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 issue21THE MOBILE AGITATORS: ANARCHIST TRAJECTORIES AND THE PORT SURVEILLANCE IN THE SOUTH AMERICAN ATLANTIC, 1894-1908A RENOWNED MAN MEETS AN EX-COLORED MAN: SOCIAL AND RACIAL RELATIONSHIPS IN POST-EMANCIPATION BRAZIL author indexsubject indexarticles search
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Almanack

On-line version ISSN 2236-4633

Almanack  no.21 Guarulhos Jan./Apr. 2019  Epub Apr 15, 2019

http://dx.doi.org/10.1590/2236-463320192109 

Dossiê História Marítima e Portuária

JOÃO CÂNDIDO, MESTRE SALA1DOS MARES: THE LABOR AND EVERYDAY LIFE OF BELLE ÉPOQUE SAILORS

Álvaro Pereira Nascimento2  3
http://orcid.org/0000-0002-7126-5247

2Universidade Federal Rural do Rio de Janeiro. Seropédica - Rio de Janeiro - Brasil.

Abstract

In the light of historiographical analyses, this paper discusses the spectacular life of João Cândido Felisberto, a black man born in the post-emancipation period, son of former slaves, and leader of one of the greatest sailor revolts in world history, possibly akin only to the 1905 struggle aboard the Russian battleship Potemkin. We went through multiple sources in order to analyze Cândido’s origins, experiences and learnings in barracks and battleships, his national and international trips, and his adventures across different Brazilian borders and cities. Guided by a recent young Republican constitution, the early governors and congresses saw the explosion of social and political movements, feared all over the nation. João Cândido was familiar with most of them, and his name appeared in the front page of the most prominent Brazilian and international newspapers when he led hundreds of black sailors in a protest against the physical punishments and terrible work conditions in the Brazilian Navy.

Keywords: João Cândido - navy - maritime life - post-emancipation period - biography

There is a wide variety of studies, films, memoirs and biographies narrating sea life during the modern oceanic navigations, the slave trade, and the great European and American naval battles of period between the 18th and the 20th century. We are moved by the plasticity of these scenes, and get caught up imagining the tension felt by the commander and his auxiliaries during battles, the despair of men and women enslaved in dark and smothering cargo holds, and the European perception of the other in the first transoceanic encounters4.

One of the most appealing historiographical approaches to this universe is the investigation of technological changes in seafaring vessels throughout time. They get faster and faster, increase their load capacity, obtain new machinery and fuels for propulsion, become comfortable and safe for passengers, and menace opponents with ever more precise and devastating weaponry.

What I propose here is a brief analysis of these changes, accompanied by a look at the daily lives of sailors and officers during a remarkable period in the history of the Brazilian Navy. Although Brazilian shipyards have built a few war ships, the greatest innovations occurred in English, French and German shipyards, as technologies such as the electric light, steel, steam engines, compressed air, the telegraph, and refrigeration began their rise towards widespread adoption. How did those novelties arrive in Brazil during the belle époque?

In the crux of our arguments, the men who lived in these war machines, experiencing first-hand the ebbs and flows of technological innovation, merit special attention. We believe it is a timely moment to contribute to the history of black people in the post-emancipation period, since this dimension is nowadays considered crucial to the teachings of history, labor history, and social history. Considering that, in the last country to abolish slavery in the Americas, the Navy was full of black sailors, we opted to analyze young men’s—sons of slaves or former slaves—choice to look for work in the military. We invite you to walk with us along the life trajectory of João Cândido Felisberto, the main leader of the 1910 Revolt of the Whip. Cândido was a black man from Rio Grande do Sul, a freed son of a slave woman. He enlisted in the navy in the aftermath of the Naval Revolt and the Federalist Revolution, sailed through rivers, seas and oceans, fought against colleagues and officers, contracted illnesses and, during the Revolt, led—as “The Black Admiral”—the world’s most powerful ship of the time: the battleship Minas Geraes.

Just as Igbo writer Olaudah Equiano provides a vivid description of the horrors of slavery, narrating his experience of crossing the ocean in slave ships known as “tumbeiros” (tombs) at the age of 11, and finally reaching freedom5, João Cândido’s story allows us to glance into the reality of a black sailor in the belle époque: the weight of technological advancements in weaponry, the ideological conflicts of republicanism, and the characteristics of labor relations within the armed forces, where social and racial differences were explicit.

Lastly, we must not forget the context of serious political crisis arising in the early years of the republican regime, which, paradoxically, had been imposed by a coup d’état organized by a military group6. The new government was not only antidemocratic and unstable, but also led by men incapable of obtaining consensus around a political project to take the place of the Monarchy7. This generated considerable and sometimes bloody blowback, especially from state governments and the armed forces. These conflicts had a significant effect over the aspirations of officers and sailors.

Where did black people go after the abolition of slavery?

João Cândido was born in an intense period of the history of the Americas and the world. Increasingly complex changes in the labor sphere facilitated conflicts which, going above and beyond class-related struggles, stemmed from racial and national rivalries, a result of the emancipation of slave labor as well as the immigration of European and Asian workers. Thus, our guiding question is the following: what was the bearing of these issues over the life of a black man at the turn of the 19th to the 20th century?

These monumental changes hardly impacted customs and daily life in Coxilha Bonita, a municipality in Rio Pardo, Rio Grande do Sul, where João Cândido was born in January 15th, 18808. Economically, livestock rearing took precedence in the area, with a few slaves and free men responsible for handling the cattle and moving it across miles, to be slaughtered in the regional slaughterhouses. Cândido’s parents were slaves, and had belonged to Gaspar Simões Pires and Florinda Cândida de Lima. Pires was the grandson and heir to an Azorean merchant who arrived in Brazil in 1755, and became prosperous from his business deals with São Paulo and the Court. Pires had also been granted sesmarias (land allotments distributed by the Portuguese State) during the colony’s inward territorial expansion. These lands became the farms inherited by Gaspar’s grandson, and it was in one of these farm’s chapel that João Cândido was baptized in 18829.

The land crossed different regions and municipalities, all of them with a certain kind of livestock. In the largest property, known as Capivari, Gaspar Simões Pires owned 3,760 heads of cattle valued at 15 contos de réis, 32 oxen, 250 heifers, 270 untamed mares, 550 sheep, and 113 horses. Upon his death, in 1863, he also left behind 9 slave women and 12 slave men. One of these slaves was Ignácia, 3010, who would become João Cândido’s mother. When her master died, she was passed on to his daughter, Maria do Carmo Simões, spouse of Firmino José Moreira. In addition to Ignácia, the most valuable slave, worth 750$000 (750,000 réis), Maria do Carmo Simões also inherited Caetana11, worth 250$000 réis, and Narciso12, worth 100$000 réis.

In 1876 Gaspar Simões Pires’ widow, D. Florinda Cândida de Lima, passed away. Her will mentions the second most important person in this article: João Felisberto, João Cândido’s father13. João Felisberto worked for D. Florinda in Coxilha Bonita, Capivari’s land, where the heads of cattle, farm animals and land extension required an experienced and skilled workforce. João Cândido used to say that his father had been a tropeiro14, that is, a cattle herder, traveling around to bring oxen to slaughterhouses and buyers.

Ignácia, on the other hand, possibly undertook domestic work. We cannot tell for sure, but it is highly likely that João Felisberto met Ignácia when the former was moving cattle from Simões Pires’ farms to their sales destination.

The two got married in June 28th, 1879, nearly three years after the death of Felisberto’s last master (Felisberto had been freed in 1876). Ignácia was still a slave, and Felisberto changed his name to João Felisberto Pires. His wife became Ignácia Cândido Pires. The surname Pires was a reference to the family of João’s former master, who still owned Ignácia. The first name Cândido, meanwhile, was likely derived from D. Florinda Cândido Lima, wife to the late Gaspar Simões Pires15. Ignácia received an unconditional manumission, as if she “had been born free,” in February 9th, 1881, when João Cândido was a little over 1 year old16.

One ought to imagine the experience of a freeborn man, son of former slaves, in a cattle farm situated in the countryside of Rio Grande do Sul, a region with no plantations, where the endogenous reproduction of slavery had increased the slave population in excess of the numbers obtained by trafficking from the African continent. Despite being free, in order to keep the local economy on its tracks, these children would be expected to work as they grew up, and the stipulations of the Rio Branco Law, proclaimed in September 28th, 1871, had to adjust to such demands. Melina Perussatto’s researches in the area where João Cândido was born show that free children, sons and daughters of slaves, were listed in inventories along their slave mothers, and that masters and their heirs “had the value of [children’s] labor assessed and apportioned.”17 Therefore, freedom was still frail, and masters included these young children in common labor activities. Would that be what fate had in store for João Cândido?

The process of emancipation created difficult situations for former captives, freeborn children of slaves, and their descendants. Job opportunities were even scarcer for blacks than for white people, as a result of racism and depending on the region. Slave men and women, as well as millions of free black people, participated in a remarkable process in the history of the country, which was then suffering the same social and economic backlash as other former slavery-based nations18. This led to conflicting negotiations with former slave masters and with the State, regarding new labor practices and citizenship rights, which arose as slavery gradually faded in the last decades of the 19th century.

The period saw multiple types of labor deals between bosses and employees in Brazil, without the support from a State regulation able to organize, monitor and assure rights and duties in the capital-labor relationship. There were not only native citizens of all colors and regional/ethnic origins, but also a constant influx of immigrants, especially Portuguese, Italian and German19.

