounters and Exchanges (Notre Dame, 1986), p. 9, T.B. Duncan is

more specific about the classification; it is the users who are non shipping list compilers who “use

the word in its generic sense, referring to any ship whatever. 40 See Ames, Renascent Empire, chapter V and S. Monteiro, “Decline and Fall of Portuguese Sea

Power” in The Journal of Military History 65, 1 (2000), pp. 9-22. 41 J. L. George, History of Warships (Annapolis, 1998), p. 52. See also A. Lambert, War at Sea in

the Age of Sail (London, 2000), chapter 2. 42Ames, Renascent Empire, chapter V and Monteiro, “Decline and Fall of Portuguese Sea Power”,

pp. 9-22. 43 Parry, Trade and Dominion, p. 214. 44Ibid. 45Ibid.

54

46 Duncan, “Navigation between Portugal and Asia”, p. 12. According to the month in which the

ship left for the East, Duncan quotes figures reflecting a surprisingly high incidence of arrival at

destination – above 80% (departure in February and March), 64% (departure in April). 47AAL, 47, Cartas Gerais que vão / vem da India, survey of, ff. 15r-90v. 48AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais…, ff. 86r-v. 49AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais…, ff. 15r-90v. 50G. Parker, The Grand Strategy of Philip II (London, 1998), p. 50. 51J. Veríssimo Serrão, História de Portugal V (Póvoa de Varzim, 1982), p. 364. 52Ibid., pp. 398-401. 53C. R. Boxer, The Golden Age of Brazil (Manchester, 1995), pp. 10 and 239. The author quoted

the figures from the Anais da Biblioteca Nacional de Rio de Janeiro and an overseas council

memorial published in the Revista do Historico e Geografico Brasileiro. 54P. Shirodkar, “Brazil and India – Centuries Old Contact” in P. Shirodkar (ed.), Researches in

Indo-Portuguese History (Jaipur, 1998), p. 138. The Spanish Crown took similar measure to keep

out non-Iberian Europeans as well. 55 After two unsuccessful attempts during D. Manuel I and D. Sebastião to separate commands in

the Indian Ocean into three regions i.e. India, east Africa and east of Melaka. 56Shirodkar, “Brazil and India – Centuries Old Contact”, pp. 141-52. 57V. Rau and M. F. da Silva, Os Manuscritos do Arquivo da Casa da Cadaval respeitantes ao

Brasil, II (Coimbra, 1955), document 391. Here after, referred to as MCCB. 58 Shirodkar, “Brazil and India –Contact”, pp. 152-53. 59Boxer, Golden Age of Brazil, p. 25. 60Hanson, Economy and Society in Baroque Portugal, pp. 215-217 and 239-240. 61Russell-Wood, World on the Move, table on p. xxxii 62 Boxer, Golden Age of Brazil, pp. 26-27, 155-156, 294, 300 and 321. 63 Ibid., p. 299. 64Ibid., pp. 26-27, 155-156, 294, 300 and 321. 65MCCB, documents 380-81 and 386. 66Cited in Serrão, História de Portugal V, p. 312. 67 Ibid, pp. 312-13. 68Boxer, Golden Age of Brazil, pp. 26-27, 155-156, 294, 300 and 321. 69P. Shirodkar, “Brazil and India – Centuries Old Contact”, pp. 143-44. 70A. J. R. Russell-Wood, “Brazilian Commercial Presence beyond Cape of Good Hope” in P.

Malekandathil and J. Mohammed (eds.), Portuguese, Indian Ocean and European Bridgeheads

(Tellicherry, 2001), p. 196. 71Shirodkar, “Brazil and India –Centuries Old Contact”, p. 146. 72Russell-Wood, “Brazilian Commercial Presence beyond Cape of Good Hope”, p. 198. 73Shirodkar, “Brazil and India –Centuries Old Contact”, p. 138. 74 Ibid., pp. 142-43. 75Ibid.

55

76Ibid. 77 Russell-Wood, “Brazilian Commercial Presence beyond Cape of Good Hope”, p. 196. 78Ibid., p. 191. Duncan in “Navigation between Portugal and Asia”, p. 17, is of similar opinion,

this coincided with phase IV of his analysis. 79Boxer, Golden Age of Brazil, p. 325. The council member was António Rodrigues da Costa.

Boxer apparently showed much admiration for this figure, calling him a “true prophet” for his

prediction.

56

CHAPTER 3

LEADERSHIP FROM LISBON TO GOA

The previous chapter provided a brief background for the period

immediately preceding the time frame of this study. This chapter will

start out exploring the general political setting and apparatus of

Portugal in the early Baroque period. In terms of the Overseas

Council, its developments (especially 1707-50), make-up and

administrative functions will be taken up. As far as communications

from the centre were concerned, the Crown maintained channels

outside the Overseas Council to make its wishes known. In this

regard, the context and importance of the instructions given to the

viceroy will be discussed. Finally, the appointees, their prospects

and stakes in the overseas appointments will be examined.

Early Baroque Government The study of the early modern political history of Portugal since

around the 1990s has increasingly been moving away from the

“absolutist” studies of D. João V, as shown by state-of-studies

surveys.1 However, as Hespanha admitted in the volume of História

de Portugal which he edited, the study of Portuguese history is still

rather skewed towards “traditional” areas.2 In relation to the early

Baroque polity, there is a tendency to subsume the politics of the

Joanine period under the category of the seventeenth century or

(second-half) of the eighteenth century discussions.3

57

Outside Portugal, works on early modern politics have begun to take

a fresh look at “traditional” areas, involving not only a critical re-

examination of the idea of absolute monarchy, but the associated

issues of court society, factionalism and office-holding. In this

direction, works from specific local geographical areas, rather than

“centre-initiated” studies, are filling gaps on the early Baroque

period.4

The early Baroque court of D. João V was an emulation of the

grandeur of the Versailles of Louis XIV. 5 In a re-evaluation of

European courts, Adamson gives three defining criteria for a

contemporary court – first, it was the “constant regular dwelling of

the ruler”; secondly, it was both the actual seat of the court and

departments of government; finally, it was the “venue where the

ceremonial and ritual surrounding the prince could be observed”.6 In

terms of the system of patronage, the court was the “nerve centre of

brokerage”.7 This patronage was also intricately bound up with the

shaping of factions, if these could be identified with any certainty. In

this court, the king sometimes appeared “severe and unpredictable

in order to emphasize his position as the supreme arbiter”. 8

Depending also on the style of leadership, the first minister might

also be the fulcrum of equilibrium. When the latter was present, the

king might be “isolated from political conversation with other

courtiers” to a certain degree.9

Where the administration was concerned, the court was the original

form of the conseil (council).10 The administration was “sometimes

interwoven and sometimes running parallel” with politics and

factionalism, this was definitely “a far cry from the administrative

monarchy”. A minister, when appointed, had to take care to harness

his own network, even if he had the grace and favour of the

58

monarch. Hence, few ministers were foolhardy to attempt any reform

that was too radical.11

For Portugal, the memoirs of the Count of Povolide covering the

period 1707-28 reveal aspects of D. João V’s court.12 Except for

occasional trips and an “impulsive urge” to travel (for example, he

went to Se in 1708, was at Salvaterra in 1712, and had a strong

desire to travel across several European countries incognito in

1714), the king spent much time in the palace, preoccupied with a

wide variety of business. This ranged from matters relating to the

royal household, high nobility, updates of war, advisory bodies and

personages, to ceremonies and festivals, as well as routine matters

like the seasonal departure of fleets and ships. Although factions

may not be easily discerned in the memoirs, this court was an

important point of brokerage in that merĉes, marriages of the

aristocracy and pardons were granted there. The unpredictability of

the king was at times exhibited through the exclusion of certain

nobles, for example, the exclusion from court of the Marquises of

Niza and Cascaes. This was sometimes expedited through the

secretary of state, as on the occasion in December 1726 when more

than a dozen nobles were “banished”.13

In terms of the emergence of first ministers in Europe in the period

1600-60, Berenger raised the idea in a seminal article in 1974 where

he attributed the rise of this trend to the “growing complexity of the

early modern state”.14 The discussion has evolved since – the rise of

this first minister was also observed to coincide with the ascendancy

of favourites in European courts; hence, the term “minister-favourite”.

While issues remain unresolved, the periodisation has gradually

extended fifty years backwards to cover a time frame from 1560-

1650, coined as the century of the minister-favourite.15

59

A system inclined towards the use of a few personal aides or

ministers naturally skewed the type of information reaching the king

according to what these confidants deemed to be important. A more

capable monarch like Philip II or Louis XIV, it seems, might still sway

matters in accordance with his wishes, but even then whether the

outcome conformed to their initial conception or to the interest of the

state was an entirely different issue. What can be ascertained from

the memoirs of Povolide is that, by 1725, the count recorded that the

king had not met his Council of State for a long time, even though

(aged) members continued to be sitting on it in 1726. In addition,

certain tribunals like the Overseas Council had not had a president

appointed since the (old) Count of São Vicente had completed his

three-year term in 1714.16

The Council of State was created in 1563 as a central organ of high

policy. Except probably for the initial period of its creation, the Avis

kings had retained extra-conciliar avenues, and thereafter had added

other channels by which policy decisions were deliberated. The

experimentation with the secretarial system by D. João III and D.

Sebastião were instances of this. The Habsburg period saw a

further layering of the system; for example, the creation of ad-hoc

councils (known as juntas) to deal with particular crises whenever

the occasion demanded. The Council of State seemed to have

revived some of its vital functions during the Restoration, especially

under Pedro II. At the same time, D. João IV also appointed a

secretary of state from the inception of the new dynasty.17

In an article on the topic of early eighteenth century Portugal, an

authority on eighteenth century politics and aristocracy believes that

the nature of politics during the reign of Pedro II could be used to

60

typify the first twenty years of Joanine politics. During this time, João

V continued to rely on the conciliar bodies (and on the high nobility

who served on them) to a large extent. The end of the 1720s saw the

shifting to another phase in which the king relied more on favoured

personages. Monteiro points the external reason for this change to

the War of Spanish Succession. The war exposed the incompetence

of the nobility through their conduct as military field commanders in

many instances.18 Hence, the war reduced the king’s reliance on the

nobility.

From the beginning of D. João V’s reign, an additional post of the

Secretary of State of Dispatch of War and Public Business was

created to “refine” the work undertaken by the Secretary of State of

Rewards, Dispatches and Signature.19 The person who occupied this

position, Diogo de Mendonça Corte-Real, gradually came to

dominate many important matters pertaining to the governing of the

kingdom for the first half of D. João V’s reign. As the first minister,

one can assume that important matters, domestic and overseas,

were channelled through him to the various councils for further

follow-up.20 In the consultations of the Overseas Council, specific

notes were sometimes made of the secretary’s advice into matters

ranging from ecclesiastical appointments and petitions as well as the

granting of licences in India and Macao.21

D. João V’s reign was deemed to be highly personal, even though

Oliveira Marques assessed the king to have enlarged the

bureaucracy and intelligentsia.22 Without entering into the theoretical

debate about absolutism, it is sufficient to say that the adoption of

the secretarial system need not necessarily equate to greater

centralisation.23 The two developments need not be contradictory

because João V’s base of consultation could have narrowed at the

61

apex while the middle and lower administration expanded

simultaneously to facilitate the execution of orders and policies. P.S.

Martinez affirmed in his História Diplomática de Portugal that the

“personalised” nature of D. João’s rule left his son with “little”

instrument for government.24

Deeply religious and spiritual, D. João followed the French system of

employing cardinals as ministers, although there were times when

the king had his differences with Rome.25 Hence, the Cardinal da

Cunha, who was serving as president of the Council of State, was

addressed as the first minister in the memoirs of Povolide for 1714.26

More than that, the cardinal was also referred as a valido (favourite);

this signified that he belonged to the small circle of trusted confidants

of the king.27 Other religious personages, in whom D. João V placed

his trust, were João da Mota e Silva and Gaspar de Encarnação.

The Cardinal da Mota took over as first minister from 1736 and was

entrusted with even more responsibilities after João V failed to

recover fully from an epileptic stroke in 1742. Fr. Gaspar, uncle of

the fifth Marquis of Gouveia, was said to have risen to power through

his close relations with an illegitimate son of João V. Apart from

Diogo de Mendonça, Cardinal da Mota and Fr. Gaspar were cast in

a bad light for their period in office.28 In the subsidios for D. João V’s

reign, the correspondence with Cardinal da Mota, as expected,

touched on dealings with foreign courts, conferment in appointments

and merĉes, overseas matters pertaining to aid and appointments

there, household business to do with the latter’s health and that of a

princess, as well as the cardinal’s private consultations regarding

religious matters. On India, contrary to prevailing notions that this

theatre might have been marginalised, about one-third of the

sampled exchanges mentioned dealings with appointments and

62

rewards, as well as the dispatch of aid and fleets leaving for that

particular theatre.29

In terms of emulating other areas of French ‘splendour’, it was raised

earlier that D. João V had no urgent desire to carry out reforms or

put in place competent officials to implement mercantilism with its

associated industrialisation.30 Hence, personages like Luís da Cunha

(and lesser protégés) were kept at arm’s length in ‘important’

diplomatic assignments abroad. In part, it must be remembered that

favourable and unfavourable external circumstances also inhibited

reforms – the discovery of gold in Brazil and the signing of Methuen

Treaty with Britain.

A controversial personage who served in a personal capacity (as

private secretary) to the king, but who had wide influence was

Alexandre de Gusmão. His rise is of interest because he came to the

court as an ‘outsider’ from a non-grandee origin in Brazil. Born in

1695 in Santos in Brazil, Alexandre was the ninth son of a minor

official there. Like any father, Francisco Lourenço tried to maximize

opportunities for his offspring by securing prestigious and influential

godparents for them at baptism. Alexandre had a classic Jesuit

education, learning subjects such as grammar and Latin, in which he

excelled. An opportunity to leave Brazil to further his education

brought the youth nearer to the centre of power at the age of fifteen.

There, for reasons yet to be uncovered – probably a combination of

the patronage of his brother, exposure to valuable contacts, and his

own merit – Alexandre was chosen as a secretary to accompany the

Count of Ribeira Grande to a proposed pre-Utrecht settlement.31

This, however, did not materialise and Alexandre was sent instead

on a mission to Rome for several years to participate in negotiations

with the papacy.32 He probably handled this aptly, even though João

63

V decided to terminate relations with Rome in 1728. In the process,

he was also likely to have enhanced his skills as a negotiator.

Appointed as private secretary on his return in 1730, Alexandre’s

rise was rapid. The re-eruption of Portugal’s conflict with Spain from

1735, coinciding with death of Mendonça de Corte Real a year later,

saw important assignments passed to Alexandre, most notably those

relating to the Portuguese-Spanish conflict in the New World, which

had again been unsatisfactorily resolved at Utrecht. 33 For this

assignment, Alexandre was appointed as a member of the Overseas

Council, and performed splendidly in charting out the vast territories

of the Americas for the purpose of negotiation. The Treaty of Madrid,

orchestrated largely by Alexandre, especially after the death of

Cardinal da Mota, and whose terms laid the geographical boundary

of present-day Brazil brought to a closure the problems that had

arisen as a result of an unsatisfactory arbitration by the Pope in

1493, and in 1494 (under the Luso-Castilian treaty of Tordesillas).

Despite the king’s bouts of depression, an eminent authority on

Portuguese studies tries to convince that D. João V was not a

“drooling bigot” before his critical illness.34 Almost as pretentious and

extravagant as D. Sebastião, D. João V at least possessed some of

the characteristics of Sebastião’s more capable uncle, Philip II, that

is, he was hardworking. The same expert talked about this as a king

trying to tighten control; hence, this generated a lot of paperwork in,

for example, colonial matters, from the “high policy of viceroys to

petitions of obscure widows”.35 The Overseas Council’s complaint in

1724 of overwhelming paperwork confirms this.36

Returning to the subject of the minister-favourite in conjunction with

what has been discussed so far about the aides of João V, they fitted

64

some of the pre-requisites discussed in Elliott and Brockliss’ edited

book, even though the first half of the eighteenth century was

deemed to be a ‘non-century’ as far as this kind of patronage went.

D. João V made use of persons who came from non-traditional (i.e.,

non-grandee), as well as traditional sources (i.e., the councils,

although at times, a ‘non-traditional’ personage, like Alexandre,

might be appointed to a formal body where expedience required it).

They took care of business of the court and state. Even for a small

country like Portugal, there was an attempt at transformation into a

modern state, and minister-favourites helped with the demands of

this (although the present assessment of Portugal’s effort in this

direction is often unfavourable 37 ). Nevertheless, other than the

tenure of Castelo-Melhor under the reign of João V’s uncle (Afonso

VI), a first minister would not appear in Portugal until the

appointment of Pombal in the reign of João’s son, José I.

In the context of a maturing early modern government, it is

noteworthy that an area of interest was not given up at the whim of

the king, but was instead weighed according to the cost-benefit

outcomes and other calculations it might bring to the state. It is also

pertinent, at this stage, to ask what constituted matters of high

policy? At the turn of the seventeenth century, the preoccupation of a

typical European Crown and court entourage was still, to a large

extent, with dynastic claims and issues of territories as well as loyalty

values enmeshed with the former. A further distinction to be made is

that diplomatic matters of continental Europe were seen separately

from colonial business. Colonial business was secondary, at least at

the beginning of seventeenth century. However, given elite

participation in the top echelons of government and the increasing

resource and economic stakes involved, colonial matters were slowly

65

getting their share in matters of high policy past the mid-eighteenth

century.38

For the Portuguese in India, the collection of beachheads and tracts

of territory that made up the “empire” had ceased to be lucrative

even before the Habsburg Union. The Count of Povolide recorded

randomly in his memoirs instances of twin ships leaving for India and

the Brazil fleet of over thirty setting out during the seasonal months

in 1714, 1724 and 1725.39 Nevertheless, remnants of the records of

the Casa da Índia, to be discussed in greater detail in chapter 5,

show that returning naus continued to bring back a certain quantity

of spices and other goods accrued to the king’s cabedal.40

In the first half of the eighteenth century, D. João V continued to

style himself “by the grace of God, King of Portugal, and of Algarve,

and of that beyond the sea in Africa, master of Guiné, and of the

conquests, navigation and commerce of Ethiopia, Arabia, Persia and

of India etc.”. It was a title which had changed little since the time of

Manuel I.41 The use of nominal titles is linked to the “mode and

system” of regime the Portuguese were able to impose on the place

in question. The Portuguese continued, and attempted, to be active

in areas no longer under their influence (for example, Malabar). This

was either because they were crucial lifelines to the Estado da Índia

or the nature of the Portuguese diarchy necessitated such

intervention (for example, support for the Bishop of Cochin). The

former case showed that the Portuguese were prepared to take

action to salvage their nominal claims. Monteiro believes that India

had slipped to being a place of nostalgia, former glory and heroism,

where the reluctant nobility continued to be appointed to serve.42

Pearson called Portuguese India an opera bouffe – “still strong on

titles and pomp but of no wider significance”.43 Even if (as will be

66

shown later) the high nobility no longer coveted positions in India,

the place remained an outlet and livelihood for the second and third

tier nobility – interest groups which the king could not ignore at

home. The point of discussion from the last two or three paragraphs

(to be corroborated with further substantiation in the next few

chapters) is that India continued to be of some use and not purely an

opera bouffe.

In terms of the other interest groups in Portugal, the expansion of the

administrative structure meant further reliance on the letrados.

Myrup traces a typical letrado’s career before he entered service in

the Overseas Council – he normally

had years of experience climbing through the ranks of

Portugal’s judiciary bureaucracy, first as a juiz de fora,

then subsequently as an ouvidor or a corregidor, and

finally as a desembargador in a Relação in Brazil or

India and later in the Casa de Suplicação. Additionally,

he also often assisted the Treasury abroad serving as a

provedor simultaneously.44

To a certain extent, the rise of this lettered class was ‘permitted’ at

the expense of the aristocracy. For the older military families, they

would still not consider anything but ambassadorial appointments,

ministerial posts, or other positions of the “high robe”. On the whole,

the independence afforded to D. João V from his Brazilian wealth, in

addition to the “willingness” and co-option of the service nobility,

reoriented the influence and position of the nobility to a more

submissive role.

67

One thing that was certain was that, after the first fifty years of the

Restoration, new entrants into the nobility, and titles granted during

what was still a period of consolidation, were limited and stabilised.45

This state of affairs would continue until the “rupture” in the

Pombaline period after the mid-1700s.46 One of the main messages

in an authoritative work on the aristocracy is that the high

aristocracy, as is to be expected, used marriages to gain influence

and wealth. In this direction, even though ecclesiastical

appointments were becoming more popular, it was still preferable for

daughters to be married off, as this could result in the extension or

consolidation of a network. 47 Marriages were almost always

arranged and the protagonists had little voice in the matter.48 No

efforts were spared at attempts to preserve inheritance (of wealth or

to offices) within a house. Hence, a second-born and even an

illegitimate offspring was allowed to succeed to offices and wealth.49

In a survey of thirteen families of grandees on whom were conferred

the title of marquis, patterns in marriage, if any, are not readily

discernable in the reigning title-holder of each family. Each family

tried to extend itself into whatever direction possible. The dukes of

Cadaval (Melos) were linked to three families – the marquises of

Asseca (Sás), Alegrete (Silvas) and Távora (Távoras). The Melos

were also intimately linked to a French noble family of the rank of

duke – the Lorenas. The marquises of Távora (Távoras) were linked

to the marquises of Minas and Gouveia (Mascarenhas). The

linkages of the other families, for example, that of the Marquis of

Niza, were more disparate.50 The marginalisation of the aristocracy

may have been caused by the more uncertain factionalism, as much

as the style of D. João’s leadership. The multifaceted nature of the

nobility, including its inter-familial linkages during D. João V’s period,

68

need to be studied more broadly to better discern factionalism. This

will probably require a thesis-length study by itself.

Overseas Council Closely intertwined with politics and court was the administration.

The administration in the form of councils, as discussed previously,

underwent an evolution during the period of D. João V. At the

beginning, the administrative body dealing with overseas India

handled a core of activities involving the dispatch of ships and

reinforcements, trade in crown goods, staffing of the Carreira and

even the Estado; and for a time, it also handled ecclesiastical and

matters of (moral) conscience. However, these activities were not

equally highlighted at all times; nor did their conglomeration

conveniently come together with equitable importance from the

beginning. In fact, the object of the above-mentioned activities did

not even originate with India.

The Casa da Índia had its predecessors in the Casa da Guiné and

Casa da Guiné e Mina dating from Portugal’s exploration and

consolidation on the western coast of Africa.51 Probes were made

into the Indian Ocean in 1498 and 1502. By the ninth expedition in

1505, the Avis court of Manuel I had decided on a viceregal system

as a recourse to manage this vast and potential ‘milch cow’ area. At

home, the initial business of India was dealt with under Casa da

Guiné e Mina; this evolved into the Casa da Índia, Mina e Guiné (or

Casa da Guiné e Índia or Casa da Mina e Índia or just the Casa da

Índia).52

The fused structure housed under its roof three sub-bodies – the

Casa da Índia, Casa da Guiné e Mina and Casa dos Escravos.

These took charge of the commerce of India, Africa and trade in

69

slaves respectively.53 Although the Portuguese landed in Brazil in

1500 and the Casa’s jurisdiction was supposed to cover this area,

Portuguese America did not experience a rapid rise there in the

manner of the Spanish New World. The early slave traffic was mainly

directed to Portugal and its Atlantic island colonies.54 The overall

leadership was assumed by the feitor from the Casa da Índia; the

other two Casas only had only a treasurer, a tax-collector and a few

scribes.55

The Casa da Índia, Mina e Guiné assumed a few important functions

for overseas matters during the period of the Portuguese first

empire. First, it took care of matters pertaining to commerce and its

control. Goods traded passed through the feitorias or outposts

worldwide which served as custom houses where duties were

collected. Inspection of the ships was conducted before and after the

loading of goods to prevent contraband. Even goods from European

markets had to pass through here. In this way, links were made with

the rest of the empire where the feitor was an important personage

apart from the captain (of the feitoria). Secondly, the Casa acted as

the king’s agent to ensure a royal monopoly. The king held the

monopoly of several commodities, although these would vary over

time. Lastly, in accordance with anticipated trade, the Casa was to

make requests for the ships and fleets needed. In this, it was to work

in close cooperation with the Armazem (or Armazem de Guiné e

Índia or Armazem de Mina e Índias) headed by a provedor mor with

his team of superintendents (provedores).56

Provedores undertook the actual preparation for getting the vessels

ready – they looked into everything, from the wood needed for

constructing the ships, personnel, food supplies and even arms

required to adequately feed and defend the fleet on the journey.

70

Expenses for the preparation would come from the treasury of the

Casa, staffed by a vedor da fazenda, with whom the provedor

worked closely.57 Judicial issues came under the Desembargo do

Paço which functioned as the High Court of Appeal. The Casa had

its own judicial official – the juiz da Guiné e Índia, who dealt with

theft and offences committed in the Casa and Armazem.

Ecclesiastical affairs came under the Mesa da Consciência e

Ordens, which also took care of matters pertaining to the military

orders.58

In this way, the above mode of operation continued till the union with

Habsburg Spain (1580-1640) marring some brief experimentation

with a secretarial system during the reigns of D. João III and D.

Sebastião. Both these kings created the positions of Secretário dos

Despachos e Coisas da Índia and Secretário dos Negócios e Coisas

da Repartição da Índia, Mina, Guiné, Brazil e Ilhas, respectively, to

handle the business of India and overseas. 59 Otherwise, crucial

matters involving overseas were discussed in the Council of State.

In his PhD thesis, J. Newcombe Joyce (Jr.) traced the origins of the

vicegeral and conciliar rule in Spain, as well as the evolution of the

Casa, Amazem and Fazenda system in Portugal.60 Joyce deduced

that the reform and creation of the Conselho da Fazenda in 1591

was not just a Spanish initiative. Instead, it reflected Portuguese

continuity in the desire for change as well, even though, from a

certain perspective, it was an effort by Philip II at centralisation via a

readily known means – conciliar rule.61

The attempt at centralising finances pulled together several agencies

under this newly formed council. The Casa Real, Casa da Moeda,

Casa dos Contos, Casa da Índia e Mina and Armazem da Guiné e

71

Índia, among others, came under the Treasury Council. 62 The

founding regimento of 20 November 1591 designated that matters

that came to the Council be classified under the sub-tribunals of

“Kingdom”, “India” and “Africa and Contos”. For the scribes attached,

there existed, therefore, a section of paperwork called “Repartição

da Índia e Armazens” or “Repartição da Índia e Ordens”.63 Hence,

the preparation and equipping of ships came under the Council via

the Casa and Armazem da Índia. The records under the Casa,

documenting the arrivals, departures, as well as construction of

ships were unfortunately destroyed in the 1755 Earthquake in

Lisbon.64

To say that centralisation was achieved by conciliar rule under the

Habsburgs would be to present only a part of the picture. Owing to

the inherent drawbacks of the conciliar system, the Habsburgs had

evolved a “secretary of state” model as early as the reign of Philip

III’s great grandfather (Charles V). Along with this trend, Philip had

created a Secretary of State of India in 1600. Mendes da Luz

commented that, prior to the creation of the Council of India in 1604,

the incumbent secretary had exercised his responsibility competently

but he was getting old.65 At the same time, Philip’s dependence on

the rise of a valido-minister also compromised the councils to a

certain extent.66

Despite its brief existence, the creation of the Council of India was

not an exercise in futility. The council seemed to have a more

eminent position compared to other councils, in accordance with the

importance of overseas empire, in that it attempted to concentrate in

this body “every sphere of colonial affairs – legislative, financial,

judicial, military, ecclesiastical and commercial”.67

72

In practice, the nineteen-point 1604 regimento of the Council of India

was neither all that clear, nor would it be implemented smoothly. The

Councils of India and Fazenda each made complaints against the

other. In a specific incident, the councils were of different opinions as

to the value of spices that were to be remitted to the metropole. The

issue of getting ships ready to sail was not specifically clarified

either. This ambiguity led to the inadequate stores in the often run-

down fleets. This led to an inquiry by the king and culminated in

reform and promulgation of a new regimento with reduced

involvement by the Conselho da Fazenda among one of its

capítulos. On the religious front, attempts by bishops and

archbishops, like D. Pedro de Castilho and D. Frei Aleixo de

Meneses (viceroys of Portugal), to restrain the powers of the Council

of India led to its extinction on 21 May 1614.68

The Overseas Council, founded in the regimento of 1642, also found

it difficult to implement its operating procedures. At the same time,

the larger developments of Joanine politics could be seen to have an

impact on the regimento (on which the functioning of the Overseas

Council depended). The opening part of the 1642 regimento pointed

out that the absence of a tribunal to handle matters of the Estado da

Índia and overseas was causing many “inconveniences”. Hence, the

justification for the creation of the council. At the beginning of the

Restoration, the newly installed Bragança dynasty under D. João IV

was fighting for its life at home and overseas. The Overseas Council

was created to assist and manage the fight abroad. Meanwhile, the

dearth of resources was also dictating the priorities of overseas

commitments and favouring Brazil over India, although the king

continued to waiver on what was to be dispatched in practice.69

Myrup suggests that the creation of the Overseas Council, with its

73

more neutral name compared to that of the Council of India, reflected

the shift in emphasis.70

Still engaging with the War of Restoration under the regency of D.

Pedro, Ames believes that: “overall delegation of resources to

various components of empire was usually reserved for the more

powerful Council of State” even though the Overseas Council

advised the regent on routine matters and operations.71 On the issue

of military reform in the Estado, the Overseas Council made a

number of recommendations – these included sending as many men

as possible, getting experienced soldiers from the War of

Restoration to join the service in India, forming a permanent military

unit in Goa, and making suggestions for avenues of finance.72 Ames

also draws attention to other ventures, such as the revival of the

Straits fleet and various expeditions. In the end, the naval measures,

hand-in-hand with reforms in the treasury, seem to have ensured a

healthy state of finance, which in turn helped field a credible military

presence which contributed to the revival of the Estado da Índia up

till the 1680s.73

In terms of its overall importance in the administrative structure of

the Bragança monarchs, the Overseas Council never attained the

status of its peer agencies (or the 1604 tribunal), even if it might deal

with matters of high policy or some of its clauses might dictate

privileges (akin to those enjoyed by other administrative bodies and

councils) for its members.74 Myrup highlights two instances where

the council had to fight for a pay increase for its porters in 1644 and

for bonuses-in-kind for its members in 1659. 75 In terms of its

regimento, which was adapted from the 1604 nineteen-point

document of the Council of India, the roles and responsibilities of the

Overseas Council were largely analogous with its predecessor,

74

except for the ecclesiastical part. Point Seven of the 1642 regimento

stipulated that the paperwork of all channels (involving relevant

business) was to go via this council.76 However, alternative means of

communication, some in use before the inception of this council,

continued to be relied on. The Monsoon Books, effected directly

between the Crown and the viceroyalty in Goa, were clearly one

such exchange. The exclusive instructions to the viceroys were not

conveyed through the council, although these were likely to have

been drafted in consultation with the secretary of state.

The problems faced by the Council of India were never totally

resolved in the Overseas Council, even though a number of points in

the regimento, especially the fourteenth, tried to delineate the

business of the council and urged other bodies not to interfere. The

problem was not specific to this conciliar body but was endemic to

the entire bureaucracy of Portugal in that the continual layering (i.e.,

including the addition of ad-hoc councils or juntas to deal with

particular exigencies) of the administration, without addressing some

basic issues, was perhaps a contributing factor to Portugal’s failure

to make the transition into modernity. João V tried to be prodigious,

but the political will to effect more radical changes was not present,

in part because the environment he inherited was not as averse, and

in part perhaps because the time for change was, indeed, not ripe. In

terms of matters handled by the Overseas Council, the sixth point in

the regimento covered a range that would be presented in the

council – from India, Brazil, Guiné, the offshore islands and places in

Africa, but fazenda was to be administered by the Conselho da

Fazenda. One can imagine problems involving financial flows

cropping up again even though point nine was meant to alleviate

this.77 In the ninth point, the Overseas Council was to be consulted

about ships leaving for India and places of conquest, about the men

75

and arms, as well as specificities of timing for the departure of the

ships. It was also responsible for providing advice to the Treasury

Council as the latter was to undertake the expenditure. The

Overseas Council was also responsible for handling requests by

viceroys, governors and captains, as well as bishops and members

of the religious orders. The early solution of appointing the Vedor da

Fazenda da Repartição da Índia from the Treasury Council as

president, to resolve issues arising from the overlap between the two

councils (i.e. overseas and treasury), did not continue beyond the

second presidency.78

In terms of staffing and working conditions, the second point of the

regimento listed the membership of the council. It included a

president who, as was just noted, was the Vedor da Fazenda da

Repartição da Índia, two council members of the rank of capa e

espada, one letrado, one secretary who also served as scribe in the

section of Repartição da Índia in the Treasury Council, and two

porters. A survey of the Relaçam dos Conselheyros, e Officiaes do

Conselho Ultramarino of 1730-1 reveals an increase in personnel –

eight to nine ‘executives’ (more than half of whom were

desembargadores). Other personnel at this date included one to two

porteiro(s), a tesoureiro, an executor and an escrivão (scribe, to the

treasurer). There was also a secretariat of eight to ten secretaries,

including a senior official and one to two aposentador(es). The other

personnel were the meirinho and his escrivão, a solicitador das

causas, a fiel (to the tesoureiro) and two youth-pages. 79 In

conjunction with the shift in style of D. João V’s government, the

council was gradually fulfilling more of an administrative than an

advisory role; hence the expansion of administrative staff. The third

point of the regimento detailed the working hours when the council

would meet in a room in the palace, and for how long – three hours

76

in the morning (including holidays), commencing at seven in summer

and at eight in winter. The increase in and complaint about working

hours has already been noted. The trend was perhaps ameliorated

slightly towards the end of João V’s reign when the newly appointed

Marquis of Penalva asked for the working hour in the morning to

start at eight on all days of the year.80

Despite the fact that João V was more apt to rely on non-traditional

and ad-hoc avenues, traditional groups like the nobility required

continued patronage from the king in a still consolidating period of

the dynasty. Another group, like the letrados filling the ranks of the

middle bureaucracy, was slowly becoming more prominent. These

subtle transitions were reflected in the founding document and

make-up of the Overseas Council. The fourth point of the regimento

described the seating arrangements of the council in session, in a

way indicating the importance of certain members over others. The

president was to be seated at the head, was followed by council

members seated bancos colateraes – capa e espada members on

the right, with the most senior in the first seat; and the letrado taking

the first place on the left. It was further added that a letrado, no

matter how senior, would not surpass the capa e espada members;

and in absence of a president, a senior capa e espada member was

to preside without “taking the position”. The tenth point of the

regimento dwelt further with the tasking of work – capa e espada

members would take care of matters of war and papers of the

viceroys, etc., while materials dealing with justice were reserved for

the letrados. Merĉes and requests presented to the president from

overseas were to be expedited by the secretary of merĉes. The

numerical superiority of the letrados was not necessarily significant,

especially as their duties were carefully circumscribed, while the

capa e espada members continued to assert their superiority by

77

presiding during the absence of the president. An earlier point of the

regimento touched on the process to be followed during a session-

in-sitting: votes were to be taken starting from the junior to senior

members, and finally the president. The differences in votes were to

be declared and taken down by the secretary, and rubrics entered by

the president and members. Finally, if there was no other matter to

be discussed, the president gave a parting reminder about the care

to be taken in the respective tasks.

Other points detailed the enumeration and storage of records, as

well as some miscellaneous procedures relating to the president.81

The last point in the 1642 regimento summarised the information that

needed to be disseminated to various agencies, as well as giving the

date, place and authority by which the founding document had been

made and written.82

With further reference to the profile of the members of the Overseas

Council, seventeen of the 26 members appointed during the reign of

D. João V (including two presidents) were letrados. These letrados

normally served in career tracks, as discussed in the previous

section. Some underwent a shorter route, others longer, before

being appointed to the Overseas Council. For example, Francisco

Monteiro de Miranda alternated for several terms between a juiz de

fora and a corregedor before taking up two disjunctive appointments

as desembargador and finally being appointed a council member of

the Overseas Council in May 1711. In another example, Manuel

Fernandes Vargas had only prior experience as a desembargador of

the Casa da Suplicação before taking up appointment as a council

member.83

78

Of the seven capa e espada members appointed (excluding the

presidents), most did not have any substantial administrative or

overseas experience. Except for Alexandre de Gusmão, who was

relatively more accomplished, one capa e espada member had

served as an ambassador and another as an official in the Treasury

Council.84

More may be said about the presidents from information contained in

the Memorias Genealógicas. As one of the oldest lineages in

Portugal, the Távoras were present at the turn of the first millennium.

D. Fernando and D. João I made doações and merĉes to them and

to a related branch of the house, which had made a contribution at

the Battle of Aljubarrota (1385). Nevertheless, this branch of the

Távoras was only granted its first title of Count of São Vicente during

the Habsburg period by Philip III in 1611. Miguel Carlos de Távora

(second son of the second Count of São João; 1641-1726) married

Dona Maria Caetanha de Cunha (daughter of the first Count of São

Vicente) and inherited the title of the second Count of São Vicente.85

Like his predecessor, Miguel Carlos saw service in the Wars of

Restoration and was appointed to positions of command in the army.

Although without overseas experience, he served in a few naval

appointments, and had some experience on the Council of War. Of

certain influence in the later years, Miguel Carlos served on the

Council of State as well as being appointed president of the

Overseas Council.86 It is also of interest to note that the counts of

São Vicente had close ties with the Noronhas and other families

intimately linked to service in the Overseas Council and with India

(notably the Almeidas): when the fourth Count of São Vicente

married Dona Maria Sofia. 87 Even if factions appear somewhat

elusive, it would seem that individual families were clearer about

where they were heading.

