Fernandes, Catholic Missionaries and Native Celebrations in Brazil 111

Feast and Sin: Catholic Missionaries

and Native Celebrations in
Early Colonial Brazil

João Azevedo Fernandes

Abstract. This paper analyzes the struggle of Christian missionaries, no-

tably the Jesuits, against the feasts and alcoholic beverages of the native
peoples of colonial Brazil. The missionaries realized that, in the course of
these celebrations, the Tupinambá culture, the main impeding force behind
evangelization, was renewed and reasserted. It also looks into the main
strategies employed by the Europeans to achieve their goal of putting the
native feasts to an end as well as propagating the view which privileged
temperance and abstinence.

One of the fundamental aspects of the colonial conquest of the native peoples
of the Americas was the emergence of a narrative which constructed a series
of stereotyped categories placing colonizers and the colonized into opposing
poles with very marked hierarchies: civilized/savage, cleanliness/impurity,
temperance/intoxication, among others.1 In this respect, the first European ac-
counts of the social behavior of the native peoples linked it to the consump-
tion of alcoholic beverages. Such descriptions represent an extremely valu-
able research tool which informs an understanding of the processes of cultural
contact and social change.2 In the particular case of Brazilian colonization, a
dense body of material exists, including accounts of missionaries, voyagers
and chroniclers. Among those documents is the Cartas dos Primeiros Jesuítas
do Brasil (Letters of the First Jesuits in Brazil), edited by Father Serafim Leite
between the years of 1954 and 1957. The letters sent by the first Christian mis-
sionaries from 1549 and 1563 are gathered in the Cartas. These first letters,
as with other descriptions by Europeans, established a dichotomy that deliber-
ately attempted to place in two diametrically opposed poles the behaviors of a
good Christian and that observed in the indigenous peoples. Not surprisingly,
whereas from the former temperance and moderation were expected, the latter
could only behave in shameful ways due to their irremediable sinful nature.3
In this article, I seek to demonstrate that the struggle of Catholic missionar-
ies against the Tupinambá’s drinking was one of the major ways in the effort
of transforming natives’ minds. By combating binge drinking, the Jesuits di-

João Azevedo Fernandes is a Professor in the Department of History at the Universi-

dade Federal de Paraiba, João Pessoa, Brazil.
SHAD (Spring 2009): 111-27
112 Social History of Alcohol and Drugs, Volume 23, No 2 (Spring 2009)

rectly attacked a central locus for the expression and reproduction of the Tu-
pinambá culture: their feasts. Even though the documents acknowledged the
native peoples’ ethylic character, this issue is still overlooked by Brazilian his-
toriography. As paradoxical as this may be, the majority of the native peoples
of Brazil, then and now, valued the experiences of alcoholic consumption and
intoxication greatly, both in their daily and ritual lives, as I sought to demon-
strate in my doctoral thesis.4
The word “feast” is here used to designate an analytical category, as pro-
posed by Michael Dietler and Brian Hayden. At the same time it can mean an
event closely linked to daily activities. Since they were occasions for com-
munal consumption of food and drinks, feasts may also possess a ritual and
dramatic character, in which singing and dancing performances are used, to-
gether with oratory exhibitions and drinking excesses, to articulate social and
cosmological relations, reassert gender and age differences and build friend-
ship or enemy relationships.5
The indigenous groups which initially communicated with the Europeans
on Brazilian soil were the Tupi-speaking peoples. They occupied most of
the coastal areas, more specifically by the river banks which run through the
tropical forests of the north-eastern and south-eastern parts of the country.
Although being divided in a large number of “nations” or “breeds” (men-
tioned as such in the first Portuguese documents), these are widely referred
to as the Tupinambá. These peoples presented, in spite of significant regional
variations, a series of linguistic and cultural similarities which enable us to
see them as extremely coherent cultural complex. They lived out of slash-and
burn agriculture, centered very much upon cassava (Manihot utilissima), as
well as hunting, fishing and the collection of wild fruits. The Tupinambá lived
in decentralized villages, where hundreds (sometimes thousands) of individu-
als were ruled by warrior chiefs who established numerous relations among
themselves by means of polygynous marriages and hospitality rituals.f These
were marked by huge consumption of fermented beverages made from cas-
sava (mainly), maize and fruit such as cashew (Annacardium occidentale) and
pineapple (Ananas sativus).
Just like other indigenous tribes, the Tupinambá possessed deep knowl-
edge of fermenting techniques, which allowed them to produce a wide range
of beverages, commonly known as cauim (Portuguese term, from the Tupi
ca’o-y, or “drunkard´s water”). These drinks were not to be consumed daily,
but on special binge-drinking occasions called cauinagens, which gathered
members of various local groups so as to celebrate weddings and rites of pas-
sage, mourn the dead, decide over war, welcome illustrious visitors (such as
the wandering shamans or caraíbas).7 Above all, they got together to celebrate
that which was the fundamental rite in the Tupinambá society: the death and
devouring of captured enemies (Figure 1).8
Mediated by hospitality, the cauinagens represented the most suitable sce-
nario for social relations and for the power demonstration of the groups offer-
 Fernandes, Catholic Missionaries and Native Celebrations in Brazil 113

