Abstract
On the eve of the age of abolition, even intellectuals who were morally opposed to slavery were far more impressed by its power and durability than by its weaknesses. Adam Smith reminded his students that only a small portion of the earth was being worked by free labor, and that it was unlikely that slavery would ever be totally abandoned. Across the channel, the Abbé Raynal could envision the end of New World slavery only through a fortuitous conjuncture of philosopher-kings in Europe or the appearance of a heroic Spartacus in the Americas. No historical trend toward general emancipation could be assumed.1
The Hispanic American Historical Review, 68(3) (August 1968), pp. 429–60.
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Notes
Also published in R. Scott, S. Drescher et al., The Abolition of Slavery and the Aftermath of Emancipation in Brazil (Durham, NC, 1988), pp. 23–54; and in
P. Finkelman, ed., Comparative Issues in Slavery, 18 vols. (New York, 1989) XVIII, pp. 69–100; trans. Jaime Rodrigues ‘A Abolicão Brasileira em Perspectiva Comparativa’, História Social, 2 (1995), pp. 115–62.
Adam Smith, Lectures on Jurisprudence, R. L. Meek, D. D. Raphael, and P. G. Stein, eds. (Oxford, 1978), p. 181
G. T. F. Raynal, Histoire philosophique et politique des établissements et du commerce des européens dans les deux Indes, 7 vols. (Geneva, 1780).
David Brion Davis, Slavery and Human Progress (New York, 1984), p. 298;
Robert E. Conrad, The Destruction of Brazilian Slavery, 1850–1888 (Berkeley, 1972), p. 71. It was, of course, European-oriented members of Brazil’s elite who felt most strongly that their country was humiliated by slavery and that it was a nation which played no role in building civilization or prosperity. See Joaquim Nabuco, Abolitionism: The Brazilian Antislavery Struggle, Conrad, trans. (Urbana, 1977), pp. 4, 108, 117–18. On the influence of European and US models on Brazilian concepts of progress and slavery, see Richard Graham, Britain and the Onset of Modernization in Brazil, 1850–1914 (Cambridge, 1968), esp. chs. 6 and 10, and ‘Causes for the Abolition of Negro Slavery in Brazil: An Interpretive Essay’, HAHR, 46(2) (May 1966), pp. 123–37; and E. Bradford Burns, The Poverty of Progress: Latin America in the nineteenth century (Berkeley, 1980), ch. 2.
For good general syntheses which treat Brazilian abolition primarily as a mopping-up operation by modernizers, see C. Duncan Rice, The Rise and Fall of Black Slavery (London, 1975), pp. 370–81; and
Edward Reynolds, Stand the Storm: A history of the Atlantic slave trade (London, New York, 1985), pp. 90–2. The historiography of Brazilian abolition is sometimes elaborated within a broader model of social progress in which the inherent inefficiencies or ‘contradictions’ of slave labor utilization converge with other causes of technological and economic retardation. For a good example of this ‘convergence’ thesis, see Emília Viotti da Costa, The Brazilian Empire: Myths and histories (Chicago, 1985), pp. 148–71 and Da senzala à colônia (São Paulo, 1966), ch. 5. The issue of the efficiency of slave labor is sometimes not distinguished from the issue of technological progress in general. See the perceptive discussion in Peter L. Eisenberg, The Sugar Industry in Pernambuco: Modernization without change, 1840–1910 (Berkeley, 1974), ch. 3 and n. 18 below.
But recently, see da Costa, The Brazilian Empire, ch. 6; Robert Brent Toplin, The Abolition of Slavery in Brazil (New York, 1972); and Conrad, The Destruction. The pervasive structural foundations of Brazilian slavery are presented in greatest detail by Stuart B. Schwartz, Sugar Plantations in the Formation of Brazilian Society: Bahia, 1550–1835 (Cambridge, 1985), esp. ch. 16 and Robert Wayne Slenes, ‘The Demography and Economics of Brazilian Slavery: 1850–1888’ (Ph.D. dissertation, Stanford University, 1975).