79

Another member of the Távora family was D. Francisco de Távora.

He was granted the title of Count of Alvor by King Pedro II in 1683

while serving as viceroy in India (1681-86). This branch of the

Távora family descended from the lineages of the counts of São

João and Linhares. At the beginning of D. João V’s reign, D.

Francisco had served for 13 years as president of the Overseas

Council. He ended his term a year later.

As for the last president appointed by D. João V after a long

vacancy, not much is revealed from the Memorias Genealógicas.

The fifth Count of Tarouca assumed the presidency of the Overseas

Council from 1749 and was conferred with the revived title of

Marquis of Penalva the following year.88

In the long period of absence of a president, the business of the

council was split up amongst the members, and a senior ‘minister’,

acting in accordance with the regimento (1643) presided in the

president’s place.89 In the original spirit that “a letrado can never

claim tenure over those of capa e espada”, a Relaçam dos

Conselheyros, e Officiaes do Conselho Ultramarino recorded at the

top of the list the leading “minister” as a capa e espada member,

António Rodrigues da Costa, even though letrados were beginning

to outnumber capa e espada councillors in the course of the period

1707-50.90

Linking up developments in the council with trends at the level of the

empire, we find some patterns being projected in both the eastern

and western hemispheres. Brazil was important for the council

during the reign of D. João V in that non-aristocrat officials who had

served there were participating more widely, not only in the council,

80

but throughout the entire Portuguese colonial bureaucracy. These

letrados were also largely concentrated in judicial and fiscal

capacities. Being a privileged domain, the Overseas Council

continued not to be involved in the appointment of viceroys to India,

as decisions were input directly from the secretary of state to the

king (and up to the 1720s, consulted with members of Council of

State). Similar level appointments to Brazil, surprisingly, according to

Monteiro, were an Overseas Council affair.91 The partial effect of the

above left the council to focus on middle rung business staffing

matters.

A further round of changes, imitating the French system, was

effected on the Portuguese politico-administrative structure in the

second third of D. João V’s reign. The reform of 1736, outlined in an

alvará, pointed out that the division of business via the then existing

two secretaries-of-state did not “result in usefulness and instead, led

to grave inconvenience setting the need for an alvará to reorganise

into three Secretaries of State – one for “Business of the Kingdom”,

one for “Foreign Business”, and the last for “Overseas Dominions”.

The last-mentioned was to be concerned with all dispatches on

armadas (including administration of the fazenda of their

warehouses, military posts, etc.); “pertaining to him [would also be]

the nomination of viceroys, governors and captain-generals of India,

Brazil, Angola, Madeira and Açores, as well as fortresses of [north]

Africa”. The Secretary for “Foreign Business” was to deal with

appointments of ministers and diplomats in foreign courts, treaties of

peace, war, marriage and alliance, as well as the overseeing of

military troops and their logistics. Finally, the Secretary of “Business

of the Kingdom” was to look into the conferment of titles and offices

(include the nomination of prelados), merĉes, military orders, the

fazenda real, and the administration of justice and police. All

81

consultations, petitions and letters were to go via the secretaries to

whom the relevant business pertained, and replies and resolutions

were to be remitted by the same. The books and papers of the three

ministers were also to be divided up for the purpose of

documentation to avoid confusion.92

D. João’s ‘personalized’ approach on top of exceptions on the

ground means an institutional study may not convey the actual

situation in reality. In theory, for instance, appointments of diplomats,

as well as issues of war, peace and alliance dealt with by the

Secretary of “Foreign Business”, were understood to apply to the

orbit of the European theatre. In terms of implementation, Marco

António de Azevedo Coutinho did not take up this position until 1739,

during which time his duties were covered by Secretary António

Guedes Pereira who also oversaw the office of the Secretary of

State of “Overseas Dominions”. In the consultations of the Overseas

Council, Marco António also advised on matters touching as far as

Timor.93 At times, a valido like Alexandre de Gusmão, in his capacity

as private secretary and council member of the Overseas Council,

might be charged with overriding powers to deal with a foreign power

on a colonial matter, as in the Treaty of Madrid of 1750. On a final

note, not all communications necessarily went through the

secretaries, even if they might be consulted afterwards. The effect

on the Overseas Council was that it was relegated even further to an

administrative role.

If any factionalism can be observed here, brief remarks have been

made about Alexandre de Gusmão’s hostility towards Sebastião

José de Carvalho e Melo (the future Marquis of Pombal); who was

thought to be a “satellite” of Cardinal da Mota.94 Associated with

Carvalho e Melo was the more prominent D. Luis da Cunha. Both

82

were marginalised in their advocacy of Colbertism during the reign of

D. João V.95

Viceregal Institution On the ground at the periphery, the viceregal institution has a long

tradition in the Iberian peninsula. J. Lalinde Abadia traced it to the

beginning of fourteenth century. The title was also adopted in

Spain’s Italian territories in the sixteenth century.96 A. Garcia Gallo

traced the use of the title to fourteenth and fifteenth century Castile.

A. Rumeu de Armas pinpointed the use of the designation to Aragon.

The title became “more commonly known” in the fifteenth century

when the Catholic Monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabel, vested it in

Christopher Columbus in his maiden voyage to the New World.97

The initial conception was for the Castilian king to have a royal

representative in a ruled territory while guarding the local essence

and institutions of that place through the appointment of a council.98

Columbus not only had his mission to explore new lands in his

capacity as the Almirante do Mar Oceáno, but also had to act as the

king’s representative and government during the discoveries. Where

the eastern enterprise of the Portuguese kings was concerned,

Vasco da Gama was granted the title of admiral of India in 1500 after

his pioneering voyage to India; D. Francisco de Almeida was

bestowed with the title of viceroy of India four years after.99

The powers of the viceroy in India were conveyed in a few types of

documents accompanying his departure. There was the carta de

poder or carta patente which stipulated his powers in general. An

example of the carta de poder given in 1505 to D. Francisco de

Almeida as captain-major:

83

advised and commanded all… to obey and comply with

his requirements and commands with diligence and

care… as though we [D. Manuel I and advisors] in

person had spoken it, and those who do otherwise [not

fulfill their duty] shall do us a disservice and we shall

mete out to them those punishments that such cases

merit… and in order that punishment [be] meted out

either on sea or on land in any part where our peoples

may be, whether of our nations or subjects in India, we

confer upon him full authority… in all cases civil and

criminal and even in the death penalty… We bestow

upon him our full power over all the affairs of our

revenues whether be it in buying and selling of our

merchandise […] or anything else… Furthermore, we

confer upon him full power to contract for us in our

name treaties of peace and friendship with all the kings

and lords of India… [or] to wage war… We ordain this

power and authority to be conferred upon him by these

letters patent signed by us and sealed with… the seal of

our arms.100

More than a century later, the carta patente from King Philip IV to the

Count of Linhares for his appointment as viceroy in 1629 was

couched in similar terms. 101 Eighteenth-century viceroys were

granted similar documents.

Because of the concurrent appointment of the viceroy as

commander of the outgoing fleet, Almeida also received a regimento,

or set of instructions, which went into detail regarding the minutiae of

the trip. This included things such as signalling and what to do in the

event of the separation of ships. On arrival, directions with regards to

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building a fortress, constructing a local fleet, conducting relations

with local kings and inhabitants, and protecting Christians, as well as

appointments, were also provided. 102 Otherwise, part of this

regimento, also known as the sailing-orders, would be issued to any

captain-major on the Carreira da Índia or, increasingly by the

eighteenth century, to a professional seaman with the rank of capitão

de mar e guerra.103 A similar document in 1740, dispatched with the

viceroy Count of Ericeira as “the first person in the fleet”, dwelled on

‘usual’ things like hygiene and care for the sick (including the duties

of the barber), where to “take water” and remuneration for those on

board. 104 By the first half of the eighteenth century, great concern

was shown in the regimento over the manning and maintenance of

artillery on board ships, in tandem with new dangers – pirates and

the French at Mozambique. The crucial nature of the socorro

expedition probably heightened the tension of the voyage as there

was a reminder to keep up with the drilling of the troops. Finally,

persistent concerns remained with the registration of Carreira

personnel and soldiers, as well as potential smuggling problems.105

Subsequently in the course of the sixteenth or probably seventeenth

century, certain viceroys in India might receive from the king a

separate set of personal instructions briefing them on the king’s

perception of the situation on the ground, as well as the parameters

within which he was to act. In the second quarter of the eighteenth

century after 1736, this was drafted by the king with his secretary of

state (for Overseas Dominions). An examination of the set of

instructions reveals that it was up to date about the situation in India

– from the strength of troops in the Estado da Índia, enemy threats,

and receipts of Estado, as well as revenues from commerce. It also

provided strategic guidelines in different areas; in terms of foreign

relations, on the reestablishment of friendship with Persia, on war

85

with the Marathas, on ways to increase revenue, and possibility of

even forming a company. At the end, “[in] anything that is not in [the]

regimentos and exceeds [the] jurisdiction conceded by me, [the

viceroy is to] take arbitration as long as it has no grave prejudice”.106

What about the rest of that ‘exported state’, posited by J. Borges de

Macedo? In brief, the Estado da Índia was modeled upon the

reformed structure of the home government at the end of the

Restoration Wars. Policy was still laid down in general terms. The

important executive organ beneath the viceroy or governor was still

the Council of State. Matters relating to defence and war of the

Estado were centralised under this Council through the control of

roughly two dozen companies (still classified under the terço system)

and a supply house of powder. In practice, only a few companies of

troops would remain in the city of Goa at any one time. A high sea

fleet and a galley fleet, maintaining the system on the sea, came

under this council too. The Conselho da Fazenda and associated

agencies of accounts and custom-house exercised financial control.

Still beneath this were the captains of the remaining outposts, farms

and territories assigned to the fidalgos. Closely linked to this

administration was the Senate of Goa who provided inputs at various

levels on a number of matters. A parallel line of structure which dealt

with justice was the Relação (or High Court).107

Reflecting the larger trend of things at home, a royal letter was sent

to the Viceroy João Saldanha da Gama in Goa in March 1729

reminding him that the appointment of desembargadores and

procuradores needed to adhere to prerequisites of candidates

possessing for example, experience and a letrado background.108

Despite confirmation of clauses modeled upon that of Lisbon by the

Crown which included reservation of municipal offices for casados

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and their descendants, Asians were eligible to serve towards and

past the mid-eighteenth century.109 From the consultations of the

Overseas Council, the Council’s response to the chanceller of the

Relação of Goa in February 1737 regarding petitions by officials for

succession of their sons to offices showed that, despite certain

promises by the previous viceroy, Saldanha da Gama, the king

(advised by the Diogo Mendonça de Corte Real), was in favour of

offices to be succeeded by those most qualified.110 Hence, those

who petitioned for posts needed to qualify in terms of the number of

years of service; otherwise, even a native might succeed to the

position.111

The state of Portuguese administration in India at the end of D. João

V’s reign was summed up in the instructions from the Marquis of

Alorna to Távora – “por estar reduzido a breves limites” (being

reduced to limited boundaries), along with a considerable reduction

in rendimento (income).112

In terms of centre-peripheral analysis, the viceroys represented the

embodiment of the central value system in India. However, there is

never a perfect centre-to-periphery imposition, even at the core. At

the periphery at Goa, the viceroy had personal, family and Crown

agendas to fulfill, although these might overlap to some extent.

Nevertheless, there was no recorded instance of rebellion linked with

nobility in the first half of the eighteenth century at home. During the

first half of the eighteenth century, the king possessed more

requisites to press the nobility into service than at any other time

during the Restoration. The only case of insurrection in India took

place in 1787, past the period of even Pombal. 113 If the centre-

peripheral fight was also to be determined in the locality of the latter,

then viceroys were important agents of that struggle on the ground.

87

Given the importance of the king’s representative in sustaining the

Portuguese in India in the midst of severe constraints, the process

and choice of candidacy for viceroy requires an examination by itself.

In an article, Mafalda Soares da Cunha and Nuno Gonçalo Monteiro

argue that, for the period 1651 onwards to the 1830s, the typical

background of a chosen governor did not differ very much from that

of the viceroy. For the period 1701-50, almost all came from

Portugal, except for one who grew up in India. Specifically, many

also came from the families of grandees and the first nobility. It is

interesting to note that, until 1774, more of these governors came

from an ecclesiastical background – although only one governed

solely, several others were administering as part of interim councils

(of which 1701-50 saw the most interruptions of this nature). Of the

governors who succeeded in the period 1651-1774, almost all had

experience in leadership and had mostly likely served in India.114 As

for the experience of the viceroys who served in India, the majority

had prior exposure in leadership positions and a number had seen

colonial service in Brazil, although there were also quite a few who

had not served overseas before. 115 On the whole, the heirs of

grandees served most in military positions as opposed to services

overseas and in the councils (two and three times more

respectively).116

For the period 1701-50, the number of viceroys appointed

outnumbered greatly that of governors (10:2). The period from 1651

has been described as the “aristocratisation of the title and

appointment of viceroys”; viceroys who agreed to go to India were

normally granted the title of marquis. Those who had made

“accomplishments” there were granted further titles or given the

chance of a second tenure of viceregalship (though the latter was

88

not necessarily seen as a much sought after reward). The latter was

none other than the celebrated Count of Ericeira who enjoyed certain

favours in court. Detailed profiling of the viceroys in India reveals that

of the seven viceroys appointed, three were conferred with extra

benefits for going to the East. In terms of family background and

linkages, the first viceroy appointed by João V descended from the

counts of Soure, whose father had been president of the Overseas

Council under Pedro II. As for the second viceroy, his lineage

descended from the male line of César which stretched as far back

as D. Dinis (r. 1279-1325). V.F. César de Meneses was the first of

his house to be granted the countship of Sabugosa by D. João V in

1729 while serving in Brazil. The marriage link extended César de

Meneses to the counts of Santa Cruz through his wife’s father’s side.

As for the Ericeiras (who took up the third and seventh

viceregalship), the family received their first title during the period of

Habsburg rule and allegiance to the new Bragança dynasty was

proven by the fourth count’s appointment to important positions. A

marital link of the fifth count was made to the house of Rohan

(counts of Ribeira Grande). The fourth viceroy (fifth governor)

descended from D. Francisco de Sampaio and Dona Joana de

Távora. The fifth viceroy (seventh governor) was descended from

the marriage of D. Luis Saldanha de Gama and Dona Magdalena

Mendonça. The sixth viceroy (eighth governor) descended from the

marriage of Fernão Mascarenhas and Antonia Bourbon and was

himself married to the Távora family of the counts of São Miguel.

Finally, the fourth Count of Assumar and seventh viceroy of India,

who was descended from the male line of the house of Almeida

(associated with Francisco de Almeida), was allied to the Lancastres

(counts of Vila Nova de Portimão).117

89

On the issue of channelling second-born sons and lower nobility to

India, they continued to be siphoned to the East. Regarding the five

great families (the Castro, Coutinho, Mascarenhas, Meneses and

Noronha) associated with the Estado in the sixteenth and

seventeenth centuries, a survey of D. António Caetano de Sousa’s

Memorias Genealógicas dos Grandes de Portugal, which focuses on

the high nobility, reveals little or no linkage of families associated

with the first two names to India in the period of D. João V.118 The

Noronha family of the counts of Vila Verde listed in the compendium

of great families did not see any related assignment to India during

the reign of João V. The closest for the Meneses came from the

fourth Count of Cantanhede who had served in the Council of State

of D. João V, as well as president of the Junta do Comércio

(managing trade in East Africa).119 Of the five named families in the

reign of D. João V, the Mascarenhas offers the clearest linkages to

India as a number of the related sub-branches (Óbidos, Sandomil,

Torre/Fronteira and Coculim) were conferred responsibilities or

merçes to that place. The Sandomils, whose family stretches as far

back as the reign of D. Duarte, was the one most linked to India

during the reign of D. João V in that it included a member who

served in the Council of State and in military positions before being

appointed as viceroy to India. The third Count of Torre served as

Vedor da Fazenda da Repartição dos Armazens e Índia (as well as

the more esteemed positions of member of the councils of state and

war) during João V’s period. A peer in the generation of the fourth

count was appointed at a crucial time in 1740 to India as a

commandante do socorro.120 This branch of the Mascarenhas family

was also awarded with the title of count of Coculim. The title was

first conferred during the reign of Afonso VI when Francisco

Mascarenhas was made the lord of (the villages of) Coculim and

Veroda in the Estado da Índia. Subsequent successors (up to the

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fourth count in 1750) continued to be made lords of the aldeias

(villages) even though all were appointed to positions at home.121

Is it possible to gauge the perception of viceroys appointed to India?

The outlook of viceroys was, it seems, never bright, even among the

more celebrated appointees. With about a year to go until the

completion of his first three-year tenure, the Count of Ericeira

complained that the government of the Estado was (still) plagued

with a variety of hostile threats and few means to alleviate them.122

In the letters of the Count of Assumar to his father while on duty in

India, the viceroy indicated his disinclination to the assignment and

lamented about the lack of opportunity to participate in great glory.123

In an authoritative work, Nuno Monteiro observes that from the mid-

seventeenth century, viceroys were still able to amass great

fortunes, as for example, did D. Filipe de Mascarenhas. This was

disrupted after the fall of the Province of the North between 1737-

40.124 In a study up to end of the seventeenth century, Mafalda

Soares da Cunha indicates that India was still a proving ground,

especially for the lesser nobility, although they tended to return and

remain in Portugal once they had gained certain recognition and title.

Mafalda Soares da Cunha also reveals, perhaps against the inner

insecurity of most governors and viceroys, that incumbents were

usually afraid that mistakes made in India would have an effect on

their descendants; in reality, these would have little bearing.125

In terms of the leadership structure at the periphery, the local elites

provided part of that input on top of the direction by the viceroy.

While the Cortes at home last met in 1698, the Câmara of Goa

overseas continued to raise issues on a variety of matters with the

king – from the conduct of war and defence, and the behaviour of

officials, etc. Feedback from the Câmara was taken seriously by the

91

king, who was likely to have conceived this body to be part of the

expedient of checks and balances. Indeed, the Câmara sometimes

sent unfavourable reports to the king regarding the viceroy, though it

never failed the latter when help was needed in times of crisis. On

occasions, the Câmara even loaned monies to the king (requested

via the viceroy). It also offered to contribute to the maintenance of

sailors of the Carreira da Índia – normally the responsibility of the

Casa da Índia.

The viceroy resented the Câmara’s privileged direct and free

communication with the king and therefore strove at times to

intercept and tamper with the documents. Inter-institutional rivalry

also existed with other governing bodies in the Estado da Índia. For

example, Câmara members were strongly opposed to a high legal

official becoming its president. At the lower level, despite skewed

representation by local elites who were invariably European or part-

European in descent, the Câmara seemed to be closer and more

sensitive to the people under its jurisdiction and cooperated with the

Santa Casa da Misericórdia to help the poor and lowly. This was an

important consideration in helping the Portuguese survive in a

difficult period.126

From the perspective of centre-periphery studies, even though

grandee governors and viceroys were as close an embodiment of

the authority of the centre as could be, the king seems to have also

allowed multiple channels of communication in order there should be

monitors and checks against these direct appointees. Although

matters submitted via the Câmara and tabled for consultation in the

Overseas Council were few, their contributions can be seen in a few

areas. In an entry for March 1717, for example, officers of the

Câmara of Goa can be seen to counter the viceroy’s wishes

92

regarding the appointment of an individual and other issues because

of its dissatisfaction with the state and its neglect of the armada of

the south.127 With regard to members of the religious orders, the

Câmara sometimes wrote to complain about the Company of

Jesus.128

Did leadership from centre matter to the survival of Portuguese

India? For a start, distance and technological limitations prevented a

more effective control of the “state” in the East. Even if that obstacle

could be obviated, limitations in politico-administrative structure

prevented a more effective supervision, as was the case with all

other first imperial age empires. Nevertheless, the availability of

resources and continual support from home mattered if colonial

enterprises did not have the demographics to sustain themselves on

their own.129 In this direction, Portuguese India was not stagnant,

although there was always a drag exerted on it. Interest groups from

home and local power groups made this so – even grandees, the

most affiliated to the centre, had their own agendas to fulfill.

To conclude, D. João V’s court fulfilled all the criteria of a

contemporary Baroque court proposed in a re-evaluative study of

princely European courts. Evidence for this can be were verified in a

memorial account of the Count of Povolide. The quirks of João V’s

monarchical leadership were at the same time exposed. The impact

of these on power groups and administrative bodies, namely the

Overseas Council, was subtle yet telling. India continued to occupy a

place in the king’s scheme of things and in the paperwork of this

council. The king’s input and aura of authority were also

communicated via alternative channels, while his physical presence

was personified by the appointment of the viceroy. In a way, the

93

vested interests and longing to return home bound men on the

ground with the psyche at the centre. This business of India,

spanning from high policy matters to interference in religion and

geographical areas no longer under Crown control, conveys the

continued usefulness of India, as recorded in official documents of

the Overseas Council. It is this continual interest that makes the

centre a factor not to be disregarded in the consideration of the

prolongation of the Estado da Índia. The next three chapters will look

at the business of India from the consultations of the Overseas

Council and other documents in an effort to gauge the input and role

of the centre on that periphery.

94

Endnotes 1 For example, A.M. Hespanha, As Vesperas do Leviathan –Instituições e Poder Político em

Portugal Seculo XVII (Coimbra, 1994), who coordinated História de Portugal – O Antigo Regime

(general editor: José Mattoso) (Lisbon, 1992) which as Hespanha prefaced, was essentially a

history of powers. A survey of the bibliography in História de Portugal Moderno – Político e

Institucional (Lisbon, 1995) by the same author reveals some further listing of works. At the same

time, writings like “Centralização e Estado na Historiografia” in pp. 129-58, Nação e Defesa 87

(1998) by P. Cardim, highlighted a possible dichotomy between research on “centralisation” and

“other groups in society”, even as the latter blossomed. 2 See Introduction in re-edition of História de Portugal (Lisbon, 1998) coord. by A.M. Hespanha

(general editor : José Mattoso). 3 Works by A.M. Hespanha, most notably As Vesperas do Leviathan (Coimbra, 1994). In terms of

the eighteenth century, see the authoritative work by Nuno G.F. Monteiro, O Crepúsculo dos

Grandes 1750-1832 (Lisbon, 1998). 4 From more generalised studies like N. Henshall, The Myth of Absolutism (New York, 1992), it is

acknowledged that the historiography of absolutism is small, although there is an “immense

amount of materials on rulers or regimes recognised as absolutist”. Works on 18th century France

are still relatively neglected, except ‘in the area relating to the origins of the French Revolution”.

Notably, see also P.R. Campbell’s Power and Politics in Old Regime France 1720-45 (London,

1996). It is also worth noting that “absolutism” is as complicated a term as “liberalism”; different

groups conceive the appellation differently – for instance, the French distinguished themselves

from Turkish and Russian despotism. Good comparative works are few. In terms of the first half of

the 18th century, the polity of Portugal may be contrasted with Spain for the reason that both

entities saw many cross influences and parallel developments – for instance, despite the transition

to the ‘more efficient’ intendent system, is anyone aware that the Bourbon Spanish government

continued to rely on non-traditional avenues analogous to João V’s more personalised structure? Is

anyone aware that the Bourbons (or for that matter, any other Baroque monarchy?) were probably

as expensive to maintain internally and externally as the Braganças? Is anyone aware that there

was a tendency to rely on the “aristocracy of merit” both in Spain and Portugal? On a more trivial

level, is anyone aware that both João V and Philip V were both afflicted by a ‘mental illness’? For

18th century Spain, J. Lynch’s Bourbon Spain (Oxford, 1989) provides a rather comprehensive

view of colonial Spain as well as developments at home. 5 A. Filipe Pimentel, “Absolutismo, Corte, Palaçio Real – en torno dos Palaçios de D. João V” in

História and Critica (ed.), Arqueologia do Estado (Lisbon, 1988), p. 691. 6 Adamson ed., The Princely Courts of Europe (London, 2000), p. 10. Earlier works like A.G.

Dickens’ Courts of Europe and H.D. Molesworth’s Princes are still timeless in themselves. 7 Campbell, Power and Politics in Old Regime France, p. 24. 8 Ibid., pp. 24-25. 9 Ibid., p. 181. 10 Adamson, The Princely Courts of Europe, p. 79.

95

11 Campbell, Power and Politics in Old Regime France, pp. 23, 177 and 186. Recent research has

shown that the centralisation of Louis XIV carried out by ministers such as Richelieu and Cobert

might not have impacted as deeply throughout France – because newly appointed intendants faced

a variety of local opposition and not all had possessed the personal relations to effect cooperation

and impose a change at that level. 12 Drawing from several versions of the memoir in the Biblioteca Nacional, Lisbon, and the

Arquivo da Torre do Tombo (versions TT1, TT2, TT3), the personal records of the Count of

Povolide were transcribed and introduced by A.V. de Saldanha and C.M. Radulet in Memorias

Históricas de 1° Conde de Povolide –Portugal, Lisboa e a Corte de D. Pedro II e D. João V

(Lisbon, 1990). Here after, referred to as MHCP. 13 On the king going to Se and Salvaterra, MHCP, pp. 213 and 240. 14J.H. Elliott and L.W. Brockliss (eds.), The World of the Favourite (New Haven, 1999), p. 4 and

concluding remarks. The colloquium, on which this book is based, has as its theme “The World of

the Favourite 1550-70” and papers were presented a little over twenty years after Berenger’s

inaugural article. The original article by J. Berenger was published in Annales 29 (1974) entitled

“Pour Une enquête européenne: le problème du ministériat au XVIIe siècle”. 15Ibid. 16MHCP, pp. 25, 406 and 416. 17However, the loss of the Council’s documents in the Earthquake 1755 meant, as an expert in the

area acknowledged, that scholars intending to research on the role and deliberations of this tribunal

have to turn to scattered collections and other alternatives for a reconstruction. This message was

especially clear in a discussion with Nuno G.F. Monteiro during my visit to Lisbon October-

December 2004. 18Nuno G.F. Monteiro, “Identificação da Política Setecentista – Notas sobre Portugal no Inicio do

Periodo Joanino” in Analise Social XXXV, 157 (2001), pp. 971, 975-6. 19Towards the end of his reign, this was split into two posts, one dealing with merĉes and related

matters; another dealing with “assinatura de documentos regias”. See Serrão, História de Portugal

1640-1750, p. 324. 20In registers of consultations on India in the Overseas Council, some of these would record the

presiding advice of the Secretary; others showed the king’s direct decision in the margin. 21AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 1r-v, 40r-v and 179v-80r. 22A.H. de Oliveira Marques, History of Portugal (New York, 1976), p. 396. D. Francis, Portugal

1715-1808 (London, 1985), p. 10. Paradoxically, the quality or size of the armed force was not

appreciably increased. 23Oliveira Marques, History of Portugal, p. 394. Writing at a time when absolutist studies were

naturally equated with the Baroque polity, Oliveira Marques was clearly writing under the

influence of this trend of thought. 24P.S. Martinez, História Diplomatica de Portugal (Lisbon, 1986), p. 196. 25D. Francis, Portugal 1715-1808 (London, 1985), p. 15. 26MHCP, p. 25.

96

27Ibid., p. 25. 28F. Mendes, D. João V, Rei Absoluto (Lisbon, nd), pp. 253-69. 29E. Brazão, Subsídios para a História do Seu Reinado (Porto, 1945), based on a survey of

documents I-L. Here after, referred to as SSHR. 30 Prevalent and “most current” belief of the time was that mercantilism, which promoted the

export of domestic products, could help to promote local industries (hence, industrialisation) and

inflow of bullion (through trade of these). 31J. Cortesão, Alexandre de Gusmão e o Tratado de Madrid (Lisbon, 1984), pp. 145-247. 32 Ibid., see part II in volume I. 33Ibid, pp. 578-95. 34 C.R. Boxer, The Golden Age of Brazil 1695-1750 (Manchester, 1962), pp. 145-46. 35 Ibid. 36AHU, Administração Central / Conselho Ultramarino / 089 / Caixa 2 / Documento 143. 37 M. Newitt, A History of Portuguese Overseas Expansion (London, 2005), pp. 268-72. 38K. Holsti, Peace, War and International Order 1648-1989 (Cambridge, 1991), pp. 51, 59 and 95. 39MHCP, pp 250 (2), 364 (2) and 398 (2). In brackets, the number of naus are noted coinciding in

order of the years listed. 40Survey of Códice 47, Registo de Cartas Gerais que Vão / Vem da India 1666-1784 in Arquivo de

Alfandega de Lisboa. See footnotes in chapter 5 for more specific citations. 41D. João V’s titles are readily seen in a variety of documents. The titles quoted are commonalities

from an assento do foro (1729) to an individual, a concessão de carta de armas (1731) to a

military personnel, and a carta regia (1738) to a high level colonial official quoted from a website

on European Titles at http://www.geocities.com/eurprin/portugal.html, updated 24 Sep 2005. 42Nuno G.F. Monteiro, “Trajetorias Socias e Governo das Conquistas – Notas sobre Vice Reis e

Governadores Gerais do Brasil e da Índia nos Seculos XVII e XVIII”, in M.F. Bicalho, et al (eds.),

O Antigo Régime nos Trópicos (Rio de Janeiro, 2001), p. 268. 43M. Pearson, New Cambridge History of India – Portuguese in India (Cambridge, 1987), p. 144.

During the Baroque period, there were references to D. João V styling himself as an emperor or

“king of kings”. 44E.L. Myrup, “To Rule from Afar – Brazil and the Making of Portugal’s Overseas Council 1642-

1833” presented at Seminar Imperial (Re) Visions 1-3 Nov 2002, pp. 19-20. 45See table/list 6 in Nuno G Monteiro, “Poder Senhorial, Estatuto Nobiliarquico e Aristocracia” in

A.M. Hespanha coord. (general editor: José Mattoso) Historia de Portugal (Lisbon, 1993), p. 364. 46Nuno G.F. Monteiro, O Crepusculo dos Grandes – Casa e Patrimonio da Aristocracia em

Portugal 1750-1832 (Lisbon, 1998), p. 35. 47Ibid., p. 146. 48Ibid., p. 157. 49Ibid., pp 144 and 151.

97

50Caetano de Souza, Memorias Genealogicas dos Grandes de Portugal (4th Ed., Lisbon, 1933),

3rd edition of work made in 1755, hereafter referred to as MGGP. Mistakes in Caetano, noted by a

few academics, need to be counter verified with an alternative source. 51The fort and factory of São Jorge da Mina do Ouro was set up in 1482. 52J. Serrão, Dicionário de História de Portugal I-VI (Lisbon, 1990), p. 401. 53 F.P. Mendes da Luz, O Conselho da India (Lisbon, 1952), pp. 38-42. J.N. Joyce (Jr) in an

unpublished thesis, Spanish Influence on Portuguese Administration (S. California, 1974), utilised

Luz’ work to some extent. Also, the geographical division of the Casas was not to be strictly

delineated, for example, the treasurer of the Casa da Guiné was supposed to deal with gold that

came not only from São Jorge da Mina and Guiné, but from any other areas. On top of that, he was

to receive goods for the trade of Mina and Guiné, as well as goods meant for India. 54The first African slaves were landed in Brazil in 1534 after the reconnaissance and establishment

of the first captaincies. 55Mendes da Luz, O Conselho da India, pp. 38-42. 56Ibid., pp. 35-66. 57Ibid., pp. 61-64. 58Ibid., p. 46. See also M. Caetano, O Conselho Ultramarino (Rio de Janeiro, 1969), p 25. 59Caetano, O Conselho Ultramarino, pp. 19-20. 60Joyce, Spanish Influence on Portuguese Administration, see chapter 1. 61Ibid., pp. 118 and 165. 62Hespanha, As Vesperas do Leviathan, p. 243. 63ATT, O Conselho da Fazenda (Lisbon, 1995), pp. 11-13. 64G.J. Ames, Renascent Empire (Amsterdam, 2000), p. 104. 65Mendes da Luz, O Conselho da India, pp. 74-75. The Spanish titles for the Habsburg kings were

adopted in this thesis since they are ‘better known’. Hence, the first Habsburg king is titled Philip

II, in contrast to the Portuguese’s Philip I. 66See P. Williams, “Philip III and Restoration of Spanish Government 1598-1603” in English

Historical Review 88 (1973), pp. 751-69. It would be well to note that the valido’s (Duke of

Lerma) influence was extended through positioning his clients and relatives in important and high

posts; for example, D. Estêvão de Faro as the incompetent president of Council of India. 67J. Lynch, The Hispanic World in Crisis and Change (Oxford, 1992), p. 25. 68Mendes da Luz, O Conselho da India, pp. 141 and 178-191. 69See G.D. Winius, “India or Brazil” in G.D. Winius (ed.) Studies in Portuguese Asia (Aldershot,

2001). Refer also to discussion on E. Barros de Souza, Negocios de Tanta Importancia – O

Conselho Ultramarino e a Disputa pela Condução da Guerra no Atlantico e no Indico 1643-1661

(Rio de Janeiro, 2004) (unpublished thesis). 70Myrup, “To Rule from Afar”, p. 5. 71Ames, Renascent Empire, pp. 119-120. 72Ibid., p. 127. 73Ibid., pp. 136-146.

98

74Souza, Negocios de Tanta Importancia, p. 80. See also C.R. Boxer, Salvador de Sá (London,

1952), p. 162. Refer 15th and 16th points of the 1642 Regimento. 75Myrup, “To Rule from Afar”, p. 10. 76 Regimento, Conselho Ultramarino 1642 printed in Caetano, O Conselho Ultramarino, pp. 113-

23. 77Ames, Renascent Empire, pp. 78-80. 78Myrup, “To Rule from Afar”, p. 12. 79BN, Relaçam dos Conselheyros, e Officiaes do Conselho Ultramarino HG4549//8A, pp. 66-67 (r

and v) and 68r. 80AHU, Administração Central / Conselho Ultramarino / 089 / Caixa 2 / Documento 143. Also, /

089 / Caixa 4 / Documento 401. 81 Regimento, Conselho Ultramarino 1642, pp. 113-23. 82Ibid. 83See table in appendix in Myrup, “To Rule from Afar”, pp. 26-27. 84Ibid., pp. 26-27. 85MGGP, pp. 417-423. Also, Various Editorials, Grande Enciclopedia Portuguesa e Brasileira

(Lisboa, 1935-60), pp. 667-68. 86MGGP, pp. 417-423. 87MGGP, pp. 175-185. 88MGGP, pp. 149-53 and 387-95. 89 AHU, Administração Central / Conselho Ultramarino / 089 / Caixa 1 / Documento 107.

Substantiated further in AHU, Consultas Mistas Códice 21, f. 51r dated in month of November

1714. 90Regimento, Conselho Ultramarino 1642 printed in Caetano, O Conselho Ultramarino, pp. 113-

23. BN, Relaçam dos Conselheyros, e Officiaes do Conselho Ultramarino HG4549//8A, pp. 66-67

(r and v) and 68r. 91Monteiro, “Trajetorias Socias e Governo das Conquistas”, p. 257. 92Alvará, Secretárias de Estado 1736, transcribed in Boletim do Conselho Ultramarino I (Lisbon,

1867), pp. 409-11. 93AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 16r-17r. 94J. Barreto, Escritos Economicos de Londres (Lisbon, 1986), p. xviii. Alexandre de Gusmão

himself would experience a downslide in his career with the passing of D. João V. 95C.R. Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire (London, 1969), p. 46. 96 See J. Lynch, The Hispanic World in Crisis and Change (Oxford, 1992). 97 A.V. de Saldanha, Iustum Imperium – Dos Tratados como Fundamento do Imperio dos

Portugueses no Oriente (Lisbon, 1997), pp. 337-38. 98Joyce, Spanish Influence on Portuguese Administration, pp. 15-16. 99Saldanha, Iustum Imperium, p. 335.

99

100Letter Patent, delegating Powers of Captain-Major / Carta de Poder 1505, transcribed and

translated in Documentos sobre os Portugueses em Moçambique e na Africa Central I by ARN

and CEU (Lisbon, 1962), pp. 147-53. 101Letter Patent, delegating Powers of Viceroy 1629, transcribed in Assentos do Conselho do

Estado da Índia I by P.S. Pissurlencar (Goa, 1953), pp. 210-13. 102 Regimento, to Captain-Major 1505, transcribed and translated in Documentos sobre os

Portugueses em Moçambique… I by ARN et al, pp. 156-259. 103C.R. Boxer, “Carreira da India” in C.R. Boxer (ed.), From Lisbon to Goa (Aldershot, 1984), I,

p. 44. 104AHU, Códice 170, Registo de Regimentos, ff. 90v, 89r, 92r and 95r-96r. 105AHU, Códice 170, Registo de Regimentos, ff. 89r-v, 90v-91r and 94r. 106Instructions, to Marques de Alorna 1744, originally from personal collection of J.F.J. Biker,

transcribed in Collecção de Tratados que o Estado da India Portugueza fes com os Reis e

Senhores da Asia e Africa Oriental VI by Biker (New Delhi, 1995), pp. 243-62. Hereafter,

referred to as CTEA. 107Ames, Renascent Empire, pp. 115-148. See also Pearson, Portuguese in India, pp. 34-35. 108AHU, Códice 204, Carta Regias etc para Viso Reis da India, f. 298r. 109C.R. Boxer, Portuguese Society in the Tropics (Madison, 1965), pp. 12-41. The decline of Goa

began at the end of sixteenth century. 110AHU, Códice 204, f. 298r. 111AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 320v-21v. 112 Instructions, to Távora, from CTEA VI, pp. 329-44. 113 F.A. Dutra, “The Wounding of King José I – Accident or Assassination?” in Mediterranean

Studies VII, 1998, pp. 221-29. In the article, Dutra writes that plotting and attempted assassination

among the nobility was common in Portugal (p. 226). However, he questions that the widely

believed assassination of José I in 1758 was directed at the king. 114M. Soares da Cunha and N.Gonçalo Monteiro, “Vice-Reis, Governadores e Conselheiros de

Governo do Estado da India 1505-1834” in Penélope 15 (1995), pp. 105-109. 115Ibid., pp. 102-105. 116Monteiro, O Crepúsculo dos Grandes, p. 524 table 55. Figures given for period 1701-50 to be

66 : 43 : 20. 117 The counts of Avintes also originated from the same origins with the second count serving in

the council of state during João V’s reign. They were linked by marriage to the counts of Arcos

(the Noronhas, mentioned at the beginning of this chapter under the survey of counts). 118 The counts of Monsanto and Galveas are, at first sight, related to the Castros. The latter-named

did not appear to have any links to India. The former, related to the Braganças and later elevated to

the rank of marquis, did not have linkages either. The counts of Redondo (family name: Coutinho)

also appear not to have any thing to do with India during the period of João V. 119MGGP, pp. 95-103. 120MGGP, pp. 75-81.