Citizens were hardly able to take part in the country’s political life via legal, classic means of participation20, so labor rights were debated directly with bosses, while articulating alternative or communal means of dealing with difficulties regarding housing, health care, education and leisure21.

Common people who lived in the period from 1850 to 1930 had to face all the aforementioned problems without counting on the safety net of State support. Former slave masters had to dialogue, negotiate or even use force in order to get Brazilian and foreign individuals to work in their farms while being paid the lowest possible salaries22. Many of these free men and women experienced a daily struggle in order to get food, pay the rent, and escape the grasp of epidemics or common diseases.

Individual and collective histories have revealed these kinds of labor and life routines in the long process that characterizes what we call the post-emancipation (or post-abolition) period in Brazil. Historiography has shed light upon these people’s mode of existence in the period between the last decades of the Empire and the first decades of the Republic by means of documental archives, concerning immigrants and pauperized natives. João Cândido Felisberto’s life is among those singular histories that help us clarify this period in history. Thus, the Navy was just another way to make a living, especially for black youth and adults in the post-abolitionist period23.

The Navy offered rudimentary housing, food, pay, travel opportunities, some professional qualification and job stability for 6 to 15 years (the mandatory service time-evasion was seen as desertion). It is not a coincidence that, throughout the 19th century, slave escapees volunteered as sailors as if they were free folk, and dozens were found by their masters as recruits aboard Navy ships24. Even with its extensive problems, the Navy became a way out for those who lacked privilege.

There was no universal, government-sponsored formal education, and families had to face a series of difficulties in order to keep their children in school (when they were lucky enough to be enrolled25). Coming from poor families, children often had to support family members or themselves at an early age. Nevertheless, although the Navy offered the previously mentioned perks, it also had its dark side, with physical punishments and a strict military regime. Very few people enlisted voluntarily. The most common practice for obtaining some kind of formal education was enlisting children and young men in the naval apprenticeship schools spread across the country. These minors, who were brought in by parents, tutors or legal representatives, had rudimentary practical and theoretical knowledge, performed various services, and suffered severe punishments. Many were victims of sexual assaults26.

Officers preferred to enroll these boys instead of rejecting them, so they could be disciplined in a military environment prior to becoming legal adults. This is how, during the second half of the 19th century, the Navy gradually got rid of its compulsory conscription practices—the hunting down of beggars, inmates, wanderers and destitute workers. The apprenticeship schools’ goal was to create a filter for the selection of potential Navy material, and on that basis many measures were adopted, aiming at luring more young men, even though their execution leaved something to be desired27.

There is no consensus on the reasons behind João Cândido’s decison to pursue a military career. It seems as though from an early age he already showed signs that his future would diverge from his father’s. In any case, he would not work for the Pires family or any other livestock farmer in the region, even though his family continued inhabiting their lands28. According to the virulent admiral Luis Alves de Oliveira Bello, before joining the Navy João Cândido had been an errand boy and a worker at a textile factory in Porto Alegre29. This may as well be true, as many black boys, such as the future Madame Satã, had been employed in domestic jobs, working as kitchen helpers, errand boys, supplying houses with water, etc.30

Since the family did not move to the city when Cândido’s parents were freed, he may have made the conscious decision to escape the destiny of becoming just another item in the inventories of the Pires family, going ahead to look for new horizons in the largest urban center of Rio Grande do Sul. In fact, as shown by Perussatto, sometimes ingênuos (children of slave mothers who had been born free, thanks to the Rio Branco Law) would not conform to their punishments, and newspapers from Porto Alegre reported on stories of resistance by minors who fled, refusing to be treated as slaves31.

According to Oliveira Bello, after one or two years living in the city, the young man voluntarily reported to the Rio Grande naval apprenticeship school, with a referral letter from the Chief of the Port Authority of Porto Alegre, in January 6th, 189532. It was commonplace for police chiefs, magistrates responsible for orphaned children, and even port authority chiefs to send young boys to these schools. Meanwhile, there is a complementary explanation for the fact that Cândido ended up in the apprenticeship school, often referred to in narratives about this moment in his life (between leaving his tropeiro family and starting a military career). I am referring to Cândido’s behavior, since he may indeed have been a faísca (Portuguese word for “spark,” slang for misbehaved, rebellious youngster). Similar stories were common at the time.

The possibility is at least feasible, as many boys were sent to the Armed Forces in order to straighten up, given the lack of discipline and boisterous behavior they displayed at home or on the streets. Mr. Vicente Moreira Leite had memories of the case that must have been the last straw for either João Cândido’s parents or the land owners, likely leading him to be sent to the Navy as a punishment:

When crossed, Cândido always had a snappy and sharp comeback ready to roll off the tongue. One day, threatened due to some shenanigans he had pulled off, he fled to another farm, where Mr. José Felipe Corrêa was in charge. He hid in a stone cave … Something like three days went by, and he returned, wary [of reprisals]. Antonia Almeida Lima, the kid’s alphabetization teacher, then [decided], with the consent of his parents, [to send] him to her son-in-law: Admiral Floriano de Abreu. As my grandfather’s land was close to Admiral Alexandrino de Alencar’s, a friend of the family, and Alexandrino himself recruited young men to the Navy, [the latter] became responsible for “Candinho” [as João Cândido was called]33.

Alexandrino Faria de Alencar was one of the most remarkable Navy Ministers of the belle époque34. Under his command, the Brazilian Navy became one the most powerful in the world, after incorporating the dreadnought-class ships Minas Geraes and São Paulo, which to this date have a prominent place in books on naval technology. De Alencar also tried to implement reforms in the Navy, with little success.

In any case, it is clear that João Cândido took control of his own fate. He did not become yet another free child of slave parents being taken advantage of by a family that had exploited his parents’ and relatives’ slave labor. He took the plunge, or was thrown, towards a new life, leaving the placid Rio Pardo, trying his luck in Porto Alegre, and finally entering the Armada in January 6th, 1895, at the age of 16, by means of Rio Grande’s apprenticeship school. He went on to Rio de Janeiro a few months later, and started his seafaring career.

The extent of his relationship with Alexandrino de Alencar was hardly restricted to this moment alone. Seven days after leaving the office due to the arrival of a new president, Marshal Hermes da Fonseca, in November, 1910, Alexandrino was likely shocked to hear that the “brat” he possibly35 helped join the ranks of the Navy had taken command of the most powerful ships of the time. João Cândido was immortalized as “The Black Admiral,” leader of the Revolt of the Whip, during which he commandeered those powerful war machines, bought at the behest of Alexandrino himself and packed with state-of-the-art technology.

Over the ashes of the Revolt of the Lash: examples set by officers and politicians

A few days after leaving the naval apprenticeship school in Rio Grande, João Cândido enlisted as a cabin boy in December 10th, 1895. His numerical designation in the 16th Navy Headquarters Company was 85. The company was based in Rio de Janeiro, which had recently become the Federal Capital of the Republic36. The political atmosphere, however, was tense, and insecurity preoccupied everybody’s minds, politicians and ordinary citizens alike.

There had been six years of Republican regime since the military coup that brought down and expelled the Emperor and his family, after he had governed the country for nearly his entire life. Between November 15th, 1889 and February, 1891, a political void ensued: no Constitution, no elections, and the heavy hand of intervening agents in the provincial governments. The presidency had been occupied by Army Marshal Deodoro da Fonseca for nearly two years, although he had not received a single vote. Fonseca’s leadership of the country was akin to how he commanded his barracks. Uncoincidentally, his ministers were assigned military ranks. It was a paradox in the prevailing republican ideology, which proclaimed itself favorable to a state modeled after the American Revolution—although rejecting the one purported by the Jacobin phase of the French Revolution, or present in Positivism’s evolutionist stage37.

Even with a new Constitution, written by a rushed assembly, tensions did not cease, as Deodoro da Fonseca maintained his grip of the Presidency by military might. The plot by Navy and Army officers, oligarchic representatives, and the Marshal’s own sickness, brought him down long before the end of his term in office. The vice president, Floriano Peixoto—another Marshal—took charge of the Presidency. However, Peixoto’s constitutional legitimacy was also challenged. He led a difficult government, marred by uprisings, until finally losing the support of the Navy’s military cadres38.

In September 6th, 1893, under the command of Admiral Custódio José de Mello, the Navy declared war against Peixoto. Bloody fratricidal battles ensued in Guanabara Bay, which bathed the sands of the capital of what had been, in the 18th century, the biggest and most prominent Portuguese colony.

Over the course of nearly two years, battles ravaged Rio de Janeiro, destroying countless buildings and ships (mainly military), as well as in other cities to the south, where insurgents went in order to ally themselves with the federalists, the party opposing the republicans (supported by Floriano Peixoto). This war became part of history as the Federalist Revolution39. In the seas of Florianópolis (then called “Desterro”), Custódio José de Mello led the Aquidaban ship, torpedoed by legalist forces in the battle of April 16th, 189440.

Image I Torpedo damage in Aquidaban’s hull 

When the battles and revolts subsided, the Navy’s balance was nothing but unfavorable. Most of its main administrative buildings, forts and barracks had been destroyed or drilled by cannon fire of various calibers. According to Admiral Hélio Leôncio Martins, “the Navy was annihilated.” Its armada, which was already obsolete, became even more deprived. The wooden ships “were of no value” and the others, built with a “composite” (blends of steel or a mix of steel, wood and/or iron) had to be repaired, cast aside, or were militarily outdated41.