Figure 1. Théodore de Bry (1528-1598) “The Tupinambá way

of preparing and drinking intoxicating beverages”

Source: Le théâtre du Nouveau Monde: Les Grands Voyages de Théodore de

Bry, ed. Marc Bouyer and Jean-Paul Duviols (Paris: Gallimard, 1992), 56.

ing the beverages to the feast. One must not forget to mention the feasts as a
way for the meeting of men for group work to occur (such as the slashing and
burning of forests for the plantations), as well as for the ritual expression of
the contradictions and similarities which were so true in the gender relations
of the Tupinambá.9 The cauim meant, for the natives, “an embodied material
culture,”10 or a prime source rich in symbolism which, since consumed col-
lectively, allowed for the domestic economy to be engendered with politics. It
also enabled that body techniques be developed as a way to handle intoxica-
tion, thus becoming sources for the native identities to be constructed due to
the impact of the arrival of the Europeans.
It was amidst this cultural context that the first Jesuits arrived, led by Fa-
ther Manoel da Nóbrega (1517-70).11 After a two-month voyage, on March
29, 1549, Nóbrega set his feet in Bahia in a very optimistic mood. As far as
he could tell, his only problem would be dealing with about fifty Portuguese
settlers, who lived in the “great sin” of unsanctioned, marital union with vari-
ous native women.12 As for the natives, they were an “ignorant bunch with
no knowledge of God nor of idols”13 who acted according to their “sensual
appetites”14 but who possessed a decisive quality: “to do exactly as they are
told.”15
Eager to fight against Catholicism’s great enemies (Protestant reformers
and Muslims), the Jesuits were taught to face heretic priests and infidels, as
well as temples. Given the fact that the Tupinambá had nothing like priests or
temples, the missionaries saw in the natives the genus angelicum, the virginal
114 Social History of Alcohol and Drugs, Volume 23, No 2 (Spring 2009)