100

121MGGP, pp. 239-43. 122AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 112r-v. 123Selection of letters transcribed by Nuno G. Monteiro in Correspondencia do Conde de Assumar

Para seu Pai – Meu Pai e meu Senhor muito do meu coração (Lisbon, 2000), pp. 67 and 79. Here

after, referred to as CAPP. 124Monteiro, O Crepúsculo dos Grandes, p. 148. 125Mafalda S. da Cunha, “Portuguese Nobility and Overseas Government – Return to Portugal

16th-17th Centuries” in E. van Veen and L. Blusse (eds.), Rivalry and Conflict (Leiden, 2005) pp.

35-49. 126Boxer, Portuguese Society in the Tropics, pp. 12-41. 127AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 89r-v. 128AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 52r-v. 129 It can be observed, in hindsight, from parallel French colonial experiences as well as later post

World War Two decolonisation experiences that propping up an unprofitable and dependent

colony with a large input of resources from home is a relatively inefficient way to retain that place.

Nevertheless, the degree of ‘worth’ is tied to what the country or state in question wishes to

achieve in the first place. It is apparent that France still supports many of its former Polynesian

colonies on the understanding that the latter will continue to adopt French as a major or official

language.

101

CHAPTER 4

BUSINESS OF THE ESTADO DA ĺNDIA: WAR AND DIPLOMACY

The previous chapter attests to the fact that the structure of

government and related aristocrat politics were undergoing a

transition as the Bragança monarchy evolved and produced a more

mature period of dynastic rule under D. João V. These shifts

marginalised the bureaucratic apparatus dealing with overseas

matters. Prior to this, the weight and importance of various

dominions under the empire were also undergoing change at the

turn of the seventeenth century, a trend which had begun in the late

sixteenth century. As we shall see, the ‘leftover attention’ of the king

to India remained generous, as witnessed by the relatively

voluminous registers of the Overseas Council. This chapter will detail

and analyse the matters brought up for deliberation by the centre in

matters of war and diplomacy to prove there was continual

engagement to sustain India in a fluctuating and tense period there

during the first half of the eighteenth century. The Portuguese

colonies there were able to be sustained because a framework had

been put in place on the ground headed by a direct representative

who identified closely with the centre. In terms of the overall thesis,

this chapter will show that the instruments of state continued to be

important in propping up the formal Estado da ĺndia, so often

overlooked in the study of eighteenth-century Portuguese India.

Diplomacy in India A number of works by prominent and emerging scholars in the area

seem to advance the opinion that Portuguese involvement in the

102

East was, by and large, peaceful. In the regimento issued by King

Sebastião to Viceroy D. Luís de Ataide, Saldanha reveals how

“peace” and “friendship” were to be counselled rather than war.1

Pearson and Furber also believe that the Portuguese approach in

the Indian Ocean was one of more cooperation than conflict.

Subrahmanyam, being more reserved, considers the term “contained

conflict” as a more accurate reflection of their approach. 2 More

traditional sources also tend to see colonial relations, for that matter,

the colonial enterprise, as an extension of European international

politics.3 Colonial relations in India were actually undertaken by the

viceroy, as specifically delegated to him in the royal appointment to

office, the carta patente, or in a separate carta de poder. On

occasions, a state like China might receive more than the usual

attention from the king. However, negotiations and treaties signed

with the Great Mughals and other local powers were deliberated by

the Overseas Council during the negotiations (if they were drawn

out), or usually after they had been settled by the viceroy. When

matters involved disputes with European powers, the link with the

centre meant that these were often coordinated and taken up by

ambassadors in the respective courts in Europe.

The Portuguese world view and classification system with regards to

the people they encountered is a focal area of Saldanha’s thesis.

The Greco-Roman and Catholic religious cultural roots and beliefs

played an important role in the classification system. Because of the

many peoples encountered in Asia (compared to Africa),

classification was also multi-variant. For example, the Chinese

seemed to be categorised by the Greco-Roman standard of

civilisation to be “superior”. Reciprocally, the Chinese overcame their

own protocol by according the Portuguese the status of the

Russians, who were not denigrated to tributary standing. From a

103

Jesuit perspective, the people encountered were seen in terms of

their convertibility. As a result, the Japanese were considered to be a

people of high potential in this sense (the Jesuits in the East acted in

official and diplomatic roles for the Crown in many instances). With

regards to the Mughals, the situation was not straight-forward either.

The Mughals conceded their inferiority on the seas and were content

to ask “permission” from the Portuguese in the form of cartazes for

travel. At times when a land enemy was so powerful as to threaten

coastal ports, the Portuguese at Damão, for example, were “happy”

to pay the “chouto” to the Mughals or their vassals. At other ports,

the Portuguese strove to collect the “moqarraryas” and “tenças”

(forms of tribute) from Ormuz and Cochin respectively.4

Following from the above, it seems valid to ask whether the

Portuguese operated some form of feudal vassalage system in the

Indian Ocean. Saldanha is correct in saying that the investigation is

multi-dimensional and spans political, social and economic areas of

human societies. 5 In the context of the rising early modern

international system, even feudalistic relations were sealed by

contractual and judicial agreements, preferably backed up by the

power of enforcement. Whether a relation is described as one of

lord-vassal is also dependent on the degree of volunteerism and

mutual obligation in such an interaction. In short, there is no one

system to describe the relations the Portuguese encountered in the

Indian Ocean. The arrangements were composed of interaction

between Portuguese “idealism” and diverse cultural systems in

contact.6

Deliberations of the Overseas Council reveal that, the Mughals were

never accorded the same status as the Chinese – the Portuguese

would only acknowledge the emperor as “King of Mogor”, never

104

emperor, as they did with the Chinese. However, the Mughals were

not ranked alongside other “petty kings” for they were acknowledged

to be powerful and able to start a war with the Portuguese in India. In

1707, for example, the king urged the viceroy to diligently observe

previous agreements made with the Mughals. On one occasion

when one of the Mughul emperor’s fortress commanders breached

diplomatic immunity by arresting and robbing a Jesuit ambassador

sent by the viceroy to negotiate with the emperor, the viceroy sent

the almotacem-mor to seek a peaceful redress (by offering 500

rupias and “other things” for his release). He also accepted the offer

of a “great favourite” of the emperor to negotiate and “achieve

everything that the viceroy wanted”. However, the Council advised

the king to order the viceroy to confirm if the Mughal emperor had

given “satisfaction” to the Estado for “the injury made to the

ambassador, and if the fortress captain had been punished”. The

Council pointed out it expected that the “immunity which was

customarily followed throughout the world for ambassadors” be

observed.7 The viceroy kept the centre closely updated with news

about the death of the Mughal king and the succession, and passed

on condolences, congratulations and gifts where they were due.8

Rather surprisingly, the Portuguese took some time to recognise that

the Mughals were in decline. Although Mughal decline in the

eighteenth century was variously dated to 1707, 1712 or 1739,

obvious disintegration only took place towards the last-mentioned

date.9

Despite the long-standing conflict and tension (from Pedro II’s reign),

relatively little is found in the consultations of the Overseas Council

on Luso-Maratha relations during the early years of the eighteenth

century. In contrast, relations with Maratha offshoots and other minor

105

powers such as Bounsulo, Angria and Sunda account for a number

of entries in the registers.10

In 1724, the instructions of the out-going viceroy, the Count of

Ericeira, to his in-coming counterpart, D. Francisco José de

Sampayo e Castro, noted the losses that had been sustained

against Angria. On Shahu Raja, the count had continued to watch

the rise of the Marathas from the time of the former’s grandfather

whose power had, by then, extended to Nababo. Shahu was a

grandson of Shivaji (1674-80). The dispute with this power was over

territories and the rents associated with these lands. The viceroy

correctly assessed that the Mughals did not have much regard for

naval power and that their prowess might have been over-estimated

by Europe. Ericeira also indicated that the Mughals and some of

their allies were concerned that the commerce and activities of some

of its hostile vassals had caused losses for merchants. Also

mentioned in Ericeira’s instructions were other minor powers like the

Sangane and Mellumdim. With regards to places no longer under

their influence, like Meliapor and São Tomé, Ericeira wrote as if the

Portuguese still owned the places and mentioned special projects to

regain them. He also spoke of the need to “play politics among the

mouros [Muslims] and the Europeans”.11

Relations between the Portuguese and Marathas have been studied

in detail by Lobato and Pissurlencar. Lobato’s survey starts with the

advent and rise of two persons – Shahu in 1708, and Bajirão in

1721.12 Pissurlencar reveals that the strife between the Marathas

and the Portuguese in Bassein began during the reign of Shahu. The

Marathas began to demand a number of concessions from the

Portuguese, but the latter only gave way on some.13 Treaties, big

and small, were made, and violations led to revised and new

106

versions. These agreements revealed the situation at any point in

time to be in flux – for example, the Bounsulos started off as vassals

of the Marathas. When the viceroy called for a meeting of his Council

of State in 1708, the Portuguese agreed to support the Marathas

against the Bounsulos. By 1716, it seems that the Bounsulos had

become a “feudatory” of the Estado da ĺndia, although the

Portuguese had also decided not to help them against their former

overlord. In the same “rectified” treaty, the Portuguese had by then

pledged munitions to the Marathas against Angria (another

recalcitrant vassal of the Marathas).14

The Portuguese made an agreement in 1721 (adjusted in 1722) with

Great Britain for a joint effort against Angria. In 1723, a Maratha

invasion of Portuguese Bassein led to temporary peace in 1724 and

1728. In the settlement of 1724, the Marathas obtained concessions

from the Portuguese on a number of economic issues, namely on

the décima which the Marathas were ‘granted’ and authorised to

collect in Bassein, as well as the waiver of taxes [direitos] and

freedom of passage by merchants who passed through Portuguese

territories to reach Maratha territories.15 Whatever brief respite came

from the 1728 armistice was soon put into disarray by a series of

incursions and counter-incursions by the Marathas, as well as the

Portuguese. Peace was only restored in 1732 by the Treaty of

Bombay (Bombaim) which was mediated by the English. The

thirteen-point document confirmed the granting by the Portuguese of

concessionary direitos to the Marathas and, more importantly,

negated any allusion there might have been as to why the

Portuguese villages should be paying tributes. On the final point, the

treaty also absolved each party from entering into a mutual defence

pledge against any third party (including against any recalcitrant

tributary of the Marathas).16

107

Despite concluding the 1732 Treaty, hostility between the

Portuguese and Marathas re-erupted from 1734 and continued

intermittently until the eve of the “great” invasion in 1737. Here, the

local populace, disaffected as a result of religious discrimination, had

a part to play in the collaboration with Bajirão.17

In relation to the war of 1737-39, a few points merit attention. First,

though the 1737 aggression represented a major Maratha initiative

with an associated commitment in resources, it was by no means a

break from the trend of constant shifting hostility and armistice

experienced in the multi-angled relations with the large and small

powers in contact with the Portuguese in India. Furthermore, a

secondary war was on-going at Goa, almost irrespective of conflict in

the north. Chaul had already been taken by April 1737 when the

Marathas began their attack on the island of Salsete (in Bassein).

This move was also a precursor to the taking of the fort of Tana – an

important key to the defence of the Province of the North. In 1738,

the Marathas invaded Damão. Peace was eventually signed in 1740

after a course of negotiation.18

It is worth while taking a closer look at a treaty signed between the

Portuguese and Bounsulos in 1712. In this treaty, the Portuguese

sought to ensure that their territories and those of their vassals

(namely those of Cuddalle) would not be subject to harassment by

the Bounsulos. Safe passage through Bounsulo territories by land

and sea was also sought for merchants of the Estado. A reminder

was given not to raise extra or further dues, either on the traders or

vassals of the Estado. If death arose from transgression or robbery,

the culprits from Bounsulo were to be handed over to the Estado.

Furthermore, the Bounsulos were not to trade with the Arabs, and

108

the Portuguese were to be free to attack or confiscate anything

related to the latter. For its part, the Estado was to give restitution for

Bounsulo captives in caravans that were seized by the Estado.

Finally, the Bounsulos were to present two Arab horses (or 1,000

xerafins) as a feudo (tribute) to the Estado each year in order to

secure its protection. On two further points, acting in their padroado

role, the Bounsulos were also ordered to pay for the cost of

rebuilding a certain church. Finally, lançado Portuguese or those

without licence passing through Bounsulo lands were to be handed

over to the Portuguese General of the North.19

Such a comprehensive treaty was reminiscent of many others that

the Portuguese signed with other Asian potentates. The allusion to

tribute and the feudalistic modus operandi needs to be seen in the

context of the nascent background of contractual or Westphalian

international institutions. Others, like Winius, think that early modern

contracts can only be seen as conveying intentions (and shades of

meaning), rather than as strictly adhered-to and legally-binding

documents.20 The truth, as raised earlier, probably lies somewhere

between the two extremes. The so-called “feudalistic” system,

together with some form of proto-indigenous contractual

arrangement, was likely to have meshed with the more Westphalian

-inclined structure, so as to come to a working agreement in the still

“trial and error” environment of the early modern world.

In fact, the Portuguese made what seemed like “early modern” extra-

territorial arrangements with some vassals under their influence.

During the brief patch-up with Paté in 1728, the king of Paté was to

pledge payment of a perpetual tribute to the Portuguese king. The

king of Paté and his successors were to declare Mascate an enemy

and not to permit entry of any of its vessels or commerce. The king

109

was also obliged to give help when needed to the fort of Mombasa

and other praças of the area. In return, the governor of Mombasa

and an assigned colonel were to protect and defend the king of Paté

from his enemies. If needed, the king of Paté would be supported

with aid (socorros) from Goa. The king of Portugal was to have an

absolute monopoly over the commerce of ivory. The king of Paté

was to promise “good [i.e. safe] passage” to ships of the king of

Portugal, and to supply their needs at moderate prices. He was also

obliged to admit an alfândega (custom house) for the collection of

the fazenda real. In return, the ships of Paté were to be allowed to

do business (fazer contrato) in all the dominions of the king of

Portugal, including any part of Africa or Asia (but not with the Arabs

of Muscate). A part of the revenue from ivory was also to go to the

king of Paté. As for religious matters, the king of Paté was to allow

the construction of a Catholic church and propagation of the faith by

the Portuguese padres. All Portuguese who resided in Paté and

those guilty of apostasy were to be the responsibility of the

Portuguese commander. Finally, traitors and conspirators were to be

executed according to the law of the kingdom of Portugal.21

The actions of Europeans in the colonial world did not necessarily

have to conform to what had been agreed in treaties concluded in

Europe. Their conduct may be described as “Machiavellian”: they

were inclined to take opportunities to profit from feuding parties

(effectively disregarding the treaties concluded at home). This is

exemplified by Anglo-Portuguese relations in the Indian Ocean. The

English alliance (which was initiated by the 1630 treaty) had been a

mixed blessing for the Portuguese. One of the focal points of

subsequent Anglo-Portuguese relations in India was centred on the

drawn-out affair of Bombay. Pledged as part of the dowry of the

marriage of D. João V’s aunt (Catherine of Bragança, daughter of D.

110

João IV) to Charles II, and effectively transferred in 1665, a residual

issue (involving the place in the first half of the eighteenth century)

revolved around the jurisdiction of the Archbishop Primate (primaz)

over ecclesiastical appointments and the welfare of Catholics in

Bombay, as well as other “violations” of the terms of the 1661 treaty

that the English were said to be guilty of. These issues prompted the

Portuguese Crown to take a tough stance for fear that the “prestige”

and “interest” of the Crown might be compromised.22 A deliberation

of the Overseas Council in 1715 listed these violations and proposed

to resolve the issue through “our minister who resides in the court of

London”. This minister was to try to ensure that “th[ese] bad relations

[correspondencia] that the English have in India with the vassals of

this Crown [are] improved”.23

Explicitly detrimental to Portuguese interests was English support for

its enemies, for example, the English dispatch of military supplies to

the Arabs of Muscate in 1694. In 1715, reporting on a letter from the

viceroy, the Overseas Council went so far as to say that the English

“make special efforts to find ways of helping all our enemies”. It

added that “they are continually selling and lending arms and

munitions to the pirates and rebels (levantados) just so they can

offend (insultem) our territories and ships”.24 Not surprising then at a

later date, Lobato writes that the Maratha success was owed partly

to the supply of English arms during the 1737-39 war.25

However, it was not in the English interests to break completely with

the Portuguese, as the latter themselves recognised. In its

deliberations of 16 October 1715, for instance, the Overseas Council

declared that, though the English “only practice their insolences with

us, it is not because they fail to recognise that we have the means to

punish them, but because they realise that it would not be easy to

111

break [with us]”.26 Indeed, there were occasions when the English

went out of their way to assist the Portuguese. For example, the

English Governor of Bombay helped to mediate between the

Portuguese and Marathas during the re-eruption of hostilities from

1728 to the conclusion of the Treaty of Bombay in 1732 (signed in

favour of Portuguese interests). Pissurlencar’s narrative of a

particular episode of the struggle at Bandora (on the island of

Salcete) in May 1737 reveals how a certain chief captain “avail[ed]

himself of the facility of carrying the necessary aid from Bombay,

[and] afforded by the nearness of that island and the good will of the

Britons on account of ready payment and on account of their desire

to avoid the Marathas in close vicinity, ordered out, from there, some

artillery of heavy calibre and other material he felt useful for the

defence”.27 It can be surmised from this that, whatever pledges the

English undertook for the Portuguese in India, protection was not

really extended except in cases where the English themselves were

threatened, or where obvious profits could be gained. In other

instances, the seeking of profits by the English had damaged or

threatened Portuguese political interests in the area. In 1724, the

Portuguese monarch turned to his minister in London to lodge a

complaint against English violations of their treaty commitments.28 In

addition, the English found some use in sailing under the Portuguese

flag, that is, they did this to avoid French attacks.29 For their part, the

Portuguese also sailed under the English flag when this helped to

avert Dutch harassment.30

For the first fifteen or so years of the reign of D. João V until about

1720, French activities were centred on Surat and Pondicherry. The

French assessed both places to be stagnating or even going into

decline. However, the failure of financial viability sealed the fate of

the company-cum-state enterprise at Pondicherry. At Surat, the

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French faced potentially threatening situations from the Marathas

and Angria - as did other European powers - on top of liquidity

problems.31 One has to assume that the French did not have too

much energy or sufficient resources to engage the Portuguese, let

alone implement Louis XIV’s wishes for expansion.32

As for the Dutch, they were content to leave remnants of the

Portuguese Estado alone after a few unsuccessful attempts to

besiege Goa. In fact, so confident were the Dutch that, even in areas

conquered from the Portuguese, they failed to mop up and

consolidate their hold. This allowed other Europeans a chance to

insert themselves into the theatre. Significantly, among the places

they took over, the Dutch tried to impose a more ruthless control and

monopoly than the Portuguese. In Malabar, the VOC made use of

the cartaz-cafila system, as well as military coercive force. 33

However, Dutch inability to engage in Malaban and Cochin politics,

together with dissension among collaborators, could well have

created opportunities for the Portuguese to scheme and sabotage.

Increasingly, the Dutch also found the financial outlay for military

expeditions and the maintenance of garrisons to be unjustifiable in

terms of the available profitable gain.34 The consultations of the Overseas Council reveal one instance

where the Dutch provided assistance to mouro (Muslim) ships in

Portuguese waters. This came on top of an English violation,

prompting the Council to propose sending ambassadors to The

Hague to address the matter. Another entry raised the

transgressions by two French frigates in the seas of the south.35

The 1724 instructions of the outgoing viceroy, the Count of Ericeira,

to his successor, D. Francisco José de Sampayo e Castro, noted the

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bases and trade of the Dutch.36 Ericeira even acknowledged that the

Dutch in the South China Sea and Seas of the Sunda and Maluku

islands depended to a great extent on the moradores (residents) of

Macao. In this direction, he tried to create legislation specifically

directed at Macao and at ships visiting Dutch ports in order to

diminish their prosperity. Concerning the English, Ericeira was also

aware of their bases and commercial activities. He noted in particular

how the Province of the North had come to rely on Bombay. With

regard to upholding the Crown’s padroado real, the count urged the

incoming viceroy to hold his ground, and even to make war on the

English to punish their expulsion of (Portuguese) religiosos, if this

was necessary. For both the Dutch and English, Ericeira noted that

they displayed the same inclination to help Portugal’s enemies. As

for the French, Ericeira provided a summary of their bases and noted

the strength of their company, which he described to be strong even

though it was weak in capital. Lastly, he provided brief information

about the activities of the Danes and Germans in India and the

surrounding area. Despite being evicted from Canara by the Dutch in the previous

century, some form of negotiation and reconciliation was made

between the Portuguese viceroy and the king of Canara in 1714. The

Portuguese petition started with a reminder and affirmation of the

long-standing friendship and support of Canara. The conditions of

the agreement asked for the installation of a feitoria with support

(including a small garrison force) at Mangalor. They even included a

request for the king of Canara to help pay for the expenses involved

in the Portuguese armada cruising in the south! In an issue relating

to the livelihood of Goa, capital of the Estado da ĺndia, Canara was

to supply a quantity of “white and clean” rice on top of the previous

3,150 fardos of the usual variety. Preposterous demands were also

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made that Canara not accept Arab ships in its ports, and that the

Portuguese should have the right to use force on these ships. Ships

from Canara were even advised not to trade in Arabic ports. As was

customary, cartazes were to be issued to ships sailing from Canara.

Finally, the Portuguese also requested a number of religious

privileges relating to the protection, rights and behaviour of Christian

fathers and their followers.37

The agreement was not one-sided, however, as Canaran interests

were also represented in issues pertaining to security and trade. In

security, Canara welcomed a cessation of hostilities during the

period of negotiation. Also, while Canara was willing to come to the

aid of the Estado against some groups in Asia, principally the Arabs,

it would only do so as long as the Estado was obliged to reciprocate.

In terms of trade, Canara asked that ships other than those

accompanying the regular convoy carrying rice have free access,

and that its vessels be able to trade with Arab counterparts (namely

Mascate), as well as visit other ports. At the same time, a guarantee

[of safety] was to be given to Canaran ships in the harbours of the

Estado.38

In the king’s alvará to the viceroy (D. V.F. Cesar de Meneses) issued

via the Overseas Council, the viceroy was told to treat the prince (of

Canara) with the respect he merited. Prior to the issuing of the

alvará, the king declared in a resolution that he would be served if

peace with Canara was adjusted with conditions that were

favourable to the reputation of the Estado. Although a search of the

archives has not yet uncovered the outcome of the negotiations,

such diplomacy provides evidence of Portuguese initiatives and

activities in a geographical area and at a time when they were no

longer the dominant power.39

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Even more illuminating is a treaty concluded with a local southern

power which had never been on amicable terms with the

Portuguese. In 1724, articles of peace were discussed between a

captain of sea and war (capitão de mar e guerra) and the king of

Calicut. In the agreement, Portuguese merchants were to receive

assistance if they met with trouble or hostility. Furthermore,

Portuguese vessels would also receive the necessary effects (and

paying for some of these) while harbouring in the ports of the

Samorin. The other articles related to the building of a feitoria, as

well as a church. Mutual protection and privileges were also

conferred on both Christian and Muslim followers. 40 This 1724

document further demonstrates the initiative taken by the

Portuguese to engage any side (even those with whom they had

long-standing feuds) to maintain - and even to assert - some form of

presence.

War and Reinforcements Saldanha’s work has revealed how, on a number of occasions,

Portuguese secular-religious rationale for the use of force invoked

the idea of ‘just war’. Where necessary, the Portuguese usually

exercised the option of war when a foreign potentate did not submit

to the tributary system, or else when it had violated the interests of

(Catholic) Christendom and its adherents. The extent to which war

was undertaken to protect commerce or profit is an issue that has

been studied and debated by many. For Chauduri, even the more

“capitalistic” English might have decided on war in order “to make

the English nation great […] in India”. Moreover, the English did not

make a distinction between the use of force against the Great

Mughals or a petty local warlord merely on the basis of economic

considerations.41

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A trend of organisational change and professionalisation seems to

have taken place from the outset of the eighteenth century. This was

after what Shirodkar has described as a “slow start” after the

inception of the Portuguese State of India, as well as two other

landmark events in the “institutional history” of the Portuguese

military in India. The first of these was the creation of a terço in 1630.

The second, the creation of the first regular cavalry unit by Viceroy

D. Francisco de Távora (1681-86), was mentioned earlier in chapter

2.42 As the eighteenth century unfolded and as part of the process of

reform, Shirodkar lists Viceroy Francisco José de Sampaio e

Castro’s (1720-23) attempt to create more terços, Viceroy João de

Saldanha da Gama’s venture to raise a number of native companies

in Salcete and Bardez, as well as Viceroy Pedro Mascarenhas’

(1732-41) improvement to indigenous recruitment. By 1750,

Shirodkar affirms that the “maturity” of the native forces “probably

prompted the Crown to regiment all its forces in India”.43

Shirodkar’s analysis outlines the military status of Portuguese India

in 1708, a year after D. João V’s succession: it comprised 23

“companies of terços” and seven companies of “local Brahmans and

Chardos”. The companies had a total strength in excess of 1,200

soldiers, of whom two thirds were Portuguese, European or mestizo

stock, while the remainder had been recruited from the native

communities of the islands of Salcete and Bardez. In terms of

deployment, only a little more than one tenth of the force was

retained in Goa; the rest was “deputed on various assignments far

and near”.44

By the middle of D. João V’s reign (1728), a detailed update of

Portuguese defence at Bassein (capital of the Province of the North)

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reveals that its bastions (baluartes) housed 90 pieces of artillery and

that it was garrisoned by two companies of 80 men, many of whom

were natives. Between Bassein and Saybana, deployment was

scattered in a couple of small settlements at Cassahe, Nilla and

Separa. 45 The next locus of defence seemed to be centred at

Saybana. The feitoria and defence outpost at Pragana fielded 250

men in five companies. Saybana itself was defended by a great

tranqueira (stockade) as well as three reductos or ramparts, and

garrisoned by a “tezo” (terço?) of 50 men. Following on from

Pragana, an irregular pentagonal presidio erected at Sabayo was

garrisoned by four companies of 180 men and defended by fourteen

cannon. North of Pragana was Salsete, encompassing an area

occupied by 91 villages. Within the confines of the island were

various fortes (forts, for example, S. Peiro and S. Jerónimo) and

minor fortifications erected in villages such as Versava and

Caranja.46 Asserim featured a plan embodying defence by a body of

1,500 men. As a praça or stronghold of major consideration, Damão

was, rather surprisingly, defended by only 70 men in a single

company, together with 74 cannon. Before reaching “ancient” and

revived Chaul, there were the three small settlements of Parery,

Muhim and Trapor, each hosting defences commensurated with their

size. 47 Chaul itself was defended by eleven baluartes and four

reductos, as well as 58 cannon, and garrisoned by three companies

of 62 men each. Lastly, at Morre, there were seven baluartes with 20

cannon and 130 soldiers.48

The instructions from outgoing Viceroy Ericeira to D. Francisco José

de Sampaio e Castro in 1724 provide more information on the

Portuguese military status in other parts of the Estado. 49 A

substantial part of the document was still preoccupied with the

establishment and strength in the north. Outside India, some

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planning had already begun with regard to the reconquest of

Mombasa. Among the problems mentioned by Ericeira was the state

of poverty of the soldiers there. Ericeira also thought that Damão in

the Province of the North could help raise part of the resources.

Congo in Persia potentially served as a stopover for the Mombasa

project, even though the Portuguese had little military commitment

there. In the end, Ericeira’s plans were shelved due to a lack of

necessary ships and other means. Further afield, Ericeira also noted

the run-down defence of Macao, as well as the minimal garrison

maintained at Timor.

The consultations of the Overseas Council show that the king’s

“approval” was sought on upgrading and other issues relating to

defence and fortifications in India - for instance, whether a certain

fort should be torn down and rebuilt near Diu in 1725, and on the

progress of works at Mormugão in 1711, or those at Panjim in

1739.50 The welfare of the soldiers was not overlooked, although the

problem did not receive a satisfactory solution – as early as 1708,

issues regarding the fulfilment of service by soldiers were raised in

relation to a list of deserters submitted by the viceroy. In another

entry for 1728, the socio-economic conditions of soldiers, especially

their poverty and the persistent problem of desertion, were

highlighted once again. In 1732, when the Archbishop of Goa

petitioned for his prelates to return home, he also asked that the

degredado (convict) soldiers be allowed the same concession in

view of the condition in which they had arrived.51

Lobato has described the nature of war between the Portuguese and

a major enemy like the Marathas as being more guerilla-like than

regular.52 Taking into account developments on the Maratha side,

the period 1680-1720 was one of internal and external strife.

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Internally, the death in 1680 of the founder of the Maratha empire,

Shivaji (r. 1674-80), sparked a succession struggle. Externally,

Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb began an offensive on the Marathas

which ended in the death of Shambaji (r. 1680-89). Factional

struggle continued, however, with intermittent settlement and Mughal

attacks. The Marathas only consolidated their position after 1720

with the rise of an influential military leader, Bajirão. By this time, one

or two branches of the local chiefdoms had also seceded from the

Maratha Confederation. In between treaties, fighting, albeit irregular,

errupted between two or three shifting parties, as outlined in the

section above. The intensification in Maratha aggression towards

1739 seems to have been aided, opportunistically, by the Persian

sack of the Mughal capital at Delhi, which weakened Mughal imperial

defence.53

The 1737-39 campaign has been narrated in Pissurlencar’s works.54

A brief analysis needs to be made of the factors affecting the

Portuguese in the course of the conflict. For a start, the quality of the

top military leaders sent from home needs to be affirmed, even if the

outcome of events on the ground was not to the Crown’s liking. D.

Pedro Mascarenhas, Count of Sandomil, had served as mestre de

campo of the terço of infantry in the Algarve, and in 1695 led these

troops in a relief mission to Ceuta. In this expedition, he had

exhibited “great bravery and military competency”. In the War of the

Spanish Succession, he was charged with a number of

responsibilities and saw action in Catalonia, and led a relief

expedition to Campo Maior (one of the main fortresses in the

Alentejo guarding the border) before being appointed to India.55 As

the longest serving viceroy of India during D. João V’s reign (see

appendix B), the count’s efforts in building up the defence in India

was admirable. First, the disbanded cavalry was reformed in Salcete

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and Bardez in 1733.56 Secondly, new troop types were instituted –

four companies of grenadiers in Salcete and Bardez, along with the

expansion of artillery units (in Goa).57 Thirdly, and perhaps the most

important contribution, the count was able to galvanise civilian

support and improve indigenous incorporation into the military. In

July 1733, midway through João V’s reign, Sandomil issued an

alvará ordering that 1,000 men from the ordenanças of each of the

three provinces (Goa, Salcete and Bardez) be chosen to form two

regiments (terços) of auxiliary troops (auxiliares). Each terço was to

comprise 500 men who, he declared, “will all be drawn from amongst

the natives of the land, except for the sergeant major and two

adjutants, who will be paid [that is, serve full-time] and be

knowledgeable in manoeuvres and military discipline”.58 In an effort

to encourage the natives to serve in the auxiliary regiments,

Sandomil offered a number of enticements. First, acknowledging the

“great attention of the natives of this country to their different castes”,

to ensure that they were kept separate, Sandomil ordered that “one

[terço] will be of Bragmanes, and the other of Charadós”. As the

viceroy added, this was “so that they can serve His Majesty with less

repugnance, and more usefulness [utilidade]”. Secondly, the officers

of the regiments were to be given habits of the Military Order of

Santiago, “according to their merits [merecimentos]”.59 Finally, the

viceroy exempted the soldiers from the onerous municipal

obligations and contributions relating to defence that the rest of the

population was subjected to. Among these obligations, Sandomil

declared that “they will not be obliged to provide billets, nor

contribute any household tools [alfaias de casa] to anyone… nor will

they have their oxen or buffalo, or beasts [of burden] taken for any

service”.60

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In another move to increase indigenous participation in defence, two

companies of married civilian (casado) artillerymen were also

established in Salcete and Bardez. Though natives had been

employed in expeditions as early as Albuquerque’s time, the

improvement of conditions and opportunities for appointment marked

the beginning of a process that would lead to their regimentation in

1750. It is worth noting that this occurred some decades before the

appearance of the British sepoys.61 In fact, a certain Maratha general

went so far as to praise Portuguese defence in the Province of the

North in the aftermath of the fall of Bassein, calling it “formidable”.62

The final loss of Bassein took place under a series of interacting

circumstances, including possible intrigues suffered by Sandomil at

home, which could not be attributed to the count alone.63

Still on the factor of leadership, might the shortfall in leadership in

1739 be attributable to the strategic decision to commit to the ill-fated

1730 expedition to recapture Mombasa? A remark in a letter of the

Casa da ĺndia, brought on a ship returning to Lisbon, reveals that the

storehouse of the Goan shipyard (ribeira) was running low due to

repeated expeditions to Mombasa.64 It was also noted for a couple of

years after 1730 that “the warehouse of the ribeira in Portugal had

no stock of arms, munitions and other requirements as they were

exhausted by the expedition of Mombasa”.65 However, as much as

the Portuguese were stretched, the Marathas involved themselves in

multiple objectives. Towards the final months of 1737, Bajirão was

ordered by Shahu Raja to focus on Hindustan as a result of

developments at Delhi, thus depriving troops engaged against the

Province of the North of further support.66

On fortifications, state-of-the-art defences seem to have been

erected at certain points. Although not fully completed, the bulwarks

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built at Thana linked together as a pentagon of the sort that was the

most modern seen in Europe. The town of Thana even had

“circumvallation” lines to protect it from the enemy. In terms of tactics

and discipline, the report card is somewhat mixed though not dismal.

In an attack on Dongri in 1738, Portuguese grenadiers repelled

Maratha cavalry with musket fire on more than one occasion –

something that could only have happened when some discipline was

involved to produce a coordinated discharge. Earlier, their landing on

Dongri shores was supported by naval fire and these freshly-arrived

troops were able to execute an organised march to capture the first

hill they encountered.67 This description seems to convey a picture of

a reasonably organised amphibious operation, a far cry from Boxer’s

depiction of a panicky and unprofessional force.68 Yet at other times,

as at Tivin in 1739, the grenadiers’ repelling and pursuit of a

retreating enemy cavalry turned into a disorganised affair, giving the

enemy a chance to counterattack. 69 To be sure, desertion still

presented a severe problem among native and increasing numbers

of degredado Portuguese soldiers, especially in the face of

overwhelming enemy odds. Nevertheless, despite the bias against

native auxiliaries, they were routinely incorporated with some

Portuguese soldiers to make them “more fit”.70 For the rest of the

campaign, despite the arrival of better quality reinforcements from

home, some of these ended up in hospitals after long voyages, and

shortages would continue to present a great challenge in the

deployment against a land-based power like the Marathas.

On the sea and related to the course of this same campaign, the

Portuguese were locked in a fight against Angria, which after 1729

no longer remained a vassal of the Marathas. Although not

necessarily on the side of the Marathas, the growing strength of

Angria and its piratical activities clearly had a considerable impact on

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the Portuguese ability to reinforce their defence in the north.