Source: Juan Gutierrez, c. 1897. Available from: <https://bit.ly/2z7cCO3>. Accessed on: 03.27.2018 

Image II The ruins of Villegaignon

When João Cândido got to his Company in the Navy Headquarters, established in the Island of Villegaignon, on December 10th, 1895, he witnessed the signs of the bombings that took place during the battles of the Naval Revolts. The Minister of the Navy revealed in his annual report the financial difficulties faced in order to rebuild the sites that had been damaged by the bombings. Villegaignon’s buildings were in the worst condition42. The 16-year-old lad who had just enlisted as a cabin boy had been sent to a place of utmost destruction.

On the 20th of that same month he was deployed to the Andrada cruiser, where he reported for duty and took on his first stretch aboard a ship of the Armada. There the future “Mestre Sala dos Mares” would begin his first lessons, and spend his first Christmas away from the family and friends in Rio Pardo. And also from the island pierced by cannon fire.

In March 1896, João Cândido began to receive payment for his first special qualification: as a gunner aboard the Andrada. He must have learned that skill in the practical lessons we assume he had undertaken during the Andrada’s instruction trips, between January and March, 1896—in drills along the coast of Ilha Grande and Angra dos Reis. In 1897, his vessel belonged to a six-ship division that practiced “shooting, gunning and torpedoing” on the coasts of Florianópolis and Rio de Janeiro43. By the age of 17 he was already fine-tuning his knowledge and experience by commanding the Andrada’s cannon arsenal.

On April 1st, the Andrada cruiser and other five other ships of the Armada formed the “Naval Division for Operations in Bahia,” led by Admiral Carlos Frederico de Noronha, and supposedly organized for the convenience of “having Army and Navy act jointly in the state of Bahia.”44 Although the Minister of the Navy did not make this explicit in his report, the true motive behind the creation of the Naval Division was to transport troops (10,000 or 12,000 army soldiers and state police) and weaponry to be used in the fourth and bloodiest battle against the settlement of Canudos45. The Andrada went across the ports of São Paulo, Pernambuco and Ceará, and ended its journeys in Salvador, Bahia, where men would disembark from Naval Division ships and board the train wagons carrying them to the city of Queimadas; from there, they would march towards the future battlefield. The devastating battles with Belo Monte nearly wiped out the men, women and children of Canudos who, according to Galvão, had been dragged into a “fratricidal and gratuitous war” because they had dared to create an “alternative power structure that removed them from the authority of land owners, priests and police officers.”46

It is worth pointing out that, in two or three years (depending on when he arrived in Porto Alegre after leaving Rio Pardo), the young sailor had witnessed the battles of the Federalist Revolution and its aftermaths in the streets of Porto Alegre, and also seen the scars of the Naval Revolts at the naval apprenticeship school in Rio Grande (which had been the state’s capital, later transferred to the better-protected Porto Alegre). He had learned defensive and offensive tactics with the use of artillery in the Federal Capital of the Republic, and followed the movement of thousands of men, weapons and ammunition to smother a bastion of resistance at the behest of the faltering republican governments, which took turns in office by means of force.

Thus, Cândido had contact with discourse from various ideological trends, and learned how to carry himself in battle. Those experiences would accumulate further, as we shall discuss, shaping Cândido into one of the most experienced men in the Navy by 1910, and driving him to the movement’s leadership.

From sails to steam: a well-rounded sailor?

João Cândido’s second qualification took place aboard the ships of the Armada. Few sailors and not many officers were able to witness first-hand such a significant technological development during 15 years of military service. Cândido voluntarily reenlisted twice, which most sailors refrained from doing, thus being automatically discharged from duty. The tenants and captains of 1910, when the Revolt of the Whip erupted, wore short pants or shirttails when Cândido had enlisted in the Navy. That set Cândido apart from the other sailors: he was one of the few to experiment such dense technological innovation. But then again, what was it like to live in an Army ship before the implementation of the great technologies that arose in the turn of the 19th to the 20th century?

Let us sail aboard a frigate on a trip abroad in 1882, thirteen years before Cândido joined the Navy. The trips across the Brazilian coast did not demand veering long distances from the shore, which shortened the travel time between two ports. However, when trips to faraway places were requested, mainly to European countries and the United States, the routine inside the warships was drastically changed.

Eduardo Wandenkolk led the corvette Vital de Oliveira in one of these trips to Europe in 188247. From January to October of that year the future first Minister of the Navy in the Republic expressed his discontent with the vessels’ technological backwardness and terrible conditions, in addition to complaining about sailors’ and staff’s discipline and qualifications. Throughout the ship’s course, going by what is now South Africa, St. Helena Island, England, France, Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, and Russia, Wandenkolk faced plenty of problems in leading a team of midshipmen in their first maritime adventure.

The corvette had already had 15 years’ worth of service by 1882. Its propulsion was mixed and allowed for the boilers to be used during short wind spells48. This usually prevented the travel between ports from being longer than predicted. Nevertheless, the journey between Rio de Janeiro and Cape of Good Hope took 25 days. On each connection Wandenkolk had to replenish the ship, buying water, coal and “frescos”49 (perishable food). They were essential, often-consumed products: coal had to be burnt to overcome regions of still wind, the water reservoir stored a limited amount of water, lasting only for a few weeks and, as there was no fridge, perishable food did not remain viable for long.

Before the advent of boilers as auxiliary propulsion systems, places where wind was still or nonexistent would become true nightmares. In these situations, what ensued was a “shortage of food, and a diet based on dried meat and canned food menacingly creeped upon them, unnerving the sailors.”50 In the case of Vital de Negreiros that problem would only occur should they run out of coal. Still, Wandenkolk complained about not being able to count on a “sturdy, active and regularly exercised crew,” which prevented him from attempting a “way in or out by sail without being exposed to a sad spectacle.”51 Surely that increased coal usage and restocking expenses.

Drinkable water was another issue entirely. The water was mostly meant for drinking and cooking, although they could set aside a little for baths (depending on the circumstances, in case they were on a trip to some port, or if the ship’s budget could afford some extra water consumption when in international ports, etc.). Under the heat of the seas, besides the constant thirst, freshening up frequently was a basic need. However, baths were usually taken using sea water. In 1886, Adolfo Caminha went on a journey similar to Wandenkolk’s. Caminha was a young and adventurous Navy sailor, who recounted some of his trips aboard the Admiral Barroso. In one excerpt, the importance of potable water in high sea trips is made clear:

A “rotten”52 stillness of wind prevailed. Sails were hoisted53 at the slightest sign of wind, awnings were trussed so we could stand the heat under their shadow, and baths with sea water were welcomed. Everyone sweated profoundly. Imagine being down below, in the hold, with the boilers lit, while up above the burning sun, the frightening equatorial sun caustically blazed down upon the ship. … We praised God after leaving such unpleasant regions.54

The diseases that spread on board were seen as another water-related issue. In fact, two documents, the Provisional Regiment and the travel report from Eduardo Wandenkolk’s expedition, although 100 years apart, reveal a great concern for hygiene and avoiding diseases55. One of the most common diseases in the Navy throughout the 19th century and the early 20th was the beriberi, caused by the lack of Vitamin B1, found mainly in fresh food. Back then its causes were unclear, as we can infer from Wandenkolk’s preventive measures:

There were a few cases of beriberi when we got to the Tropic of Cancer, but only one of them fatal. On September 23rd Manuel Inocêncio passed away as result of such illness; his body was cast into the sea with due honors. The manifestation of this disease is rather noteworthy in all of this ship’s trips. I reckon it’s necessary, if not imperative, to proceed with meticulous cleaning of the cargo holds as soon as possible, and also a general sanitization by purging to land all of the ballast — tanks — moorings. The ailment may perhaps manifest itself in larger scale if such preventive measures are not taken before any trip in the Empire’s waters.56

Besides, the provenience and treatment of the water were far from adequate. Firstly, the corvette had an “always irregular sanitary upkeep,” which is why the commander believed there had been a few cases of “dysentery due to the constant change in water supply and its poor quality.” Such problem had been present ever since the first transoceanic journeys, and here was history, centuries later, repeating itself.57 Wandenkolk believed it to be “more hygienic to always use distilled water on board in all ports, as the Americans did, a cheaper system in some places, and more costly in others; however, it turned out to be more economical as money wouldn’t be squandered due to illnesses.” That was hardly the solution to all ailments; the cleaning of reservoirs also had to be prioritized, but the use of distilled water could tend to many of the diseases afflicting the crew.

As a result of the cold weather, many sailors visited the nursing ward in search for clothes and shelter. Wandenkolk ordered all sailors to always wear shoes and socks and, on rainy days, garments adequate to bad weather. There were two accidents and a case of tuberculosis, leading to casualties in foreign territories; nonetheless, as the ship could not wait for the sick to bounce back, the commander left them at the care of the Brazilian consul-general.

After months of travel, maritime life seemingly began to take its toll. This remains unclear, but apparently three sailors defected in Cherbourg, France, while another, plus two stokers, defected in Amsterdam, Holland. The former three were captured and sent back to the ship. All expenses in retrieving them were deducted from their earnings, in installments. Although Wandenkolk does not mention it, it is highly probable that these sailors underwent some sort of physical punishment, as established in the War Articles that we shall discuss shortly. Those who fled in Amsterdam, however, were able to elude the local police.