Carl Degler, Neither Black nor White: Slavery and race relations in Brazil and the United States (Madison, 1986);
Frank Tannenbaum, Slave and Citizen: The Negro in the Americas (New York, 1947);
Stanley Elkins, Slavery, a Problem in American Institutional and Intellectual Life (Chicago, 1959);
Arnold Sio, ‘Interpretations of Slavery: The Slave Status in the Americas’, Comparative Studies in Society and History, 7(3) (April 1965), pp. 289–308;
David Brion Davis, The Problem of Slavery in Western Culture (Ithaca, 1966), chs. 8 and 9. Even Rebecca J. Scott who analyzes Cuba, the other late emancipation in Latin America, makes only a passing reference to Brazil (Slave Emancipation in Cuba: The transition to free labor 1860–1899 [Princeton, 1985], p. 284). However, Scott recognizes the comparative opportunities afforded by the Cuban and Brazilian cases in her comments on Eric Foner, Nothing But Freedom: Emancipation and its legacy (Baton Rouge, 1983), in ‘Comparing Emancipations: A Review Essay’, Journal of Social History, 20(3) (Spring 1987), pp. 565–83, esp. pp. 574–5. See also Davis, Slavery and Human Progress, pp. 294–7. For US-Brazilian comparisons, see also Eugene D. Genovese, The World the Slaveholders Made: Two essays in interpretation (New York, 1969), part one.
Leslie Bethell, The Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade: Britain, Brazil, and the slave trade question, 1807–1869 (Cambridge, 1970), p. 385; Conrad, The Destruction, pp. 65–9. On the US linkage between abolition of the trade and decline of slavery, see n. 14 and 25 below. For a summary of economic models used to explain the rise and continuation of the slave trade, see Robert W. Fogel, Without Consent or Contract: The rise and fall of American slavery [New York, 1989], ch. 1.
David Eltis, Economic Growth and the Ending of the Transatlantic Slave Trade (New York, 1987), App. A.
David Eltis, ‘The Traffic in Slaves between the British West India Colonies, 1807–1833’, Economic History Review, 25(1) (February 1972), pp. 55–64. For the urban decline in the British West Indies after 1807, see B. W. Higman, Slave Populations of the British Caribbean, 1807–1834 (Baltimore, 1984), pp. 92–9; for the urban decline in Brazilian slavery, see Mary C. Karasch, Slave Life in Rio de Janeiro, 1808–1850 (Princeton, 1987), p. 61, Table 3.1.
Compare the percentage reductions in numbers of slaves in Ceará, Pernambuco, Bahia, and Sergipe in Brazil’s Northeast from 1864 to 1884 with those in the northern tier of US slave states — Maryland, Virginia, Kentucky, and Missouri — from 1840 to 1860. Also compare Conrad, The Destruction, App. 3 with Bureau of the Census, Negro Population in the United States, 1790–1915 (New York, 1968), p. 57, Table 6. On the general shift of slave labor toward the south-center, see also da Costa, Da senzala, pp. 132–7. For the impact of slave trade constriction and concentration of ownership in Cuba, see Jordi Maluquer de Motes, ‘Abolicionismo y resistencia a la abolición en la España del siglo XIX’, Anuario de Estudios Americanos, 43 (1986), pp. 311–31, esp. pp. 323–4.
Conrad, The Destruction, pp. 65–9. According to Conrad, the non-importing areas of the Northeast might have begun to consider the potential increase of prices for their slaves even before abolition of the trade in 1850–1. The antiabolitionist ‘Barbacena Project’ of 1848 was opposed by some representatives of the northern provinces. See Conrad, ‘The Struggle for the Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade: 1808–1853’ (Ph.D. dissertation, Columbia University, 1967), pp. 289–303. Some indication of the impact of slave trade abolition on the northeastern planters is the fact that, circa 1850, slaves normally outnumbered free laborers on Pernambuco sugar plantations by more than 3: 1. But ‘by 1872 free workers outnumbered slaves in all occupational categories, from 14: 1 in unskilled labor and 5: 1 in agricultural labor, to 3: 1 in domestic labor’. See Eisenberg, The Sugar Industry, p. 180.
Conrad, The Destruction. Just ten years earlier, in 1874, 14 of the 21 provinces of Brazil had slave populations of more than 10 percent, and only 2 had levels of under 5 percent. In the declining regional economy of the Northeast slavery became a relatively more urban phenomenon. See Thomas W. Merrick and Douglas H. Graham, Population and Economic Development in Brazil, 1800 to the Present (Baltimore, 1979), pp. 69–71.