Originally, and ironically built against the Siddis by the Portuguese,

the Maratha (later Angria) fleet of a few hundred vessels consisted of

ships of up to 300 tons burden capacity and 30-40 gun armament

each. The threat from Angria prompted the Portuguese to seek an

alliance with the English as early as the 1720s (when Angria was still

loyal to the Maratha). In isolated combat, as an incident of March

1739 reveals, the action of a lone frigate seemed to prove that the

Portuguese still retained certain naval prowess when this vessel

repelled about a dozen enemy galleys and other boats.71 Following

on from the consultations on Angria, there are several entries in the

form of situation updates and on-going negotiations. When peaceful

efforts failed, resort was made, expectedly, to war.72

From the perspective of the centre, intermittent updates on the war

with the Marathas and other minor powers before the 1730s can be

found in the registers of the Overseas Council. 73 Of particular

interest is the relatively scant mention in the deliberations of the

Overseas Council of the Bassein campaign. A survey of the registers

of deliberations from 1738 to 1740 revealed no more than five or six

entries.74 By contrast, a survey of the episode at Mombasa for 1728-

30 uncovered at least a dozen entries.75 The deliberations on the

war in India included updates on the state of defence (for example,

fortifications at Goa), on the enemy (namely, the Marathas and even

the Mughals), threats, and on certain successes in the north, as well

as requests for socorros (aid or relief forces) in the form of munitions

and materials, along with personnel (for example, a carpenter) to

sustain the on-going war. The reason for the disparity in attention

(i.e. more entries on East Africa compared to north India) can be

attributed partly to a shortfall in one of the outgoing annual voyages

from Lisbon (the outgoing Carreira). This is mentioned in a letter by

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the Casa da ĺndia to the vedor da fazenda of India in two outgoing

ships. In terms of reinforcements, the same letter also revealed that

each of the two naus would carry two more boxes of one hundred

swords and scabbards in each ship.76 Not knowing that help was

coming soon, a general letter from the vedor da fazenda in Goa

raised the problem that, as a result of the continuous wars, the

warehouse of the ribeira of Goa had already exhausted its munitions

and other provisions. The outgoing letter of the Casa, dated May

1740, acknowledged the situation in India. More importantly, the

special expedition (accompanying the letter) carried generous

socorros with the newly-appointed viceroy to redress the setback

and crisis that had befallen India the year before.77 Reinforcements

were sent in four battalions totalling 2,000 armed men. This is worthy

of note because the battalion as a unit of organization was

introduced in metropolitan Portugal only in 1735. Also consigned

with the expedition was artillery of “new invention” which was able to

“fire 20 rounds a minute”. 78 With the involvement of European

powers in the region, it is easy enough to understand why the centre

undertook the fairly rapid introduction into the Estado of emerging

military technologies and organisation. There was, however, another

reason to ensure that the latest innovations were introduced, for the

regional powers were clearly “catching up”, as a letter of 1722 from the viceroy reveals. On 12 December Francisco José de Sampaio e

Castro informed the king that:

India is so encircled by enemies who are so

powerful […] and so war-like [guerreiros] that in

determinations [resoluções] they no longer seem

like Asians, and if they possessed good discipline,

they would be no different from the Europeans.79

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The royal instructions accompanying the new viceroy, the fifth Count

of Ericeira (who had been granted the title of Marquis of Louriçal),

indicate that the Crown had rather accurate information on what was

going on in India. Although it was not known if Goa was in immediate

danger, the document advised Ericeira, as incoming viceroy, that if

the capital was not in danger, he was to make plans as he saw fit to

retake the Province of the North. Even if terms had already been

signed, Ericeira was to consult with the outgoing viceroy and others

to reassess the need for these to be overthrown if they were

prejudicial to the Estado. The final decision was to be entrusted to

the marquis.80

As late as April 1740, correspondence between D. João V and the

secretary of state, the Cardinal da Mota, reveals that the king was

still toying with the idea of sending 2,700 men to India aboard six

naus, but the exchange also mentioned that this socorro be reduced

owing to the “non-urgent” nature of the war. 81 While the Crown

seemed informed about the on-going crisis, it also appeared

somewhat nonchalant about the situation.

Back in India, however, the crisis was deepening. For the outgoing

viceroy, the Count of Sandomil, and his councillors, events in the

year 1739 were causing mounting concern. The records of the

Council of State in Goa show that there was not a month passed

where the count and members of Council were not concerned with

developments in the north. The simultaneous commencement of the

war in the surrounding provinces and islands of Goa meant that they

were also putting out a fire on their own doorstep. Records of the

Council for March show that the enemy was already in Bardez, and

that last minute arrangements were being made to reinforce the fort

of Rachol at Salcete. In fact, in the previous month (February), the

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Council had gone so far as to call upon religiosos to help man the

defences at Goa. The battle for supply and provisioning also

extended the theatre of conflict to the southern sea of India, where

Angria’s fleet prevented rice from reaching the city. By April, it

seemed that peace negotiations had been re-initiated, and by the

following month (May), adjustments of treaties with the Marathas and

Bounsulos were progressing in earnest. However, given the

uncertain nature of the situation, the governor of Chaul was given

instructions and contingency plans to “abandon” the town to the

English, if the need arose.82

Under normal circumstances, socorros to India were made in a

single or twin-ship voyage carrying an average of 20 officers, 10-20

despachados (those appointed to public office), 40-50 mariners, 15-

20 grumetes (cabin boys or ship hands), 20-30 artillerymen, and

150-200 soldiers in each vessel. On rare occasions, a ship might

carry more than 300 soldiers. Accompanying the military personnel

were the cabedal (monies or property) of the king, uniforms,

munitions, swords and scabbards and other materials which must

have included some gunpowder and weaponry.83 The consultations

of the Overseas Council show that requests for socorros (aid in the

form of reinforcements) were unceasing, with each subsequent

petition being labelled as “more crucial”. Beyond the regular aid it

dispatched, given the secondary role of India, the Crown was not

willing or able to commit more resources other than in exceptional

circumstances. However, as we saw earlier in terms of military

technology and organisation, the type of troops requested also

reveals that the Portuguese were well aware of the need to keep

abreast of the military advances of its local enemies, and also that

modern siegecraft was now an integral feature of warfare in the East.

In a letter of 12 December 1722, the viceroy expressed the hope that

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the king would send the “one thousand men that I have asked for,

and a company of 70 miners (mineiros), artillerymen and bomb

specialists (bombeiros), because without this [aid] it is impossible to

conserve India”, adding, as we saw earlier, that the Asians now

fought more like Europeans.84

In an earlier letter of January 1717, Viceroy Ericeira had indicated

the need to send veteran specialist troops instead of men of “such

poor quality that one can have no confidence in them”. This, as he

reminded the king, was because most of the men sent to the Estado

were convicted criminals who were routinely deported there. The

viceroy went on to ask that “in the first monsoon”, the king “send at

least 50 artillerymen, and 20 bombeiros and miners, all with their

officers, from the artillery regiment of Alentejo”. His letter went on to

reveal just why these veteran, specialist troops were needed,

declaring that:

in this entire Estado there is no one who knows

how to attack with a mortar, let alone set a bomb

to the required elevation, and with this manner of

attack [expugnação] some useful enterprise

could be achieved, because of the horror the

Asiatics have for this instrument.85

When regular trips failed to follow their routine, as can be seen in an

instance in 1715 when gunpowder did not arrive, prompting the

viceroy to write and ask that the deviation be addressed. During

longer campaigns, a petition was also forwarded to ask that the

locally born (Portuguese) be recruited, even though this seemed to

have been within the viceroy’s autonomy. Only on rare occasions

can one see an entry in the registers complaining of excessive

128

personnel, as occurred in 1730 when the procurador (procurator) of

the Crown wrote regarding the surplus employment of

mercenaries.86

On the Seas / Outside India By the beginning of the eighteenth century, Brazil was becoming an

important pillar of the metropolitan economy. Marginalised to a

significant extent, India, nevertheless, continued to bring back small

profits for the Crown on an annual basis. Although viceroys found it

increasingly difficult to gain fama da cabedal (the glory of wealth),

both the Crown and its principal representatives in the Estado tried

to increase revenue there, if only so that the ports and strips of land

there might continue to be sustained on their own. To this end, after

the fall of Ceylon in 1658, Mozambique had increasingly become a

support for the Estado da ĺndia. Commerce at Mozambique was to

undergo a further crisis with the fall of Mombasa (in 1698) and the

Province of the North in India (in 1739). Accounts and interpretations

of the Mombasa campaigns have been detailed to a large extent by

prominent scholars such as Boxer and Strandes. The strategic fort

Jesus itself has been studied in depth by Azevedo in the

authoritative joint volume with Boxer. This section will focus on the

centre’s input to the expeditions and attempted control of the area in

the midst of the ups and downs. First, a brief account of the

background is needed to set later events in context.

After the 1698 loss and attempted (but unsuccessful) relief of

Mombasa, the fort remained in the hands of Muscate until 1727,

when a large-scale expedition was prompted, in part, by the death of

the Omani sultan. The initial success was rather brief, and a series

of efforts which led to the capture of the fort in March 1728 was

reversed when the “tactlessness” and “inefficiency” of the

129

Portuguese ushered in the final round of siege and surrender of the

fort in April 1729. A further expedition in February 1730 under the

leadership of Luis de Mello de Sampaio (commander of the

successful 1728 expedition) failed to produce a decisive outcome,

and the fleet was wrecked by bad weather on its way back to Goa. In

his analysis, Boxer was of the opinion that the Portuguese

campaigns in East Africa in the first quarter of the eighteenth century

were jeopardised primarily by inept leadership and, secondly, by an

incompetent system of support. This interpretation differs – as Boxer

himself acknowledges - from that of Strandes, who thought the

reverse, that is, that the system was the main culprit.87

From the accession of D. João V to the early 1720s, the

deliberations of the Overseas Council include a number of entries

concerning Mombasa prior to the actual undertaking in 1728. These

ranged from intelligence updates, exploration of the possibility of

retaking Mombasa, and recommendations on this matter.88 On the

larger stage, the inconstancy of international relations was once

more demonstrated when an alliance was negotiated by the

Portuguese with the Islamic Persian state against the “Arabs” of

Muscate.89 Other than Mombasa, there were also communications

relating to administrative matters and requests for socorros from the

fort at Mozambique, for the Portuguese did not collapse en masse after the loss of Mombasa. Further south, there was affirmation of

the friendship with the ruler of Monomotapa, as well as an update of

defence works at Sofala.90 The year of the expedition, 1728, and the

following two years were an intense period for the Portuguese, as

witnessed by the shift in events outlined above. Before the actual

reconquest, an inflated proposal by the general of the armada of the

Estreito (Straits) included a grandiose plan to retake not only

Mombasa, but also to defeat Muscate and even to retake Ormuz!91

130

When news of Mombasa’s collapse in 1729 was known and an

expedition thought necessary, the viceroy admitted to reluctance

even as preparations were being made.92 This is corroborated in

Strandes, who states that Goa was, by then, having its clerics armed

for patrol!93 Up until the failure of the February 1730 expedition, the

deliberations of the Overseas Council continued to be preoccupied

with the mobilisation of men for socorros, although by that time a

proposal to abandon Paté had also been considered.94 This is in

contrast to Strandes’ notion that the administration at Goa had no

further news of Mombasa or Paté.95 A request to co-operate was

made by the French shortly after the debacle in 1732, as revealed in

one entry in the Council registers. As Strandes points out, the

French continued to push the Portuguese to give up their claims in

Mombasa and Paté - in 1739, 1744 and also on other occasions.96 In

partial confirmation of Strandes’ observation, the deliberations of the

Overseas Council on this area were sparse only after 1730, with

entries being mainly concerned about some hopes that the Junta do

Comércio would succeed in making a profit.97 However, in view of

the uncertain intelligence on the area, in addition to declining trade, it

seems that the Junta was not able to do much either.

On the seas, the 1727-28 Portuguese-Omani struggle constituted an

uneven standoff. On top of a crisis at home, Muscate was threatened

externally by Persia and was only able to raise a small naval force of

one galliot and five terradas against two naus (warships), a frigate

and four other smaller ships. One reason why D. Luís de Mello de

Sampaio did not act in the subsequent Mombasa expedition in 1730

was because the Portuguese encountered a much stronger Omani

naval opposition, which consisted of a number of naus and frigates

against which the Portuguese could only field two naus and three

minor ships.98

131

In terms of naval resources, the naval command at Goa had under it

a number of elements: a ribeira real (royal dockyard), a warehouse,

an armada de alto bordo (high seas fleet) and armada do remo

(galley fleet, powered by oarsmen). The galley fleet was a

development that began after the Portuguese had established

themselves in the region in the sixteenth century to handle local-level

threats and tasks. Every season, a fleet would also be scraped

together as either the armada do norte (northern armada) or the

armada do sul (southern armada). The southern armada, for

instance, might even be distinguished according to the different

destination to which it was going, for example, to Malabar or Canara,

etc. At times, naus (armed Indiamen) on the monsoon trip from

home would be requested to assist in missions while they were in

Goa.99 As at home, shipbuilding did not receive a separate budget in

Goa. Instead, the viceroy was instructed by the king to set aside a

certain sum from the cabedal sent from home. The difference,

especially if there was a shortfall, had to be raised from reserve

funds or even from the Misericordia. 100 In the first half of the

eighteenth century, naval resources continued to be stretched. A

letter from Goa revealed that all of the existing ships were either in

repair or occupied in tasks related to the “conservation” of India.101

The letter then asked for two more 70-80- and 45-50-gun ships

needed to replace and supplement a “corroded” ship that had been

purchased in Holland for India. In line with naval development and

technology, the request can be taken as an indication of the

Portuguese endeavouring to keep up with developments. However, it

also attests to the Estado’s very limited naval strength. When Goa

was threatened at one point, the indigenised fleet of vessels under

its purview was exhibited - palas, galvetas, galias, manchuas, etc. -

when these ships were sent out to patrol the rivers around the

132

islands during an alert against enemy attack.102 During the period

under investigation (1707-50), there seems to have been a slight

professionalisation of the service seen in the increased appearance

of the captain of sea and war (capitão de mar e guerra), vis-à-vis the

captain-major (capitão-mor) of a sea voyage. The difference

between them is that the former were professional seamen, while the

latter were fidalgos who rarely saw permanent service in the navy.

This is verified by a survey of consultas mistas (mixed consultas or

deliberations) of the Overseas Council.103

Turning now to shipbuilding, during the period under investigation up

to 1739, Goa and Bassein continued to build some ships that were

comparable to those being built in Brazil from cheaper raw materials

there, while Damão continued to be contracted to build vessels for

the country traders of Bombay, right up to the dawn of the nineteenth

century.104 The deliberations of the Overseas Council and general

letters of the Casa da ĺndia reveal that carpenters were, at times,

sent to India, and that the viceroy occasionally even issued personal

orders and urged them to construct more ships.105 At other times, the

viceroy wrote regarding the “incapacity” of the naus built. In most

cases, if not all, aid (socorros) was sought from the Council.106

Despite having dropped to a third rate and relatively insignificant

power, support from home, along with local infrastructure in the

eastern colonies, kept the Portuguese on the margins of survival. In

one engagement against the French in the Straits of Melaka, a 34-

gun Portuguese frigate was pitted against two French frigates of 54

and 36 guns respectively. Though the Portuguese frigate emerged

requiring urgent repairs after the engagement, the French 54-gunner

was also badly mauled in the process. Monteiro uses this example to

argue that the quality of Portuguese personnel and artillery was

133

comparable to the best of the period. In fairness, it must be said that

the French commander seems to have made a tactical mistake at

one stage in the battle by having the Portuguese “sandwiched”; a

move which allowed the Portuguese to use both their broadsides

against the French ships.107

In other examples of clashes in the south seas of India, a lone 74-

gun Portuguese nau encountered and dispersed seven palas and

eleven galvetas. However, another squadron of thirteen Portuguese

parangues failed against six palas and nine galvetas from Angria,

which then prevented supplies of rice from reaching Goa. At

Mangalor, a single Portuguese frigate, in conjunction with a galliot

and two manchuas, met several Omani frigates as well as three or

four terranquins, and inflicted severe losses on the latter. In the

Persian Gulf and nearer to the Muscate home base, three

Portuguese naus and a frigate were pitted against two Omani naus

and two frigates. However, the two Omani naus were 80- and 76-gun

warships, while the best armed Portuguese counterpart was armed

with only 66 guns; overall strength was therefore comparable on

both sides. The outcome of the battle was a serious setback on the

Omani side, so much so that serious contemplation was given to

mounting an invasion of Muscate. Only the limitations in experienced

hands and finances on the Portuguese side prevented the

implementation of the proposal.108

The deliberations of the Overseas Council for the period under

review reveal that the Portuguese continued to use naval power in

an effort to reassert, not merely to maintain, their presence in Asia.

In early 1719 the viceroy reported that an armada had been sent up

to Persia to enforce the cartaz system. Meanwhile down south, in

January 1717, the viceroy reported that plans had been mooted with

134

the Samorin to expel the Dutch, though this action had resulted in

some losses.109 Around Cape Camorin, writing in January 1728, the

captain major (capitão-mor) of São Tomé argued, and even asked

for, soldiers for the continued “conservation and augmentation” of

the Portuguese there! This entry is of interest because the register

reveals that on 9 April 1729, two days before the Council met to

deliberate, Secretary of State Diogo Mendonça Corte Real gave his

(personal) advice on the matter, among other issues. This brings one

back to the question of what constituted a matter of “importance”, as

it was noted that the secretary of state could discuss remotely-

related business as long as it concerned the king’s prestige or the

State’s interest.110

Five years earlier, the 1724 instructions of the outgoing viceroy, the

Count of Ericeira, to his successor, D. Francisco José de Sampaio e

Castro, reveal that the armada de alto bordo and armada do norte

had not been experiencing success in the north because of the

actions of their enemies, and that this had led to the ruination of

commerce. As for the armada of the south, the lack of maintenance

and supplies continued to cripple the fleet. More importantly, the

reluctance to participate and lack of trade led on one occasion to the

cancellation of its voyage. With regard to Bengala and even Siam,

Ericeira raised the possibility that these places might serve as

support bases for the armada of the south.111

Finally, we turn to the perennial issue of the Portuguese fortified

network in the Indian Ocean. The question of how wide a network of

naval posts was needed was not a straightforward one, or one that

had only just been raised. The debate had been raging since the

time of D. Francisco de Almeida and Afonso de Albuquerque; the

latter had seen the need for a more extended network. Indeed, even

135

a great naval strategist and historian of the history of sail like Mahan

could not be more specific, stating that:

[f]ortified bases of operation are as needful

to a fleet as an army … the number of

points must be reduced as much as can be

… the multiplication of [which]… as you

pass the limits of reasonable necessity, [will

make the situation] become a source of

weakness, multiplying exposed points, and

entailing division of force.112

However, it was not that the Portuguese had much free choice as to

where they could establish their bases; this was determined by

circumstances and by the “generosity” which local land powers and

later European powers showed towards them.

While the securing of vital straits, passages and choke-points is

important in the maintenance of sea power, the value of each key

point has to be balanced in terms of its benefits and liabilities.113 In

Renascent Empire, Ames argues that the loss of several outposts to

Dutch aggression did make the network “more slimline and

affordable”.114 In a proposal by Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo

in 1741-42 to revive commerce and set up a company, the future

Marquis of Pombal suggested that a web of well-equipped points be

maintained. This network would have presumably tapped into

whatever remaining infrastructure Portugal possessed in the

Estado. 115 In his instructions to the Count of Assumar, the king

declared in 1744 that he was “glad” that the dominions were reduced

to Goa and the surrounding provinces with two other ports in the

North, as this could presumably cut down on the governance and,

136

hence, costs of maintenance.116 The other way that an aspiring naval

power can hope to increase its operational capability is to acquire

alliances so that the naval infrastructure and the outposts of allies

may be accessible. In this respect, the Portuguese attempt to secure

the help of England appeared, at times, to have landed them with

more headaches than relief.

In an embryonic early modern international world, Portuguese

diplomacy and alliances, even with its closest European ally, had not

worked satisfactorily to help preserve, let alone extend, the Estado

da ĺndia. However, during the period under investigation, diplomacy

and alliances had provided a respite at severely threatening

moments for the Estado and allowed it to survive. Treaties were

sealed with European and local potentes, although the degree to

which they were followed to the letter depended on the self interest

that could be gained at that moment. Where “civilised talk” could not

solve issues, Portuguese arms engaged in a life-and-death struggle

against overwhelming odds, often against a multitude of threats. On

land, the Portuguese continued to hold their own till 1739, despite

being stretched and under equipped. On the sea, they routinely

carried out convoying and other protection activities, and were far

from being debilitated. In terms of the overall thesis, the

“proactiveness” of diplomacy and use of war against an array of

foreign entities demonstrates these were important instruments in

the preservation of the Portuguese in the East for a large part of the

first half of the eighteenth century. The issue of wealth and monies in

the tightly-strapped Estado da ĺndia, so crucial to diplomacy and war,

will be the focus of the next chapter.

137

Endnotes 1 A.V. de Saldanha, Iustum Imperium – Dos Tratados como Fundamento do Imperio dos

Portugueses no Oriente (Lisbon, 1997), p. 200. 2 See M. Pearson, The Portuguese in India (Cambridge, 1987), H. Furber, Rival Empires of Trade

(London, 1976) and S. Subrahmanyam, The Portuguese Empire in Asia (London, 1993). 3 S. Howe, Empire (Oxford, 2000), p. 62, 4 Saldanha, Dos Tratados como Fundamento do Imperio dos Portugueses no Oriente, pp. 228-34. 5 Ibid., pp. 399-403. 6 Ibid., p. 200. 7 AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India, ff. 418v-19r. 8 AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India, ff. 427r-v and 437r. Also, letter from king to viceroy

via Overseas Council, originally from Livro das Monções N° 81 fol. 43 formerly in Archive of

India, transcribed and printed in Collecçao de Tratados que o Estado da India fez com Reis com

quem teve relaçoes nas partes da Asia e Africa Oriental V by J.F.J. Biker, (New Delhi, 1995), pp.

319-21. Here after, referred to as CTEA. 9 V. Berinstain, Mughal India - Splendour of the Peacock Throne (London, 1998), p. 114-18.

Another date in the nineteenth century is given as 1857 – after the breakout of a sepoy mutiny.

Queen Victoria, however, was not crowned as empress of India until 1877. 10 AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India : f. 435r; Códice 213 : f. 316r. 11 BN, Instructions to D. Francisco José de Sampayo e Castro, Códice 1455, ff. 33v-40v. 12 Bajirão was a Maratha military commander who rose to full prominence in the 1720s. S.

Gordon, in The Marathas (Cambridge, 1993), gives some background of him. An instance of a full

monograph on the personality can be found in an Indian-published work by R.D. Palsokar, Bajirão

I – Outstanding Calvary General (New Delhi, 1995). However, care has to be taken in consulting

this work as it is couched, at points, in “nationalistic” fervour. 13 A. Lobato, Luso-Marata Relações to 1737 (Lisbon, 1965), pp. 50-52. For example, the Marathas

demanded territories from the Portuguese, Sundas and Bounsulos of which the Portuguese

promised support against the last said. No response was made to the request regarding exemption

of customs on merchants through Portuguese lands to Maratha dominions, but freedom was to be

given as before. 14 Ibid., pp. 54-55. 15Ibid., pp. 79-80. 1728 peace not appended. 16Ibid., pp. 119-121. 17Ibid., pp. 150-169. 18M. Lobato, “A Guerra dos Marathas” in M.T. Barata and N.S. Texeira directed, Nova História

Militar de Portugal (Lisbon, 2004), pp. 327-28. 19CTEA V, pp. 221-23. Originally from Livro de Pazes 1° fol. 424 in formerly Archive of India. 20G.D. Winius and M.P. Vink, The Merchant-Warrior Pacified (Delhi, 1991), p. 75. 21CTEA V, pp. 55-56.

138

22P.P. Shirodkar, Researches in Indo-Portuguese History (Jaipur, 1998), entry “Bombay and the

Portuguese” pp. 14-16. 23 AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 66r-v. 24 AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 66r-v dated 16 Oct 1715. 25Lobato, “A Guerra dos Maratas”, p. 328. 26 AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 66r-v dated 16 Oct 1715. 27P.S. Pissurlencar, translated by P.R. Kakodkar, Portugueses e Marathas (Bombay, 1975), p. 199.

Original material drawn from Successos da India and Oriente Português 28Shirodkar, “Bombay and the Portuguese”, p. 15. 29 K. McPherson, “Enemies or Friends? Portuguese, British and Survival of Portuguese

Commerce” in F.A. Dutra and J.C. dos Santos (eds.) The Portuguese and the Pacific (Santa

Barbara, 1995), p. 229. 30Winius and Vink, The Merchant-Warrior Pacified, p. 58. 31A. Ray, Merchant and the State – French in India 1666-1739 I (New Delhi, 2004), pp. 453-503. 32 See J.H. Geller, “Towards New Imperialism in Eighteenth Century India – Dupleix, La

Bourdonnais and French Compagne des Indes” in Portuguese Studies 16 (Jan 2000), pp. 240-56. 33C.R. Boxer also noted this in Dutch Seaborne Empire (London, 1965), pp. 187-214. 34Winius and Vink, The Merchant-Warrior Pacified, p. 61. Substantiated further by H.K. Jacob,

The Rajas of Cochin 1663-1720 (New Delhi, 2000), p. 170. 35AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India: ff 419r-v; Códice 213: ff. 76v-77v. 36See BN, Instructions to D. Francisco José de Sampayo e Castro, Códice 1455, ff. 41v-44r. 37CTEA V, pp. 281-85. Originally from Livro de Pazes 1° fol. 269 in former Archive of India. 38Ibid., pp. 285-88. 39Ibid., pp. 289-90. 40CTEA VI, pp. 16-17. Originally from Livro de Pazes 1° fol. 296 in formerly Archive of India. 41I. Bruce Watson, “Fortifications and the Idea of Force in Early EIC Relations with India” in Past

and Present 88 (Aug 1980), pp. 70-87. 42P.P. Shirodkar, “Development of Military Services in Goa during the Portuguese Regime 1510-

1750” in Researches in Indo-Portuguese History II (Jaipur, 1998), pp. 57-60. “Slow start” because

the first semblance of a standing force was established 56 years after the inception of the Estado

da Índia. 43Ibid., pp. 66-69. 44Ibid., pp. 60-61. 45 “Do estado em que se acha a infantaria etc. da Provincia do Norte em 1728 por Feitor de

Baçaym ao V Rey”, transcribed by A.B. Coutinho in Chronista de Tissuary I (1866), pp. 29-35.

Nilla had one cannon and six soldiers; Separa had four watch-towers / sentinels and two

undermanned cannon. 46Ibid., p. 32. Versa had a small run-down fort garrisoned by one company of 50 men and ten

cannon. Caranja also had one company of 50 men, and six cannon; more pertinently, 400

139

inhabitants “de espingarda” (armed with espingardas, a type of arquebus), helped to defend this

place. 47Ibid., pp. 34-35. At Parery, 40 men in a company with five pieces of artillery; at Muhim, 60

soldiers in a company with 15 pieces of artillery; at Trapor, 60 men in a company with 21 pieces

of artillery. Ericeira wrote about “re-glorified” or revived Chaul, which I have interpretated to be –

a resurgence in activities and livelihood in the city from a decline set in during the late 16th

century. 48Ibid., p. 35. 49BN, Instructions to D. Francisco José de Sampayo e Castro, Códice 1455, ff. 10r-11v, 24v-26v

and 27v-29r. 50AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India: ff. 418v-19v; Códice 213: ff. 9v-10r, 182r-v and

327r-v. 51AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India : ff. 423r-v; Códice 213: ff. 199r-v and 263v. 52 Lobato, “A Guerra dos Maratas”, pp. 317-29. 53 Berinstain, Mughal India - Splendour of the Peacock Throne, p. 117. 54 Pissurlencar, The Portuguese and the Marathas. 55Afonso Zuquete, Tratados de Todos os Vice-Reis e Governadores da Índia (Lisbon, 1962), pp.

180-81. 56 These were areas most susceptible to more mobile Maratha threat. 57 F. Bethencourt, “O Estado da India” in Bethencourt and Chaudhuri directed, História da

Expansão Portuguesa III (Lisbon, 1998), p. 266. 58J.H. da Cunha Rivara, Archivo Portuguez Oriental (New Dehli, 1992), p. 415-18. Transcribed

from Livro de Serviço fol. 41v. Here after, referred to as APO. 59 On the Order of Santiago in India, see F. Dutra, “The Order of Santiago and the Estado da India,

1498-1750”, in F. A. Dutra and J. Camilo dos Santos (eds.), The Portuguese in the Pacific (Santa

Barbara, 1995), pp. 287-304. 60APO, pp. 415-18. 61Shirodkar, “Development of Military Services in Goa during Portuguese Regime”, pp. 60-61. 62Ibid., p. 69. 63Zuquete, Tratados de Todos os Vice-Reis e Governadores da India, p. 181. 64AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais que vão / vem da India, ff. 45v-46v in the year 1730. 65Pissurlencar, The Portuguese and the Marathas, p.194. 66Ibid., p. 211. 67Ibid., pp. 223-24. 68Boxer, Portuguese Seaborne Empire, p. 117 “After disembarking, the soldiers seldom waited to

form up properly but rushed forward impetuously. If the enemy did not flee, the first soldiers

would be too exhausted to fight but turn tail”. 69Pissurlencar, The Portuguese and the Marathas, p. 271. 70Ibid., p. 230.

140

71Ibid., p. 286. For more details of the development of Maratha navy, see “Shipbuilding and

Maritime Activities with reference to Maratha Power” by A.R. Kulkarni in K.S. Mathew (ed),

Shipbuilding and Navigation in the Indian Ocean Region to 1800 (New Delhi, 1997), pp. 1-11. 72AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India: ff. 439r-v 1709. 73AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India: ff. 426v-27r in 1708 against Colle; Codice 213: ff.

77r-v in 1716 against Sanganes, 187r-88v in 1725 against Sahau Raja, and 199r in 1728 against

Fondo Saunto. 74AHU, Códice 213, Registo de Consultas acerca India: ff. 324r-29v, Codice 214: ff. 1r-2r. 75AHU, Códice 213, Registo de Consultas acerca India: ff. 194v-232v. 76AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais…, ff. 82r-83r. 77AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais…, ff. 86r-v and 89v-90v. 78C. Selvagem, Portugal Militar (Lisbon, 1931/1994), pp. 470-471. 79 APO, p. 267. 80Instructions, to Ericeira, transcribed from Livro das Monções No 111B in Pissurlencar, The

Portuguese and the Marathas, pp. 459-60. 81E. Brazão, Subsidios para a História do Seu (D. João V’s) Reinado (Porto, 1945), document

XLV, pp. 133-38. Transcription of communication between D. João V and Cardinal da Mota. Here

after, referred to as SSHR. 82P.S. Pissurlencar, Assentos do Conselho do Estado V (Goa, 1957), entries for 1739, pp. 476-563. 83AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais…, survey of ff. 15r-117v. 84APO, p. 267. 85APO, p. 245. 86AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India , ff 50r, 204v-205r and 225v-26r. 87C.R. Boxer and C. (Carlos) de Azevedo, Fort Jesus and the Portuguese in Mombasa 1593-1729

(London , 1960), pp. 57-85. 88AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India: f. 429r; Códice 213: ff. 8v-9r, 183r-184r and 201v-

202r. 89AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India: ff. 418r-v; Códice 213: ff. 60v and 120r-21v. 90AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India: ff. 418r-v, 426r-v and 429v; Códice 213: ff. 61r-v and

209v-210r. 91AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India , ff. 210r-12v. 92AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India , ff. 214r-v. 93J. Strandes, translated by J. Wallwork, The Portuguese Period in East Africa (Nairobi, reprinted

1968 1st ed 1899), pp. 255-56. 94 Strandes, The Portuguese Period in East Africa, see conclusion; pp. 260-80. 95 Ibid., see conclusion. 96 Ibid., see conclusion. 97Ibid., pp. 262-63. 98S. Monteiro, Batalhas e Combates da Marinha Portuguesa VII (Lisbon, 1996), pp. 138-39.

141

99Ibid., p. 148-51. The nau Nossa Senhora da Vitoria, for example, was deployed against ships of

Angria that were trying to blockade Goa. 100See V.L.G. Rodrigues, “Military Structure of Portuguese Navy in the Indian Ocean in the 16th

Century” and K.M. Mathew, “The Economics of Portuguese Shipbuilding in Goa to 1773” in K.S.

Mathew (ed.), Shipbuilding and Navigation in the Indian Ocean (New Delhi, 1997), pp. 89-93 and

140-46. See also chap V in G.J. Ames, Renascent Empire (Amsterdam, 2000), pp. 115-48. 101BN, Códice 4407, Cartas que Conde Ericeira escreve á D. João V, Conselho Ultramarino e

Secretaria Estado, ff. 112r-v. 102Monteiro, Batalhas e Combates da Marinha Portuguesa, p. 148. See an earlier publication on

the subject by Esparteiro, Tres Seculos no Mar (Lisbon, 1974). As a reminder, this assembly of

vessels is a reflection of the indigenisation of the Portuguese navy in India undertaken in the

course of the sixteenth century. 103AHU, Códices 21-24, Consultas Mistas, indexes. It should be noted that the number appointed

for captain of voyage still exceeded that commissioned for captain of sea and war in sampling and

survey. 104C.R. Boxer, “The Carreira da India” in Boxer, From Lisbon to Goa (Aldershot, 1997), I, pp. 37-

39. See also R.D. Silva, “Shipbuilding in Portuguese Bassein” in K.S. Mathew (ed.), Shipbuilding

and Navigation in Indian Ocean (New Delhi, 1997), pp. 94-97. 105AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais…, ff 43r-v. Also, AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India , f.

324r. 106AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India , ff. 111r-v and 324r. 107Monteiro, Batalhas e Combates da Marinha Portuguesa, pp. 81-83. 108Ibid, pp. 65-66, 111-15 and 148-56. 109AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India : ff. 79v and 110v-11r. 110AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India , ff. 209r-v. 111BN, Instructions to D. Francisco José de Sampayo e Castro, Códice 1455, ff. 6r-8v. 112 Quoted from AT Mahan, Naval Strategy – Compare and Contrasted with Principles and

Practice of Military Operations on Land (Boston, 1911), pp. 191-192. 113 See for example, an analysis on Goa in Pearson, The Portuguese in India, p. 89. 114Ames, Renascent Empire, pp. 205-13. 115J. Barreto introduced, Escritos Economicos de Londres by Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo

(Lisbon, 1986), p. 154. 116 Instructions to Assumar, originally from personal collection of JFJ Biker, transcribed and

printed in CTEA VI by Biker, pp. 243-262.

142

CHAPTER 5

BUSINESS OF THE ESTADO DA ĺNDIA: COMMERCE AND THE POLITICAL ECONOMY

The previous chapter looked at how the Estado da ĺndia needed to

stretch its diplomatic adaptability as well as its meagre military

resources to ensure its survival. Despite hints that might be

conveyed in the title of this chapter, it will not try to provide a pure

economic analysis of the trade structure of the Estado, nor will it

undertake an in-depth study of the book-keeping methods of the

treasury. Instead, it will explore how the Estado continued to extract

and manage resources in a shifting economic environment within its

reach, and as a whole. Specifically, this chapter will ascertain the

trend of the rising contribution of rents to the revenues of the Estado

vis-à-vis customs collection in the first half of the eighteenth century.

In view of the hopes harboured by the Crown on Mozambique, as

revealed in the increasing number of entries on the matter in the

registos, the development and contribution of this western periphery

of the Estado will be examined. A recenseamento from the first

quarter of the eighteenth century will provide some substantiation on

the above. On other economically related issues of the Estado, the

registos also provide clues to the concerns and preoccupation of the

Crown. In terms of the overall theme of the thesis, aspects of matters

discussed will give an idea that the Estado, despite being associated

with feudal vestiges and pompousness, was not detached from the

fundamental issue of survival.

Arising from constraints in the evidence, the analysis will not delve

into pure economic or financial topics but into issues of the political

economy. Strictly speaking, the term “political economy” is employed

to study the phenomenon of modern contemporary political activity

143

on economic decision and outcome. 1 The invariable number of

perspectives available at times cloud rather than clarify the term. An

attempted definition of “political economy” began at the dawn of the

discipline of economics – notably in Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations

(1776).2 After a long period of evolution, by the end of the twentieth

century, “political economy” had been given three broad differing

meanings – first, for one group and especially the economists, the

term referred to “all types of human behaviour not classified as

economic, of the methodology of formal economics or of the rational

actor model of human behaviour”.3 For another group, it meant the

application of an economic theory to the study of a social behaviour

or phenomenon. For the political scientists who believe that “social

and political affairs cannot be reduced to a sub-field of economics,

political economy refers to ideas and questions generated from

economic and political activities”.4 It is this last group, which is most

“eclectic” about their choice of subject matter and methods, that is

adopted in this thesis for the investigation of the present chapter.

Trade Activities The Portuguese came into the Indian Ocean to look for spices and

trade. Even after these no longer became as profitable, the structure

of the Estado da Índia continued to be based on this network of

commodity flow. The structure of commodities and the larger

direction of trade routes probably experienced a lesser shift than the

change of hands and players. When the Portuguese came into the

area, they attempted to ‘redistribute’ benefits for themselves.

However, their imperfect control meant that contraband activities

either continued on the old routes or sometimes emerged in new

alternative routes.5 In terms of exchanges between transcontinental

economic regions, India continued to be “surplus accumulating” until

the 1750s.6 Within India, the sub-zones of structure and direction of

144

trade on the western coast of India can be divided as follows –

Gujarat, Konkan, Kanara and Malabar. From Gujarat, cotton, cloth

and silk were the principal textile exports, although bulk items like

rice and wheat were also part of the outgoing cargo.7 A part of the

imported goods brought to Gujarat was for re-export, mainly to West

Asia or the Middle East. Konkan also exported a variety of textiles

and its orientation was also towards West Asia. In exchange, horses

and precious metals came from Persia and Arabia. The main item

from Kanara and Malabar was (black) pepper, although a certain

amount of rice as well as textiles were also exported from the former.

Connections here stretched both ways north to Gujarat as well as

down to Ceylon and around to the eastern coast of India (see map-

statistics in appendix C).8

On the eastern coast, there were two main zones, Coromandel and

Bengal. The principal exports from these two areas were rice and

textiles. Imports to these areas came from the western coast of

India, Ceylon and Southeast Asia. Between them, there was also

exchange, and it is worth noting that both regions exported a

significant amount of weaponry and related products (namely,

Coromandel swords and Bihar saltpetre), as well as ironware.9

The distinction to be made about the trade is whether it was oceanic

or coastal. This may be done in terms of the goods carried, as well

as the distance of the trips. However, Chaudhuri and Furber have

conceded that the differentiation is more obfuscated on the ground:

while intercontinental or oceanic trade usually carried luxuries, it

could also include bulk items like agricultural produce and textiles.10

Furthermore, oceanic carriers might carry bulk goods and be

involved in country trade in their stopovers along the long distance

routes. Pertaining to the flow of commodities outside India, whether

145

a certain area was a net exporter or importer depended on its

imbalance.11

It was the above commerce that the Portuguese tried to control when

they came into the Indian Ocean. They attempted this through the

use of the cartaz system. Thomaz has identified three or four types

of functions for this pass, namely:

for strategic control, aimed at embargoing spice; for

political control, aimed at harming enemies of the

Estado; for fiscal control, aimed at protecting Crown

monopolies and maintaining social control, with the

object of restraining the activities of private and illegal

Portuguese merchants.12

A fee was paid to Portuguese officials for the issue of the cartaz.