It should also be noted that the commander of the Vital de Oliveira seems to have commandeered the ship in accordance with the Provisional Regiment, seeking to uphold and ensure control and discipline aboard. None of the high ranks of the Navy would entrust ship and crew to just any officer on a lengthy trip abroad: the chosen officer had to uphold authority and respect to hierarchy and discipline, be knowledgeable on the necessary courses and how to set them, understand several languages, abide to norms and customs of visited ports, etc. Therefore, the commander had to set an example to his officers and midshipmen. Wandenkolk was one such men: a navigation specialist well versed in matters of the Navy.

Even before getting involved in the Republican movement, Wandenkolk had been assigned to a variety of delegations, allowing him to recognize the difficulties faced by arsenals, schools and ships, as well as monitor the flaws that were the result of the terrible qualifications of enlisted personnel.58 He went as far as to translate the English Navy regulation regarding onboard procedures; the regulation was a kind of modernized sibling of the Provisional Regiment59. As a commanding officer, he was likely highly regarded by the midshipmen, who looked up to him in their drive to achieve honors and military promotions.

Every class of Navy midshipmen who graduated from Naval School underwent an instruction trip around a few countries, as a first apprenticeship program. As the only Armed Force personnel who could represent the country abroad, Navy Officers were given schooling beyond the ordinary sailing and weaponry trainings. They had to be cultured, speak one or more foreign languages—preferably French and English—, and know rules of etiquette for parties, ceremonies, balls, etc.60 Wandenkolk was once greeted by the King of Sweden61, to whom he passed on compliments from His Majesty, the Emperor D. Pedro II. As such, the regular Navy officer had to be prepared to welcome and be welcomed by any foreign authority in the most diverse and refined locations—from sumptuous halls to ministerial bureaus—while properly responding to courtesies and announcements62. The midshipmen were supposed to put those skills to use in their own country’s halls, but they also had to pay attention to their commanders’ demeanor in foreign ports, as one of them could, in due course, become the commanding officer of a similar expedition.

The technological innovations that were rapidly springing up in Europe and in the United States also drew the attention of midshipmen and officers alike. Those trips fostered a constant curiosity for information and varied knowledge, especially in respect to the development of weaponry and navigation machinery. Wandenkolk was marveled at the electric light in the French cruiser Duguay Trouin63. The experience led him to purchase “two electric apparatus … with the respective machines,” without even having the clearance to carry out the buy. Electric light seemingly dazzled the commander and made him forget about budgetary rules. Moreover, he marveled at the “torpedo boats” of England and Russia, as their “vertiginous speed astounds, amazes and frightens; one could not wish nor achieve higher agility in moving forward. It is imperative to flee from those as one flees from a locomotive on land.”

If even experienced commanding officers were stunned by those journeys, one can only imagine the impact they had on the midshipmen. Before the trip they lived at school and had had only a few nautical drills. A one-year journey was something entirely different. The midshipmen would meet other fleets and observe what discipline was like in foreign garrisons. They would be impressed by technological advancements and learn about the power of command bestowed upon officers. Adolfo Caminha stressed that not all commanding officers knew how to lead the midshipmen to “useful and relevant excursions.” It was through Saldanha da Gama, cruiser commander of the Barroso, which took him to the United States of America, that Caminha was able to experience the urban advancements of New York, a city crossed by wide avenues and streets, and connected by state-of-the-art bridges. The Statue of Liberty also delighted him profoundly. Technological advancements and urban development made him ecstatic, forcing him to rethink his own origin and even his people’s. After an appalling discovery born from comparison, he seemed to surrender to the trip’s delights.

And I was left to marvel, in the inebriation of the magnificent, at the American progress, this role-model country, where everything is powered by electricity and steam, where all is made in a jiffy, in the blink of an eye, no time to lose; the riveting discoveries by Franklin, Fulton and Edison came to mind, the wonderful experiences on the telegraph, the telephone and the phonograph. … How small was my country, with all the grandeur of its mountains, its rivers, in the face of the American colossus in the North! My spirit sank with a sadness befitting an outcast, a deep and incomprehensible melancholy that was longing and disbelief all in one. … I’d go as far as to say, to parody another: were I not Brazilian, I wish I were American.64

Contact with diverse cultures, some really advanced for the time, sank the spirits not only of Navy officers, but also other Brazilians who traveled abroad to study, do business or go on vacations. That inner conflict shook the idea of nationality, forced them to rethink and curse the customs of their “mestizo” people, and clamor for changes to propel the country in terms of machinery and urban renovation. Eduardo Wandenkolk and Adolfo Caminha took part in these trips while slavery was still present in Brazil, and the main capitals of the country were barely as big as the old, rundown and overcrowded metropolitan Court. The Brazilian naval industry was able to build some of its vessels, but most modern technology was still unknown—this explains why Wandenkolk even bought electric light apparatus without permission from his superiors.

Navy ships no longer carried many short-range cannons of the same caliber. Depending on its class (cruiser, corvette, torpedo boat, battleship, frigate, submarine), the vessel would have to carry well-distributed cannons of different calibers, for short, medium and long distances. As they were also steam powered, large stocks of coal had to be available to power the boilers that spun the machines and propellers. These ships also demanded personnel with knowledge in the pressure control of the boilers, pistons and gears.

Sail-powered vessels were lighter, but had limitations when moving larger loads. They were also easier targets for cannon fire and torpedoes that pierced their hulls more easily if compared to steel-coated ships, especially those from the German company Krup. However, there were “traditionalist resistances and apprehensions” concerning the use of propulsion powered exclusively by steam65. This was likely due to older sailors fearing they might be stranded on the sea should the boiler, gears or propellers malfunction.

The Navy sought to retire this class of ship, still present in the early years of the Republic, or utterly destroyed during the Naval Revolts and the Federalist Revolution. However, it faced financial problems when paying for new ships ordered in European shipyards, and ended up having to “cancel part of the orders, sell some of the already finalized ships and cancel constructions planned in Brazil due to a lack of resources to remunerate personnel.”66

At the end of the 19th century, the Navy high command did not have a whole lot of choices. Ships ordered in the 1890s, or rundown ships, remained with hybrid propulsion, some reasonably modern, others absolutely useless. Those were the vessels João Cândido and other officers used to sail across various seas and rivers until the arrival of ships powered exclusively by steam, at the end of the 1900s.

The Andrada cruiser, which was acquired urgently in 1893, had to be adapted to war usage, since it used to operate in New York (where it had been bought) as a merchant ship, the Midnight Sun. In March 1897, João Cândido was a Navy gunner aboard this repurposed ship, and later also acquired responsibilities related to its machines.

Such exchange of tasks is indicative of how difficult it was to find skilled personnel to operate new technologies. While a suitable replacement did not materialize, the position was frequently assigned to common sailors, in the hope that they would be able to learn by practice, after only a few sparse and brief lessons. This is why we can usually find “machinery gratification earned” statements in sailor logs, alongside the period during which the sailor exercised the machinery role in question.

In a few occasions in his career, João Cândido went back to working with machinery, a rather interesting detail. There is not much information available on what it was like to work in the machine room. Even so, we can assume that this function had to do with the machine complex that generated steam energy, moving the gears all the way to the propeller.

Source: Navios e portos. Available from: <https://bit.ly/2ICaNjD>. Accessed on: 03.27.2018

Image III The workings of a steam-powered ship 

There was a high demand for skilled and unskilled personnel in this area. During the 19th century, machine operators were often as well regarded as officers, and by the end of the century they began being formally promoted to officership, as if they were combatants. Their auxiliaries were corporals and skilled (or technically savvy) sailors who performed pressure verification tasks, among other activities. Stokers fed the furnaces with coal, and colliers were responsible for filling up the reservoirs. Hundreds of kilos of charcoal were likely burnt to power the ship; the amount could rise even higher when the commander ordered full power ahead. The incumbent machine operator would then have to make sure all his auxiliaries were working harder and faster67.

I reckon João Cândido often undertook this job due to the absence of suitable personnel for the machines. Although the job was not appreciated by 19th-century combatant sailors (gunners, infants, signalmen, riggers, etc.), João Cândido made good use of the opportunity, as his ability for handling sails was thus complemented by an understanding of the inner workings of these machines.

Over the ashes of popular movements: the example set by workers and sailors

Between September, 1903 and April, 1904, Cândido was aboard a small vessel for river navigation, the Jutahy frigate. Before that, he had sailed to Belém in a commercial ship, which he left to board the Jutahy towards Manaus, going through Gurupá, Prainha, Santarém, Óbidos, among other places, until finally reaching his destination. The Jutahy was incorporated to the Amazonas Fleet in September, 1903, and thenceforth both the ship and Cândido would be stationed in Manaus. From there, they went on two amazing and remarkable trips along the Amazonas and Tapajos rivers.

The fleet was in a frantic situation between 1903 and 1904, due to the Acre dispute. The region belonged to Bolivia, but Brazilian rubber tappers were unaware of its borders, and ended up trespassing. Many conflicts ensued, and Plácido de Castro organized groups of rubber tappers until the foundation of the independent state of Acre. It was then that João Cândido arrived at the place now known as Boca do Acre (Acre’s Mouth), sailing through the Purus and Acre rivers. It was a months-long journey, between October 25th and November 29th, through meandering rivers that resembled moving serpents. They arrived during tense days for international politics, with armies on both sides, but the situation was finally appeased by Brazil’s purchased of Acre, negotiated by the Baron of Rio Branco68. Matter settled, the Jutahy and João Cândido returned to the area, sailing and carrying out commissions between December 6th and January 15th, and spending Christmas there. We do not know if Cândido claimed somekind of illness, but he was then relocated to Rio de Janeiro, in April, 1904.