people mentioned in the millenarist prophecies that served as inspiration to

Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Society of Jesus. The natives seemed to be
a lot like a tabula rasa, on which anything at all could be written.
These minds, free of contamination, would serve as a tool for the establish-
ment of the new church, far away from the European turmoil. Notwithstand-
ing, it was necessary to attribute to the Tupinambá some sort of belief, or
a false religion, which facilitated an epistemological dialogue based on the
dichotomy true/false. This was done when the title “demon priests” was given
to the caraíbas – the nomad shamans of the Tupinambá – and to their rituals
the name santidades (from Portuguese santidade [holiness]), the false religion
that ought to be defeated by the God of truth and by His soldiers.16
By the same token, the soldiers of Christ should stand against the gentili-
dades, or any native customs deemed unacceptable: polygamy, cannibalism,
nudity, sexual license, and binge drinking. Needless to say, the ethylic prac-
tices of the Tupinambá were criticized by the Jesuits (and also by missionaries
from other religious orders who, deliberately or not used the same practices as
reasons to justify the need for the Indian’s conversion) in the context of their
fight against the “bad habits” of the natives.
To the missionaries, the natives were barbarians who ought to be civilized.
Those beings, seen at times as infantile, others as bestial, needed to be made
into men, whose bodies and minds should be regulated. In the lack of a king,
or religion, they had to have their sensual appetites controlled by a priest, a
king, or ultimately by God. In this way, they would then become subjects. As
Eduardo Viveiros de Castro stated, the Jesuits failed to realize that those bad
customs were exactly the Indians’ true religion. Therefore, the natives’ resis-
tance to abandon the gentilidades constituted “the result of profound adhesion
to a set of beliefs in full exercise of their religious right.”17
Theirs was a religion of war, not as simple exercise of warfare, but as a way
towards historical becoming. The Tupinambá killed the enemies (and were
also killed by them) in order to keep an endless revenge cycle at work, a cycle
which constituted their own memory. This memory was constantly updated
in the speeches of the “masters of speech,” the mighty warriors singing in the
early hours in the villages, about the deeds of them and their ancestors. It was
also present during the cannibal sacrifices, and notably, in the cauinagens,
“the highlight feast of these people,” as stated by a Jesuit in 1610. Such cele-
bration served as a means for them to provide “the details of the war, how they
approached the enemies’ line, how they smashed their heads, all these lead
us to believe that the wines are the memorials and chronicles of their feats.”18
We could, thus, say that the religion of the Tupinambá was their chronicle
of revenge, of devoured enemies, shattered skulls, and the cauinagens as the
temple in which these stories were shared. There were no stone temples to
be demolished, but on the other hand there were the wines to be extirpated,
for they served the same function. “The Tupinambá drank to not forget, and
there lay the problem of the cauinagens, greatly rejected by the missionaries,
 Fernandes, Catholic Missionaries and Native Celebrations in Brazil 115

who noticed the dangerous relationship between them and what they wanted
to abolish.”19
The Jesuits brought from Europe information concerning the struggle of
other religious orders against drunkenness of native peoples of the Americans,
also the implications of this habit to religion and to the ways of thinking of
the natives. The example of New Spain (Mexico) stands out as some of its
missionaries coming to Brazil, such as José de Anchieta (1534-97) or Juan de
Azpilcueta Navarro (1521?-57), were Spanish and became Jesuits in Spain.
Individual origins aside, the Portuguese and the Spanish shared very similar
opinions on alcoholic consumption and possessed practically identical drink-
ing practices.20 It was believed that something must be done to get rid of the
terrible drinking habits of the natives, aiming at transforming them into true
Christians and civilized people. Most importantly, what was initially a very
optimistic perspective of evangelization of these peoples of America, turned
into a pessimistic view of an America immersed in sin and in the presence of
the Devil. This shift of perspective concurred decisively to the difficulty in
extirpating the practice of “superfluous drinking.”21
Franciscan missionaries working in Mexico developed a reflection over the
sin of drunkenness that probably influenced somehow the thinking of the Je-
suits in Brazil. By 1549 various works like the Doctrinas of Juan de Zumár-
raga, Alonso de Molina and Pedro de Córdova had been published. These
outlined the ways towards evangelization of the native peoples of Mexico, and
gave special attention to the sin of drunkenness.22
Informed of these influences, the Jesuits in Brazil had certainly been in
touch with the reflections about drunkenness made by well-known theolo-
gian Martín de Azpilcueta Navarro (1491-1586), correspondent of Manuel
da Nóbrega and who had been his pupil in the University of Coimbra, where
he was awarded bachelor of Canon Law. Martín Navarro was uncle of one
of Nóbrega´s travel and mission companions, father Juan de Azpilcueta Na-
varro. Navarro, author of one of the most widely accepted definitions of the
sin of drunkenness, was perfectly in accordance with the Iberian moderate
consumption of wine. He was a major influence for the Mexican evangelists
inasmuch as he held the view that, when consumed as part of meals and for
daily nutrition, wine was not sinful. For him, there was sin when drunkenness
was premeditated, if the individual “knew he was to get drunk, causing harm
to himself and to others, making it impossible to the exercise of reasoning.
If he drank having no idea he was about to get drunk, there was no mortal
sin.”23
Even though there were significant differences in the colonization of Brazil
and Mexico, both missionary groups had to face cultures which valued some-
how the ritual of drunkenness, as if it could be room for divine possession.
Drinking practices leveled with occasions for the Devil to take action, and
missionaries had to put an end to that. Both the Spanish and the Portuguese
ought to repress these religious acts of alcoholic intoxication as they were
116 Social History of Alcohol and Drugs, Volume 23, No 2 (Spring 2009)

against the temperance, main notion of the post-Thomist Christianity.