This fee varied with the range of the trade activity undertaken by the

trader. The permit for long range overseas activities cost more than

those limited to specific geographical regions. An overseas permit

was also only obtainable at Goa, while a local one could be obtained

at any feitoria.13

Although the Portuguese found it hard to enforce their cartazes from

1680-1740, these years were equally challenging for the Dutch in

that they were experiencing shifts in the trade structure in the Indian

Ocean. Despite the variability of data, what can be ascertained for

the Portuguese is that the long-term percentage proportion of pepper

in the return cargoes to Lisbon had been declining. 14 More

importantly, as a major investor, the Crown’s profitability in this good

had been dropping, too, first as a result of the revival of the Red Sea

trade, and later, because of increasing north European competition.

146

Furthermore, the Crown divestment of profits led to a liquidity crisis

which gradually forced it to contract this trade to private consortiums.

By the time of the Habsburg Union (1580-1640), most of the revenue

from each year’s voyage was already absorbed in paying off existing

debt and interest.15 Other than pepper and luxury goods, the Crown

had also begun to participate in the intra-Asian trade to carry goods

such as textiles from other parts of India, as well as tin from

Southeast Asia.16 However, the Crown’s participation in this trade

was brief. Inducted into the system by a Tamil group from Melaka,

the scale and quantity of the activity was already contracting by the

1530s-40s, and it completely ceased by the 1570s, with only an

isolated voyage from Goa to the Banda islands surviving in the

1580s.17 An important if unintended reason for the decline can be

attributed to the concession system. This was a reward system

whereby their employees or dignitaries (later even private casado

individuals) were granted a monopoly over a limited commodity, or

received a special rate of customs over a Carreira route (for

instance, the lucrative China-Japan leg). With the passing of time,

holders of this privilege began to hoard freight space to carry the

best goods for themselves, to the detriment of Crown customs. This,

added to what Magalhães Godinho termed the “Atlantic Turning”,

greatly diminished the role and participation of the Crown.18 The

Habsburgs even made a forlorn but earnest attempt in setting up a

Portuguese India Company to salvage the situation and meet

competition.19 The reasons for the Portuguese decline and failure to

rebound have been attributed partly to systemic factors (reinforced

by an aversion to engaging in business).20 This has been, and will be

discussed in greater detail in the thesis (namely, chapter one and

seven).

147

Other than the decline factors brought up above, the competition

was also decided by the number of ships the Portuguese or Dutch

were able to bring into the Indian Ocean. It has been widely

acknowledged since Parry wrote his Trade and Dominion in 1971

that the number of out-going ships from the kingdom had dwindled to

two or three by the beginning of the eighteenth century. 21 An

important work published in 1976 looks at the Portuguese decline in

terms of ships leaving Lisbon for India over an extended period, and

in 50-year blocks. In the first half of the eighteenth century, they

numbered over one hundred for this fifty-year period. This figure is

close to that of the second half of the seventeenth century, which

had dropped from over 250 in the previous two fifty-year periods.

This figure was to fall further after D. João V’s reign. In relation to

chapter two, it may be noted that the drop in figures for Portuguese

ships might be compensated in part by increased tonnage in the

second half of sixteenth and first half of seventeenth centuries. On

the eve of the seventeenth century, the reduced number of arrivals

was not compensated for in tonnage by more streamlined ships.22

On the Dutch side, the number of ships sent to India shows they

were also going into decline, although at a slower rate. From 1680-

1740, Dutch hegemony was, undoubtedly, achieved by the superior

number of fleets they were able to send to the East. The gradual

decline of the Dutch in the transitional period may be corroborated

by the decreasing number of carriers and warships dispatched there

– the figure dropped from slightly over 120 in the decade of the

1670s to slightly over 80 in the 1700s and 30 in the 1770s.23

From 1600-80, the direction of European-controlled trade in Asia

was slowly channelled to the Indonesian archipelago (from India

where the Portuguese had been operating) even though the

structure of commodities exported was probably the same. This is in

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part due to the fact of the Dutch decision to base themselves at

Batavia. As one economic historian pointed out:

While small quantities of textiles from Surat went to the

Middle East, the bulk of the exports from the south-

western coast of India, Ceylon, Coromandel and up to

Bengal were directed at Batavia.24

It should be noted that the Dutch had attempted to set up their

headquarters in south India, although this did not end in as great a

success as they hoped for (despite inflicting defeats on, and

besieging the Portuguese; moreover, there were other Europeans to

fend off).25

Economically, and from a maritime perspective, the European-

controlled trade in Asia shifted back to India from 1680-1740. 26

Basically, the changes in the last two decades of the seventeenth

century were intensified in the first half of the eighteenth. At the

beginning of the eighteenth century, although spices continued to

“capture the imagination of Europeans”, 27 their proportion in the

overall volume of goods brought back to Europe had declined

appreciably. At the beginning of the seventeenth century, the Dutch

East India Company’s (VOC’s) annual sale of spices was slightly

over a million pounds. Near the end of the eighteenth century, the

figure was reduced by about one third.28 Revisiting the example of

pepper, the VOC’s share of pepper came down to 23 per cent of

total imports between 1698 and 1700 (down from 43 per cent

between 1668 and 1670). By 1738-1740, it came down further to just

14 per cent.29 As was mentioned earlier, textiles from India were

rising in the proportion of total Dutch imports. Another shift that had

been taking place over time was the importance of intra-Asia over

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Asia-Europe trade. Prior to the 1700s in Bengal, the ratio of Dutch

cargo of the former (i.e. Bengal and rest of Asia) to the latter (i.e.

Bengal and Europe) in the 1670s was 80:20, with this proportion

almost reversing in the 1690s.30 Between 1680 and 1740, India, and

increasingly China, also became more important foci of Asian trade.

Within India, Bengal in the East was also becoming increasingly

important vis-à-vis western India, where the British had a more solid

foothold.31 In another example, the diamond trade was shifting from

the Goa-Lisbon to the Madras-London axis.32

Meanwhile, the Portuguese continued to try to maintain their

influence through the cartaz system. More permits were issued to

merchants of Canara after 1700. The varied destinations of the

southwestern traders (to Congo, Ormuz and Aden, as well as

Bengal) show that the Portuguese were still involved in a wide

trading network.33 It is worth noting that the system of cartazes was

only formally ended in 1774.34

The Portuguese activities in India and the Indian Ocean did not,

however, rely solely on trade and cartazes. In handing over the

baton of authority, the instructions of D. Luis de Menezes to D.

Francisco José de Sampayo e Castro in 1724 give a brief survey of

the status of Portuguese coastal fortresses and trade outposts:

Chaul was still important; Damão lacked inhabitants and local

officials were urged to revive the industry there; Diu was short of

monies to undertake trade; and all the three ports in the north were

linked to commerce at Mozambique, as well as to the increasingly

prosperous English settlements. With regard to the inland villages of

Bassein, these were described as being “rich”, yielding revenues of

more than one million xerafins, and were to be defended. Here, the

challenge was also to get people to return to re-cultivate the lands.35

150

In the south, the Portuguese had a feitoria along the coast of

Malabar, although there was not much commerce there. Around the

eastern coast of India up to Bengala, the influence of the Catholic

religion was present and still strong in some places, and cartazes

could be issued to ships travelling there. Outside India, Congo in

Persia contributed receipts to Goa. Mozambique was still useful

through the benefits of commerce and the ivory that could be

obtained from there. The potential of Solor and Timor in the

sandalwood trade was noted, although payment of the king’s share

had been delayed as a result of disruption and unrest there. Finally,

the livelihood of Macao was dependent on the Mandarins, and ships

from there sailed to Manila, Siam, Goa, and even Surate.36

Specifically, in relation to revenue generation in the Estado,

Shirodkar described in a seminar paper published in 1998 that forms

of poll and business taxes were charged on the local inhabitants – a

new tax of half a furo was imposed from 1705 onwards in place of

the half dízimos levied on those living in Tiswadi, Bardez and

Salcete. On specific goods, for example, a half xerafin was levied on

every thousand coconuts, as well as one xerafin on every khandi of

copra shipped out of Goa. Furthermore, a two and a half per cent

transfer tax was charged on the buying and selling of property, and

on the rice business. In times of exigency, average native residents

were to pay an impost of two xerafins, with goldsmiths and

merchants paying three and five xerafins respectively.37

By then, in view of the declining tax receipts from commerce, the

Portuguese Crown had also allowed ships from Brazil to visit India.

From 1709, the Crown also liberated trade by allowing governors of

the conquests to engage in business, although this was to be

revoked in 1730 (as a result of scandal and corruption). Up until

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1739, the reliance on decreasing customs receipts was shifted and

made up for in part by the Province of the North in terms of rents.

Viceroy João Saldanha da Gama (1725-32) suggested that the

Crown form a company to reap profits from goods from Mozambique

and even from Timor. What followed thereafter is unclear, but

Viceroy Pedro Mascarenhas (1732-41) did propose that more

experienced persons be appointed to increase profits associated

with Mozambique.38

A point touched on by Shirodkar in a quote from the Livro dos

Monções is worth highlighting, for it reveals the king’s interest and

attention in 1717 to losses in commerce arising from evasion of

customs at Goa as a “serious matter” because of its implications for

royal revenue.39 The inferences and questions arising from this are

interesting – first, even if revenue from India no longer enriched the

treasury, the Crown was concerned to ensure that “infertile” Goa

would survive. Secondly, it was also obvious that the liberalisation of

trade by sanctioning more places for commerce (the latest till then

being Bengal) did not help to generate more profits, as the scheme

was subjected to the persistent vices that had plagued the

concession system in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.40

We can cross-refer the records of the Casa da ĺndia for a situational

update in relation to the volume and frequency of ships travelling

between Portugal and Asia. From the extant records, a survey of

ships leaving Lisbon in the period 1707-36 reveals an average of

one to three naus (Indiamen), as mentioned before. Occasionally, a

patacho or churrua would accompany a big ship. Outgoing ships not

only carried socorros (aid) for India (see chapter 4), they also carried

some quartos of wine – part of these were set aside for the master of

the nau, part for the men of the lotação or men-of-sea serving on the

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ship, while the rest were sold on arrival, with receipts going to the

king’s cabedal. Sometimes, pipes of wine would be granted to the

viceroy. Returning ships would bring back a certain quantity of drugs

and spices, barrels of saltpetre and other goods. An entry in

December 1724 lists pepper in the quantity of 101 quintais, one

arroba and 16 arrateis accrued to the king’s cabedal; the average

number of barrels of saltpetre remitted averaged slightly more than

one hundred barrels for each returning trip.41 Cross referencing to,

and a rough calculation based on a table from Prakash’s Cambridge

History of India volume on European commercial enterprises,

reveals that imported pepper figures were at least ten times more in

the early seventeenth century.42

Deliberations of the Overseas Council reveal that external

aggression and threats in the Province of the North naturally

culminated in the dismal state of Portuguese commerce and their

territorial losses. 43 Despite the increasing reliance on the north,

another entry noted that officers in the armada of the south and

Canara were asked to keep up their efforts and activities there.44 In

essence, Portuguese trade in the Indian Ocean had not changed in

its nature, that is, it remained militarised. In the period 1680 to 1740,

when Dutch hegemony was being challenged, Portuguese needs

and their demand for goods on the southern Indian coast, supported

by their cartaz system, were backed up by whatever naval power

they could muster for their reconstituted fleet of the south. Yet, brute

force was not the only way by which the Portuguese tried to re-

establish their presence. Apparently, in between the formation of

Portuguese companies for trade in India (1720-53), the Portuguese

seemed to be employing any means to undermine the Dutch position

in India. This is revealed in a deliberation of the Overseas Council

dated 8 October 1725. Officials in India had reported that the Dutch

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were hard-pressed along the southern coast, “withdrawing into their

strongholds (praças) with provisions of food and war and stepping up

their patrols”. The officials had also reported that “they [the Dutch]

were prevented from trading with Asia by our Company of Hostinde

[sic]”. 45 This company must have alluded to the Ostend Company,

chartered in 1722 by the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles VI, in which

the Portuguese, by referring to it as “our company”, seemed to have

had some vested interest (D. João was the emperor’s brother-in-

law). In line with the observations of Prakash, this also confirms that

as the early modern international economy became increasingly

globalised, the monopolies of the chartered companies “could be

skirted” and infiltrated.46

Outside India, the armada of the north was routinely ordered to

Persia to enforce the cartazes which were issued in Diu. This, for

instance, brought in revenue amounting to 32,000 xerafins to be paid

by the Diicão to the Estado. In its deliberations of 8 August 1719, the

Overseas Council considered the viceroy’s reasons why he did not

need to dispatch the armada, in part because of the high expenses.

More importantly, there was no urgent motive for the expedition

because, after the Diicão had refused to pay the sum owed for the

cartazes, the viceroy had ordered an attack on the port of

Porpatame. The alfandega (customs house) and 400 houses and

vessels were burned, and more than 400 enemy were killed.47 At the

other end to the East, a complaint was lodged regarding ships

having to pay extra fees at Melaka and that follow-up action would

be taken to raise the issue at Batavia.48

The situation of the Portuguese further east beyond the Indian

Ocean and covering the South China Sea and Seas of the Sunda

and Maluku (Moluccas) islands has been extensively researched by

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G. Bryan de Souza. 49 In this south-eastern corner of Asia, the

Maluku islands had traditionally been the exporters of the “three

famous spices” (cloves, nutmeg and mace) while cinnamon was

produced in Sumatra. Portuguese traders brought cotton, apart from

metals, from Goa and the southwestern coast of India. The fall of

Ceylon and the Dutch attempt to establish a monopoly at the

Moluccas led the Portuguese to scour the other islands for spices.

Having also been ousted from Macassar in Celebes, the Crown and

private Macanese traders were, in fact, involved in local factional

politicking in an attempt to carve out a monopoly of pepper at

Banjarmasin in lower Borneo. On the eve of the eighteenth century,

however, they were also expelled from there. The rise of Timor was

another episode of “collaboration” between the Crown and Macao.

The aim was to enforce a monopoly of sandalwood.50 The Crown’s

attempt at pacification in Timor will be taken up further in chapter six.

On Timor, one of the challenges facing Portuguese traders was

competition from overseas Chinese traders who were based in

Dutch Batavia. This, along with the still considerable Dutch power,

meant that ships were forced to call at Batavia and other controlled

ports. This system was, of course, slowly eroding. For a start, the

Dutch did not manage to establish any measure of trade monopoly

on the Chinese coast and the South China Sea in the course of the

seventeenth century. Where the Portuguese Crown was concerned,

sporadic voyages were organised to Macao to bring back silk,

porcelain and other luxury items in exchange for European and

Indian goods. Tea, an item increasingly demanded by the English in

India, was carried, in addition to other goods, by private Portuguese

traders. From the Koloniale Archieven sources, Souza reveals the

frequency of shipping arrivals as they stopped over at Batavia and

Melaka. From 1707-50, the number of ships which arrived and

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departed from Goa totalled about twelve. Apparently, after 1732, no

more ships arrived at or set off from Batavia to Goa. Ships that came

all the way from Lisbon numbered four.51 By contrast, ships which

arrived and departed from Timor totalled 45-60, while ships that

came from and set off for Macao numbered over 180. In terms of

shipping arrivals computed for 1715-50, the Portuguese figure was

roughly equal to the English total. From 1707-42, Portuguese ships

which stopped over at Melaka from Goa and Macao totalled about

10-15 and 35-45 respectively. Clearly, private Portuguese shipping

dominated a sizable portion of the trade in the South China Sea and

Seas of the Sunda and Maluku islands. Those which transited from

Goa numbered only a dozen or a little more. The Crown must have

tried to extract revenues on this private shipping via Macao or

Timor.52

Revenue Collection An account of receipts and expenses for the first third of D. João V’s

reign (1716-22) gives an idea of the financial situation in the

Estado.53 For a start, a distinction needs to be made between the

transactions for the Carreira da ĺndia and that for the Treasury of

Goa. On the whole, the Estado seemed to be largely self-sufficient

as the total deficit was miniscule (see table 3 in appendix C). The

receipts of Goa constituted the largest individual entry, deriving in

part from revenues not only from its own feitoria but also from the

adjunct provinces of Bardez and Salcete (less expenses), as well as

from Congo. The next largest receipt came from Bassein. In fact, the

combined figures for the other three ports of the north (Chaul,

Damão and Diu) made up a slightly larger or equivalent amount. The

total receipts for the north were at least three times as much as

those of Goa and the adjacent provinces (including Angediva). From

the south, receipts from Mangalor and the Câmara-sponsored

156

convoys to Canara amounted to slightly more than the revenue entry

of Bardez alone. The receipts from Congo were roughly equal to the

contribution of the Câmara-sponsored convoys to Canara. Further

afield, Mozambique contributed an amount in the range of that

provided by Diu alone.

At Goa, one-quarter of the revenues came from the alfandega

(custom-house) of Goa or from related feitor activities. Of the large

single items in the range of 100-200,000 xerafins, one of these sums

came from the administrators of tobacco in Goa. There was also an

average of twenty-five entries in the categories of 10-50,000

xerafins, 1,000-10,000 xerafins and below 1,000 xerafins each. In

the main, these were received from Bassein, Damão and the feitor of

Goa. At Salcete, at least two-thirds of receipts came from the foros

of villages and propriedades (properties). Of the other sums, an

amount of 10-50,000 xerafins came from the procurador (procurator)

for the supply of cavalry horses linked with the Câmara Geral

(general municipal council). At Chaul, the two biggest sums

(comprising one-quarter and one-sixth of total receipts), were

contributed by Damão and Bassein, respectively.54 Another tenth of

Chaul’s receipts came from the tobacco contract.55 At Bassein, royal

rents were collected on hemp, olive oil, afião, protas, tobacco and

tobacco leaves from there and the surrounding settlements (Canabe

and Agaçaim), as well as on salt passing through Galiana and

Biundim. In addition, rents collected from other settlements like

Dunos, Mandoim, Caranja, Veriava, Rin and Cabras, contributed to

more than half of the receipts there. Another third of total receipts

came from the foros of the villages and propriedades of Bassein, as

well as from collections of lands near Bombay. Other sums in the

1,000-10,000 xerafins category were contributed by the feitor of

Damão, the Company of Jesus (the Jesuits) and those dealing in the

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Arab horse trade. At Mozambique, the biggest receipt came from the

Junta Geral de Mozambique. Two sums in the 1,000-10,000 xerafins

category came from the feitor of the town. Of the smaller sums,

these originated from the dízimos and sales of the Junta Geral. At

Congo, two sums of 10-50,000 xerafins were paid by the sibandar of

the town. Finally, revenue from Mangalor originated from the rent of

lagimas, as well as from foros.56

Further analysis of these entries for receipts reveals a number of

significant features about revenue collection in the Estado. First,

while the port of Goa continued to rely on custom-related revenues,

the province of Goa also extracted land taxes from its surrounding

territories. This was especially so in the immediate adjacent

provinces, for example, Salcete. Conversely, ports in the Province of

the North also continued to draw upon receipts from customs,

despite the rising proportion of land rents in terms of overall

revenues for that province (see table 1 in appendix C).

The years covered by the account (above) overlap with the last

years of D. Vasco Fernandes Cesar de Menezes’ viceroyalty, and

the initial years of those of D. Francisco José de Sampaio Castro

(see footnotes in appendix C). The account also covers the few

months of the transitional leadership of Sebastião de Andrade

Pessanha and the three-year tenure of D. Luís Carlos Inácio Xavier

Menezes. A survey of the general letters of the Casa da ĺndia

touching on this period (1707-40) reveals one instance where the

thesoureiro (treasurer) of the Casa entrusted a loan of 1,200,000 reis

from the Fazenda Real (Royal Treasury at Goa) to the Archbishop of

Goa (D. Ignácio de Santa Teresa) for the Estado.57 Unfortunately,

other sums of the royal cabedal (monies, etc., belonging to the king),

which might have accompanied viceroys on their maiden trips to

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India were not recorded. In the instructions from the king to D. Pedro

Miguel de Almeida Portugal, the viceroy was told to keep the amount

of monies raised from home “separate from the rents of the Estado

da ĺndia”.58

In relation to the account of receipts and expenses of the Estado da

ĺndia, it is interesting to note that, even at Goa, reliance on the

adjacent provinces of Bardez and Salcete meant that a sizeable

portion of the revenue was drawn from rents, and this exceeded the

sums contributed via the custom houses. The revenues of Bassein

were drawn in large part from rents in various forms. From a cross

examination of the instructions by Ericeira, in conjunction with the

account of receipts and expenses, it is clear why Ericeira was quite

keen to revive the tax-farms and industries. Chaul, once great, had

grown to rely to a certain extent on revenues generated in Damão

and Bassein. Although a lot of hope was placed on Mozambique, the

town relied to a large extent on injections of money from the Junta

Geral of Mozambique, which had been set up to manage trade

activities there.

An examination of expenses shows that at Goa, the biggest sums

were charged to the viceroy, the vedor geral da fazenda (inspector

general of the treasury), and to various military personnel for the

day-to-day business and defence of the eastern capital. For the

other ports and settlements, part of what they collected had to be

transferred to Goa. A significant part of these expenses was also

retained for military maintenance and defence. By comparison, a

relatively smaller amount was dedicated to non-military transactions.

At Bassein, a shipbuilding centre, one-fifth of total expenses was

absorbed in the purchase of materials – iron, azeste, bria, cutunias,

dotins, carros, petrechos de guerra (war supplies) and other

159

materials for the storehouse and ribeira (shipyard). Mangalor, Congo

and Mozambique, which also served as stopover points for armadas

and carreiras, also spent a variable fraction of their revenues on ship

stores and maintenance. Of these three ports, the latter two also set

aside small amounts for the clergy and church administration.59

In terms of expenses, those places which derived the bulk of their

revenue from customs spent a relatively larger sum of their

expenses on naval matters and maintenance. Places which relied on

land revenues allocated a relatively lower proportion of their

expenses to naval matters, even though Bassein, for example, was a

ship-building centre. (see table 2 in appendix C)

What if the Estado did lapse into occasional financial insolvency?

Entries in the recenseamento show that when, for example, an army

needed to be maintained in times of insufficient funds, loans could

be extended by individuals or bodies like the Company of Jesus. The

assentos of the Council of State of India (at Goa) recorded sessions

in which new taxes and impositions were debated in times of acute

threat.60 In particular, a Junta dos Tres Estados (Committee of the

Three Estates), similar to that which had been established at home

at the time of the Restoration, was convened to decide on extra

contributions from the people.61 Other religious affiliated bodies, like

the Misericordias, were also raided for additional funds.62

The losses and reverberations of the spice trade of Ceylon and

Malabar in the previous century, in addition to the intermittent lack of

success in the revival of trade in the early eighteenth century,

increased the Crown’s dependence on the renda system.63 However,

sources and data relating to the investigation of economic revenue

or demographic topics - as scholars past and present have lamented

160

– are scarce. 64 For a roughly three-year period prior to 1707,

Pearson identified 37 renda holders. This figure is slightly higher

compared to the average 34 different types of renda, each of which

was let out 23 times over the seventy-year period from 1600-70. In

overall terms, this represents a term of around three years for each

contract. For this same period, Pearson calculated the value of these

rendas to be over 500,000 reis, which amounted to slightly less than

one third to one half of the total revenue of Estado. An interesting

characteristic of the renda holders is that for some reason, by the

beginning of the eighteenth century, about four times more

Saraswats (an indigenous group), vis-à-vis Christians and Muslims,

held rights to rendas compared to the earlier periods for which

information is available.65

In relation to revenue collection for the first half of the eighteenth

century, can anything be gleaned about the population in lands

under Portuguese control? Undeniably, this was the source from

which revenue was extracted and taxed. In a recent eminent work on

Goa in the second half of the eighteenth century, Lopes gives the

state of demography in 1753. We could take this as a good

approximation of the condition of Portuguese India at the end of D.

João V’s reign. As shown in table 4 in the appendix C, the population

of the Islands, Bardez and Salcete were around 58,000, 76,000 and

73,000 inhabitants respectively. In these three places, 80 to 95 per

cent of the population was classified as Christians (native, mixed and

white). The actual white population ranged from 0.2 to 2.0 per cent,

with the highest numbers in the Islands standing at around 400.66 In

an earlier figure for 1721, about one third of the way through D.

João’s reign, the populations of the Islands, Bardez and Salcete

were about 70,000, 65,000 and 73,000 inhabitants respectively.67

The rise and ebb of emigration from Portugal coincided closely with

161

the increase and decline of Portuguese participation in trade in Asia.

In Asia, the “official” or “formal” Portuguese India was losing its

people (both white and indigenous) to the more prosperous

surrounding territories.68

Mid-way through his reign, the king ordered a redress to pleas (in a

letter) from the Câmara Geral of Salcete relating to a new

contribution expected from this province in a provision that passed

through the hands of the secretary of state and the Overseas

Council. In the letter from the Câmara, complaints were made that

the annual foros of 48,000 xerafins, proposed from the days of

Viceroy Vidigueira (D. Francisco da Gama, who was viceroy in 1622-

28) were:

[already] very excessive given the limited

territory under jurisdiction, mostly comprising

land that cannot be cultivated with one and a

half out of four legoas occupied by hills and

outeiros… since then, we have been burdened

with seven rendas, and now a new one…69

The Câmara claimed that the rendas already imposed included:

tobacco worth 75,000 xerafins, powdered tobacco (tabaco do po)

worth 50,000 xerafins, urraca worth 18,000 xerafins, salt and verde

worth 10,000 xerafins, as well as copra and areca whose value was

not specified. The letter went on to make a calculation of all the

people (aged over seven years) in the province of Salcete, which

totalled 80,000, and total rendas of 600,000 xerafins. Leaving aside

the Namacins, the Câmara claimed that if these rendas “[were to be]

divided out, each [person would] not have five xerafins for his

sustenance”.70 The response of the viceroy, after conferring with the

162

vedor geral da fazenda, called for an inspection and survey. More

importantly, the vedor geral pointed out that the Câmara had made a

mistake about the origins of the original foros agreement with

Vidigueira, and had also exaggerated their burdens. In terms of the

centre-periphery analysis, this document highlights the gap between

representatives of communities at the periphery and the centre. The

views of those at the periphery were exacerbated by their own self-

interests and perceptions of an incompassionate centre.

As claimed in the letter, the impositions ordered by the centre not

only created dissatisfaction and protests, but in many cases led

“owners [of tax farms] to abscond into Canara, and other lands of the

infidels”.71 In this instance, the suggestion by the procurador of the

Crown for the lands of those who had absconded to be incorporated

into the fazenda real was overruled in favour of a proposal by the

Câmara that their lands be divided up amongst those who remained

in the communities; and for the lands already seized or put under

“deposit” to be released to the community.72 Clearly, the benefits of

increasing the fazenda of the Crown did not outweigh the priority that

the inhabitants of Portuguese settlements in India ought not to be

alienated.

From the general letters of the Casa da ĺndia, it is clear that the

administration of the Carreira da ĺndia was still plagued with

persistent problems. A letter to the captain general of Macao (then

en route from Goa) and the officials of the Casa da ĺndia went

through the procedure by which persons of “quality” (calidade) and

their goods were to be registered so as to improve the collection of

dues pertaining to the fazenda real and to prevent losses.73 In 1723

and 1725, two letters were directed to the vedor da fazenda of the

Estado regarding omissions in entries and the theft of goods

163

respectively. 74 A letter from officials of the Casa of March 1730

revealed that pleas of ignorance of a royal order would not be

accepted as an excuse for goods being “loaded without permission

or knowledge”.75 Another document raised in April 1732 by the same

officials revealed that even the liberdades (liberty allowances) of the

Marquis of Niza were not properly registered.76 Two more letters

were raised in 1732 and 1735 to remind officials to tighten their

control of registers and remove the confusion experienced in the

dispatch of fazendas.77 Obviously by 1740, the full value of the dues

accrued to the liberdades was still not able to be collected, as is

revealed in a letter from the vedor da fazenda of the Estado of

February 1740.78

Other consultations of the Overseas Council reveal that the

administration of revenue collection was fraught with the difficulty of

tallying documents issued by the Casa da ĺndia. In some instances,

the viceroy inquired into the list of goods (namely, diamonds) to be

sent back to Portugal, and the associated diversion and loss which

was incurred as a result. Another questioned how some ships tried

to evade payment of the cartaz at Goa and at São Figune.79 Another

entry of 1728 highlighted the loss of Crown fazenda as a result of

relaxing control over ships, and carelessness in administration.80

Entries as early as 1715 were concerned with disparities in the

fazenda. An entry of 1728 pointed out that the rents of the Estado

were not able to support the maintenance of soldiers.81 In another

entry, the vedor geral da fazenda highlighted the “decline found in

tracing the excess of expenses over receipts and reasons for this

error”.82

There was also no lack of entries advocating an improvement of the

system itself. In January 1725, for instance, there were discussions

164

about the regimento (standing orders) and the “appointment of

capable persons for the governance of feitorias”. Again, in March

1730 the Council discussed the amendment to the regimento and its

execution.83 It is clear from such discussions that there were many

persistent and unresolved problems – officials reported the difficulty

and inconvenience of implementing the law that prohibited captains

of praças to trade. 84 In the meantime, the list of entries in the

registers is dotted fairly regularly with feedback on shortages in the

warehouse and ribeira of Goa, as well as requests for supplies to be

sent in subsequent monsoons. 85 This is also corroborated by

documents of the Casa da ĺndia, which reveal a continuing need for

support from the centre.86

Mozambique An area that was to become the centre-piece of the Crown’s attempt

to re-establish trade in the Indian Ocean in the first half of the

eighteenth century was Mozambique. Prior to the eighteenth century,

the main items of trade between Mozambique and India had been

ivory and gold. By the second half of the seventeenth century, an

increasingly obvious feature of trade in Mozambique was the

growing Indian and mestizo investment there. The right to import

Gujerati cloth was granted to a merchant guild from Diu in the

1680s.87 The Portuguese attempt at monopoly, however, was broken

at the end of the seventeenth century when Mombasa fell to the

Omani Arabs. The fall of such an important strategic point led to the

occupation of a number of Portuguese feitorias in the vicinity,

including Kilwa.

In response to the loss of Mombasa, the ivory caravan was diverted

to ports still under Portuguese control further south down the Swahili

coast, in particular, to the port of Mozambique. Although a special

165

law was promulgated in November 1709 to allow the governors of

the conquests more freedom to trade, this was revoked in April 1720

when royal revenue suffered as a result.88

Regarding the special committees or boards set up to manage

trading activity in the region, a couple had evolved from the reign of

Pedro II. In an attempt to increase trade during his reign, a Junta do

Comércio Livre de Mozambique (Junta of Free Trade of

Mozambique) had been formed. This seems to have changed its

name to the Junta do Comércio Geral de Mozambique e Rios (Junta

of General Trade of Mozambique and the Rivers) by the time it was

abolished in 1680 (when trade was also liberalized). In time, another

Junta (do Comércio Geral de Mozambique e Rios) formed, but it,

too, was dissolved when in 1739, autonomy was entrusted to the

Junta da Fazenda (Treasury Board) in Goa, headed by the viceroy.89

The previous chapter touched briefly on the continued Portuguese

political manoeuvering in the region. In addition to Omani

competition, the challenge from the Dutch and other Europeans

contributed to the continued decline of trade in Mozambique in the

early eighteenth century, which did not revive until after the 1750s.90

Whatever gold was discovered in the rios and Zambezi, it did not

exceed 250 to 300 kilogrammes.91 Hence, the fragmentary Indian

dominance continued until the Indians themselves were disrupted by

the threats to, and then the fall of, the Portuguese Province of the

North in India in 1739.

The maladministration of the Junta do Comércio has been a source

of allegations as to why it was not possible to boost trade at

Mozambique. The consultations of the Overseas Council provide

ample evidence of the undesirable state of affairs. An entry dated

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March 1732, for example, reveals that the officials of the Câmara of

Goa wrote to explain the causes of the decline of commerce in

Mozambique, and stressed the seriousness of the matter. They

attributed to the decline to:

the lack of commerce resulting from the failure

to send any ships [from this port] to other ports

or an armada to the Straits [of Mozambique]

[which has led to] the coast being infested with

corsairs [so] merchants [are unable] to depart

freely … [also] the Junta [do Comércio] is

delaying its payments and not fulfilling the

contracts to them [i.e., their business partners in

the Province of the North]… [if the Junta was] to

have good administration in the ports [because

at present it is bad]… [and open-up] the said

Rios [de Senna and]… put [in them] two

alfandegas because these will make the

fazenda of Your Majesty be well-served, and

[leave] the people free to make trade…92

In effect, the Câmara was indirectly complaining about the monopoly

of the Junta do Comércio and the Crown, but in the process, it also

highlighted other issues.

On occasion, particular members of the Junta do Comércio were

singled out for criticism. Between 1708 and 1742, two entries relate

to requests to remove a particular governador and official of the

Junta. The king was asked to remove them from office because of

the mistakes and negligence they committed.93 In another entry of

1725, a complaint was directed against the superintendent of the

167

Junta do Comércio regarding inept administration and its effect on

commerce.94

Besides the sometimes biased complaints of its critics, the Junta

suffered from a number of internal problems that impacted on its

profitability. In an entry of 1725, for example, deputies of the Junta

do Comércio raised concerns about the problem of a shortage of

monies for the conservation of the Estado and commerce.95 Within

the empire, it seemed that the introduction of ivory associated with

metropolitan Portugal also led to complications such as a fall in

prices.96 Externally, French activities in Mozambique continued to

result in losses in revenue, and as late as 1740, a plea was made for

efforts to take measures to resolve the problem.97 An entry of 1727,

which once again illustrates that the key personnel at the centre took

an interest in developments, pressed for the recruitment of people at

Diu to help in the conservation of Mozambique. In this instance, the

secretary of state added his particular concerns about this matter.98

The Estado da ĺndia in East Africa was not limited to the coast.

There, the situation was analogous to the frontiers of Brazil in some

respects. By the second half of the sixteenth century, the post of

captain of Mozambique and Sofala was associated with a lucrative

monopoly that was either granted as a reward by the king, or sold for

a three-year term.99

Before the Portuguese arrived in the area, the Muslims had been

having trading fairs in the interior of East Africa. As with other areas

of trade in the Indian Ocean, the Portuguese sought to replace the

Muslims and other players in the position of middlemen. Beneath the

captain, responsibility for establishing trade fairs or prospective

mining enterprises was given to the capitão-mor, who was appointed

168

by the viceroy. It is of interest to note that Indians, possibly of

mestizo origin, were involved in the pioneering of these ventures.100

It is also worth noting that the Portuguese setback at Mombasa at

the end of the seventeenth century was also repeated in the interior

of Zambesi; uprooted by the inland power of Changamire

(Changamire was also known as Batua – see map 5 in appendix D).

This probably explains why trade activities on the lower Swahli coast

failed to revive.101

It seems clear that, for the reign of D. João V, inland Portuguese

East Africa was “informal”. There, “neither captains nor viceroys

were able to hinder or promote” the Crown’s or Estado’s receipts, as

these were collected by agents or semi-agents beyond the control of

the centre at home or in Goa.102 At various times, the Crown tried to

tap into and revive the coastal trade. Although trade on the coast

was dependent on inland activities, it seems that the centre’s

preoccupation with inland Zambesi was very limited: a survey of

consultations from 1707 to 1750 reveals only one entry in October

1715 relating to an adjustment of peace with Changamire.103 An

earlier entry of November 1707 makes reference to friendship with

another inland power, Monomotapa.104

Despite continuities with the previous half century, the beginning of

the eighteenth century intensified the trend towards a transition that

had begun in 1680 – the slow decline of the Dutch and the rise of the

English. At the same time, the increasing participation of the

Europeans also created an early modern international economy. The

effect of this was that the Crown would find it even more difficult to

maintain any monopolised area or sailing route. On the impact of

internationalisation on the regional economy, the Portuguese Crown

169

realised, for instance, that a large volume of the English trade (linked

to east India) was carried on private Portuguese ships associated

with Macao, although its attempt to extract more benefits from this

was largely unsuccessful. Within India, the challenge to and gradual

breakdown of Mughal hegemony did not necessarily mean an onset

of recession on the sub-continent. At times, the Crown remained

idealistically optimistic about a rather dismal area, East Africa (after

the loss of territories on the coast as well as inland). Although the

Crown’s wishes for more income would be frustrated in Mozambique

and Macao, the Estado da ĺndia was solvent, despite the

‘inefficiency’, as is revealed by an account dating from the mid-reign.

Continuing from a trend in the mid-seventeenth century, rents would

provide an important source of revenue, although receipts from

customs would still be sizeable. In terms of the overall thesis, the

Estado da ĺndia’s struggle to boost income is important in explaining

why it continued to survive, even though the Crown’s treasury would

gain little from the new enterprises. Whatever “hard power”

(including wealth) could not accomplish, more “informal” measures

were also adopted by the Estado, and this will be the focus of the

next chapter.

170

Endnotes 1 R. Gilpin, “Nature of Political Economy”. in H. J. Wiarda (ed.), Comparative Politics, pp. 357-

75. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid., p. 361. 4 Ibid. 5 Either side saw each other as “piratical” and “usurping”. This is reflected in the discussion of M.