The relative demographic decline of US slavery was different from that of Brazil and the Caribbean area primarily in that it was drawn out over a longer period because of a high rate of natural reproduction. Without African imports to match free European migration in the half century before 1860, that decline became progressively more apparent. Peter Kolchin’s recent comparison of US and Russian masters interestingly concludes that the US slaveowners were both more entrepreneurial and more paternalistic than their absentee and rentier-minded counterparts among the Russian nobility. The decisive division of slaveowner ‘mentalities’ therefore occurs between the capitalist-paternalist masters of the US South, on the one hand, and the capitalist-rentier lords of Russia, on the other. In Brazil, too, entrepreneurial and paternalistic characteristics are arguably combined. Kolchin, Unfree Labor: American slavery and Russian serfdom (Cambridge, MA, 1987), pp. 126–56, 357–61; Slenes, ‘The Demography and Economics’, ch. 11.
Eltis, Economic Growth, p. 14. In the cases of the British West Indies, the US South, and Cuba the claims of a contradiction between slavery and technology, or slavery and productivity, are challenged by recent economic analysis. For Cuba, see Scott, Slave Emancipation, pp. 26–8; for the British West Indies, see R. Keith Aufhauser, ‘Slavery and Technological Change’, The Journal of Economic History, 34(1) (March 1974), pp. 34–50; for the United States, see
Robert William Fogel and Stanley L. Engerman, Time on the Cross: The economics of American Negro slavery, 2 vols. (Boston, 1974), I, ch. 6 and Fogel, Without Consent or Contract, ch. 3. The discussion of Brazilian slavery within a historiographical framework of rise, prosperity, and decline is well illustrated in Stanley J. Stein’s excellent Vassouras: A Brazilian Coffee County, 1850–1900: The roles of planter and slave in a plantation society, reprint ed. (Princeton, 1985), part 4. This approach was recently challenged by Slenes, ‘Grandeza ou decadênciaencia? O mercado de escravos e a economia cafeeira da Província do Rio de Janeiro, 1850–1888’, in Brasil: História econômica e demográfaca, Iraci del Nero da Costa, ed. (São Paulo, 1986), pp. 103–55. Free labor, however constricted, was a second best alternative among the most entrepreneurial Paulistas. See Verena Stolcke and Michael M. Hall, ‘The Introduction of Free Labour on São Paulo Coffee Plantations’, Journal of Peasant Studies, 10(2) (January 1983), pp. 170–200. The Paulista planters of Rio Claro continued to buy slaves until the eve of abolition. See Warren Dean, Rio Claro: A Brazilian plantation system, 1820–1920 (Stanford, 1976), p. 52.
See the essays by Maria Luiza Marcílio and Dauril Alden, in The Cambridge History of Latin America, Bethell, ed. (Cambridge, 1984-), II, pp. 37–63 and 602–60, esp. pp. 602–12 and 649–53. The abolition of slavery in Portugal in 1773 had no visible impact on its economic growth. Even at the end of the age of Brazilian slavery, Portugal remained ‘backward by any contemporary standard’, and ‘only the eye of faith could detect much in the way of economic development there’. Eric J. Hobsbawm, The Age of Empire 1875–1914 (New York, 1987), p. 18.
See Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, 2 vols., J. P. Mayer, ed. (Garden City, NY, 1969), pp. 345–8. It should be noted that in per capita terms the railroad milage of the US South was almost equal to that of the North just before secession. See Fogel and Engerman, Time on the Cross, I, pp. 254–5. Graham argues that, compared with Brazil, the slave South of the United States was far from being economically underdeveloped. See ‘Slavery and Economic Development: Brazil and the United States South in the Nineteenth Century’, Comparative Studies in Society and History, 23(4) (October 1981), pp. 620–55. On the development of railway building in the south-central provinces of Brazil, see C. F. van Delden Laerne, Brazil and Java: Report on coffee-culture (London and The Hague, 1885), ch. 8. In 1889, the provinces of Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo, and Minas Gerais had 65 percent of Brazil’s total railroad milage. See Mircea Buescu, ‘Regional Inequalities in Brazil During the Second Half of the Nineteenth Century’, Disparities in Economic Development Since the Industrial Revolution, Paul Bairoch and Maurice Levy-Leboyer, eds. (London, 1981/1985), pp. 349–58. For an interpretation of Brazilian slave trade abolition tied closely to the political economy of transportation development, see Luiz-Felipe de Alencastro, ‘Répercussions de la suppression de la traite des noirs au Brésil’, delivered at the Colloque International sur la Traite des Noirs, Nantes, 1988.