The main takeaway of this story is that João Cândido was then developing his fluvial navigation expertise in long narrow rivers amidst forests, expanding his naval knowledge even further. His experiences with machines and narrow rivers are what drove him to the position of helmsman aboard the world’s largest battleship in 1910. Furthermore, the Acre conflict was yet another contribution to his increasing grasp of politics. The main social agents in the area were definitely not the military officers and big-time politicians from large cities. They were the rubber tappers and indigenous people, pauperized workers, who founded an independent state which was later on incorporated to Brazilian borders. The strength of simple men and, of course, a few million pounds sterling, solved the upheaval in Acre69.

Back in Rio, in September, 1904, Cândido boarded the Tiradentes cruiser as a signalman. The Tiradentes was another mixed-propulsion ship, and had been incorporated to Mato Grosso’s fleet. Cândido travelled from North to South, sailing through massive or thin rivers, patrolling and defending the borders. He would monitor the region by navigating across Montevideo, Asunción, Rosario, Corrientes and Buenos Aires. Asunción became the fleet’s station, so Cândido stayed in the area, sailing through Villa Hayes, Formosa and Villeta in the meantime. He eventually returned to Rio after leaving the fleet in March, 1905. It was during this period, after several comings and goings, that João Cândido would board another mixed-propulsion ship that would change his life indelibly.

Source: Brasiliana Fotográfica Digital. Available from: <https://bit.ly/2B5nJse>. Accessed on: 03.28.2018

Image IV Benjamin Constant Cruiser, 1906 

João Cândido first visited Europe during his trip aboard the Benjamin Constant. The cruiser departed from Bahia on July 7th, 1906 taking a class of midshipmen on an international voyage, as Wandenkolk had done in 1882 aboard the Vital de Oliveira. Three archipelagos close to Africa were in its course to Europe: Cape Verde, The Canary Islands and Azores. Soon after visiting these they continued sailing the Atlantic towards the Plymouth ports in England, followed by Antwerp, Belgium. After a few days they headed to Christiania and Copenhagen, in Denmark. From the Island of São Vicente, in Azores, to Christiania, they spent 30 days, from June 25th until July 23rd 1906, crossing the English Channel, the North Sea and the Baltic Sea. Afterwards they left for Stockholm, Sweden, and Kiel and Wilhelmshaven, Germany. In their return journey, they went through Amsterdam (Holland), Dover (England), Havre and Cherbourg (both in France). Their farewell to Europe was in Lisbon, Portugal, and The Canary Islands (Spain), when they moved on to Fernando de Noronha, finally anchoring in Rio de Janeiro on October 24th, 190670.

The picture of the Benjamin Constant cruiser seen in Image #4, among others, was taken either in Havre or in Cherbourg71. On one of these pictures, a attentive observer can spot part of João Cândido’s face, shadowed by one of his colleagues. Besides the experiences lived by those seamen in European lands, something else caught my eye about the narrative of the Benjamin Constant and the ports visited by its crew. After a report briefing the president of the Republic about the trip, the Minister of the Navy informed that the cruiser commander had avoided the “port of Kronstadt due to the turmoil in the area.” The port was located on a small Russian island, rather close to other countries in the Baltic Sea. On the other hand, it was far away from the Odessa Bay, in the Black Sea, where the revolt of the battleship Potemkin had broken out in 1905, only one year prior to the arrival of the Benjamin Constant in the Baltic. And that had been no ordinary event: the revolt aboard the Potemkin was immortalized in Sergei Eisenstein’s 1925 film, celebrating its 20th anniversary—a major milestone for global filmography. All of these events raise the question of why the Brazilian cruiser’s commander had decided to change course. What was going on, in 1906, in that part of Russia, far from the epicenter of the world-historic Potemkin revolt?

The Kronstadt area had been in conflict for nearly a whole year. In October, 1905, alongside family appeals for food and better clothing, military officers were demanding higher pay, reduced working hours, a distension of military discipline, and the immediate toppling of the autocracy. They wanted a democratic republic with civil liberties for all. Government forces counter-attacked, resulting in 17 dead, 81 injured, and 3000 arrests72.

The rebelling forces felt that their requests were not satisfactorily met and, on June 19th, 1906, they took up the fight against the government. The New York Times reported that sailors, soldiers, marines and other workmen caused a commotion for the czarist bureaucracy in Kronstadt, disturbing the quiet in the streets, wreaking havoc, disobeying military regiments and disregarding government authority. Hatred towards authority and discipline was the driving force behind the Russian sailors’ rage. One of them went as far as to yell at a commander: “You’ve feasted on our blood for far too long.” This new movement was incomparably larger than the October 1905 one, but this did not protect it from being smothered by forces loyal to the Russian government. Thirty-six leaders were executed, and hundreds were arrested or exiled to Siberia73.

The decision of avoiding Russian shores by the commander of the Benjamin Constant becomes clearer in light of these events. He would not want to be in his Russian colleagues’ shoes, being shouted at by lowly sailors clamoring for laxer military regiments, the eradication of physical punishments, and the improvement of food served on board. Besides, although the Republic in Brazil was not incipient at the time, it also had not yet matured, and there were repeated attempts to transform it, in the form of political and social movements. The Naval Revolts, the Federalist Revolution, the positivists in the Vaccine Revolt, are clear examples. In all of those, however, the dissatisfied were simply silenced by gunfire.

In the Baltic, Cândido would once again find himself in a place of conflict, watching the dire political repercussions of revolt unfolding before his eyes, as had happened in Porto Alegre, Rio Grande, Rio de Janeiro, Belo Monte and in the rubber plantations of Acre. He was now learning from his foreign peers, feeling their pain and hunger, outraged by the labor conditions they were subjected to.

João Cândido was not the only sailor who took notice of the movements unfolding abroad. A young sailor from Ceará who was very cultured for the time, Francisco Dias Martins, reminisced over Kronstadt in a letter sent to Bahia’s commanding officer, which he signed under the rather racialized pseudonym of MãoNegra (Black Hand). Martins wrote that the “trips to civilized countries” were meant to teach how to make political demands, and threatened officers by urging them to remember the Russian fleet in the “Baltic [Sea].”74 His mention of the Baltic shows that this was not a direct reference to the revolt of the battleship Potemkin, which—as we noted, had taken place in the Black Sea a year prior to the Benjamin Constant’s visit to Europe—but rather to what had transpired in Kronstadt75.

The broadening of Cândido’s worldviews, which resulted from such formative experiences, did not stop there. After 1904 (and later in 1906) the Navy placed an order to English shipyards for the first completely integrated armada, organized on the basis of several technological studies—a 19th century officers’ dream76. Hundreds of sailors were sent to England to learn how to operate these powerful war machines, forming a, so to speak, “Brazilian colony in Newcastle.” There they lived in hotels, far from officers and with more freedom than they were used to in Brazilian barracks and ships. They ran into trouble, got married, dated girls, drank, fought and studied77.

They also got in touch with remarkable people and institutions: the port workers, whose memories and experiences of strikes were imprinted into their political consciousness—such as the strike that had reduced their workday to 9 hours—, and British sailors, who had also achieved important reforms—such as the eradication of physical punishments, improved food and medical care, etc. British sailors were a role-model of respect and pride for the English people.

To quote Morgan, in their educational trip to England, the sailors took an important step towards an “emergent political consciousness.” Although the origins of the Revolt of the Whip extrapolate the Newcastle situation, it was nevertheless significantly inspired by this section of the British working class, idealized and shaped in the city’s pubs, streets and docks78.

In this sense, it was no coincidence that precisely João Cândido would be the one to lead hundreds of sailors aboard the mighty, recently purchased ships. He was one of the few existing qualified commanders of the Dreadnought battleship class, vessels that had stood out in the naval conflicts of the First World War. The second commander of the modern battleship Minas Geraes had been a signalman, a gunner, a helmsman, a rigger and a machine auxiliary. He had sailed through rivers, seas and oceans and was battle-hardened enough so as to remain stable during conflicts (after all, he had lived through conflict since the age of 14 in Rio Grande do Sul). Cândido and his peers threatened to bomb the Federal Capital of the Republic, taking the government of the newly appointed president Hermes da Fonseca hostage. They roared in unison, loud and clear, from November 22nd to November 26th, 1910, the cry that still echoes in Brazilian history: “Long live freedom, down with the whip!”

Final considerations

Admiral Oliveira Bello is quoted a saying that João Cândido was an “imperfect creature, with complex roots … an individuality that lacked the propriety and fiber to resist, fight and win, as he had indeed been proving through a long list of frustrations and conformities.”79 Admiral Hélio Leôncio Martins, on other hand, stated that his temper had “dual aspects. Mostly laid-back, flexible, one could even say morose, he would become aggressive when provoked … an undesirable figure in a modern Navy.”80

Unsurprisingly, the reader might come across texts of this nature, which seek to diminish the sailors’ accomplishments and assess them as intellectually and morally incapable of such a revolt, or of leading complex ships—among them the nearly invincible Minas Geraes and São Paulo—without an officer. If these claims were to be believed, João Cândido would have to be portrayed as a man unable to wrap his head around new technologies, stuck in a past of wind-propelled ships. João Batista das Neves, the first commanding officer of the Minas Gerais, murdered during the revolt, had also been a man of this past, together with most of his peers: it is worth remembering that João Cândido was the second-in-command, even though he was later, and justifiably, called “The Black Admiral” by social movements, songs and other homages81.