Pearson, “Corruption and Corsairs in 16th Century Western India” in a compilation of his own

papers and essays, Coastal Western India (New Delhi, 1981), pp. 18-40. 6 See A. Gunder Frank, “Modern World System Revisited” in S.K. Sanderson (ed.), Civilisations

and World Systems (London, 1995), p. 174 in conjunction with I. Wallerstein, The Modern World

System (London, 1974). “Surplus accumulating” refers to India being a net exporter in terms of the

inter-continental trade as well as with the large economic entities in the eastern region. 7 Cotton itself can be classified as a luxury or bulk good depending on its quality, i.e., whether it

was fine or coarse. See discussion in chapter 6, H. Furber, Rival Empires of Trade in Orient

(London, 1976). Also, refer chapter 9, K. Chaudhuri, Trade and Civilization in the Indian Ocean

(Cambridge, 1985). 8 O. Prakash, New Cambridge History of India – European Commercial Enterprise in Pre-

Colonial India, (Cambridge, 1998), pp. 14-18. 9 Ibid., pp. 18-22. See also map-statistics in Appendix C, drawn from Chaudhuri, Trade and

Civilization in the Indian Ocean (Cambridge, 1985), map 18, pp. 186-187. 10 See Furber, Rival Empires of Trade in Orient, p. 265. Also, Chaudhuri, Trade and Civilization

in the Indian Ocean, pp. 189-91. 11 Research on how the different newcomers (especially Europeans) tried to exploit and benefit

from this gap has been undertaken by many prominent scholars: H. Furber on the English and

Dutch in 1976; O. Prakash on the various players in the early modern period in 1998; and K.

Chaudhuri in a more general work in 1985. 12 N. Rao and P. Sudarshan make indirect reference to L. P. Thomaz in “Statistical Analysis of

Historical Data – Study of the Livro dos Cartazes” in Portuguese Studies Review 12, 1 (2004), p

118. 13Ibid., p 118. 14 Prakash, New Cambridge History of India – European Enterprises, tables 2.2 and 2.3 on pp. 35-

36. 15 J.C. Boyajian, Portuguese Trade in Asia under Habsburg (Baltimore, 1993), p. 26. 16 Prakash, New Cambridge History of India – European Enterprises, p. 50. 17 Ibid., pp. 54-55. 18 Ibid., pp. 54-57. Under the concession system, intra-Asian routes joining the Carreira, including

the lucrative China-Japan leg, were contracted out to fidalgo or related personages in return for

advance fixed payments; much as the pepper Carreira trade at Lisbon had been parcelled out. 19 On the company, see A. R. Disney, Twilight of the Pepper Empire (Cambridge, 1978).

171

20 See chapter 1, The Black Legend of Portuguese India by G. D. Winius (New Delhi, 1985). 21J.H. Parry, Trade and Dominion (London, 1971), p. 59. 22Furber, Rival Empires of Trade in Orient, p. 27. In the first fifty years and at the height of

expansion in the east, the number of ships sailing to India was around 450. Raw data on tonnage,

as pointed out by several specialists, is more readily found in non-Portuguese documents than

Portuguese ones. It should be reiterated that much information was lost during the Lisbon

Earthquake of 1755. The figures for Portuguese ships and tonnage in the second half of sixteenth

and first half of the seventeenth centuries are corroborated in M. Newitt, A History of Portuguese

Overseas Expansion (New York, 2005), p. 193. T.B. Duncan, in “Navigation between Portugal

and Asia in 16th and 17th Centuries” in C.K. Pullapilly et al (eds.), Asia and the West – Essays in

Honour of D.F. Lach (Notre Dame, 1986), p. 22, compiled for figures to the eve of 17th century. 23A. Das Gupta, “India and Indian Ocean in Eighteenth Century” in A. Das Gupta et al (eds.),

India and the Indian Ocean (Oxford, 1987), p. 151. However, the Europeans did not yet have any

extensive control over the intra-Asian commerce. This process was to speed up towards the end of

the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. 24Prakash, New Cambridge History of India – European Enterprises, p. 193. 25 G.D. Winius and M.P. Vink, The Merchant-Warrior Pacified (Delhi, 1991), p. 61. 26 A. Das Gupta, “Dutch EIC and Indian Ocean Trade” in A. Das Gupta and M. N. Pearson (eds.),

India and the Indian Ocean 1500-1800 (Delhi, 1987), pp. 185-200 and 240-275. 27 Furber, Rival Empires of Trade in Orient, p. 235. 28A. Das Gupta, “Maritime Trade of Indonesia” in A. Das Gupta, et al (eds.), India and Indian

Ocean (Oxford, 1987), p. 268. 29 Prakash, New Cambridge History of India – European Enterprises, pp. 211-12. 30Ibid. 31Ibid. 32Ibid., pp. 216 and 242. 33Rao and Sudarshan, “Statistical Analysis of Historical Data: A Study of the Livro dos Cartazes”,

pp. 118-19. 34 P.S. Pissurlencar, Portuguese-Maratha Relations (Bombay, 1983), p. 2. 35BN, Instructions to Francisco José de Sampaio e Castro, Códice 1455, ff. 14v-21v. 36Ibid., ff. 10r-14r, 24v-26v and 27v-33v. 37Prakash, New Cambridge History of India – European Enterprises, p. 116. 38Ibid,, pp. 116-22. 39Ibid., pp. 117-18. 40Ibid. 41AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais que vão / vem da India, survey of ff. 15r-52v; the specific

quantity of pepper is traced from ff. 33r-v. 42 Prakash, New Cambridge History of India – European Enterprises, p. 36, table 2.3. Prakash had

drawn his merged data from two tables (2.2 and 2.3) from an article contribution by N.

172

Steensgaard in Indo-Portuguese History – Old Issues, New Questions edited by Teotonio R. de

Souza (New Delhi, 1985). 43See, for example, an entry for 1739 in AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, f. 20r. 44AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India, ff. 438v-39r. 45AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, f. 183r dated 8 Oct 1725. 46 Prakash, New Cambridge History of India – European Enterprises, p. 265. Naturally, this

proposition worked as a double-edged sword, it also meant that the Portuguese Crown or the

Estado da ĺndia were increasingly finding it difficult to keep infiltrators out of their areas of

economic claims. 47AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 110v-11r. 48AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India, ff. 419v-20r. 49G.B. de Souza, The Survival of Empire (Cambridge, 1986). 50Ibid., pp. 125-27 and 181-83. 51It is presumed these would have stopped over at Goa. 52Souza, Survival of Empire, tables 6.2, 6.4, 6.5 and 6.15 on pp. 134-35, 137, 138-39 and 160-61. 53AHU, Códice 475, Recenseamento de Receitas e Despesas da India, ff. 49v-50r. 54 They were used to pay the soldiers in this town. 55 Among the sums in the 1,000-10,000 xerafins category, the Câmara of Chaul also contributed a

sum for the maintenance of the companies of troops there. 56AHU, Códice 475, Recenseamento…, ff. 1r-49r. The contribution from foros was relatively

smaller. 57AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais…, ff. 26r-v. Survey is done for the period spanning 1707-40. 58 Instructions to Marquis of Castello-Novo, from the personal collection of J. F. J. Biker,

transcribed and printed in Collecção de Tratados que o Estado da India Fez com os Reis nas

Partes da Asia e Africa Oriental, VI by Biker (New Delhi, 1995), pp. 245-46. Here after, referred

to as CTEA. 59AHU, Códice 475, Recenseamento…, ff. 1r-49r. 60 P.S. Pissurlencar, Assentos do Conselho do Estado V (Goa, 1957), document 138. Here after,

referred to as ACEG. 61 ACEG, document 128. 62C.R. Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire (London, 1969), pp. 292-93. 63Souza, Survival of Empire, p. 177. 64Pearson M., “Indigenous Dominance in Colonial Economy Goa Rendas”, Mare Luso Indicum 2

(1972), p. 67. Pearson claimed in 1972 that information is scant about those who held rendas at

times other than 1600-70. M. de Jesus dos Mártires Lopes, Goa Setecentista – Tradição e

Modernidade 1750-1800 (Lisbon, 1996), p. 76. Writing in the closing years of the twentieth

century, Lopes indicated that charts and maps on demography are not available for the period prior

to 1753. 65M. Pearson, Coastal Western India (New Delhi, 1981), pp. 97-100, in a compiled article on

“Banyas and Brahmins”.

173

66Adapted from tables 1, 3 and 13 of Lopes, Goa Setecentista, pp. 79, 85 and 91. 67BA, 46-XIII-31, Sobre População de Goa e Angediva 1721, ff. 142r-43v. 68See BN, Instructions to D. Francisco José de Sampayo e Castro, Códice 1455, ff. 15v-16v. Pleas

were made by Ericeira to woo settlers back to Baçaim and surrounding villages. 69J.H. Rivara da Cunha, Archivo Portuguez Oriental (New Dehli, 1992), p. 385. Transcribed from

Livro dos Monções No. 102, f. 225. Here after, source by Rivara referred to as APO. Copy by

Câmara in letter to king. 70Ibid., p. 385. 71APO, pp. 6-7. Transcribed from Livro dos Monções No. 76, f. 42. 72APO, pp. 6-7. Transcribed from Livro dos Monções No. 76, f. 42. 73AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais que vão / vem da India, ff. 21v-22r. 74AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais… , ff. 27v-28r and 30v. 75AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais… , f. 46v. 76AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais… , f. 50r. 77AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais… , ff. 51v-52v and 61r-v. 78AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais… , ff. 98r-v. 79AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India: f. 420r; Códice 213: ff. 200r-v. 80AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, f. 294r. 81AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 49v-50r and 197v-98r. 82AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 323r-24r. 83AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 180v-81r and 222r-v. 84AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 185v-86r. 85For instance, AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, f. 183r. 86 AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais… , survey of entries from 1707-40, ff. 19v-90v. 87 Newitt, “East Africa and the Indian Ocean Trade”, p. 216. 88P. P. Shirodkar, “India and Mozambique”, in Researches in Indo-Portuguese History I (Jaipur,

1998), p. 175. 89Ibid,, pp. 174-76. 90 Newitt, “East Africa and the Indian Ocean Trade”, pp. 215-18. 91Shirodkar, “India and Mozambique”, p. 176. 92AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 254v-55v dated 3 March 1732. 93AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India : ff. 433v-34r; Códice 214: ff. 8r-v. 94AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 181r-82r. 95AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 188v-89r. 96AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff.74v-75r. 97AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 1r-v. 98AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 193v-94r. 99 M. Newitt, Portuguese Settlement on the Zambesi (London, 1973), pp. 38-117. 100 Ibid., further from the pp. 38-117: “Up to 1752, anyone who wished to acquire a prazo

petitioned the tenente-geral dos Rios, who after satisfying himself about the genuineness, issued a

174

provisional grant…”. This was confirmed in the form of a deed (of lease) by the viceroy after

papers were sent to Goa. The system of the prazo itself had undergone a process of evolution. It

probably began with Portuguese who were asked to arbitrate in tribal disputes, which then evolved

into honours, privileges and authority accorded in return. In time, this formalised into land titles.

With regards to the rank of lieutenant-general of the Rivers, on-and-off he had been put under the

jurisdiction of Goa. Up to 1688, “the Rivers had been administered separately from Mozambique

under Goa. From 1688, he was answerable to the captain general of Mozambique and Sofala. In

1709, a new set of standing orders conferred independence on him, with powers to make peace and

war, and to correspond directly with the viceroy except with regard to military and civil patents

(which still had to be consulted with the captain general)”. M. Newitt also reveals that Portuguese

local politicking had acculturalized certain factions. 101Newitt, Portuguese Settlement on the Zambesi, pp. 38-117. 102 Ibid., p. 59. 103AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, f. 62r. 104AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India, ff. 418r-v.

175

CHAPTER 6

BUSINESS OF ESTADO DA ÍNDIA RELIGIOSOS, RACE, STATE AND THE EXTREME PERIPHERY

The previous two chapters examined two commonly dismissed

factors of prolongation, that is, instruments of war and diplomacy as

well as issues relating to economic issues involved with the survival

of the formal Estado da Índia in the first half of the eighteenth

century. In contrast, survival in the longer term is customarily

attributed, to use a modern day term, to “soft power” – conversions,

mixed marriages and the use of the Portuguese language. This is

not to imply that those of the early modern period saw or perceived

these instruments in the same way. Yet, even these activities

required state support: on the ground, from the viceregal government

and at its source, from the king, and in terms of monies and other

resources. The first two parts of this chapter will demonstrate that

the king’s interest had a part to play in seemingly unofficial business

where the survival of the Estado da Índia was concerned. In another

unlikely area, the last breath in an enterprise to consolidate and even

extend a foothold in the Dutch-permeated East Indies (i.e. Timor), is

examined and reappraised vis-à-vis the role of Macao. In terms of

the overall thesis and theme, softer instruments and their role in the

periphery, and as a whole, need to be re-emphasised as playing a

role in the survival of Portuguese India.

‘Civilising Mission’ Commenting on the colour question at the Raleigh Lecture in 1961,

Boxer believed there was never any doubt about the practice of

discrimination by the Portuguese from the moment they set foot in

Asia. This bias “assumed different forms at different times and

176

places”.1 With respect to soldiery, the Portuguese believed that most

eastern peoples were “militarily useless”, except for the Japanese.2

In the first half of the eighteenth century, this observation was

repeated by the Count of Ericeira – that Indiaticos were inferior to

officers trained in Europe.3 At times, “political factors intruded on

race” along with religious criteria – “Blacks, namely Africans and

south Indians were hopeless, inferior, incapable of improvement and

stuck in superstition; Whites, Japanese and Chinese, on the other

hand, met European standards, may even be superior in some

areas, were good prospects for conversion”.4 This seems to bear a

striking resemblance to classification by “degree of civilisation” which

was the rationale used by the Salazar regime in the twentieth

century to justify the retention of its colonies.5

Whatever bias the Portuguese might have shown towards the races

they came into contact with, or which were under their control, the

Portuguese exhibited idealism, some sensitivity and definitely

pragmatism in dealing with them. Boxer felt that “the policy of the

Crown towards the colour-bar in the Estado da Índia was not always

clear and consistent”; nor was it practised most of the time in reality.6

It seems that the “Portuguese took [more to] the line that religion and

not colour should be the criterion for Portuguese citizenship”. 7

Accordingly, the Portuguese view of superiority, as with the

perception of the other Europeans, though perhaps less staunchly

so, was tied intimately to the religious status of the individual,

although Pearson cautions against stressing this too much.8 Ideally,

the Crown had decreed that all Indian converts be allowed the same

privileges as Portuguese (Goan) citizenry. Laws were passed on this

as early as 1562 and 1572 but not implemented fully. Apparently

after being baptised, converts would still not enjoy similar status as

Portuguese citizens of Goa, as a legal commission admitted in the

177

early eighteenth century. An insignia of the Order of Christ granted,

for example, to a Goan Christian was retracted in 1736 after strong

protest from the viceroy. The problem of recognition extended to

aspiring converts who wished to be part of the clergy. The colour bar

would only be abolished (again) during the ministerial leadership of

Pombal in 1761 for the brief period of his office.9

Within the vast expense of India, the idea of race (of which there are

large numbers in India) is closely tied to the social structure of the

caste system (as it is to the various religions, most notably,

Hinduism). When the Portuguese first arrived, they tried to abolish

the Hindu castes in the areas under their rule but found them to be

too deeply ingrained in the indigenous people. A parallel system

tolerated in the converts consisted of four main divisions: the

Brahmins, the Chardos, the Sudras and other “lower” castes. The

Brahmins were originally the priestly class, hence, the converted

indigenous clergy came mainly from this group. The Chardos were

originally the warrior class (Kshatriyas) in Hindu society; many

switched to serve in the Portuguese native armies. Pissurlencar

thought that under the Portuguese, “lower” castes were also

recruited. In an alvará of July 1733, native soldiers were also drawn

from the Bragmanes. Many were recruited as “professional soldiers”

known as sipães;10 others were more loosely enlisted into the militias

and ordenanças. For some reason, in Lopes’ work, the merchants

did not feature as a group in the section on castes relating to areas

under Portuguese jurisdiction.11 It is quite certain that this group

(sub-divided into further groupings along criteria of, for example,

ethnicity or trade specialisation) constituted an important support to

the continued Portuguese presence. For example, the Brahmins in

the Province of the North, many of whom also had business

dealings, provided crucial investments to the Portuguese East

178

African commercial enterprise. 12 The rest of the natives were

classified as menial workers along different grades, with the Sudras

at the top. The Sudras under the previous system were skilled

workers such as metalsmiths and other craftsmen. Farmers who

owned lands might have been grouped under here as well. Beneath

this, there were landless workers and those doing the most menial

jobs (for example, gravediggers, sweepers, etc.) who were ranked

along a gradation of scale of “lower castes”.13

Afonso de Albuquerque, who had understood the impact of

demography on the Portuguese enterprise in the East, actively

pushed for inter-marriages between soldier-settlers and indigenous

women during his governorship.14 Even at the peak in the sixteenth

century, no more than two or three thousand able-bodied men

emigrated from Portugal to India. Furthermore, unlike the plantation-

settlement nature of Brazil, intermittent wars in Portuguese India

since its founding meant that very few women came to this colony.

While an early scheme to ship over orphan girls from Portugal

lapsed with time, local intermarriages were relatively more

successful with marginal indigenous group such as widows and

Nautch-girls.

From the perspective of the civilisational-cultural construct, the

adoption or imposition of a language is an ultimate expression of

domination. Parry writes that “Portuguese was still the lingua franca

of most commercial intercourse in which Europeans took part” for

quite a period in the eighteenth century.15 This prevalence of the

language was in part, a consequence of the Portuguese network in

the Indian Ocean. Even when this, along with what little economic or

political influence that remained, had declined by the mid-eighteenth

century, Crown sponsorship of the spiritual enterprise enabled the

179

continuity of the language. 16 Yet, Pearson reveals that, in other

ways, the state did not make much effort to spread the language

outside cities like Goa until centuries later. A “notorious decree” of

1684 that made the use of the Portuguese language compulsory

“became a dead letter”.17

A survey of the deliberations of the Overseas Council for the period

under investigation reveals relatively little on the area of society, or

any attempt to inculcate the use of language. As the preliminary

assessment in chapter three highlighted, it is anachronistic to expect

the Baroque overseas government to behave like a nineteenth- or

twentieth-century colonial bureaucracy. Moreover, the viceregal

administration was conceived, from the beginning, as a system of

indirect rule (outside the cities). Nevertheless, a reference or two to

do with race relates to the succession of office. 18 Deliberations

regarding the locals were mostly raised via the Archbishop, and dealt

with their customs in relation to religious violations. On these

matters, the Holy Office exercised wide-ranging jurisdiction. In a

deliberation of May 1717, the Inquisition was told to ease up on its

campaign against the gentiles in this instance in relation to the form

of marriage celebration, in case the desertion of these people

brought about a loss to the royal treasury.19 Part of the acculturation

issue is also closely tied up with the issue of immigration (from

Portugal), settlement, or more broadly, with colonisation. One way

that culture and values were transmitted was through cross

marriage. However, social studies on this area are generally lacking.

Nevertheless, it can be said that any attempt to diffuse the language

was done more indirectly than directly.

180

The Proselytising Enterprise

If the Portuguese were looking for spices, Vasco da Gama famously

declared upon reaching the Malabar coast after an epic voyage, they

were also searching for Christians. 20 The unique nature of early

Portuguese expansion has also been the diarchical character of its

accompanying colonial administration. Heavily supported by the

state, this style of insertion can be identified with the French case.21

However, in terms of religious fervour, not even the French came

close to what the Portuguese perceived to be their spiritual

prerogatives – one that appointed the Portuguese Crown to be the

“standard bearer of the faith”, and came to be encapsulated in the

padroado real or “royal patronage”.22 Ames points out from the Livro

das Plantas de Todas as Fortalezas that the Crown was responsible

for the salaries, as well as other maintenance (mantimentos) and

protection, of nearly 900 religiosos in Goa alone in the early

seventeenth century, amounting to “at least 59,000 xerafins”.23 The

Portuguese religious institution was a diametrical opposite to the

Dutch counterpart, being less subjected to civil power – it was “a

state within a state”. Pearson even goes so far as to say that the

state might have been an ancillary of the church in rural areas, the

former often being represented by a sole parish priest.24 Even where

the influence of Crown or civil authority was greater, “viceroys

typically served three years, archbishops could go on for decades;

while captains were rotated, clerics usually made a lifetime

commitment to India”. 25 Yet, this observation need not be

contradictory to the centre-inclined argument. Early modern

monarchies had gained significant autonomy from the Pope by the

early Baroque period. In Portugal, the state appointed the judges

and officers in the Holy Office of the Inquisition, even though Rome

granted the foundation of its basis. For a time, the Pope rejected

some of D. João V’s requests. 26 This led to a strain in the

181

relationship with Rome which was not eased until after 1730.

Nevertheless, aside from using papal relations as a part of the

leverage in an increasingly complicated international intercourse,

João was also keen to match the “crusading zeal” of his brother-in-

law (Charles VI) and other Catholic monarchs.27 The sponsorship of

the Inquisition was part of the move to show that João was more

zealous.

The role of the church was not limited to purely evangelical business.

Linked to the ecclesiastical establishment were the Santa Casa da

Misericordia and its charities and hospitals. Their duties included

giving food and shelter to the needy, burying the dead, as well as

ransoming captives. Although aid was supposed to be restricted to

their own and related family members, help was extended to a wide

range of people. In this way, the Misericordias helped to facilitate

social integration and to retain elements of the Portuguese presence,

long after the feitoria and garrison were evicted. Boxer, however,

wrote that the golden age of the Misericordias had passed by the

first half of the seventeenth century. “Raiding of their coffers in

emergencies by viceroys and governors accentuated the decline” in

the eighteenth century. 28 Nevertheless, in areas no longer under

direct control, Misericordias and other church establishments

continued to link the local population to the Portuguese. It may not

be too wide off the mark to say that some of these religious

establishments might even have served as a fifth column to fuel local

power intrigues or to plot for a Portuguese return.

If any parochialism pertaining to, and oppression of the indigenous

population, has been conveyed so far, the converted did get to enjoy

certain privileges. For a start, widows were often able to seek refuge

in churches and Misericordias to escape the sati tradition, although

182

certain customs probably continued outside the eyes of the

authorities. Furthermore, Christian wives and daughters were

entitled to inherit the family property. Released from more concrete

confinement were also those held in prison for small amounts of

debt. Upon conversion, local Christians were given exemption from

taxes (from 1580 onwards), and received an array of gifts ranging

from financial payments and social welfare assistance. Jobs and civil

servant positions at the local level, not accessible to Brahmins and

Hindus, were open to indigenous Christians, although the influence

of Brahmins on native communities prevented the full exercise of this

in practice. Intruding further into the governing system at the village

and community level, prominent vote-holding non-Christian

landowners were not to convene meetings in the absence of

Christian counterparts. However, concerns from the centre about

laxity and non-compliance with laws relating to conversion in India

were not uncommon. In a letter dated 20 January 1711, a “father of

Christians” had written to D. João V complaining of “the little zeal

that was found in the ministers for propagation of the Catholic faith in

this Estado [da Índia], and lack of observance of past laws” to which

the king, on this occasion, ordered the viceroy to follow-up. 29 In an

effort to draw attention to the failure of legislation to uphold the social

privileges of Christians, the king stated in an alvará dated 8 April

1717 that,

the gentiles in this Estado [da Índia] are engaged

against [the] past laws and orders in their mode of

living, going about in the streets by sedan chairs… and

with umbrellas; [and] celebrating their festivals in

temples frequently.30

183

Beyond the material rewards, more influential to the lives of the

converts was the increasingly Westernised lifestyle. For example,

converts had Christmas dinners or adopted Western fashion in

dress, which probably made them more sympathetic to the

Portuguese cause.31

If the religious arm was credited for the long term survival of the

Portuguese in the East, it was also a source of numerous problems.

At times, whether the religiosos did good or bad was dependent on

who was writing about them. Following from the immunity and

privileges enjoyed by the church, Ames writes that, many times, the

Archbishops, the Inquisitors-Generals and their henchmen exerted

significant political power, and frustrated Crown attempts at reform.32

One group of religiosos who had been granted significant autonomy

which led to many excesses was the Jesuits. Meanwhile, the

increasing numbers of religiosos also burdened the Crown financially

and deprived the Estado of serviceable military men.33 A letter from

D. João V to a viceroy expressed his concerns with the high

numbers of clerics and the presence of over thirty parishes in Goa

and its adjacent areas, and asked him to undertake a census of the

population to justify the need. On this occasion, the viceroy was on

the side of the religiosos, replying that they could aid the king in his

conquest and that the islands had many native Christians to take

care of.34

Given the many overlaps between religious affairs and matters of

culture, tradition and customs, the Inquisition impacted on many

areas of lives in the capital of the Estado da India. Boschi noted in

an encyclopaedic contribution that the Inquisition seemed to be still

active in the eighteenth century. For the first half of the century after

184

the fall of Bassein, the sentences from about 1706-50 totalled 2,088

cases.35

The pervasiveness becomes clear when one considers

a sample of the practices it forbade, these being all

considered to be signs of continuing Jewish, Muslim or

Hindu influence – sending of gifts on the day a married

woman had her first menstrual period; cooking rice

without salt; wearing a dhoti or choli or refusing to eat

pork.36

Hand-in-hand with increased conversions (to Catholicism) which

were supposed to have been part of the cause for the Maratha

invasion in 1739, the New Conquests, initiated from 1741, was

undertaken with a much more tolerant approach towards the

inhabitants.37

To add to the civil-religious tensions, there were also conflicts

between the various religious institutions. For instance, there were

seething conflicts between the office of the Archbishop and the

Jesuits. In one incident, a college Rector bypassed the Archbishop

and appealed to the king to order an inventory check of lands

passed to the Archbishop.38

The deliberations of the Overseas Council on religious-related

matters are surprisingly numerous. The deliberations show, as

confirmed by Alden in his investigation of the Jesuits, that

developments of the various religious authorities did not escape the

attention of the king, but were reported upwards via the Overseas

Council to him.39 A number of entries touched on the abuses of the

religiosos, and even of the Archbishop himself. The complaints were

185

generally about scandalous procedures and infringements and were

submitted by the viceroy himself or other officials of the Estado.40 In

an entry registered on 11 January 1715, the deliberation spoke of

the “terrible consequences of remaining silent [that would result] if

effective remedy is not put to resolve the absurdities generally

incurring and continuing in a large part of the religiosos resident in all

the missions in Asia”. In an even more critical vein, it pointed to the

crux of the problem: “because [the prelates] at present take care in

sending subjects [priests] who are more apt for mercantile business

than in the commerce of souls”.41 In one entry, secrecy was mooted

when reporting in relation to complaints against the Bishop of

Melaka, bearing in mind that the town was by then under Dutch

rule. 42 Apparently, the complaints were lodged by officials of the

islands of Timor whose Catholic followers were under the religious

jurisdiction of this bishopric. Although the outcome of the

investigation was that the bishop was found to be “virtuous and

zealous in the service of God, as of souls”, one can see how closely

the secular and religious areas of society were affecting and

intertwined with each other.43

Requests of religiosos asking for licence for possession of villages

were also lodged through the viceroy, as can be seen in an entry

dated in March 1707. 44 The Archbishop updated and asked the

Crown for directions as well on a variety of matters – most notably,

the disorder of the Estado which was leading to damage of

Christianity there.45 Not surprisingly, there were deliberations urging

religiosos to action, for example, the provincials of the Company of

Jesus in Salcete, not to slacken or abandon their churches.46 The

Archbishop also had to fend off foreign religious groups trying to

establish themselves in areas of the padroado real – for example, in

1707, the issue of French missionaries in the “province” of

186

Malabar. 47 In 1738, the Bishop of Cochin also asked for help

regarding the miserable state of his bishopric as a result of Dutch

activities.

In light of the evidence and argument presented so far, we can

rightly ask: how far was the factor of religion more important for the

Portuguese in sustaining their presence compared to the approach

by other Europeans? For instance, can the disciplined Protestant

ethic not be seen to have made a similar contribution to the Dutch

colonial venture? Boxer writes that at Batavia, the capital of the

Dutch in the East, there were eight predikants in 1680, twenty-seven

in 1725, and twelve in 1749, numbers that were miniscule compared

to the Portuguese religiosos at Goa.48 There has been considerable

debate about the Protestant Calvinist faith and its link to the rise of

early modern capitalism. It is not the intention of this thesis to

explore the full course of the debate sparked by Max Weber. Suffice

it to say that evangelism was never a major thrust of the Dutch

overseas enterprise.49 How far the “unconscious” ideals and value

system of their religion formed part of the psyche that made the

Dutch successful in the seventeenth century is debatable. 50

Returning to the Portuguese, the factor of religion has been argued

to work “explicitly” for them in the sense that they were supposedly

earnest enough to glorify the religion. This led to influences and

legacies that remained after their “raw power” was gone. Weber and

those who followed his line of argument argued for the “implicit”

working of the religion in the Dutch in that it was the values that were

associated with the religion that was at work in a person, even if he

might not be a Protestant devotee.51 In any case, the Portuguese

investment in the religious enterprise, as raised earlier, did not

always buttress the Portuguese presence as sometimes it brought

about negative effects in the short term.

187

It is not surprising that those involved in the spiritual enterprises

should have claimed authority and commented on moral and even

political aspects of governance and society. A treatise on India by a

religioso in 1725 argued that there was an intimate link between the

political decadence of the Estado and the moral and spiritual

degradation of religious establishments. 52 However, whatever the

contributions of religious bodies like the Jesuits, they were made

scapegoats, as Alden asserted, in further moves towards

centralisation during the ministerial administration of Pombal.53

Imperialism at Timor and the Extreme Periphery C.H. Ariher reported in an intelligence report that :

The native population of Timor had grown close to half a

million while the Portuguese still numbered 300 along

with other minorities of which the Chinese constituted

the most sizeable. The administration was organised to

encourage local commerce and produce by which the

Portuguese could have a taxed share on top of

extraction of head tax as well as other unpaid and

forced labour. The garrison was numbered at 300 with

only fifteen Europeans although there was expectation

of reinforcements from Macao and even Lisbon. The

locals continued to partake in rituals revolving around

war and remained highly martial. Exports have since

then shifted to rely more on other cash crops although

sandalwood remained on the list. Education was

rudimentary with the church providing it mainly to

converts. 54

188

Such was the picture of Timor in 1941, although an unknowing

reader might not find that it differed much from the situation two

hundred years before in, say, 1741. Writing at the end of his survey

(to 1700), Subrahmanyam observes that “the Portuguese in Asia

survived in two forms: as private traders trying to keep a distance

from Goa or as sub-imperialists still trying to carve out some form of

colony at the periphery far from the centre at Goa”.55 In concluding

his sweep of the Portuguese survival in the South China Sea area

(to 1754), George Bryan de Souza thinks that “the empire appears to

have been an abject failure… [reduced to] a responsibility that was

retained for prestige, religion and an elusive hope for gain…

irregardless of [what] temporary successes and gains of fidalgo

administrators [might have reaped]”.56 Returning to the rather lengthy

descriptive quote at the beginning of this section, the question is not

only about how the Portuguese were able to secure the island of

Timor, but how they were able to keep it, despite the apparent lack

of progress? Far from trying to project the king as all knowing, in full

control or wholly triumphant, this chapter will show that the Crown’s

impulse to assert a more formal presence on Timor in the first half of

the eighteenth century, fostered by alliances made with local chiefs,

and in the long context of the foundation and expansion laid by

religiosos, was what allowed the Portuguese to consolidate their

stay, despite the overestimation, mistakes and inadequate support.

The initial Portuguese conquest of Timor was secured by

missionaries. Civil authority during this period was also dispensed by

the Dominicans. Subsequent Dutch competition, especially during

the period of Habsburg Union, forced the Portuguese on the

defensive but miraculously failed to oust them. The bid for survival

also saw an increase in royal assertion over the island during this

and the Restoration period. The first important treaty to secure the

189

right to build a fort at Cupão was signed by a friar in the Restoration

period. If religiosos had been an important determinant for

Portuguese survival so far, the first major rebellion in the post-

Restoration period was launched by a bishop, supposedly against

the bad practices of secular administrators.57

According to an authority on the area, the third phase of Portuguese

presence began five years prior to the succession of D. João V. In

1702, a governor was appointed to the island to secure Crown

control and its monopoly of the sandalwood trade. However, the

issue at hand was far from being straightforward – Portuguese trade

at Timor was apparently undertaken by private merchants from

Macao. The shipping figures given in chapter 5 would seem to verify

this. In terms of the centre-periphery discussion, Macao has been

previously classified by Disney under the East Asian model. He

described it as a settlement “mostly located… on the coasts of East

and Southeast Asia. Typically, they [the “East Asian settlements”]

were the outcome of non-official Portuguese action”.58 Alternatively,

they were subjected to only a slight degree of control by viceregal

authorities, they could sometimes evolve into a South Asian model

settlement.59 In the case of Macao, it did not evolve into the South

Asian archetype, being able often to resist or to pay lip service to

demands from Lisbon or Goa.60 Hence, while the Crown was trying

to turn Timor politically and administratively into a “South Asian”

colony, it also had to co-opt the Macanese traders to enforce the

monopoly on the commercial side.

In terms of the main export of Timor, the golden age of the

sandalwood trade appears to have been during the Habsburg period.

In 1630, a bishop estimated that profits averaged 150-200 per cent.

This trade was carried by, and depended on, Macanese traders.61

190

From this angle, Lifão (the capital of Timor) can be ascribed a

periphery of a periphery. On the political side, the reign of D. João V

saw the beginning of instability on the island that was to stretch into

the nineteenth century.62 From the deliberations of the Overseas

Council, the discussions centred on fighting and disturbances on the

island, as well as occasional success there.63 In its deliberations for

1713 and 1719, the Overseas Council reported that the governor of

the island attributed the “disquietude” to several groups of people –

the Bishop of Melaka, other religiosos, certain princes on the island,

those in the Portuguese governance (!), and particular individuals.64

Regarding the bishop, for example, Viceroy Fernandes Cesar de

Menezes claimed that the cause of civil strife was “[the former’s]

forgetfulness of his duties as a prelate, being only interested in those

of the general or a politician”, adding that it was “a temptation to

which many clergy succumb”.65

At the beginning of 1707, the Dutch still retained a foothold on the

island, and conflicts with them must have been a source of constant

perturbation for the Portuguese official rulers.66 In fact, the Dutch

were accused of aiding the rebels on several occasions. Fighting

continued to take place (in all likelihood aided by the Dutch),

eventhough as recorded in the assentos of the Council of State of

Goa, surrender was made to the Crown by an important non-native

rebel leader in January 1708. 67 Fresh indigenous and mestiço

uprisings re-erupted in the 1720s. Among the deliberations, the

religiosos were highlighted as a source of concern, in most cases. A

further deliberation also records the presence of hostile religosos on

the island in 1720 along with two others lamenting their excesses in

1715 and 1720, respectively.68 Generally, the lack of ‘progress’ might

be attributed to the religiosos. This can be verified in a case in the

register associated with the Dominicans.69 In a deliberation of 16

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February 1720, the disorders committed were so “incredible and

scandalous” that the Junta dos Missões was to be convened to look

into the matter.70

The religious orders, predominantly the Dominicans, who came

under the jurisdiction of the Diocese of Melaka, had shifted their

base of operation to Timor in 1701. From that time onwards, the

Dominicans were involved in some form of joint jurisdiction of certain

localities on the island in a manner similar to that of the Jesuit

governance in north India.71 Boxer, however, thinks that whether in

terms of public or literary works, the Dominicans “afforded a sorry

contrast to the Jesuits”.72

Despite the political volatility, the years from 1702 were also a period

of administrative maturation. A regimento enacted in that year with

the appointment of the governor spelt out the responsibilities of the

ouvidor, provedor da fazenda, auditor da gente de guerra and juiz

dos orfãos (judge for orphans), as well as the salaries of various

personnel.73 In 1718, judicial matters were assigned to the Bishop of

Melaka when a group of soldiers were found to be derelict in their

religious obligations. 74 However, this re-assignment of jurisdiction

was no doubt the cause of many incidents of unrest in Timor, as

highlighted previously in the registers of the Overseas Council. The

second-in-command under the governor was the tenente-general, a

post exercised by a native. He commanded a largely indigenous

body of troops organized in companies of fifty men each; the

strength of this body was given as 815 in 1737. 75 In terms of

reinforcements, the registers of the Overseas Council record little in

the way of aid being sent from Goa.76 In fact, royal wishes might

have been mixed or only half-hearted, as a letter to the viceroy from

a newly appointed governor affirmed: the Crown was not sending

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socorros to this harsh island in view of the likelihood of them being

lost there. Native leaders who fought on the side of the Portuguese,

who could easily raise “a few thousand men-at-arms”, were part of

that balance of power which allowed the Portuguese to “control” so

many with so few.77 Described by one viceroy, perhaps sarcastically,

the inhabitants were “model subjects because they recognise the

sovereignty of their monarch, when they are governed by men who

oppress them in every possible way although without means to

enforce their authority”.78

In a study on state formation in eastern Indonesia, although not

writing to account for their subjugation, Andaya describes rulers in

this part of the world as “becoming much more like the image the

Europeans projected of kings… dressing like a Portuguese,

speaking (the language) fluently, and governing his realm with

assurance bred of familiarity with that nation”. He adds that this

offers perhaps a good reason for the unlikely Portuguese presence

in Timor.79 This feature is interesting because it shows that the local

elites identified with the values and culture associated with the

centre.