See Genovese, The Political Economy of Slavery: Studies in the economy and society of the slave south (New York, 1965), p. 227.
Slenes, ‘The Demography and Economics’, pp. 145 ff. See also Anyda Marchant, Viscount Maúa and the Empire of Brazil (Berkeley, 1965), p. 269.
See Temperley, ‘Capitalism, Slavery, and Ideology’, Past and Present, 75 (May 1977), pp. 94–118. See Davis, Slavery and Human Progress, p. 110, for the classic Emersonian comparison of freedom and slavery. It should be noted that even the antebellum South compared favorably with Europe on a number of indexes of ‘progress.’ See Fogel and Engerman, Time on the Cross, I, p. 256 and II, pp. 163–4. Regional comparisons indicate that immigrant flows could hardly have played the same role in Brazil as they did in the United States after 1850. At the time that Brazil passed its gradual emancipation law, the overwhelming proportion of its foreigners resided in those provinces with the highest percentage of slaves-exactly the inverse of the situation in the United States on the eve of its Civil War (see Table 5.1). Regarding urban areas, a relatively high level of slave labor (either within urban areas or in the adjacent province) does not appear to have been a major deterrent to those foreigners who located themselves in Brazil. Four major cities with substantial foreign populations had substantial slave populations. They were also located in provinces with above median slave populations (see Table 5.2).
Regarding manufacturing, slaves in Rio de Janeiro were beginning to be incorporated into nineteenth-century factory employment when the abolition of the slave trade and the coffee boom drained slaves from the cities to the plantation areas. See Eulália M. Lachmeyer Lobo, ‘A história do Rio de Janeiro’ (Rio de Janeiro, 1975), mimeograph, as summarized in Merrick and Graham, Population, p. 51; see also
Karasch, ‘From Porterage to Proprietorship: African occupations in Rio de Janeiro 1808–1850’, in Race and Slavery in the Western Hemisphere: Quantitative studies, Engerman and Genovese, eds. (Princeton, 1975), pp. 369–93. This is consistent with Claudia Dale Goldin’s conclusion that slaves in the US South were drawn out of urban areas by strong agricultural demand (Urban Slavery in the American South, 1820–1860: A quantitative history [Chicago, 1976], conclusion).
For the first wave of abolition see Davis, The Problem of Slavery in the Age of Revolution, 1770–1823 (Ithaca, 1975), chs. 1 and 2. For Haiti, see
C. L. R. James, The Black Jacobins: Toussaint L’Ouverture and the San Domingo Revolution (London, 1938). For the Spanish Caribbean, see, inter alia,
Arthur F. Corwin, Spain and the Abolition of Slavery in Cuba, 1817–1886 (Austin, 1967).
Seymour Drescher, ‘Two Variants of Antislavery: Religious Organization and Social Mobilization in Britain and France, 1780–1870’, in Anti-Slavery, Religion, and Reform: Essays in memory of Roger Anstey, Christine Bolt and Drescher, eds. (Folkestone and Hamden, 1980), pp. 43–63; see also Chapter 2 in this volume.
Drescher, Capitalism and Antislavery: British mobilization in comparative perspective (London and New York, 1987), ch. 3; Davis, The Problem of Slavery in the Age of Revolution, pp. 137–48.