Some have also claimed that what set João Cândido apart from well-qualified officers was that the “Black Admiral” was illiterate, which compromised his ability to understand and learn about new technologies. However, there several testimonies claiming he was not actually illiterate; furthermore, it is worth pointing out that not everything that could be learned at the time was learned by means of lettered culture82.

These statements were taken from officers who felt outraged by the journalistic coverage of the revolt, which in their view was too generalizing and short-sighted. Without a doubt, the revolt should be comprehended in its complexity. Moreover, the killing of officers in the revolt was cause for grief and sadness, a blow against the corps spirit of these military commentators.

One must not forget, however, the brutal treatment those sailors were subjected to during punishment, or the immense difficulties they faced with their meager salaries, food of dubious quality and excessive workloads, especially with the arrival of modern ships. Much of that treatment was due to the lack of planning or political, social and racial will to treat those sailors as dignified citizens, capable of fulfilling their duties as such, although there were a few efforts towards this goal83.

The hatred towards João Cândido lingered for decades among old Navy officers who had been his contemporaries, or heard resentful stories when they were still in Naval School. In 1960, Oliveira Bello himself displayed such feelings in an awful utterance: he muttered that “neither [João Cândido] nor his life mattered to the Navy, nor even to society or the country; today he is deemed a swindler in this extravagant world.”84

However, the crooked and often unintelligible lines of time sought to correct this assessment. History’s judgment is not necessary pleasing, either to the living or the dead. Scholars, researchers and activists have kept Cândido’s memory alive by means of several monuments, street names, schools and cultural centers. More than 110 years since the Revolt of the Whip, João Cândido has been appointed to count among the list in the book of Heróis e Heroínas da Pátria (Heroes and Heroines of the Country)85. He has become the “Mestre Sala dos Mares” in the ingenious verses by João Bosco and Aldir Blanc, and his name has constantly resurfaced in the press. As for Bello’s grisly utterances, all we can say is that time has indeed taken upon itself to show them for what they are, with the help of historiography. After all, not any admiral could be called “The Black Admiral,” and even fewer could lead a parade like the Mestre Sala dos Mares.

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NASCIMENTO, Álvaro Pereira do. Recrutamento para a Marinha brasileira: República, cor e cidadania. In: MUGGE, Miqueias H.; COMISSOLI, Adriano (Orgs.). Homens e armas: recrutamento militar no Brasil: século XIX. São Leopoldo: Oikos, 2011. p. 235-256. [ Links ]

NASCIMENTO, Álvaro Pereira do. A ressaca da marujada: recrutamento e disciplina na Armada imperial. Rio de Janeiro: Arquivo Nacional, 2001. [ Links ]

NASCIMENTO, Álvaro Pereira do. Do cativeiro ao mar: escravos na Marinha de Guerra. Estudos Afro- asiáticos, Rio de Janeiro, n. 38, p. 85-112, 2000 [ Links ]

PAEZZO, Sylvan (Org.). Memórias da Madame Satã. Rio de Janeiro: Lidador, 1972. [ Links ]

PEÇANHA, Natália Batista. “Precisa-se de uma criada nacional ou estrangeira”: uma análise das relações de trabalho entre nacionais e estrangeiras/os no serviço doméstico carioca (1880-1920). In: Encontro Escravidão e Liberdade no Brasil Meridional, 8, 2017, Porto Alegre. Anais… Porto Alegre: UFRGS, 2017. Disponível em: <Disponível em: https://bit.ly/2zV7Bry >. Acesso em:28 mar. 2018. [ Links ]

PENALVA, Gastão (Sebastião Fernandes de Sousa). A Marinha do meu tempo. 2. ed. Rio de Janeiro: SDM, 1983. [ Links ]

PERUSSATTO, Melina Kleinert. Como se de ventre livre nascesse: experiências de cativeiro, parentesco, emancipação e liberdade nos derradeiros anos da escravidão - Rio Pardo/RS, c. 1860-c.1888. 2010. 305 f. Dissertação (Mestrado em História) - Unisinos, São Leopoldo. [ Links ]

REDIKER, Marcus. O navio negreiro São Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 2015. [ Links ]

REIS, João José. Domingos Sodré, um sacerdote africano: escravidão, liberdade e candomblé na Bahia do século XIX São Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 2008. [ Links ]

RIBEIRO, Gladys Sabina. Mata galegos: os portugueses e os conflitos de trabalho na República Velha. São Paulo: Brasiliense, 1990. [ Links ]

RODRIGUES, Jaime. De costa acosta. São Paulo: Cia. das Letras, 2005. [ Links ]

SCHUELER, Alessandra; GONDRA, José Gonçalves. Educação, poder e sociedade no Império Brasileiro. São Paulo: Cortez, 2008. [ Links ]

TODOROV, Tzvetan. A conquista da América. São Paulo: Martins Fontes, 1988. [ Links ]

WANDENKOLK, Eduardo. Relatório de viagem à Europa da corveta Vital de Negreiros, comandante Eduardo Wandenkolk, em 13 de outubro de 1882 1882. Serviço de Documentação da Marinha, Rio de Janeiro, Brasil. Doc. 3. [ Links ]

WEIMER, Rodrigo de Azevedo. A família dos “Inácios”: herança nominal e memória da escravidão entre descendentes de escravos no litoral do Rio Grande do Sul. In: Encontro Escravidão e Liberdade no Brasil Meridional, 6, 2013, Florianópolis. Anais… Florianópolis: UFSC, 2013. p. 12. Disponível em: <Disponível em: https://bit.ly/2QI1MVy >. Acesso em:14 nov. 2018. [ Links ]

1Mestre sala: an aristocratic rank, especially in Portugal. The mestre sala was a head of ceremonies, comparable to a master of ceremonies. Nowadays, the term concerns a position in Brazilian samba parades, in which, along with the porta bandeira, the mestre sala is responsible for leading the parade and displaying the samba school’s flag to the audience.

4Among others, refer to: MICELLI, Paulo. O ponto onde estamos. São Paulo: Página Aberta, 1994; REDIKER, Marcus. O navio negreiro. São Paulo: Cia. das Letras, 2011; RODRIGUES, Jaime. De costa a costa. São Paulo: Cia. das Letras, 2005; TODOROV, Tzvetan. A conquista da América. São Paulo: Martins Fontes, 1988.

5REDIKER, Marcus. Op cit., p. 118-140.

6CASTRO, Celso. A proclamação da República. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar, 2000. p. 8-9.

7LESSA, Renato. A invenção da República no Brasil: da aventura à rotina. IN: CARVALHO, Maria Alice R de (Org.) República no Catete. Rio de Janeiro: Museu da República, 2001 and CARVALHO, José Murilo de. A formação das almas. São Paulo: Cia. das Letras, 1990.

8In regard to João Cândido’s family history, refer to: NASCIMENTO, Alvaro P. do. Um jovem negro no pós-abolição: do ventre livre à Marina de Guerra. IN: CARVALHO, José Murilo de; CAMPOS, Adriana Pereira (Orgs.). Perspectivas da cidadania no Brasil império. Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira, 2011.

9Arquivo Histórico da Cúria Metropolitana de Porto Alegre - Livro de registro de batismo, Rio Pardo, Livro nº 24, 1881 a 1882, folha 61.

10In regard to Cândido’s mother’s age, it is worth pointing out that slave owners had no precise record or knowledge of their slaves’ ages. In 1863, Ignácia is accounted for in Gaspar Simões Pires’ inventory with an “age of 30.” In her manumission document, from 1883 (i.e., 20 years later), she is said to be 40 years old. This data would lead us to the equivocal idea that Cândido was born when his mother was 42 (which would have been possible, but she continued having children for years after marrying João Cândido’s father). Slave owners, especially evaluators of goods who worked in registries, seemed to use the slaves’ physical and facial wear as a parameter to classify and inscribe information about their age. This was crucial in the assessment of slaves’ value. It did not matter much if the slave was a child or an elder, as those would likely have their age assessed correctly; as for adults, however, the appearance of vitality had a direct impact on their value as commodities. For more details regarding this period, refer to: NASCIMENTO, Álvaro Pereira do. Um jovem negro no pós-abolição… Op. Cit.

11FERREIRA, Maria Luci Corrêa. Tributo a João Cândido: o rei do farol da liberdade. Encruzilhada do Sul: [S. n.], 2002. p. 54 -57. It is very likely that Caetana was Ignácia’s first daughter, as we shall see.

12Arquivo Público do Estado do Rio Grande do Sul (APERS): Inventário post mortem, Gaspar Simões Pires. Encruzilhada, Autos 185, Maço 7, estante 21, 1863, f. 23v.

13APERS: Testamento, Florinda Cândida de Lima. Encruzilhada, Autos 84, Maço 2, estante 121, 1876, f. 1v.

14MOREL, Edmar. A revolta da chibata.4. ed. Rio de Janeiro: Graal, 1986. p. 68.

15In regard to the naming of former slaves, and the use of first names and surnames to reference ancestors related to slave masters, refer to: WEIMER, Rodrigo de Azevedo. A família dos “Inácios”: herança nominal e memória da escravidão entre descendentes de escravos no litoral do Rio Grande do Sul, Brasil. In: ENCONTRO ESCRAVIDÃO E LIBERDADE NO BRASIL MERIDIONAL, 6, 2013, Florianópolis. Anais… Florianópolis: UFSC, 2013. p. 12. Available from: <https://bit.ly/2QI1MVy>. Accessed on: 11.14.2018. Their data indicate “there was an horizontal family solidarity in the act of naming. The habit of taking on a master’s surname does not account for the identity relationships weaved by former slaves, who passed onto their children the names of ancestors, with first names and surnames being carefully chosen from a repertoire supplied by uncles, grandmothers and great-aunts and uncles, many of whom were also slaves.”