As indicated earlier, the administration tried to build various

fortifications in their fight to quell unrest and defend against the

Dutch. The construction at Lifão followed the style and construction

erected at Mombasa. It was an indication of considerable investment

and a certain level of sophistication in fortifications.80 Yet, the Crown

tried to circumscribe ways the governor could levy revenue from the

locals to fund it. This, on top of the lack of fiscalisation and abuses

must have led to frequent frustration in the maintenance of defence

and supplying of the campaigns.81 In relation to “soft factors”, it can

be argued from the discussion, that while Portugal might not have

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been hegemonic, it was able to apply “soft influence” as long as: i) it

was able to achieve local supremacy over a period of time; and ii) its

religious operatives were simultaneously working in the geographical

areas of interest. It is also in this sense why it is apt that the coupling

of the discussion on cultural-religious enterprises and Timor are

brought together in this chapter.

The business of Timor was invariably tied to the interests of Macao.

Aside from an attempt to set up a more formal administration on the

ground, the Crown tried, among other commitments, to involve the

Macanese in the venture to invest in the sandalwood trade, as well

as to pay for the costs of subjugation. For some time, the Crown

even attempted naval patrols in the vicinity of the island to prevent

Chinese traders from Batavia from reaching Timor. Deliberations in

the assentos of the Council of State at Goa reveal that an occasional

frigate from Lisbon helped with the convoying of ships between

Timor and Macao.82 Macao continued to oblige the dispatch of an

annual voyage to Timor after 1727. It also asserted the unprofitability

of the sandalwood trade (caused by the Crown’s customs duties).

Macao also complained of financial impoverishment caused by the

sponsorship of the embassy to Peking, and the loss of profits arising

from the stoppage of the Manila trade.83

The trade and governance of Macao, including its relations with

China, have been covered in depth in George Bryan de Souza’s

definitive work. 84 From the Crown’s perspective, it tried to form

companies and enrol traders from Macao in them. Realising that the

Crown was merely trying to form a monopoly from which it could

reap taxes, Macao successfully resisted this throughout the period

under investigation. Nevertheless, right up to 1750, two companies,

the Companhia de Macao and the Companhia da Fábrica Real da

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Seda, were formed unilaterally by the centre in an attempt to trade in

the “Far East”. However, the number of ships from the metropole

continued to be sporadic, even though the Estado in India offered

convoy protection against increasing European piratical activities

during the period of the War of the Spanish Succession. In Ericeira’s

instructions to the incoming viceroy, he indicated his awareness that

the Dutch in the “Far East” depended on Portuguese residents at

Macao who were trading increasingly in tea and other goods.85 As

one of the more respected nobles, this information must have been

conveyed to the king himself. Yet, for much of the time, the Estado

da Índia’s preoccupation with its more immediate threats like the

Marathas meant it could not spare any further resources to assert

the Crown’s wishes to bring Macao and other more independent

traders “more in line”. In fact, Boxer has noted that even prior to

1725, the supposed annual trip from Goa was “a purely paper

arrangement… with only two or three instances of (actual) sailing”. A

modern survey of the works and fortifications of Macao noted that

defences had been neglected since the Restoration, and that this

stagnation seemed to continue throughout D. João V’s reign.86 This

observation resonates with the deteriorated Crown’s assertion of

power over this far off colony. For example, while the captain general

had a say over defences, the Senado da Câmara had wrestled

control of the finances. The Crown’s control over revenue that was

linked, for example, with the Manila voyages, was last imposed

during the Habsburg period.87 The causal link between finances and

the defences of Macao, limiting what the Crown and captain general

were able to do, is obvious.

In spite of the remoteness, Luso-Chinese relations, as mooted in

chapter 4, had all along experienced a special kind of interaction –

despite military help being sent to the fallen Ming dynasty, the

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Braganças gradually built a relationship with the succeeding Tartar

Manchu dynasty, despite competition from the Dutch.88 In João V’s

period, the relationship was sealed in the ambassadorial expedition

of Alexandre Metello de Souza e Menezes. Alexandre Metello’s

expedition to China, facilitated in part by various forms of assistance

offered by Macao, exhibited “departures” from other embassies in

terms of the size of the retinue, nature of the allowance paid to it (by

the Ching court), as well as reception protocols. From the Chinese

side, “imperial officials acknowledged to the Portuguese that the

embassy (of the latter) could not be compared with (those) of the

ordinary tribute bearers”, and Alexandre Metello was allowed to

present his credentials (not a routine protocol permitted to other

tribute bearers).89 In more “informal” business to do with China, the

Crown strove to reassert its control (via the padraodo) over religious

bodies evangelising there. An episode worth noting is disruption

caused by the patriach of Antichio. Updates of this can be seen from

the registers of the Overseas Council in the early months of 1707.90

Returning to developments in Macao, we can see from the

deliberations of Overseas Council that the captain general and

officials of the Câmara of Macao never failed to request aid in terms

of soldiers and arms from the centre. An entry of 1719 noted the

demise of the emperor and its possible implications - “the General

and officials of the Câmara of Macao … have heard of the death of

the emperor of China… his son who is likely to succeed him does

not show the same love for the Portuguese nation…”, the entry

ended with “Your Majesty must order aid for this city”.91 On the seas,

the coming of an English barge and associated problems of defence

was also raised.92 Viceroy D. Vasco Fernandes Cesar de Menezes,

in an entry on the council’s registers, gave an update on the success

of a frigate against pirates at Macao. Aside from interest of self-

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defence, the above “action” would have contributed to “foreign

relation” and economic benefits; however “informal” Macao’s status

might have been as a colony.93

It has been argued to this point that active diplomacy and war, as

well as the juggling of finances (and the not-very-savvy efforts at

developing commerce), had underpinned the short-term factors and

helped with the sustenance of the empire in the East. While softer

factors like religion and culture have often been touted as

explanations for long-term survival, state involvement in soft

instruments has usually been overlooked. However, it must be said

that the effects of these state-assisted factors were not always clear

either. At Timor, religious bodies under the auspices of the Crown

made a beachhead for a long-term presence. The increased

squabbling between the Crown-appointed representatives (after

increased commitment) and religiosos gave rise to some ambiguous

results. In terms of the overall thesis, the uncertain outcome in the

short term did not negate the long-term contribution. This is because,

beyond a certain process of dynamics, the inculcation of sympathy in

the people shifted the responsibility of the “sustainer” from the formal

state to the people who unconsciously lived out a Portuguese-

influenced habit or lifestyle which helped to prolong the Portuguese

legacy and presence. Despite the efforts to maintain the Estado,

external crisis in India during the last quarter of D. João’s reign

almost eliminated this colonial front from the imperial inventory. How

successful the effort at crisis management and reviving the Estado

will be the preoccupation of the next chapter.

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Endnotes 1 C.R. Boxer, The Colour Question in the Portuguese Empire 1415-1825 (London, 1961), pp. 113-

14. 2 G.V. Scammell, Ships, Oceans and Empire 1400-1700 (Aldershot, 1995), XII, p. 482. 3 Boxer, The Colour Question in the Portuguese Empire, pp. 102 and 106. 4 Ibid. 5 Ibid. 6 C.R. Boxer, Race Relations in the Portuguese Empire (Oxford, 1963), pp. 69-70. 7 Ibid. 8 M.N. Pearson, New Cambridge History of India (Cambridge, 1987), p. 105. 9 Boxer, The Colour Question in the Portuguese Empire, pp. 127-29. 10 The linkage between “sipães” and “sepoys” is undeniable, the latter is likely to be a derivation

of the former after the British-organised Indian armies gradually became victorious against

indigenous and other European-led armies in India. 11 M. de J. dos Martires Lopes, Goa Setecentista – Tradição e Modernidade (Lisbon, 1999), pp.

101-106. From one perspective, this gap may be understood when one observes that many who

undertook trade did so on a partime basis because of uncertainties of the market. Ashin Das Gupta,

in a compiled volume of his essays, Merchants of Maritime India (Aldershot, 1994), noted that

while merchant groups in India might not be analogous to the guilds in Europe (defined by birth

rather than occupation), the “fallen” in the group were offered help and charity in the community.

See, in detail, essay entries “The Maritime Merchant 1500-1800”, III, pp. 1-15; “Changing Face of

Indian Maritime Merchant”, IV, pp. 353-62 and “Indian Merchants in the Age of Partnership”,

XIV, pp. 28-39. 12 M. Newitt, “East Africa and Indian Ocean Trade” in A. Das Gupta et al (eds.), Indian and the

Indian Ocean (Oxford, 1987), pp. 216-17. 13 Personal conjecture following from Lopes, Goa Setecentista 14 Pearson, New Cambridge History of India, p. 101. 15 J.H. Parry, Trade and Dominion (London, 1971), p. 60. 16 A.L. Ferronha (ed.), Atlas da Lingua Portuguesa na História e no Mundo (Lisbon, 1992), see

especially contribution by R.M. Loureiro on spread of the language in Asia, pp. 92-117. 17 Pearson, New Cambridge History of India, p. 123. Konkani continued to be the rural language. 18 As raised in chapter 3, AHU, Códice 204, f. 298r. 19AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 88v-89r. 20 A. Disney, “Vasco da Gama’s Reputation for Violence”, Indica 32, 1 (1995). 21Athough the French came in the form of a company, the French entity was sponsored heavily by

the state. See D.K. Fieldhouse, Colonial Empires (London, 1965), pp. 152-56. 22 Pearson, New Cambridge History of India, pp. 118-119. 23G.J. Ames, Renascent Empire (Amsterdam, 2000), p. 61. 24Pearson, New Cambridge History of India, p. 120. 25Ibid., p. 126.

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26 P.S. Martinez, História Diplomatica de Portugal (Lisbon, 1969), p. 67. Request, for instance,

for the right to reward nunzio. 27H.V. Livermore, A New History of Portugal (Cambridge, 1976), pp. 209-10. 28C.R. Boxer, The Portuguese Seaborne Empire (London, 1969), pp. 292-93. 29J.H. da Cunha Rivara, Archivo Portuguez Oriental (New Dehli, 1992), p. 133. Transcribed from

Livro dos Monções No 78 fol 58. Here after, referred to as APO. 30APO, p. 241. Transcribed from Livro dos Monções No. 83, f. 190. 31 M. de J. dos Martires Lopes, “Converts, Protegés and Assimilated Natives” in A. Disney and E .

Booth (eds.), Vasco da Gama and the Linking of Europe and Asia (Oxford, 2000), pp. 224 and

228. 32Ames, Renascent Empire, p. 64. 33 Ibid. 34BA, 46-XIII-31, ff. 142r-43v. 35A. Baião, A Inquisição de Goa II (Coimbra, 1930-45), pp. 291-92. 36Pearson, New Cambridge History of India, p. 120. 37 C. Boschi, “Episcopado e Inquisição” in História da Expansão Portuguesa directed by F.

Bethencourt and K. Chaudhuri, p. 385. 38D. Alden, The Making of an Enterprise (Stanford, 1996), pp 584-85. 39Ibid., survey of chapters 17 and 23. 40AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 63r-v and 326v-27r. 41AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, f. 63r dated 11 Jan 1715. 42AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 74r-v. Despite the loss of Melaka to the Dutch in

1640, the town remained under the religious jurisdiction of bishopric of Melaka. The bishopric

was shifted to Timor at the beginning of the 18th century. 43AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, f. 74r dated 21 Feb 1716. 44AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India, ff. 413v-14r. 45AHU, Códice 212, f. 412v. 46AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India, ff. 420v-21r. 47AHU, Códice 212, ff. 417r-v. 48C.R. Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire (London, 1965), p. 140. 49 Ibid., see discussion in chapter 5(b). 50 Ibid. 51 Ibid. 52AHU, Códice 1647, Tratado Politico, Moral etc. sobre India. 53Alden, The Making of an Enterprise. See discussion and analysis for developments leading up to

the event, chapters 17 and 23. 54Robert Lee, “Portuguese Timor on Eve of Pacific War” in A. Disney and E. Booth (eds.), Vasco

da Gama and the Linking of Europe and Asia, pp. 419-36. 55S. Subrahmanyam, Portuguese Empire in Asia 1500-1700 (London, 1993), p. 215 56G.B. Souza, The Survival of Empire (Cambridge, 1986), p. 226.

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57A. Teodoro de Matos, Timor Português 1515-1769 (Lisbon, 1974), pp. 77-87 and 103-104. 58 A. Disney, “Contrasting Models of Empire in South and East Asia in 16th and Early 17th

Centuries” in F.A. Dutra and J.C. dos Santos (eds.), The Portuguese and the Pacific (Santa

Barbara, 1995), pp. 27-28. 59 Ibid. 60Souza in The Survival of Empire gives a clear impression of this substantiated throughout the

book. 61 Ibid., p. 109. 62Matos, Timor Português, pp. 77-102. Solor was given up at the beginning of the Restoration. 63AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India, f. 417v. 64AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 35v-37r. 65Cited in C. R. Boxer, Fidalgos in the Far East (London, 1968), p. 191. 66Matos, Timor Português, p. 124. 67P.S. Pissurlencar, Assentos dos Conselho do Estado V (Goa, 1957), p. 221. Souza, Survival of

Empire, p. 182. 68AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 50v-51r and 124v. 69AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India, f. 435v dated in 1709. 70AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, f. 124v dated 16 Feb 1720. 71Matos, Timor Português, pp. 41-70. 72Boxer, Fidalgos in the Far East, p. 190. 73Regimento do Ouvidor, Auditor da Gente de Guerra, Juiz dos Orfãos, Provedor da Fazenda dos

Defuntos e Ausentes das Ilhas de Solor e Timor e Taxas Salarios dos Oficiais de Justica das

Mesma Ilhas”, transcribed in Matos, Timor Português, pp. 281-96. 74 Matos, Timor Português, pp. 122-23 and 128. 75 Ibid. 76AHU, survey of Códices 212-14. 77 A.F. de Morais, Subsidios para a História de Timor (Bastora, 1934), p. 112. 78 L.Y. Andaya, “Cultural State Formation in East Indonesia” in A. Reid (ed.), Southeast Asia in

Early Modern Era (London, 1993), p. 35. 79 Ibid. 80“Planta da Fortaleza de Lifau” originally from AHU and printed in C.R. Boxer, Antonio Coelho

Guerreiro e as Relações entre Macau e Timor no Coméco do Século XVIII (Macao, 1940), pp. 14-

15. Compare with the plans of fort Jesus in C.R. Boxer and C. de Azevedo, Fort Jesus and

Portuguese in Mombasa (London, 1960), picture print between pp. 86-89. 81Ibid., pp. 121-28. 82Pissurlencar, Assentos dos Conselho do Estado V, p. 209. 83Souza, The Survival of Empire, p. 183. 84Souza in The Survival of Empire. 85BN, Instructions to Francisco José de Sampayo e Castro, Códice 1455, ff. 42r-43r.

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86 F. da Silva Amaro, “Obras de Fortificação de Macau” in Boletim Eclesiástico da Diocese de

Macau. LIX (1961), pp. 540-41. 87 Souza in The Survival of Empire, see discussion in chapter 2. 88 Refer to rivalling ambassadorial missions sent by both Portuguese and Dutch to the Chinese

court in J.E. Wills, Embassies and Illusions (Massachusetts, 1984). 89Relação da Embaixada que D. João V mandou no anno de 1725 ao Imperador da Tartaria e

China, in J. F. J. Biker (ed.), Collecção de Tratados que o Estado da India Fez com os Reis nas

Partes da Asia e Africa Oriental, vol. VI (New Delhi, 1995), pp. 60-172 (CTEA). See also

commentary in J.E. Wills, Embassies and Illusions (Massachusetts, 1984), p. 183. It should be

noted that despite being given “preferential” treatment, Alexandre Metello had voluntarily

performed the kowtow (a series of bowings and prostrations, lying flat on the ground). On the

more “informal” business in China, the Crown strove to maintain its influence on religious bodies

there. An episode worth noting is the upheaval caused by the patriach of Antichio, prompting

advice from the Overseas Council to boycott (see for instance, 4 entries in Códice 203 dated on 2

April 1708). Coincidentally, the Portuguese and the Chinese experienced a change in dynasties at

around the same time i.e. 1640s. On the ground, Macao was probably trying to adjust to changing

political realities there, as well as at home, when it dispatched help to the Mings. The Manchus

tried to court the Dutch in the war against Coxinga but did not seem to bear an obvious grudge

against the Portuguese for the assisting gesture to the preceding dynasty. 90AHU, Códice 212, Consultas acerca India, see for instance, f. 413v. 91AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, f. 103v dated 18 Jan 1719. 92AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, f. 9v. 93AHU, Códice 213, Consultas acerca India, ff. 59r-v.

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CHAPTER 7

BEGINNING OF A REVERSAL? 1741-50

The previous three chapters have attempted to look at the efforts of

the centre through the consultations of the Overseas Council and

other sources in order to understand the survival of the Portuguese

Estado da Índia. The last decade of João V’s reign, ironically when

he was rather incapacitated, seemed to witness some revival for the

Estado. However, even this apparently hopeful construct has to be

seen in context. Following on from chapters 4-6, this chapter will

examine Portuguese initiatives from the centre mainly in terms of

measures relating to war and the political economy and, briefly, “soft

factors”, in order to come to a better understanding of the

Portuguese struggle for survival in the 1740s.

Origins Given the heavy commitments in materiel, men and ships, the failure

of the Mombasa expedition culminating in 1730 dealt a severe blow

to the Estado. Within a few years of the Mombasa debacle, the

Marathas re-initiated hostilities. On the economic front, the company

formed for commerce in India was dissolved in 1720. Other than the

Junta do Comércio Geral, which had been set up to take care of

trade at Mozambique, the previous chapter mentioned of two

attempts to form companies for the trade at Macao. In the wake of

the loss of the Province of the North in 1739, the 1740s saw two

special injections of reinforcements for India. This period is said to

mark the beginning of the New Conquests. In terms of commerce,

serious thought was given to the formation of an East India

company. However, the Estado could ill afford to boost other parts of

its eastern dominions.

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Significantly, while the New Conquests (which are generally defined

as the territories comprising Pernem, Bicholim, Satari, Ponda,

Embarbacem, Cacora, Chandrovadi, Astagrar, Bali and Canacona),

were acquired between 1765 and 1788, 1 the recently-published

Nova Historia Militar de Portugal dates the beginning of New

Conquistas to 1741. This date coincides with the arrival of the Count

of Ericeira, and the reconquest and stabilisation of the “Old

Territories” during his second viceregal term (1741-42). 2 The

instructions given to Ericeira by D. João V, dated in May 1740,

certainly did not preclude the possibility of retaking the North, for the

king advised him that if:

Goa and its districts are [still] not in disgrace and

under threat […] [you are] to put in efforts to

remove [the enemy] [...] as early as possible […]

[and to take] the most suitable measures to

dislodge the enemy in the North […] even if a

peace treaty has been adjusted by the time you

arrive, [you are to] inquire into and examine the

articles and […] see that not a part of the lands

usurped by the enemy is ceded to them […]

[and] if a war ensues, keep it up until everything

comes back to the State.3

The king’s instructions to the Count of Assumar in 1744 were more

circumspect. They expressed awareness of the besieged state of the

Estado around Goa and recognised that the restoration of the North

might not be possible in view of the superior strength of the

Marathas.4 Assumar’s proposal for the reconquest of the North was

rejected by the king on the grounds that the English might intervene

(having acted as intermediaries in the truce of 1739). On the Goan

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front, the count unveiled a project to extend the borders as far as

Gates.5

Campaigns and Diplomacy The short tenure of the Count of Ericeira saw the retaking of parts of

the districts of Bardez and Salcete (sealed in the Treaty of 1742).

The force of the enemy attack also seemed to have slowed on the

news of the death of their de facto military commander, Bajirão. The

state of defence was maintained by the succession of a dynamic

viceroy, the third Count of Assumar (1744-50), who around the

middle of his extended term also initiated his own campaigns.6

Assumar solicited the opinions of his councillors on possible ways to

recover the North.7 One of these proposals, forwarded by a captain

(Caetano de Sousa Pereira), briefly described the array of ideas that

had been debated. Some were in favour of making a payment to buy

the fortresses of Thana and Bassein, while others wanted to use

force of arms to wrest them back. There were other debates

involving the choice of location to be assaulted and the extent of

resources required for such an enterprise.8 According to the captain

who forwarded this report, the expedition could be mounted with no

more than 2,000 men. Including auxiliaries and support, the armada

carrying this expedition would comprise two frigates, four pilot boats,

six machwas and galleys. It would be manned by 600 Portuguese

and 1,000 sipães or native Christian soldiers serving in various

capacities, together with the necessary arms and munitions.9

Captain Sousa Pereira also suggested how the finances required for

the enterprise might be raised, and then went on to argue why the

enemy could not be bought over. It is interesting to note that, to

finance the expedition, reliance was to be made on the commerce of

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Mozambique. He also pointed out that, if peace could be adjusted

with the Marathas, revenues could also be raised from the lands

returned. Finally, he advised that men and monies could be solicited

from local allies like the Bandarins.10 Regarding the futility of trying to

retake the territories by offering money, Sousa Pereira felt that the

key Maratha commanders in the North were confidants of the

successor of Bajirão and that they did not need money as they were

wealthy themselves. Furthermore, he advised that previous

experience had revealed that this method not only required a large

sum of money, but included other costly gifts as well. Finally, in the

captain’s opinion, there was nothing to prevent the enemy from

engaging in treachery and the “usual deception” after payment.11

The captain’s background is interesting. Having followed a decent

career earlier in his life, Sousa Pereira committed some sort of crime

and was tried and imprisoned. However, he soon escaped, and then

some years later surrendered and completed his sentence before

spending the last few years of his life in poverty, it would seem.

Prepared and signed in Goa in January 1745, the year of his death,

one can speculate how much notice or influence this proposal would

have had with the authorities.12

Having explored some debates and ideas on how to salvage the

debacle in India, what were the king’s instructions to viceroy

Assumar, and what concrete actions did they result on the ground?

Orders were given to Assumar to draw on his capacity and

experience; to observe with precise vigilance and caution the

enemies’ movements and to find the means to foment differences

between them.13 With respect to the restoration of the North, the king

believed it was not possible to recover it by means of force at that

moment. As the king noted, regular troops found in the Estado barely

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exceeded 3,000 infantry divided into six battalions, in addition to two

troops of cavalry, sipães, ordenanças (local militias), auxiliaries,

sailors and artillerymen. Even if this had exceeded the allocation for

sustaining the Estado (as permitted by the available finance), the

king acknowledged that the Marathas were still incomparably

superior. The viceroy was therefore to wait for an opportunity such

as the death of a Maratha prince, rebellion or civil war, which would

change the present situation, and then to recuperate peacefully

some or all of the said praças. With regard to Persia, the viceroy was

to re-establish the “ancient friendship”. In relation to the forces of

‘pirate’ Angria as well as the Bounsolos and Marathas who were

uniting with the Melondins, the viceroy was not to take any less care,

because they had numerous ships and were undertaking corsair

activities. With respect to the Europeans, a survey was made of the

different companies: the French and other Europeans were engaging

in contraband trade at Mozambique and on the coast, while the

Dutch maintained their insatiable and undiminished ambitions;

finally, precautions were also to be taken against the English. All in

all, the viceroy was to make alliances with or engage in hostilities

against fellow Europeans when favourable occasions arose.14

As was the case with a number of other grandee viceroys, D. Pedro

Miguel de Almeida Portugal, Count of Assumar, had accumulated a

wealth of military experience in his youth. He had served in various

military positions, from junior commands to general of the cavalry

and governor of arms of one of Portugal’s frontier provinces. Before

being appointed to India, he had also served as a member of the

Council of War (Conselho de Guerra).15 As a prominent aristocrat, D.

Pedro Miguel could demand a noteworthy reward for accepting the

post of viceroy: just before embarking for India, the king bestowed on

him the Marquisate of Castelo Novo. His military experience certainly

206

came in useful when the marquis had to stretch his capabilities in a

still precarious India, and decide where to go on the offensive. He

chose Alorna. According to a letter of 2 November 1746, the marquis

described how Alorna was situated “by a river and was one of the

enemy’s (Bounsulo’s) greatest strongholds”. 16 Its capture would

allow the marquis to march on the enemy strongholds of Rarim or

Bicholim. In the march up to Alorna, the marquis faced many

logistical difficulties. Amongst these, he reported that men carrying

supplies were “of a weak constitution [and] drop everything at the

first report of a musket fire”.17 The operation to take Alorna consisted

of a combined land and sea force advancing separately to make a

simultaneous attack on the fortress. On land, D. Pedro Miguel gave

command of the 4,000 men - organized into six companies of

grenadiers and seventeen of light infantry, on top of 80 horse, 150

artillerymen, 1,000 sepoys and a company of sharp-shooters - to a

French officer. Discounting any marginal changes in military

technology, this force was comparable with that of Afonso de

Albuquerque’s expedition to take Goa. On water, the marquis

gathered twenty-seven vessels of various sizes for the expedition.

The existence of various specialist troop types and the execution of

an amphibious expedition go to prove that the Portuguese in India

were not only maintaining their edge in land-water operations but

also keeping up with the latest military developments in Europe

(exhibited by the different troop types).

However, as D. Pedro Miguel had fewer than 5,000 troops and 1,000

sepoys, he judged his forces to be insufficient to execute a siege,

and chose instead the much riskier and more costly - in terms of

likely casualties - tactic of storming the fortress. Indeed, in deciding

to storm rather than lay siege to Alorna, he was far less likely to

succeed in capturing the stronghold. During the attack his troops

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negotiated the trenches and forced their way through two strong

gates, which exacted a severe toll on the Portuguese side. As D.

Pedro Miguel himself reported, “[o]ur losses were enormous”.18 This

was in part because the enemy was also armed with many muskets

and cannon (which fired grape-shot deadly to infantry). Five hours of

hand-to-hand combat – the “hardest fighting”, as the marquis

admitted – eventually saw the castle fall into Portuguese hands.19

For this feat, the Marquis of Castelo Novo (or Count of Assumar)

was granted a second title of Marquis of Alorna, after the namesake

of his prize. The Portuguese losses (especially of officers) were so

heavy at one point that the troops became rather panicky and

disorganised, prompting the marquis to admit that “[t]he question of

victory or defeat was now in the balance”.20 Ironically, the same

viceroy later lamented how the poor quality of the education and

intelligence of the officers in war frustrated expeditions towards the

end of D. João V’s reign.21 In his later campaigns, the viceroy went

on to take the other enemy fortresses of Bicholim, Tiracol, Rarim,

Neutim, and Carlim, along with a number of their surrounding

villages.22 From the consultations of the Overseas Council, two entries dated

July 1741 reveal that the Marathas was still menacing Bardez and

Salcete, and that there was a need to raise new finances to sustain

defence at a number of places, namely Rachol, Mormugam, Agoada,

Reys and Magos.23 By July of the following year, there were even

discussion to give up a locality to the Bounsulos.24 In the end, while

negotiations were conducted to purchase peace with the Bounsulos,

ideas were simultaneously mooted to form a new company of

cavalry. 25 The homeward bound ship brought documents of the

peace terms discussed to be ‘endorsed’ by the king, and an entry

was made in the register of consultations in February 1743. Against

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Angria, an entry noted that a culpable Portuguese Almirante

surrendered four ships to the enemy. 26 Such incidents are a

reminder of the flux and uncertainty of the situation, even though

peace had just been made with the Marathas in 1740. On the

broader front, it is also worth noting that the reconquests (and later

expansion) were carried out on the promise and concession of

religious freedom to the natives.27 Here, the involvement of the state

in religious initiatives (in conjunction with more ‘secular’ use of raw

power) is worth noting.

On the ground, it may be noted that the initiative to begin a war on

the Bounsulos in 1746 was greeted with a unanimous response from

members of the Council of State in India, although they had

reservations about the justness of war and its timing.28 In a session

of the Goan-based council in October 1748, the king’s approval of

their 1746 decision, especially in view of the successes which

followed, was noted. Acknowledgement was also made of the men

the Casa da ĺndia had been able to send to India, although their

numbers had diminished during the long voyage. By that time, the

Bounsulos were already asking for peace and the viceroy indicated

that troops would retire to Rarim to begin negotiations. For his part,

the viceroy hoped to turn attention back to the North, against Nana

(successor to Bajirão), and asked for suggestions on the matter.29

Though the Maratha threat was a very pressing issue in the Estado,

the Overseas Council was also preoccupied with agendas and

problems in other parts of the Estado. On Mozambique, an entry of

March 1744 by a provedor-mor dos contos (director of accounts)

asked that the Junta do Comércio Geral de Mozambique e Rios be

extended (and not dissolved when its term expired), and that various

items of trade be revived for commerce.30 In March two years later,

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in an update on the praça of Mozambique, viceroy Marquis of

Castelo Novo lamented the excessive dues that were stifling trade,

and asked for supplies to remedy the lack of military resources. In

1748, an entry permitted the Treasury Council of India to increase

the payments made for soldiers in Mozambique.31 At the same time,

French activities in the area continued, as confirmed in two entries

dated January 1746 and 1748. 32 Goa continued to monitor

developments on the coast of Malabar, as can be seen in an entry in

1743 on the war between Travancor and the Dutch.33 The officials of

the Câmara of Goa, who helped to finance and outfit the armada of

the south, also raised concerns over the need to defend the rendas,

and to protect the sea routes from foreign adventurers and

‘pirates’.34 On Timor at the periphery of empire, both the governor

and the religiosos on the island wrote in two separate entries to ask

for more money.35

With tensions between the English and French mounting in India, a

session-in-sitting of the Council of State at Goa in May 1747 is worth

noting because in it, the (English) General of Bombay registered a

protest against a possible wintering of a French squadron at Goa. In

asking for shelter, the French Governor of Pondecheri had also

brought up the prospect of an alliance – pointing out that the

Portuguese stood to re-gain their fortresses in the North after the

French had captured Madrasta and the island of Bombay from the

English. The council members decided unanimously not to give

quarters to the French ships in view of the damage that might result

(probably in terms of the relations with the English, though this is not

specified).36 In terms of reinforcements, the general letters of the Casa da ĺndia

for 1741-50 did not mention the additional reinforcements totalling

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900 men in fifteen companies which were sent in 1748 in five naus.37

However, apart from these reinforcements, there was no change in

the allocation of regular socorros.38 In terms of monetary assistance,

the king’s cabedal allocated to the assistance of the Estado was

recorded in two entries in 1742 and 1743. For these two years, it

amounted to 171,872 and 148,480 reis respectively.39 To end this section, it is appropriate to give a brief survey of the

status of the remaining garrisons in the North, which had suffered

such an acute setback in 1739-40. The king’s instructions to the

Marquis of Castelo Novo commented on the good state in which the

praças of Damão and Diu had been conserved under the Marquis of

Louriçal (the Count of Ericeira, viceroy from 1741-42).40 In Damão

(including the small encampment of Damão Pequeno and stronghold

of Jerónimo) in 1749, the number of white and native troops totalled

774 men. The summary table consulted is interesting because it

makes a distinction between European and white soldiers, as well as

between native soldiers and sipães. Their numbers were pegged at

58, 53, 420 and 130 respectively. The number of artillerymen was

given as twelve. Nearby at Diu, the number of white soldiers, native

soldiers and sipães were maintained at 13, 197 and 110

respectively.41 The differentiation can be seen in this way – in ‘white’

troops, the administration might have made a distinction between

soldiers who were ‘pure’ and from Europe from those who were

‘white’ but ‘mixed’ and were casados. In indigenous troops,

distinction was made between those who served as regulars (i.e. the

sipães) and those who were conscripted irregularly (as in the local

ordenanças or militia).

211

Commerce Despite the classification of 1680-1740 as a transitional period,

scholars like Prakash acknowledge that:

at around 1740, the Dutch East India

Company was still distinctly ahead of its

English rival […] [and] in terms of overall

trading operations […] the situation was only

radically altered by 1789 or so […] with the

greater part of the change taking place after

1760 […].42

Irrespective of whether the Indian economy was progressing or

declining, the English were wresting it from the native hinterland and

coastal powers in a way that neither the Dutch, and certainly no

Portuguese power, were able to effect in their attempted

redistribution. Just as Portuguese commerce there had long

abdicated its share to the private traders, the English monopolistic

company was also relinquishing its share of the market to the

English privateers, whom Furber identifies as the initiators of the

“great commercial revolution” in the Indian Ocean. Gradually, the

English were able to use their newfound political and economic

strength in India to open up other markets in the “Far East”,

specifically China.43

Something of the state of “formal” Portuguese commercial activities

in India is revealed in the opinions (pareceres) addressed to the king

in January 1743 by the provedor and officials of the Casa da ĺndia in

Lisbon (António de Andrada Rego, João Marques Bacalho, António

Sanches Pereira and Diogo de Souza Mexia). From the beginning of

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the account, the authors ascribed the costs and losses in the

fazenda real and decaying commerce to the English and Dutch

companies. Specifically, they claimed, the powerful and rich English

and Dutch companies were reaping Portugal’s share of profits. One

way they achieved this was frequenting other ports such as

Coromandel with their ships. Sweden’s experiences were also

described. On top of the English and Dutch, French participation was

also said to have an impact on trade with Brazil (causing a fall in the

price of tobacco) and Angola. Because of this, the stated alfandega

of Asia was short of money. Furthermore, whatever was carried on

ships was also needed to pay the liberdades (liberty chests or

custom-free allowances) and soldos (salaries) of the seamen and

soldiers. The account also revealed that the purchase of expensive

goods at Goa to satisfy the Carreira returning to Lisbon also caused

losses. A suggestion was made that goods be allowed to go to

Portugal so that prices would remain cheap (by avoiding having to

go through numerous middlemen). The consumption of luxury goods

was to be prevented by law or alvará. As it was, they claimed, the

fazenda was reduced by a quarter because of purchases made at

Goa in which the ships had to pay five per cent to the Casa da Índia,

and three per cent to the consulado (a convoy tax). The remedy they

proposed to prohibit foreign ships from entering Portuguese ports

was in line with the regimento (standing orders) of the Casa da Índia.

Liberdade or concessions could be granted for a certain period to

certain ships. Restrictions were to be put on ships sailing from China

and India via Brazil on the way home (to Portugal), taking into

account the king’s liberdade. Furthermore, foreign companies were

said to be trading in military-related items with enemies (the

Marathas) who had taken Salcete.44

213

The pareceres also proposed some interesting ideas regarding the

formation of a trading company modelled upon that established in

1728. Companies could be formed for certain areas or ports in

imitation of other European models. It was argued that this company

should not fall under the jurisdiction of a prince. A company was also

to be established at Macao, and men of business sent there.

However, it was pointed out that the alfandega (customs house) was

not able to collect dues at Macao. Amongst the conditions proposed, foreigners would be given a period of grace to adjust to this

prohibition, concessions were to be issued for three ships to sail

from Brazil for India annually, and Macanese merchants were also to

be allowed freedom to trade with Coromandel. To revive trade, it was

suggested that freight arrangements on board ships needed to be

reformed. Also, ships going to Portuguese ports were to get a

reduction in dues or offered privileges and merĉes (rewards) by the

alfandega and Casa da Índia. However, English and Dutch vessels

were excluded from these proposals, otherwise, it was argued this

would have implications on produce back in Europe and on goods

produced by the Estado. Out-going ships would also be obliged to

raise soldiers. In short, the pareceres indicated there was a need for

ships, monies and experienced sailors for all ports in Africa and Asia.

A remedy in the form of fazenda (here, referring to revenue) was

also needed for the maintenance of fortresses. At Mozambique, it

was argued that the Junta da Administração (Administrative

Committee) managing trade there did not boost commerce a great

deal. On the whole, in tracing the chronology of companies and

committees formed (the Portuguese East India Company of 1628,

the Company of Macao, 45 and the shortlived Junta do Comércio),

the report argued that privatisation did not do well, and even asked

if liberation of commerce was leading to disorder. In the end, the

authors requested the company be permitted to carry powder and

214

arms, and they also asked for a concession for six years for the

Estado da Índia to be exempted from making contributions from the

fazenda of Asia.46

It may just be coincidental that the provedor and officials of the Casa

da ĺndia had been asked to give an opinion about the formation of a

company at this time (that is, some time prior to January 1743). As

we shall see, shortly before this the ambassador to London had also

submitted a report on the matter, though it is unlikely that the two

submissions were directly linked. The other preoccupations of the centre over India are revealed in the

instructions of 1744 that João V gave to the Marquis of Castelo Novo

(the Count of Assumar). The viceroy was told to apply the

“necessary means” in order to re-establish the rents and decaying

commerce of the Estado da Índia. Apparently, the ordinary and war

expenses had exceeded receipts (which stood at 310,000 xerafins).

The king also suggested that more procuradores (representatives) of

the Three Estates (of nobles, clergy and commoners) be appointed

in Goa to raise additional finances (a group of representatives had

been established in the Province of the North). He made further

suggestions about ways of raising money. The first was by

introducing a tax on goods – on urracas and velorio (grapes) – while

income could also be gained from tobacco. New taxes were also to

be levied on goods from Mozambique (ivory and gold) in order to

cover the shortfall in other areas. In a further measure to raise

money, the viceroy was told to establish a cloth industry to augment

public rents. Moreover, the Crown was puzzled as to why there was

no excess monies to be remitted home, since the eastern dominions

had been reduced to Goa, Salcete, Bardez, Diu and Damão. With

fewer places to maintain, the king clearly expected to make some

215

savings from the royal fazenda. In an effort to reduce expenses, the

viceroy was told to reduce all that was opulent. In terms of trade, the

viceroy was to promote the interests of commerce for the

conservation of the Estado, and brief mention was made of a project

to form a company. The king suggested that commerce could be

encouraged by prohibiting the consumption of fazendas (wealth) and

generos (goods) from Asia. Specific instructions were also given to

separate the receipts of aid and rents (rendas), as well as the rents

of the Câmara of Goa from those of the general fazenda of the

Estado. He ended by saying that a frigate of war might be offered to

assist – clearly to protect – trade.47

In chapter 5, discussion was initiated regarding the admirable

formation of a company in India during the Restoration, but support

for it had been withdrawn at the end of that war. For the remaining

almost half century of the rule of Pedro II, the company seemed to

have lapsed into a defunct state, only to be abolished in 1720.48

Attention was then shifted to East Africa, despite the setbacks of

1698 and 1729, in the hope of reviving the Estado. This gave rise to

a number of juntas directed at managing the commerce there. This

was also achieved with Indian investments from the Province of the

North. However, the crisis of 1739 disrupted the uncertain

arrangements between north India and Mozambique. An interesting

and detailed note written by the Secretary of State, Cardinal da

Mota, reveals that serious thought was given in August 1743 to

salvage commerce in India by forming a company, although what

transpired thereafter is unclear.

