Kings, Colonies, and Councilors: Brazil and the Making of Portugal’s Overseas Council, 1642–1833

In February 1724 two municipal councils (câmaras) in Brazil wrote to the Portuguese crown.¹ Although presiding over the faraway cities of Belém do Pará and São Luís do Maranhão, they claimed the right to advise the king in matters of state. “[T]he first obligation of aldermen (vereadores),” they explained, “is to act as defenders of the cities and peoples that they represent, or in other words, to be councilors to the sovereign prince, . . . instructing him in what is necessary for the increase and conservation of the people.” In their capacity as councilors, the aldermen proposed a forty-point plan that would turn colonial administration in Amazonia on end. Among other changes, they recommended that missionaries should no longer have temporal jurisdiction over indigenous villages, that the power of overseas governors and justice ministers should be diminished, and that their own children and grandchildren should be given preferential treatment to serve in local positions. Concluding with a flourish, they promised that their recommendations would generate a “superabundance of wealth” and be inexpensive to boot, not costing a penny more than the price of paper (to print a royal decree).²

The aldermen’s petition was delivered to the court in Lisbon by Paulo da Silva Nunes, a settler from the Maranhão whose life is briefly recounted in Charles Boxer’s Golden Age of Brazil. A lifelong enemy of the Jesuits who maintained that Brazil’s natives “resembl[ed] wild beasts in everything save in human shape,” Silva Nunes delivered the municipalities’ original petition in 1724, then complained five years later when the proposals were stalled while being reviewed by the Overseas Council (Conselho Ultramarino). Denouncing this body in a 1729 letter, Silva Nunes complained: “For half a decade [these proposals] have been delayed in this council because of opposition from powerful and respected persons who place their own interests above the common good.” A spiteful and vindictive man, Silva Nunes would never cease to struggle against the bureaucracy that thwarted his efforts for reform. For the next seventeen years, he blanketed the Portuguese court with complaints and memorials, urging that the aldermen’s proposals be enacted. His efforts, however, never bore fruit. He died in 1746 without ever seeing his vision of Amazonia fulfilled.³

A tale of two very different sorts of councils and councilors, the story of Paulo da Silva Nunes dramatically illustrates the colonial bureaucracy that united and divided the Luso-Brazilian world during this period. Writing from afar, town councilors and others advised the crown based upon personal interests and beliefs as shaped in foreign lands. Ruling from within, the Overseas Council and other metropolitan tribunals mediated and interpreted this correspondence, founding their decisions upon personal experience and beliefs as well—“plac[ing] their own interests above the common good,” if Silva Nunes is to be believed. An intriguing tale, the story raises an important question: How did the crown, its councilors, and local officials across the Luso-Brazilian world negotiate power, authority, and rule? Spanning the course of nearly two centuries, the history of Portugal’s Overseas Council provides a unique institutional framework with which to address this question.

First established by royal decree in July 1642, the new tribunal was created in order to centralize the administration of Portugal’s seaborne empire. Like other royal tribunals, the council consisted of bureaucrats—highly-placed aristocrats and lawyers—who worked together to resolve disputes, determine jurisdictional authority, and, more generally, advise the crown. In performing these duties, the council was one of the primary points of contact between Portuguese administrators abroad and royal authority at home. Today, its records remain our primary source of documentation on Portuguese expansion in Brazil, Africa, India, and East Asia. And yet until recently, few studies ever focused on the tribunal’s internal history.⁴

At its heart, the story of the Overseas Council is about people. Over its nearly two-hundred year history, the council drew upon the experience of 146 councilors and presidents. In their official functions...