16Arquivo Histórico da Cúria Metropolitana de Porto Alegre: Livro de Notas do Tabelião Joaquim Antonio de Borba Junior, Encruzilhada, livro 7, 1882-1885.

17PERUSSATTO, Melina Kleinert. Como se de ventre livre nascesse: experiências de cativeiro, parentesco emancipação e liberdade nos derradeiros anos da escravidão - Rio Pardo/RS, c. 1860-c.1888. 2010. 305 f. Dissertação (Mestrado em História) - Unisinos, São Leopoldo, 2010. p. 41.

18COOPER, Frederick; SCOTT, Rebecca; HOLT, Thomas. Além da escravidão. Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira, 2005; HOLT, Thomas. The problem of freedom: race, labor, and politics in Jamaica and Britain, 1832-1938. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991; MCGLYNN, Frank; DRESCHER, Drescher (Eds). The meaning of freedom: economics, politics and culture after slavery. Pitsburgh: University of Pitsburgh Press, 1992.

19MATTOS, Hebe; RIOS, Ana Lugão. Memórias do cativeiro: família, trabalho e cidadania no pós-abolição. Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira, 2005; RIBEIRO, Gladys Sabina. Mata galegos: os portugueses e os conflitos de trabalho na República Velha. São Paulo: Brasiliense, 1990; CHALHOUB, Sidney. Trabalho, lar e botequim: o cotidiano dos trabalhadores no Rio de Janeiro da belle époque. Campinas: Ed. Unicamp, 2001; KOVARICK, Lúcio. Trabalho e vadiagem: a origem do trabalho livre no Brasil. 2. ed. Rio de Janeiro: Paz e Terra, 1994; FRAGA FILHO, Walter. Encruzilhadas da liberdade: histórias de escravos e libertos na Bahia (1870-1910). Campinas: Ed. Unicamp, 2006; ALBUQUERQUE, Wlamyra. O jogo da dissimulação: abolição e cidadania negra no Brasil. São Paulo: Cia. das Letras, 2009; REIS, João José. Domingos Sodré, um sacerdote africano: escravidão, liberdade e candomblé na Bahia do século XIX. São Paulo: Cia. das Letras, 2008.

20CARVALHO, José Murilo de. Os bestializados. São Paulo: Cia. das Letras, 1987.

21Here I am referring to worker associations, especially mutualist ones. For further information, see: DOMINGUES, Petrônio. A nova abolição. São Paulo: Selo Negro, 2008; MATTOS, Marcelo Badaró. Escravizados e livres. Rio de Janeiro: Bom Texto, 2008 e BATALHA, Cláudio H. de M. Sociedades de trabalhadores no Rio de Janeiro: algumas reflexões em torno da formação da classe operária. Cadernos AEL, Campinas, v. 6, n. 10-11, p. 42-69, 1999. The participation of black women, whose labor had a significant role in ensuring the survival of their families, also stands out: ANDREWS, George Reid. Negros e brancos em São Paulo (1888-1988). Bauru, SP: Edusc, 1998.

22MATTOS, Hebe; RIOS, Ana Lugão. Op. Cit. Introdução.

23Silvia Capanema Almeida had access the first files in the Bureau of Naval Identification, created in 1908, and analyzed personal data that was previously impossible to obtain, such as sailors’ age groups. According to her, “most” of the enlisted sailors were born after 1888, and had ages ranging from 17 to 22 years. Refer to: ALMEIDA, Silvia Capanema. A modernização do material e do pessoal da Marinha nas vésperas da revolta dos marujos de 1910: modelos e contradições. Estudos Históricos, Rio de Janeiro, v. 23, n. 45, p. 147-170, 2010. p. 151. Available from: <https://bit.ly/2FlR8m9>. Accessed on: 03.27.2018.

24NASCIMENTO, Álvaro Pereira do. Do cativeiro ao mar: escravos na Marinha de Guerra. Estudos Afro-asiáticos, Rio de Janeiro, n. 38, p. 85-112, 2000; KRAAY, Hendrik. Escravidão, cidadania e serviço militar na mobilização brasileira para a Guerra do Paraguai. Estudos Afro-Asiáticos, Rio de Janeiro, n. 33, p. 117-51, set. 1998.

25SCHUELER Alessandra e GONDRA, José Gonçalves. Educação, poder e sociedade no Império Brasileiro. São Paulo: Cortez, 2008, pp. 220-256.

26NASCIMENTO, Álvaro Pereira do. A ressaca da marujada: recrutamento e disciplina na Armada imperial. Rio de Janeiro: Arquivo Nacional, 2001; BEATTIE, Peter. Conflicting penile codes: modern masculinity and sodomy in the Brazilian military, 1860-1916. In: BALDERSTON, Daniel; GUY, Donna J. Sex and sexuality in Latin America. New York: New York Univ. Press, 1997, pp. 65-84.

27NASCIMENTO, Álvaro Pereira do. Recrutamento para a Marinha brasileira: República, cor e cidadania. In: MUGGE, Miqueias H.; COMISSOLI, Adriano (Orgs.). Homens e armas: recrutamento militar no Brasil: século XIX. São Leopoldo: Oikos, 2011. p. 235-256.

28NASCIMENTO, Álvaro Pereira do. Um jovem negro no pós-abolição… Op. Cit.

29MOREL, Edmar. Op. Cit., p. 260.

30PAEZZO, Sylvan (Org.). Memórias da Madame Satã. Rio de Janeiro: Lidador, 1972; PEÇANHA, Natália Batista. “Precisa-se de uma criada nacional ou estrangeira”: uma análise das relações de trabalho entre nacionais e estrangeiras/os no serviço doméstico carioca (1880-1920). In: ENCONTRO ESCRAVIDÃO E LIBERDADE NO BRASIL MERIDIONAL, 8, 2017, Porto Alegre. Anais… Porto Alegre: UFRGS, 2017. In: ENCONTRO ESCRAVIDÃO E LIBERDADE NO BRASIL MERIDIONAL, 8, 2017, Porto Alegre. Anais... Porto Alegre: UFRGS, 2017. p. 1-19. Available from: <https://bit.ly/2zV7Bry>. Accessed on: 03.28.2018.

31Ibidem, p. 245.

32BARBOSA, Marília. (Org). João Cândido, o almirante negro. Rio de Janeiro: Gryphus: Museu da Imagem e do Som, 1999. p. 68. João Cândido very likely tried to study at another school, the War Arsenal School in Porto Alegre, before enrolling in the Rio Grande naval apprenticeship school. In an interview granted in 1968 for the Museu da Imagem e do Som, he said that “due to overloaded classes” he was “transferred” to the naval apprenticeship school in Rio Grande. We infer that he had spent approximately one year in Porto Alegre, working different jobs, before finally enlisting in the Navy.

33FERREIRA, Maria Luci Corrêa. Op. Cit., p. 54. Self-translated.

34Gaspar Simões Pires’ sister, Maria Esméria de Vasconcelos, eventually had four children. The third, Ana Ubaldina de Faria, was born on March 15th, 1818. She married Captain Alexandrino de Melo Alencar. They also had three children, and the only son would grow up to become Alexandrino Faria de Alencar, future Minister of the Navy. As one will notice, they had very close family ties. Alexandrino’s mother was Gaspar Simões Pires’ niece, and Maria do Carmo Simões Pires’ cousin who, due to her marriage, inherited Ignácia. In an interview to the Museu da Imagem e do Som, João Cândido even said that his family was “granted favors” from Alexandrino. Refer to: BARBOSA, M. Op. Cit., p. 76.

35Alexandrino’s contribution to Cândido enlisting in the Navy is somewhat unclear. In 1895, he was still in exile for taking part in the Brazilian Naval Revolts, and one year prior he had been involved in battles both on sea and land. Could he have had the time and influence to write a recommendation letter? In any case, this merits further research.

36Arquivo Nacional: Processo João Cândido e outros, Pacote 2, folhas 344.

37CARVALHO, José Murilo de. A formação das almas. São Paulo: Cia. das Letras, 1990. p. 24-28.

38ARIAS NETO, José Miguel. A Revolta da Armada de 1893: um “fato” construído. In: OLIVEIRA, Cecília H Salles de; PRADO, Maria Ligia C.; JANOTTI, Maria de Lourdes M. (Orgs.). A história na política, a política na história. São Paulo: Alameda, 2006. p. 137 and 142.

39Ibidem, p. 142.

40MARTINS, Hélio Leôncio. História naval brasileira: a Revolta da Armada, 1893. Rio de Janeiro: Serviço de Documentação da Marinha, 1995. p. 193-197.

41MARTINS, Hélio Leôncio. Op. cit., p. 256.

42BRASIL. Relatório do Ministro da Marinha. Rio de Janeiro: Imprensa Naval, 1897. p. 95. Available from: <https://bit.ly/2K3PQep>. Accessed on: 03.28.2018.

43Ibidem, p. 43.

44Ibidem, p. 42-43.

45GALVÃO, Walnice Nogueira. O império de Belo Monte: vida e morte de Canudos. São Paulo: Perseu Abramo, 2001. p. 84-86. COSTA, Carlos. Cronologia resumida da Guerra de Canudos. Rio de Janeiro: Museu da República: MinC, 2017. Available from: <https://bit.ly/2DGr3Nl>. Accessed on: 03.25.2018.