During the sixteenth century, in Catholic Europe a vision had developed of
the drunkard as somebody who had their reason blurred by the drinks, who
laughs uncontrollably, showing no respect for the authority, who observes and
censors him. As Sonia de Mancera asserted: “the drunkard does not say what
he is expected to say, what is predictable, what authority wants to hear on the
basis of what is accepted and allowed. He does not do what is right, but what
he wishes to do. In this sense, laughter is the perfect and marvelous insanity
of freedom.”24
This lack of order, this moving away from reason and moderation which so
deeply bothered the clergymen, is a constant aspect of the drinking ceremo-
nies of the natives in Brazil. The Jesuit Fernão Cardim (1549-1625), who lived
about half a century in the country, describes the disorder during the cauina-
gens aimed at human sacrifice. He displays his horror facing the noise and the
natives’ behavior when drinking, which outweighs the horror of watching the
imprisoned enemy being eaten:
At this time, the jugs of wine are put in a row in the middle of a large house, and
as the house has no partitions, even if it may be 20 or 30 fathoms in length, it is
packed with people, and so much that when they start to drink it is a labyrinth or
hell to see and hear them, because those who dance and sing endure with great
fervor as many days and nights as the wines last: because, as this is the feast of
killing itself, there are, in the drinking of wines, many peculiarities that last for
long, and at each step they urinate, and so they always endure, and at night they
sing and dance, drink and chant all over the house, of wars and raids which they
have made, and as each one wants their stories to be heard, everybody speaks
louder and louder, apart from other commotions, without ever being quiet, not
even for the time of a quarter of an hour.25

In the early seventeenth century, during the brief period of French domina-
tion of Maranhão in northern Brazil (1612-15), French Capuchin missionaries
made descriptions very much alike those of the Tupinambá’s binge-drinking.
They were also horrified by the alcoholic folie of Native Brazilians, and de-
scribed their cauinagens in vivid colors, pointing out the special orgiastic char-
acter of these events. This was the case of Friar Yves d’Evreux (1577?-1620?)
who, besides confirming the description of Cardim, perceived a threatening
sexual component in the cauinagens. To the French friar, the worst of it all
was to see the “women and maidens mixed there, seeming quite unlikely the
presence of Bacchus without Venus.”26 His concern was shared by his mis-
sionary partner, Claude d’Abbeville (?-1616?), who was also impressed to see
the satyrs and maenads of America performing their acts, flavored by cauim
and tobacco: “and if in truth the Devil delights himself in the company of
Bacchus and aims at making the souls fall from grace through dance, He will
surely take infinite pleasure in the gatherings of this miserable people, which
always belonged to Him through barbarism, cruelty and intoxication.”27
References to the god Bacchus are emblematic. After all, what the partak-
ers of the cauinagens did, as did the participants of the Hellenic orgia [orgies]
 Fernandes, Catholic Missionaries and Native Celebrations in Brazil 117