On Spanish American abolition in general see Leslie B. Rout, The African Experience in Spanish America, 1502 to the Present Day (New York, 1976);
Herbert S. Klein, African Slavery in Latin America and the Caribbean (New York, 1986), ch. 11. For Venezuela, see
John V. Lombardi, The Decline and Abolition of Negro Slavery in Venezuela, 1820–1854 (Westport, 1971). For Argentina, see
George Reid Andrews, The Afro-Argentines of Buenos Aires, 1800–1900 (Madison, 1980). For Cuba and Puerto Rico, see Corwin, Spain, esp. chs. 6–15 and
David R. Murray, Odious Commerce: Britain, Spain and the abolition of the Cuban slave trade (Cambridge, 1980). Maluquer characterizes Spanish policy toward Cuban slavery and the slave trade before 1860 as a politics of silence and inaction. See ‘Abolicionismo’, Maluquer, pp. 312–22. A shadowy abolitionist society appears to have been formed in Madrid in 1835 (ibid., pp. 315–16). As with its more public Parisian counterpart, the probable stimulus was the implementation of British slave emancipation in the West Indies in 1834. See Drescher, Dilemmas of Democracy: Tocqueville and Modernization (Pittsburgh, 1968), pp. 155–66.
See Drescher, Econocide: British Slavery in the Era of Abolition (Pittsburgh, 1977), p. 181.
See Toplin, The Abolition of Slavery, ch. 1; Genovese, The World The Slaveholders Made, pp. 75–93; Elizabeth Fox-Genovese and Eugene D. Genovese, in Fruits of Merchant Capital: Slavery and bougeois property in the rise and expansion of capitalism (New York, 1983), pp. 47–8, reiterate their emphasis on the basically seigneurial labor relationships of northeastern Brazil, but their conclusion (pp. 394–5) places all slaveholders within the same antimodern category. For a discussion of alternative models of planter behavior, see Slenes, ‘The Demography and Economics’, ch. 1.
Compare Slenes, ‘The Demography and Economics,’ ch. 11 and Gavin Wright, The Political Economy of the Cotton South: Households, markets, and wealth in the nineteenth century (New York, 1978), p. 37, and n. 9 above.
Peter F. Dixon, ‘The Politics of Emancipation: The movement for the abolition of slavery in the British West Indies, 1807–1833’ (D. Phil. thesis, Oxford University, 1971); Eltis, Economic Growth, pp. 8–9.
Higman, Slave Populations of the British Caribbean 1807–1834 (Baltimore, 1984), pp. 67–9.
Wright, The Political Economy of the Cotton South, pp. 34–5. On southern fears of a class division between slaveholders and ‘no-property men,’ see Michael F. Holt, The Political Crisis of the 1850s (New York, 1978), pp. 225–6, 246–7. See also
Paul D. Escott, Many Excellent People: Power and privilege in North Carolina, 1850–1900 (Chapel Hill, 1985), ch. 2.
Arthur Zilversmit, The First Emancipation: The abolition of slaveiy in the North (Chicago, 1967), pp. 212–13.
Conrad, The Destruction, pp. 91–3. Even as late as 1884–5 in northeastern Brazil it was possible for small elite electorates of less than a thousand voters to nearly defeat Nabuco’s candidacy for the Chamber of Deputies. Nabuco was defeated in his bid for reelection in Recife in 1886. See Carolina Nabuco, The Life of Joaquim Nabuco (Stanford, 1950), chs. 11 and 13.
See Dixon, The Politics of Emancipation’, p. 203; Drescher, Capitalism, pp. 106–8; Mary Turner, Slaves and Missionaries; The disintegration of Jamaican slave society, 1787–1834 (Urbana, 1982), p. 163.
Toplin, The Abolition of Slavery, p. 256; June E. Hahner, Poverty and Politics: The urban poor in Brazil, 1870–1920 (Albuquerque, 1986), p. 72.
Toplin, The Abolition of Slavery, p. 213. Planter organization against abolitionism in the northeastern provinces seems to have come very late, in reaction to the Ceará abolition of 1883–84, and the planters themselves were deeply divided over the question of gradualism vs. immediatism (Eisenberg, The Sugar Industry, pp. 166–70). The Cuban path to abolition followed the earlier Spanish American pattern. Until after the US Civil War the Spanish military presence and political repression made open proslavery and nonviolent antislavery mobilization impossible. See Robert L. Paquette, Sugar is Made with Blood (Middletown, Conn. 1988). The Ten Years War for national independence in 1868–78 opened the door to selective manumissions for military purposes and partial abolition in areas under rebel control. But if insurrection accelerated gradual abolition in the 1870s, the settlement of the conflict inhibited popular agitation in favor of the final emancipation legislation of the 1880s.
Compare James, The Black Jacobins, with the accounts in da Costa, Toplin, and Conrad. On the Jamaica uprising in 1831–2, see Michael Craton, Testing the Chains: Resistance to slavery in the British West Indies (Ithaca, 1982), ch. 22.