Earlier, whilst still based at London, D. Sebastião José de Carvalho

e Melo (later Marquis of Pombal) had prepared a detailed report for

the cardinal on the formation of a company. The issue, however, was

216

not taken up in the Overseas Council.49 The 1742 report began with

a detailed survey of the experiences of privatisation (the formation of

a company) in other states – England, Holland and France, as well

as in the smaller players like Sweden and Denmark. Significantly,

Carvalho e Melo noted the increasing reciprocal dependence

between Robert Walpole and the directors of the English company,

and how bills were passed in parliament to support the latter.

Between the English and the French, the difference between

success and failure was ascribed to whether they had practical and

experienced men who were able to implement the plan (of the

company) on the ground. Carvalho e Melo’s survey came to two

conclusions – firstly, commerce in the East could only be revived by

setting up a “powerful” company; secondly, the company could not

be sustained without giving a free hand to the merchants (a

monopoly was not feasible). Carvalho e Melo urged people to buy

what was necessary directly (and not through a middleman) in order

to avoid losing money. In essence, the “trick” was to sell more and

buy less. He argued that the commercial venture had also to be

grounded in laws and legitimacy. Finally, he pointed out that reliance

on a network was important, and that Portugal’s remaining

infrastructure would come in useful. The revenue gained, he argued,

could be used to maintain ships and garrisons. In the end, even if

Portugal could not match up to England or France, Carvalho e Melo

asserted it could hold its own. The report shows that there were high

officials who were in tune with the latest developments in commerce.

Some of the ideas smacked of mercantilism.50

In his notes on a twelve-point proposal (1743) to establish a

company, which was extensively detailed in parts, the Cardinal da

Mota began by conjecturing the formation of a company that would

be assured by royal documents, and have a constitution and royal

217

protection. The second point referred to the creation of two bodies to

lead it: the Supreme Council of Commerce and a Junta of Directors,

comprising a number of ministers for this commercial enterprise.

Portuguese and foreigners were to be admitted into the company.

For Portuguese nationals, all goods could be traded by anyone, with

no special consideration given to nobles. The fifth point added that

the directors in the Council of Commerce would have privileges and

shared administrative duties. Within the junta, there was to be a

president as well as advisors. The ninth point touched on the

intermediary powers of the viceroy. Point 10 related to the

appointment of a secretary. Six further sub-points related to aspects

of trade and expenses. The last point suggested the possibility of

creating a system to open up commerce in Asia.51 Lack of capital,

interested merchants and political will are some reasons, given in an

entry of the História de Expansão Portuguesa, for the failure of the

scheme to materialise. The formation of a company of commerce of

Asia would only appear three years after the death of João V.

Meanwhile, the Estado continued to remit the usual requests for aid,

and to pass on reports about trade and commerce (and tales of

misdemeanour or corruption) to the Overseas Council. The

consultations of the Overseas Council reveal an occasional entry

asking for aid to be sent for the Estado as a result of the effect of war

on its rendas.52 Between 1741 and 1750, the general letters of the

Casa da ĺndia reveal that ships continued to carry ivory from

Mozambique to India, and that beads and precious stones were

carried in the opposite direction for the feitor of Mozambique.53 The

king maintained his monopoly of spice, but in one entry a reminder

had to be given to the master of a nau that he was not allowed to

have any spice allocation on the voyage home.54

218

Before ending this section, it is appropriate to present some analysis

of the stagnant or failed outcome of “attempted” company formation.

Of the three reasons given above (i.e. to do with the availability of

capital, people and determination), it seems there was no lack of

capital. This capital was available to the king and various

communities at home and abroad (for instance, New Christian and

lançado traders). At home, chapter 3 revealed that D. João V had

little incentive to reform the economy (as a result of the windfall from

Brazil). Much of the new-founded wealth was preoccupied with

grandiose building and religious projects, as well as ventures of

interest closer to home. If the king was not too keen to dwell or

invest in mercantile activities himself, neither his initiatives nor those

of his advisers, it seems, were geared to tap into communities where

financial resources were available. A large part of this failure has to

do with the cultural mentality of the Portuguese (not exactly the

same as the systemic corruption raised by Winius). Where the king

was concerned, his Catholic religious affiliation naturally precluded

the New Christian community, where capital was most available (in

contrast to the more liberal policies undertaken by Pedro II). For the

rest of the Portuguese, any commercial activities they undertook

were afflicted with a “heavier” bureaucratic tinge.55

The argument so far links to the second and third reasons (i.e. lack

of people and political will) offered in the História de Expansão

Portuguesa for why a Portuguese company did not materialise

during João V’s reign. The king or native merchants were either

more interested in other things or interested in trade from a certain

paradigm. 56 Some, like Newitt, refer to this mindset as

patrimonialism.57 Those who argue on the reason of absence of

political will may be clouded by “progressive” Whiggish thinking. The

“enlightened” and “efficient” Pombaline regime was most aggressive

219

in trying to regain markets and businesses encroached upon by

foreigners. Yet, this ended in failure partly because foreign

opposition to this reclamation of ownership was too strong (native

Portuguese, colonial and foreign commercial interests were revealed

to be closely intertwined in the immediate reign after João V).58 The

point here being that, developments in the period of Pombal could

not have materialised instantly. In the same vein, more needs to be

done on the process of the Portuguese privatisation process in the

East during the reign of João V, rather than concentrating on the

outcome and the superficial explanations associated with it (although

this will involve a sizeable project on its own, as chapter 8 will

argue).

D. João V’s Demise Did the demise of D. João V in 1750 matter to the Estado da Índia?

For most natives, the closest experience they had with the Crown

was when the local administrators of the Estado needed to raise

more taxes (for financing projects and wars), or hasten the

production of goods in fulfilment of deadlines for trade and the king’s

liberdades (liberty chests) in homeward-bound ships. Many

administrators and casados engaged in some form of trade to

supplement their income. For the most distant – in other words,

those in Macao – the king’s wishes were heard but not necessarily

obeyed most of the time. Yet, the colony was never totally detached

from the centre. Another deeper way in which native inhabitants

identified with the centre was through the king’s sponsorship of the

padroado (Crown patronage of the Church). Aside from personal

motivations, grandee viceroys probably experienced the closest

connection with the Crown. The demise of the king meant that aides

and appointees of the previous monarch might be disfavoured, as

occurred for example, in the downfall of Alexandre de Gusmão and

220

the rise of Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo (later, Marquis of

Pombal) with the succession to the throne of José I (r. 1750-77).

D. João V’s stakes in India have been discussed earlier in chapter 3.

Stemming from the consequence of the Treaty of Tordesillas (1494),

which determined that was to be discovered in the New World was

divided along the meridian 370 leagues west of Cape Verde,59 the

issues between Spain and Portugal were not resolved satisfactorily

at the Peace of Utrecht (1715). Only under the dynamic leadership of

Alexandre de Gusmão, the Treaty of Madrid concluded in 1750

traded exchanges in privileges and territories in the Americas;

beyond the New World, Portugal would give up its claims in the East

in the Philippines. On the whole, the 1750 treaty concerned the New

World, and it seemed to show the extent to which any remaining and

secondary aspirations or interests in the East might be given up to

secure as much of the Americas as possible. However, from a gain-

loss perspective, the Portuguese did not have a foothold in the

Philippines and the ‘exchange’ did not really mean much.

Significantly, the tensions between Macao and Manila did not affect

former’s status.60

At the end of D. João V’s reign, a glimpse of the overall situation of

India can be seen from the instructions of the Marquis of Alorna

(1744-50) to the Marquis of Távora (1750-54): the coast of Canara

and Malabar remained important because of their resources. With

regard to the Estado’s more immediate neighbours, the report was

clear about who were its enemies and who were its friends – Sunda

was friendly, Angria “reasonable”, Maratha received a mixed

reaction, while Bounsulo was the enemy or potential enemy. As for

the Europeans, Holland was portrayed as the irreconcilable enemy,

England was “not good”, France was friendly and Spain was “good”.

221

On the economic situation and the periphery, Alorna indicated that

useful commerce was undertaken by Macao and involved the

exchange of silver from China and fine cloth from Bengala, as well

as Coromandel, for which the Portuguese had neither treaty nor

correspondence.61

Despite on-going tensions, India had been effectively stabilised, even though the Provinces of the North could not be regained. The

“reconquest” had secured Goa and its vicinity from total collapse.

The Portuguese remained in Mozambique and Timor in spite of

increasing hostility and unrest by both Europeans and natives. The

attempt to form another company in India to revive trade had failed

to progress beyond the drawing board.

As for the Overseas Council, it had finally been given its president

after going through nearly two-thirds of João V’s reign without one.

The Council had experienced a change in its role in the period 1707-

50. It was to be further marginalised in the second half of the

eighteenth century.

In summing up, the last decade of João V’s reign saw the service of

three viceroys and an interim administration. Barely a century after

the Restoration, the Estado da Índia faced another life-threatening

crisis, this time, from an indigenous enemy – the Marathas. At a

grander strategic level, the Portuguese continued to collaborate with

Persia outside India. Although not obvious, the challenge from other

Europeans in depriving the Portuguese of trade had affected

revenue adversely, both for the Crown and for the sustenance of the

Estado. This was in addition to the significant loss of revenue from

the collapse of the Portuguese Province of the North. Ideas to

222

establish a company for increasing trade and revenue failed to

progress beyond a detailed proposal. The reconquest and

stabilisation of the “Old Territories” begun in 1741 may be seen as a

precursor of the 1765-88 “New Conquests”, but in reality, it was not

coherently conceived in conjunction with the latter. João V’s

instructions to Castelo Novo, as well as the consultations of the

Overseas Council on a range of matters, show that the king was

interested in India only as a statesman would attend to routine

business. For reasons of personal enrichment and nostalgia, the

king was unwilling to give up these lesser-priority dominions, but

neither would he invest much more in them. At the end of João V’s

reign, the external environment facing the Portuguese in India was

not any less vicious compared to the seventeenth century (a

supposed period of nadir for the Portuguese in the East), but the

Estado da ĺndia had staved off total disintegration, due in no small

part to the administration on the ground, as well as to the crucial aid

provided from the centre during the last decade of João V’s reign.

223

Endnotes 1 M. Lobato, “A Guerra dos Maratas” in A.M. Hespanha (ed.), Nova Historia Militar de Portugal

(Lisbon, 2004), p. 329. See also M. de Jesus dos Mártires Lopes, Goa Setecentista (Lisbon, 1999),

p. 17. 2 Lobato, “A Guerra dos Maratas”, p. 373. 3 P.S. Pissurlencar, Portugueses e Maratas (Bombay, 1975), p. 460. 4 Instructions of D João V to Count of Castelo Novo, in J. F. J. Biker (ed.), Collecção de Tratados

que o Estado da India Fez com os Reis nas Partes da Asia e Africa Oriental VI (New Delhi,

1995), p. 247. Here after, referred to as CTEA. 5 M. Lobato, “Guerra dos Maratas” in Barata M.T. et al directed, Nova Historia Militar de

Portugal II, p. 328. 6 A. Zuquete, Tratado de Todos os Vice-Reis da India (Lisbon, 1962), p. 183. 7 Pissurlencar, Portugueses e Maratas, p. 463. 8 C. R. Boxer, “O Plano de Reconquista da Provincia do Norte”, Boletim do Instituto Vasco da

Gama, 29 (1936), pp. 4-5. 9 Boxer, “O Plano de Reconquista”, pp. 9-10. 10Ibid., pp. 6 and 9. 11Ibid., pp. 4-5. 12Ibid., p. 2. 13Instructions to Castello Novo, in CTEA VI, pp. 243-62. 14 Ibid. 15Zuquete, Tratados de Todos as Vice-Reis e Governadores da India, pp. 182-83. 16 A partial translation of Assumar’s letter can be found in F.C. Danvers, Portuguese in India –

Being a History of the Rise and Decline of Their Eastern Empire (London, 1894), pp. 418-21. 17 Ibid. 18 Ibid. 19 Ibid. 20 Ibid. 21Instructions to Távora, in CTEA VI, pp. 329-44. 22Lobato, “A Guerra dos Maratas”, p. 328. 23AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 3r-4r. 24AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 5r-v. 25AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 7r-8r. 26AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 13v-14r. 27See Boschi C, “Episcopado e Inquisição” in História da Expansão Portuguesa directed by F.

Bethencourt and K. Chaudhuri, pp. 372-92. 28Originally from the Livro das Monções No. 119, f. 217, from the then Arquivo Histórico do

Estado da India Goa (now the Historical Archive of Goa). Transcribed and printed in Pissurlencar

(ed.), Assentos do Conselho do Estado (de Goa), V, pp. 590-96. Here after, referred to as ACEG

V.

224

29 ACEG V, pp. 600-605. Originally from Livro das Monções No. 121A, f. 239. 30AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 21v-23r. 31AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 40v-42v and 51r-52v. 32AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 37v-38v and 49r-50v. 33AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 17v-18r. 34AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 29v-30v. 35AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 37v-38v and 49r-50v. 36 ACEG V, pp. 596-600. Originally from Livro das Monções No. 120B ff. 444r-46v. 37C. Selvagem, Portugal Militar (Lisbon, 1931, republished in 1994), pp. 470-471. 38AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais que vão / vem da India, survey ff. 91v-139v. 39AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais…, ff. 99r-100v and 109r-110r. 40Instructions to Castello-Novo, in CTEA VI, pp. 243-62. 41BN, Reservados, Códice 4179, “Colleção de Manuscritos acerca do Estado da Índia e suas

Fortalezas 1741-50”. 42O. Prakash, New Cambridge History of India – European Commercial, p. 268. 43Ibid., pp. 286-97. 44BN, Reservados, Códice 675, “Parecer do Provedor da Índia sobre Decadençia do Comerçio da

Asia”, ff. 235-51. 45 In an entry in História da Expansão Portuguesa (Lisbon, 1998), p. 46, the Macanese company

(according to V.M. Godinho) was transformed into the “Company of Macao” and was still in

existence in 1717. 46Códice 675, “Parece do Provedor da India…”, ff. 235-51. 47Instructions to Castello-Novo, in CTEA VI, pp. 243-62. 48G. D. Winius, “Portuguese companies in times of crisis 1628-62” in G. D. Winius (ed.), Studies

in Portuguese Asia (Aldershot, 2001), II, pp. 119-34. Originally published in L. Blusse and F.

Gaastra (eds.), Companies and Trade (The Hague, 1981), pp. 119-34. 49A survey of Códice 214 (AHU) containing entries from 1740-50 confirms this. 50S. J. de Carvalho e Melo, Escritos Económicos de Londres by Sebastião José de Carvalho e

Melo. Introduction and annotations by J. Barreto (Lisbon, 1986), pp. 133-58. 51BN, Collecção Pombalina, Códice 735, “Plano da Companha da India”, ff. 3-8. 52AHU, Códice 214, Consultas acerca India, ff. 24v-25r. 53AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais…, f. 117v. 54AAL, Códice 47, Cartas Gerais…, ff. 131r-32v. 55 Laisser faire ideas had not emerged prominently and even when they did, the English

experimented with monopolies in the form of, for instance, the E.I.C, till the 1830s and beyond. 56 Viceroys and officials in the Estado da Índia took what opportunities presented to them to

enrich themselves too. 57 M. Newitt, A History of Portuguese Overseas Expansion (New York, 2005), p. 185. 58 See K. Maxwell, The Paradox of Enlightenment (Cambridge, 1995), see chapters 3, 4 and 5

detailing attempted reform developments.

225

59The Spanish were to have whatever that was to the west to this line and the Portuguese whatever

to the east. 60See L. F. de Almeida, Alexandre de Gusmão, o Brasil e o Tratado de Madrid (Coimbra, 1990). 61A. da Silva Rego, O Ultramar Português no Século XVIII (Lisbon, 1970), pp. 89-94.

226

CHAPTER 8

CONCLUSIONS

The subject of this thesis lies at the intersection of several distinct –

though at times overlapping – topics and themes relating to

Portuguese India. The thesis began with a survey of the literature in

these areas – in particular, decline and survival of Portuguese India,

eighteenth century Luso-Indian studies, empire and colonisation

studies and centre-periphery studies. A number of gaps were

identified at the beginning of the thesis.

The Overseas Council has been insufficiently studied, and its

association with the Portuguese East has often been under-

emphasised, and as a result, its documents in this area have been

under-utilised. Because the Council was part of the metropole, this

means that either studies on linkages between the centre and the

eastern periphery have been ignored, or else their arguments are

assumed to have been dealt with adequately in terms of the

ideologically-clouded developmental or world system theories.

Meanwhile, Portuguese and non-Portuguese historians have

concentrated either on the glorious period or on the decline; it is only

towards 2000 that study of the revival and the post-Restoration

period have begun to receive attention. While area studies abound,

there is no holistic treatment for the formal Estado da Índia in the first

half of the eighteenth century.

227

Accordingly, this thesis had a number of objectives, namely:

a) to analyse the centre and leadership in the first half of the

eighteenth century according to Shils’ holistic framework;

b) in terms of the formal Estado da Índia, to look into the instruments

of state (diplomacy and war), issues relating to the general financing

of the Estado and promotion of trade in Mozambique, as well as the

“soft” instruments of intervention in culture, religion and language.

c) to look separately at Portuguese sub-imperialism in Timor, as well

as the Portuguese reconquest campaign in India.

Chapter 2 provided the background to the thesis. At a global level,

the limits of technology which placed constraints on travel and

communication, and hence on the degree of control, were

highlighted along with other “transitional” technological

developments. The chapter began by providing a brief background

on metropolitan Portugal. More importantly, an analysis was made of

developments during the last twenty years of the seventeenth

century in the Estado da Índia, corresponding roughly to the

monarchical rule of Pedro II (1683-1706). This period, incidentally,

has also been relatively neglected. The Estado da Índia might have

revived (as Ames has argued) or continued to decline, but the flurry

of activities to keep its head above water remained undiminished. In

the spirit of the more holistic approach advocated by Russell-Wood,

the interactive links of the Estado with Brazil were explored – in

particular, the debates arising from time to time on how India and

Brazil could have possibly tapped into each others’ markets and

resources, without compromising the interests of the Crown.

228

Chapter 3 highlighted the evolving nature of the politico-

administrative structure during the reign of D. João V. The

personalised nature of rule led to a narrowing of consultation at the

apex, and expansion of the base (partly in tune with early modern

bureaucratisation). This chapter revealed how the Overseas Council

became ‘marginalised’ to some extent, although substantial matters

continued to be delegated to this body via trusted favourite-

administrators. At the same time, an examination of the founding

regimento of the Overseas Council using available evidence to hand

revealed that the Council faced its own internal struggles. The

Council and its forerunners had undergone a long evolutionary

process, almost in parallel with the discovery and exploration of the

East (from the end of the fifteenth century). The viceregal institution

was depicted as part of the centre, with the top echelons imbued

with the “core values” of that centre, although the resistance and

detachment correlating to the distance from the centre was also

recognised (and substantiated in later chapters).

Chapter 4 analysed the diplomatic and military instruments of state

that were used by the Estado da Índia to ensure its survival vis-à-vis

those it came into contact with. While this thesis does not contradict

earlier findings that the Estado was more prone to aggression, it

found it was almost perpetually engaged in conflict because of

powerful adversaries. These sometimes emerged simultaneously in

different theatres – for example, the Marathas and the Omanis. Even

Portugal’s allies, the English, were not to be trusted entirely in the

periphery and colonies. Although external relations, war, economic

issues and religion were treated separately in the chapters of this

thesis, the treaties negotiated to secure advantages strove to secure

territorial as well as economic and religion-related objectives. Forged

in the still nascent Westphalian international system, the treaties

229

were also reminiscent of extraterritorial agreements imposed by

nineteenth-century Western imperialist states. The analysis of

military engagements within and outside India confirms that the

Portuguese were not incapacitated, but kept up to date with some of

the latest European practices, though they also found themselves

incessantly constrained by shortages. In the end, it seems clear that

it was this keeping pace with modern military developments, and

juggling diplomacy with the option of war, plus some crucial

reinforcements from home, which enabled the Estado da Índia to

survive during the period under investigation from 1707 to 1750.

Chapter 5 looked in some detail at the instruments of commerce and

revenue collection. It concluded that, although the Portuguese were

located in the prosperous international economy of the Indian

Ocean, because of their unchanging and complacent attitude they

were unable to tap into it. Specifically, estrangeirados like Ericeira,

along with the second and lower-tier nobility, expected to make their

fortunes there. It is clear that, had it not been for the quest for

personal gain, the Estado da Índia would have emerged with better

balances. In terms of the structure of revenue, the shift in the nature

of receipts which began in the second half of the seventeenth

century continued – that is, rents formed a greater proportion of total

revenue by then, although trade continued to occupy a sizeable,

though diminishing, portion of receipts. At Mozambique, an important

focus of the attempted revival along the coast and inland, the Junta

do Comércio ended in dismal failure owing to the same commercial

ineptitude.

Chapter 6 turned to the Portuguese state intervention in culture and

religion. These are sometimes regarded as “soft instruments”. This

chapter showed that the Portuguese state injected significant

230

resources into these. They had mixed effects in the short term on the

fortunes of the Estado, but in the longer term, they laid the

groundwork for colonisation. In the manner of a “civilising mission”,

the Portuguese often did not make any distinction between religion

and cultural identity and customs. Despite their presumption of

superiority, the Portuguese cultural policy was one of expediency at

times – for example, castes were tolerated when it was found they

were too deep-seated to be changed, or when native soldiers

needed to be recruited according to their sub-castes. If the

Portuguese racial or cultural policy was in a state of self-denial, the

religious institutions had stronger and clearer agendas, backed by

state support (through the padroado real). In fact, it was religion

(coupled with the lengthy stay of the Portuguese from the end of the

fifteenth century) that facilitated the spread of language, which in

turn helped to ensure the continued existence of small outlying

communities. While in many cases the genuineness of the

conversions to Catholicism might be questionable, the process,

nevertheless, helped instil acceptance for the Portuguese to remain,

long after the feitoria and fort had been dismantled. The case study

of Timor shows that, aside from the more formal imposition of power

by the centre at the beginning of the eighteenth century, the

religioso-administrators formed important pillars for the Portuguese

resilience on the island. This, hand-in-hand with cultural influence

and alliance-forming, ensured that the Portuguese stay in an area

relatively near to the Dutch centre of power at Batavia, even though

Crown trade in the “Far East” might not be boosted appreciably.

Chapter 7 turned the focus back to India to re-examine the origins of

the “New Conquests”, and found that they were not intentionally

linked in any way to the major initiatives of Pombal in the post mid-

eighteenth century, despite their beginnings being dated to 1741.

231

However, Ericeira (viceroy 1741-42) did put a halt to the complete

collapse of the Portuguese presence in India in the immediate post-

1739 period. The impulse of his successor as viceroy, Assumar, to

reach Gates presents the strongest evidence yet of the existence of

a grandiose and coherent project. What can be said is that the

viceroys were told to look out for opportunities, and to exploit the

situation whenever the chance arose. On the economic front,

discussions at the highest level to form a company in India did not

progress beyond a mere proposal, even though notes by the

Cardinal da Mota reveal details of what seems to be the standing

order for one. The end of this chapter shows that, while D. João V’s

death probably did not affect the local populace that profoundly, the

Portuguese remnants in the East survived in no small measure due

to the capable leadership he placed on the ground (especially

military), as well as the rather generous support provided by the

centre during the last ten years of João’s reign. It must be said that

D. João V was probably as “fortunate” as he was “magnanimous”.

Without the wealth from his South American empire, he would not

have been able to engage in any grand scheme, let alone sustain a

dilapidated East which was probably not earning a substantial return

for the cabedal he invested in it. That said, no concrete evidence has

yet been found to show that the riches from the West were actually

channelled to support the East.

In terms of the overall study, the nature of the sources employed,

largely those from the archives in Lisbon, presented certain limits in

itself. The approach of the study in seeing events from the centre

and those closest to the core meant that the large number who

operated “informally” outside royal sanction did not receive fair

treatment. Had time permitted, material from the Goan archives,

232

particularly the Monsoon Books, would have allowed a more

complete picture to be built up of the rule of the individual viceroys.

Needless to say, the process of research in this largely virgin area

has opened up other potential research topics:

a) From chapter 3, the linkages of the nobility and their factional

alignment in the first half of the eighteenth century requires further

research to see if these had policy effects on the colonial enterprise

in the East.

b) From chapter 4, the rise of the native military, especially the

sipães, as well as campaigns they were involved in, are worthy of

further analysis.

c) From chapter 5, further research is needed to reveal the process

and detailed causes for the failure of the attempted Portuguese

company to come to fruition.

d) From chapter 6, the attitude of the Portuguese leadership towards

the state and civilisation of China in the eighteenth century awaits

further investigation, given the continued relations between them.

e) Lastly, from chapter 7, the last ten years of D. João V’s reign

require a deeper investigation given that certain aspects of state and

colonial enterprise continued to be relatively “well run”, in spite of the

king’s illness.

Returning to the main question posed at the beginning of this thesis

– how can the survival of formal Portuguese India in the first half of

the eighteenth century be explained? This study has shown that the

233

Portuguese leadership did play a significant role. While debates may

arise about the degree to which groups at various levels of

leadership embrace the “core values” of the centre, this thesis has

also shown that formal instruments of state (war, trade and

diplomacy) were partly responsible for the survival of the Estado.

The scope of the study did not permit a wider investigation of the

leadership itself, and at times, the outcomes of “soft” or “informal”

instruments were far from clear. If these could be married with an

illumination of the activities of private and informal enterprises east

of India for this period, a fuller picture of the Portuguese East would

emerge.

“E, se mais mundo houvera, lá chegara”1

1 Os Lusiadas, VII, 14, viii. An approximate translation would be: “And, if there were more to the

world, they would have reached it”.

234

GLOSSARY

A Arroba Unit of weight; equivalent to 32 arrateis Arratel Unit of weight; equivalent to 14-16 onças or 2.2 kg Armada do Alto Bordo Fleet; of high sea; __ do remo refers to that of galleys Alfandega Custom-house Almirante Admiral Alvará Royal decree; valid for period of at least one year Aposentado Pensioner

B

C Consulado Association of merchants Companhia da Fabrica Real da Seda Royal Company and Factory of Silk Candy Unit of weight; variable; equivalent to 3 heavy quintais 3 arrobas in Canara Cabedal Wealth Cartaz Ship’s license Cafila Convoy of merchants Chouto Capitão de Mar e Guerra Captain of Sea and War; rose to rank from non fidalgo origin Carta de Poder Commission; similar to Carta Patente Casa da Supplicação High court of appeal Conselho Council Casa da Moeda Royal mint Casa da Guiné House of Guine Casa da India India House; located in Lisbon Casa dos Escravos House of Slaves Carreira da India Round voyage between Lisbon and Goa Câmara (Senado da) Municipal or town council

D Dízimo Tithe of one-tenth Degredado Exiled criminal or convict Desembargo do Paço Council of Justice Desembargador Magistrate or judge of high court Direito Due

E Estado da ĺndia State of India; loosely applied to all Portuguese settlements between Cape of Good

Hope to Japan Executor Person in-charge of collecting debts and rents Escrivão Scribe

F Freguesião Parish Furo / Foro Land rent Fragata 40-50-gun warship in early eighteenth century; also refer to small oared

vessel Fama Reputation; __ do valor refers reputation for fame Feitoria Factory; trading agency or settlement, sometimes fortified Feudo Feudal benefice; tribute Fidalgo Nobleman Fazenda a) treasury; b) property –goods etc Fortaleza Fortress Fiel Servant

G Grande High noble

H

I

J Junta de Administração Ad hoc committee of administration Junta do Comércio Geral de Mozambique e Rios

Committee for commerce of Mozambique and Rivers

Juiz do Guiné Legally-trained magistrate of Guine Juiz de Fora Judge of lowest rank

K

235

L Liberdade Concession granted in the form of space onboard ship; likened to duty free

cargo Lançado Fugitive Letrado University graduate; usually a lawyer Libra Pound weight

M Manchua Small vessel used by Portuguese in the east; “resembling little frigate” Misericórdia, Santa Casa da Holy House of Mercy; a lay fraternity providing charity Mouro Moor; loosely used by Portuguese to refer to all Muslims Morador Settler or colonist Mesa da Consciência e Ordens Board of Morality and (Military) Orders Merĉe Royal gift Mestiço Mixed blood Meirinho Bailiff; legal official with certain powers of arrest

N

O Onça Unit of weight; equivalent to 28 g Ouvidor Senior Crown judge in high court

P Prazo Land or right granted in a contract; use of term specific to Zambesia Praça Fortified stronghold Presidio Fortress Padroado Real Royal patronage of church overseas Pimenta Pepper Provedor Superintendent or comptroller Procurador Person with power of attorney Processo Suit; conducted by Jesuits in Inquisition Porteiro Porter

Q Quintal Unit of weight; heavy quintal = 128 arrateis of 16 onças each or 58.7 kg

R Religioso Member of monastic order Real (plural : reis) Smallest Portuguese monetary unit Relação High court of justice; Mesa da __ refers to the Board Regimento Standing orders; instructions; rules and regulations Repartição da India e Armazens Department of India and Warehouse Ribeira Shipyard Roteiro Sailing directions

S Sipãe Native soldiers on regular or more permanent employment by Portuguese Socorro Aid or relief Secretário dos Despachos e Coisas da India Secretary of Dispatch and Things of India Sibandar Administrative head of town

T Tenente-General Lieutenant-General Tença Tax or tithe of one-third Terço Military regiment; at full strength = 3000 men Tesoureiro Treasurer

U

V Vedor da Fazenda Superintendent, comptroller or treasurer Valido Confidant of king

W

X Xerafim Indo Portuguese monetary unit; equivalent to 300-360 reis

236

LIST OF GOVERNORS AND VICEROYS 1668 – 1750

Luís de Mendonça Furtado e Albuquerque 1671-1677

Pedro de Almeida Portugal 1677-1678

Francisco de Távora 1681-1686

Rodrigo da Costa 1686-1690

Miguel de Almeida 1690-1691

Pedro António de Noronha de Albuquerque 1692-1698

António Luís Gonçalves da Câmara Coutinho 1698-1701

Caetano de Melo e Castro 1702-1707

Rodrigo da Costa 1707-1712

Vasco Fernandes César de Meneses* 1712-1717

Sebastião de Andrade Pessanha 1717

Luís Carlos Inácio Xavier de Meneses* 1717-1720

Francisco José de Sampaio e Castro 1720-1723

Cristovão de Melo 1723

João de Saldanha da Gama 1725-1732

Pedro Mascarenhas* 1732-1741

Luís Carlos Inácio Xavier de Meneses 1741-1742

Pedro Miguel de Almeida Portugal* 1744-1750

Francisco de Assis de Távora 1750-

*Vasco Fernandes César de Meneses – first Count of Sabugosa; Luís Carlos Inácio Xavier de Meneses – fifth Count of Ericeira; Pedro Mascarenhas – first Count of Sandomil and Pedro Miguel de Almeida Portugal – forth Count of Assumar, Marquis of Castelo Novo as well as of Alorna.

237

TABLES (For Chapter 5)

Table 1 Revenue (ix) Alfandega

Relating to Feitor

Rendas & Foros

Camara

Ecclesiastical Others (i) Miscellaneous

Goa 421,492 169,383 1,233,028 Salcete 48,757 217,525 21,533 Chaul 127,268 15,913 1,033 Bassein (ii) 302,441 585,523 Mozambique 71,033 (iii) 655 (iv) 139,362Congo (v) 84,000 Mangalor (vi)27,443

Table 2 Expenses

Defence / Military

Naval / Maintenance

Non-Military Transactions & Maintenance

Ecclesiastical Others Miscellaneous

Goa 333,424 503,357 30,575 14,314 Salcete 20,923 260,695 Chaul 116,765 11,850 9,304 3,043 Bassein 372,676 39,150 54,200 Mozambique (vii) 211,135 2,886 10,190 Congo 8,251 57,268 Mangalor (viii) 1,824 12,498 12,125

Table 3 Total / Tally

Receipts Expenses 01 from feitor Goa 1823903 1823903 of feitor Goa 0102 from thezoureiro Estado 830384 830384 of thezoureiro Estado 0203 from Salcete 287616 287616 of Salcete 0304 from Bardez 106580 106580 of Bardez 0405 from Chaul 153616 153616 of Chaul 0506 from Baçaim 907449 907449 of Baçaim 0607 from Damão 684750 684750 of Damão 0708 from Dio 240278 240118 of Dio 0809 from Mossambique 225774 225774 of Mossambique 0910 from Congo 84000 84000 of Congo 1011 from Mangalor 27443 27444 of Mangalor 1112 from Senna 39499 39796 of Senna 1213 from Angediva 64975 64975 of Angediva 1314 from Senn°’s convoy Canara (x) 84654 84654 of Senn°’s convoy Canara 14Total 5560927 5561064 Total

Source : Recenceamento Receitas e Despesas da India Cod 475 AHU i Figures are not entered unless they relate to notable persons or institutional bodies of interest. Gaps in totals are accounted for here. ii The figure includes non-custom related transactions and business of the feitor. iii Figure presumably excludes revenues from inland prazos. iv This figure was contributed by the Junta do Comerçio. v This figure was contributed by the sibandars of Persia. vi Rents were collected from lagimas and foros collected from chaos and vagas. vii Figure omitted here because overall add-up does not tally; possibly due to inherent flaw in records viii Duration covered : Mangalor (Dec) 1719-23 (Jan); Congo (Jun) 1716-19; Mozambique (Mar) 1717-

20 (Feb); Bassein (Mar) 1719-22 (Feb); Chaul (Feb) 1718-21; Salcete (Jul) 1717-20 (Aug); Goa (Sep) 1719-22

ix Figures rounded off to nearest whole values in xerafins. x Senn° - Sennado

238

Table 4 Census Year

Place 1721 1753

Islands 70,000 58,000

Bardez 65,000 76,000

Salcete 73,000 73,000 Source : Sobre a População de Goa e Angediva 46-XIII-31 BA M. Lopes, Goa Setecentista (Lisbon, 1999), pp 79, 85 and 91; tables 1, 3 and 13. Map-Statistics

Source : K. Chaudhuri, Trade and Civilization in the Indian Ocean (Cambridge, 1985), map 18, pp. 186-87.

Legend

bulk and low-value goods luxury and high-value goods gold and silver

Further Details 1 silk, arms, glass, pottery, paper wheat, fruits, timber, etc.

2 ivory, precious stones, incense, etc. fruits, nuts, coffee, indigo, etc.

3 silk, pearls, *horses, brocades, etc. salt, fish, dates

4 silk, beads, muslins, cloth, onyx wheat, rice, tobacco, indigo, etc.

5 cloth, cinnamon, sandalwood, etc. *pepper, nuts, timber, coconut

6 cloth, diamonds, swords, steel, etc. rice, dyewood, etc.

7 silk, cloth, opium, etc. rice, sugar, saltpetre, etc.

8 rubies, elephants, etc. timber

9 silk, porcelain, lacquerwork, etc. gold

10 copper silver

11 ivory, *horns, etc. gold

12 rice silver

13 rice, *pepper, tin, camphor, etc. gold

14 nutmeg, mace, cloves, sandalwood, birds’ nests etc

15 cinnamon, elephants

Please see print copy for image

Please see print copy for image

239

MAPS

Map 1: Goa and Surrounding Areas 1740 Adapted from Monteiro S., Batalhas e Combates da Marinha Portuguesa

VII (Lisbon, 1996), p. 152

240

Map 2: Goa and Neighbors 1726 Adapted from Monteiro S., Batalhas e Combates da Marinha Portuguesa

VII (Lisbon, 1996), p. 130

241

Map 3: Province of the North

Adapted from Monteiro S., Batalhas e Combates da Marinha Portuguesa VII

(Lisbon, 1996), p. 152

242

Map 4: Western Asia / East Coast of Africa Adapted from Monteiro S., Batalhas e Combates da Marinha Portuguesa

VII (Lisbon, 1996), p. 11

243

Map 5: Interior East Africa Adapted from Newitt M., A History of Portuguese Overseas Expansion

(London, 2005), map 5

244

Map 6: South China Sea From Souza GB, Survival of Empire

(Cambridge, 1986), p. 7

Please see print copy for image

245

BIBLIOGRAPHY Archival Sources (Lisbon) Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino (AHU)

Recenceamento Receitas e Despesas da Índia, Códice 475.

Registo de Consultas acerca da Índia, Códices 212, 213 and 214.

Registo de Consultas Mistas, Códices 21-24.

Manuscritos Avulsos da Secretária do Conselho Ultramarino, Caixas

1-4.

Arquivo da Alfândega de Lisboa (AAL)

Registo de Cartas Gerais da Alfândega da Casa da ĺndia, Códice 47.

Biblioteca Nacional (BN)

Decadencia de commercio na Ásia, parecer do Provedor da ĺndia,

Códice 675.

Plano de Companhia da ĺndia. Colecção Pombalina (PBA) 735.

Relação dos Successos da ĺndia de D. Pedro Miguel, Parte 3 and

Parte 4.

Instrução que o Conde de Ericeyra… a FJ de Sampayo e Castro,

Códice 1455.

Cartas que o Conde de Ericeira escreve a D. João V, Conselho e