or the Roman bacchanalia (so much attacked by the first Christians), was to
achieve the enthusiasmos,28 but unlike those ancient practices, not “bringing
the god within,” because there was no God to be brought in, as the missionar-
ies themselves pointed out. In the Tupinambá enthusiasmos, the search was
for the lightness of body in order to facilitate the obtention of an altered state
of consciousness. This was achieved many times by purging for example,
through vomiting (a habit highly criticized by the observer) or through the
extenuation provoked by endless dancing. Above all, they looked forward to
escaping – at least for some hours – from a humanity that was a temporal
condition, and not an essence or a nature.29
The missionaries strongly believed that the natives, when getting drunk in
an apparently crazy way, turned into something other than men. They thought
that the Indians became demons (or beasts), and not supernatural heroes (as
opposed to what the Tupinambá themselves believed), which in any way alters
the cunning nature of their remarks, given their own goals. In order to alter the
direction of the transformation caused by intoxication – from demons to men,
but reduced and subjected men – it was necessary to fight the cauinagens,
which was the virtual, liquid and foamy “temple” of the savages.
In the battle against the mortal sin of alcoholic intemperance, the various
missionaries, and even more the Jesuits, had to face the problems brought by
lay settlers, who not only got drunk with European wine, but willingly ac-
cepted native drinks and festivities. It was fundamental to separate the natives
from the bad influence of such settlers, or else the missionary action would be
not a Herculean task, but rather an impossible one.
Amidst these problems, was the fact that the Tupinambá, in possession of
metal tools supplied by the Europeans, substantially improved the efficiency
of their work, and their production capacity. In 1533, a Jesuit stated that the
natives were “full of tools” which allowed them to plants several crops and
spend most of their time “drinking wines through the villages, ordering wars
and doing many evils, as all those people prone to wine drinking do in all parts
of the world.” In order to ban the cauinagens, the Jesuit proposed banning the
supply of tools to the Tupinambá, so that they would return to a situation of
“hunger and dependence.”30 The great strategy elaborated by missionaries in
Brazil, and that differed a great deal from the model of “itinerant catechesis”
originally proposed by Ignatius of Loyola, was the institution of the aldeam-
entos. These were villages built following a European model, with the end of
the large communal houses (replaced by dwellings inhabited by couples and
their children), the presence of a rigid time schedule marked by prayers, and
total control, on the part of the Jesuits, of all festivities.31
It was not the goal of the missionaries to totally abolish beverages. The
Tupinambá had, in addition to the stronger drinks used in cauinagens, fer-
mented beverages of lower alcohol content which represented a crucial item
in their daily lives. What they were trying to prevent were the war parties,
not the moderate consumption of beverages. It was not an easy undertaking,
118 Social History of Alcohol and Drugs, Volume 23, No 2 (Spring 2009)

especially because of the resistance of those individuals more committed with

the gentilidades. These individuals were generally the village elderly, old war-
riors with scarred bodies, and old “witches” who had already produced much
cauim for the “nocturnal congresses.”32 The tenacious priests did not feel in-
timidated by these resistances, making it clear for the Indians that there was
no middle way. Putting it bluntly, the missionaries’ goal was to get natives to
accept Christianity (or whatever it was that this “acceptance” meant to the
natives) and commensurately refuse certain practices, such as cannibalism,
nudity, polygyny and, of course, drunkenness.
At first, everything seemed to be running well. The prestige associated with
anthropophagic rituals was replaced by the acceptance of gifts and the conces-
sion of honors, such as the title of meirinho, or village chief. Granting this title
to some of the most important and most cooperative individuals represented
one of the most useful ways to gather support among the native leaders. The
Tupinambá were very sensitive to the concession of honors and gifts by the
Europeans, however inexpensive the gifts may have been, such as “low-qual-
ity knives or cotton shirts.”33 What mattered most, in the eyes of the natives,
was the character of prestigious goods associated with the possession of more
valuable European objects and the control in the distribution of work tools,
such as sickles and fishhooks. Some of these meirinhos got to the point of pun-
ishing individuals who resisted conversion, arresting and flogging them, to the
great joy of the priests.34 One of the greatest allies of the Jesuits was Urupe-
maíba, meirinho of the Aldeia do Espírito Santo (Bahia), who was considered
a “very good Indian.” He went as far as breaking the large jars (in Tupi, igaça-
bas) used to store cauim, because the natives had been ordered not to drink at
night, “to avoid many occasions of sin and dissolution that occur then.”35
It was clear that one could not trust the cooperation of some chiefs, as
they were more prone to take advantage of their privileged relations with the
priests of the Society and lay authorities. In order to fight against such a cen-
tral force in Tupinambás’ life, as were the cauins and the cauinagens, it was
fundamental that the notions of moderation and temperance, and the idea that
voluntary intoxication was a sin, be divulged and practiced in the society as a
whole. The missionaries needed to reach the women, to whom the cauim was
central for the obtention of prestige and honor. It seems to be relevant pointing
out that the success of the Jesuits in obtaining the collaboration of the women
in this mission represented one of their most extraordinary accomplishments.
Taking the words of Eduardo Viveiros de Castro concerning the giving up
of cannibalism, we could say that the banning of cauinagens represented “a
defeat, above all, on the part of the feminine side of Tupinambá society.”36 It
is a fact which can be understood more broadly, as it turned women into fun-
damental supporters of Jesuit´s action.37
One instance of the value of women’s support happened when Christian na-
tive women hid the igaçabas so that the women still faithful to the old customs
could not prepare cauim.38 Furthermore, Christian native women allowed their
 Fernandes, Catholic Missionaries and Native Celebrations in Brazil 119