Relations between the elite and the free poor in the countryside are analyzed for one locality in Hebe Maria Mattos de Castro, Ao sul da história (São Paulo, 1987), but the link between those relationships and the national political process of abolition has not yet been systematically investigated.
Toplin, The Abolition of Slavery, p. 131; Conrad, The Destruction, p. 167. Spanish defenders of the status quo, like their Brazilian counterparts, stressed economic necessity or political constraints, not the intrinsic superiority of slavery. See Maluquer, ‘Abolicionismo’, p. 321. Compare with the Anglo-American positive good argument in Marcus Cunliffe, Chattel Slavery and Wage Slavery: The Anglo-American context 1830–1960 (Athens, GA, 1979), ch. 1.
Repatriationist ideologies based on racism were not absent in Brazil. Early abolitionists in particular argued for the removal of former slaves from Brazilian society. See Manuela Carneiro da Cunha, Negros, estrangeiros: Os escravos libertos e sua volta à África (São Paulo, 1985), pp. 84–6. Once again, it is the lower level of collective action for these ends in Brazil compared with the United States that is striking.
The role of the Spanish ‘Volunteers’ as defenders of the imperial connection and the traditional political economy during Cuba’s Ten Years War may demonstrate how ethno-cultural interests could be linked to a defense of slavery. Communal or cultural loyalties could even cause slaves to reject outsiders with abolitionist agendas as they did in some British islands during the Anglo-French conflict of the 1790s. On the British Caribbean, see David Geggus, ‘The Enigma of Jamaica in the 1790s: New light on the causes of slave rebellions’, William and Mary Quarterly, 44(2) (April 1987), pp. 274–99, esp. p. 292 and Craton, Testing the Chains, pp. 180–210. In both cases, however, the planters were auxiliaries to imperial military forces.
A majority of Brazil’s population in the early nineteenth century was deemed ‘marginal’, both to the economy and to the polity. See Caio Prado, Jr., The Colonial Background of Modern Brazil, Suzette Macedo, trans. (Berkeley, 1967), pp. 328–32; and
Michael C. McBeth, ‘The Brazilian Recruit during the First Empire: Slave or Soldier?’, in Essays Concerning the Socioeconomic History of Brazil and Portuguese India, Alden and Dean, eds. (Gainesville, 1977), pp. 71–86. There appears to have been considerable ideological, as well as social, continuity of attitudes toward the desclassificados in the colonial period. See, e.g., Laura de Mello C. Souza, Desclassificados do ouro: A pobreza mineira no século XVIII (Rio de Janeiro, 1982) and Andrews, ‘Race and the State in Colonial Brazil’, Latin American Research Review, 19(3) (1984), pp. 203–16. Compare this configuration of class relations with Fletcher M. Green, Democracy in the Old South, and Other Essays (Nashville, 1969), ch. 3; Steven Hahn, The Roots of Southern Populism: Yeoman farmers and the transformation of the Georgia upcountry, 1850–1890 (New York, 1983), p. 99; Fox-Genovese and Genovese, Fruits, ch. 9; and John McCardell, The Idea of a Southern Nation: Southern nationalists and Southern nationalism, 1830–1860 (New York, 1979), pp. 319–35.
Brian Harrison, ‘A Genealogy of Reform in Modern Britain’, in Bolt and Drescher, Anti-Slavery, pp. 119–48 and Peaceable Kingdom: Stability and change in modern Britain (Oxford, 1982), ch. 8. In isolated instances, the Brazilian abolitionist mobilization did have an organizational and ideological spillover effect analogous to that of the English mass mobilizations a half century earlier. Rio typographers sought to transfer the abolitionist momentum into ‘a new abolition for the free slaves’, and their intensive participation in the abolitionist victory celebration played a role in stimulating a more militant labor organization. See Hahner, Poverty and Politics, pp. 86–7. Indeed, the rarity of successful social movements in Brazil may have contributed to the psychological impact of abolition among skilled workers (ibid., 87).
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Drescher, S. (1999). Brazilian Abolition in Comparative Perspective (1988). In: From Slavery to Freedom. Palgrave Macmillan, London. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-349-14876-9_5
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