46Ibidem, p. 111.

47WANDENKOLK, Eduardo.Relatório de viagem à Europa da corveta Vital de Negreiros, comandante Eduardo Wandenkolk, em 13 de outubro de 1882. Serviço de Documentação da Marinha, Rio de Janeiro, Brasil. Doc. 3.

481,424 t displacement; 66 m length; 11.22 m breadth; 4.15 m depth; 4.4 m stem draught; 3.9 m bow draught; alternative steam machine; two cylinders, 86 rotations, 200 hps full power, four rectangular boilers, 9 knots top speed, one propeller, coal deposits with capacity for 150 t.

49LEITÃO, Humberto Leitão e LOPES, J. Vicente. Dicionário da linguagem da Marinha antiga e actual. Lisboa: Edições Culturais da Marinha, 1990, p. 275, verbete “Frescos —- Food that was carried on board and had to be consumed immediately or in the following few days, such as greens, fish, meat, etc. and that would quickly decay if not kept in freezers.”

50CAMINHA, Adolfo. No país dos ianques. Rio de Janeiro: José Olympio, 1979. p. 24.

51WANDENKOLK, Eduardo. Relatório de viagem à Europa… Op. Cit. f. 1v.

52“Rotten,” here, is used in a similar sense as “still” (air or wind).

53The action of getting the sails ready, rolled or tied to the mast; to make them ready to gather any incoming wind.

54CAMINHA, Adolfo. No país dos ianques... Op. Cit., p. 123.

55The internal regiment ordered that “every day at dawn the necessary cleaning of the inside, of the entire ship, with sweeping and mopping, must be carried out, especially where the need is more evident, with zero tolerance in regard to any negligence in the matter; and when the ship is no longer anchored, the exterior ought to be mopped with a firehose at sunrise and at sunset. After the interior cleaning is through, the entire ship must be perfumed with vinegar, tar or gunpowder.”

56WANDENKOLK, Eduardo. Relatório de viagem à Europa… Op. Cit. f. 6v. It is fairly interesting to point out that approximately three decades after Wandenkolk’s trip, in 1907, beriberi was still deemed contagious. In government directives, there is no mention whatsoever of any diet based on “frescos” as a way to treat beriberi and tuberculosis. Refer to: BRASIL. Leis, Decretos. Decisões do Governo da República dos Estados Unidos do Brasil. Decisão n. 16, de 26 de setembro de 1907. In regard to these sailors’ diet, refer to: ALMEIDA, Sílvia Capanema P. de. Corpo, saúde e alimentação na Marinha de Guerra brasileira no período pós-abolição, 1890-1910. História, Ciências, Saúde, Manguinhos, RJ, v. 19, supl., p.15-33, dez. 2012.

57MICELI, Paulo. Op. Cit., p. 153-154.

58Biblioteca Nacional - 19,1,33: “Comissões ao Norte e ao Sul do Brasil” - 19,1,31: Inspeção dos estabelecimentos navais das províncias do Império - 16,3,9: “Viagem da corveta baiana” - 16, 3, 8: “Livro copiador de ofícios.”

59Biblioteca Nacional - 19,1,32 “O pessoal e o serviço a bordo dos navios da Marinha Inglesa,” September 1882. Wandenkolk bought the compendium together with other publications—such as the “letters from the British Admiralty”—when he arrived in England aboard the Vital de Oliveira, and began translating it during the journey.

60CAMINHA, Adolfo. No país dos ianquesOp. Cit., p. 143. “The best out of all the receptions we attended ... was the Louisiana Governor’s, a splendid ball at the Royal Hotel ... which was also attended by all of the civil and military authorities in the city, fully dressed in their corporation uniforms. The coats, the clacks, the white silk ties, the low-cut dresses down to where morality was still due, they all mingled in the richly adorned halls of the hotel, with its wide-open spaces full of light, akin to a palace festivity. The young Brazilian officers, skilled in cotillions, truly feasted in this wonderful winter soirée, cold and clear, sparkled by shiny gold buttons, far from home, far from their families, but amidst a people that truly cared for us. ... A plentiful menu, from the delicious oyster soup and Worcestershire sauce to the finest Clicot champagne, with side dishes such as the fresh and spicy lobster mayo, the delightful poisson à l’italienne, red and flavorful… and, oh Lord, so, so many other marvelous dishes brought to life by an Epicureanist gluttony of all generations, from Lucullus’ to ours. We went back on board in the early hours, worn-out, drowsy, eyes nearly shut, clamoring for the softness of a pillow, wrapped inside our sacrosanct British cloaks.”

61WANDENKOLK,Eduardo. Relatório de viagem à Europa… Op. Cit. f. 8.

62There are some works on the importance of said education, indispensable to anyone interested in the subject. Refer to: PENALVA, Gastão (Sebastião Fernandes de Sousa). A Marinha do meu tempo. 2. ed. Rio de Janeiro: SDM, 1983; CAMINHA, Adolfo. No país dos ianques… Op. Cit.; GUILHEM, Henrique Aristides. Conselhos aos jovens oficiais. 2. ed. Rio de Janeiro: SDM, 1981.

63In 1893 the Minister reported the purchase of electric machinery to be used in drilling and sawing in Navy arsenal workshops. BRASIL, Marinha. Relatório do Ministério da Marinha. Rio de Janeiro: Imprensa Naval, 1893. p. 73-74.

64CAMINHA, Adolfo. No país dos ianques… Op. Cit., p. 164.

65CAMINHA, Herick Marques. História administrativa do Brasil: organização e administração do Ministério da Marinha na República. Brasília: FUNCEP: SDGM, 1989. v. 36. p. 275.

66ALMEIDA, Silvia Capanema P. A modernização do material e do pessoal da Marinha nas vésperas da revolta dos marujos de 1910… Op. Cit., p. 151.

67CAMINHA, Herick Marques. Op. Cit., p. 123-125.

68LAMARÃO, Sergio; URBINATI, Inoã Carvalho. Centro de Pesquisa e Documentação de História Contemporânea do Brasil. Verbetes. Castro, Plácido. Available from: <https://bit.ly/2DjEh1n>. Accessed on: 03.28.2018.

69BARBOSA, Marilia (Org.). Op. Cit., p. 89. In Cândido’s 1968 interview to the Museu da Imagem e do Som he narrated the experience. He even said that he had seen the Bolivian president go by in a cage ship. The General José Manuel Pando had indeed been defeated by the rubber tappers and the indigenous people, but the battle took place months before João Cândido arrived there.

70BRASIL. Relatório do Ministério da Marinha. Rio de Janeiro: Imprensa Naval, 1907. Processo João Cândido e Outros. p. 15. Arquivo Nacional. Rio de Janeiro, Brasil. Pacotilha2, folhas 350-353.

71Refer to: <https://bit.ly/2OLO2rc>.

72AVRICH, Paul. Kronstadt, 1921. Princeton, Princeton Universtity Press, 1970. p. 55-57.

73MUTINY at Cronstadt feared. The New York Times, New York,19 June 1906. Available from: <https://nyti.ms/2RSSh62>. Accessed on: 03.28.2018.

74COELHO, Alberto Durão. Algozes e victimas. Rio de Janeiro: Typ. Jornal do Commercio, 1911. p. 21-22.

75For a long time, historians working on the Revolt of the Whip believed that the Potemkin revolt was the main influence in the Brazilian sailors political consciousness. They did not understand (myself included) why the Black Hand made mention of the Baltic Sea, and not the Black Sea, where the crew aboard the Russian battleship rebelled. We agree with Maestri: there was some influence from the Potemkin, but Kronstadt was the true source of inspiration for the Brazilian sailors. Refer to: MAESTRI, Mário. Cisnes negros. 1910: a revolta dos marinheiros contra a chibata. Porto Alegre: FCM, 2014. p. 63-87.

76ALMEIDA, Silvia Capanema P. A modernização do material e do pessoal da Marinha nas vésperas da revolta dos marujos de 1910…. Op. Cit. The most comprehensive book on the new armada is: MARTINS FILHO, João Roberto. A Marinha brasileira na era dos encouraçados, 1895-1910. Rio de Janeiro: FGV, 2010.

77MORGAN, Zachary. 14 Legacy of the lash: race and corporal punishment in the Brazilian navy and the Atlantic World. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2014. p. 181-186.

78Ibidem, p.14.

79OLIVEIRA BELLO, Luis Alves de. “Versão Oficial”. In: MOREL, Edmar. Op. Cit., p. 260.

80MARTINS, Hélio Leôncio. Op. Cit., p. 78.

81MOREL, Marco. Apresentação”. In: MOREL, Edmar. A revolta da chibata. 6. ed. Rio de Janeiro: Paz e Terra, 2016. p. 18-23.

82Ibidem, p. 347.

83ALMEIDA, Silvia Capanema. A modernização do material e do pessoal da Marinha nas vésperas da revolta dos marujos de 1910…. Op. Cit., p. 149.

84OLIVEIRA BELLO, Luis Alves de. “Versão Oficial”… Op. Cit., p. 294.

85As a write this article, a bill by Lindbergh Farias is in transit in the Federal Senate, with the goal of including Cândido in the book. Refer to: <https://bit.ly/2PurrVo>.

Received: April 13, 2018; Accepted: July 23, 2018

3

PhD in History obtained in the Universidade Estadual de Campinas. Teaches History at UFRRJ, and researches the subject of Productivity at CNPq.

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