own children to be taken to the priests’ boarding schools, where the view
of drunkenness as a sin was inculcated in them. In this way, the Jesuits hit
the nail on the head in attacking the central cleavages of Tupinambá society,
which involved differences of age and gender. Built for and to war, while a
mechanism of creation of memories and temporalities, the Tupinambá society
placed the young and the women in subordinate places, at least in dominant
discourse which, after all, established the Tupinambá being itself.
For the young, this cleavage was temporary, because the cultural centrality
of war would required boys to demonstrate their warrior prowess when they
became adults In this way, the reports from the Jesuits permanently oscillated
between enthusiasm and hope for the conversion of the boys, and the disil-
lusionment and discouragement in seeing that, as soon as they turned into
adults, the sweet catechumens became as “savage” as their parents. The main
symptom of this barbarism was, of course, the tendency to drunkenness: “this
is the sin which it seems they will least stop committing, because they are
hardly ever not drunk, and from these wines, which they make from all the
things, will be brought all malices and dishonesties.”39
Even faced with these difficulties, the great focus of the Jesuits’ action was
the boys. The reason for this may be two-fold. First they were still social
immature, that is, they had not killed enemies, and as such, could not drink.
Secondly, they had not experienced the honors of victory, nor been granted
the prizes such society gave to the chiefs, the body scars or polygyny.40 In
a very similar fashion of the meirinhos and the converted women, the boys
also smashed the large jugs of cauim so as to stop the festivities from hap-
pening.41
However, the boys were very likely to take part in social activities that
diverted from the orthodoxy for which the missionaries aimed. In 1555, for
example, some of them were punished and temporarily banned from entering
the church, due to the fact they had all been to a cannibalistic celebration, “not
exactly to eat human flesh, but to drink and see the party.”42
It took only a few years years for the Jesuits to give up their initial opti-
mism, and conclude that the gentilidades held meanings that temperance and
the “police” failed acknowledge. Writing in 1560, Father José de Anchieta
was forced to recognize that the conversion work had to be far more intense
and that he would need more assistance from the colonial administration. He
also felt that there might be a need for the colonizers to stay away from the
natives.
The very same boys that seemed to be so promising in the early years, when
reaching puberty, “excelled their fathers in evil, as they gave vent to drunken-
ness and lust, in the same degree with which they had showed modesty and
obedience to Christian customs and divine instructions.”43 Getting drunk in
the company of their fathers, the young Tupinambá were also as fierce as them
– when drunk, they encountered the priests “without speaking not looking at
us, but squinting, as if they didn’t know us, and this happened every night,
120 Social History of Alcohol and Drugs, Volume 23, No 2 (Spring 2009)

especially when they drank and sang.”44

With the persistence of the cauinagens, the Jesuits did not risk only suffer-
ing from physical violence; even more serious was the risk of danger to their
religious orthodoxy. Even though most of the time the natives were willing
to listen to the preachings, to the priests it seemed as if the wines blurred
their comprehension of what was being said. “They liked to hear but soon
forgot them, giving it another meaning in their wines and wars,” said father
Azpilcueta Navarro.45 More than lamenting the wrongdoings of the natives,
the Ignatians were concerned with the proliferation of santidades. These rites
had to do with the activities of the itinerant shamans, or caraíbas, the “sorcer-
ers” who invented “new dances and songs” and made the Tupinambá “drink
and dance all day and night, without concerning themselves with food provi-
sions.” The sorcerers said that “old women will turn into young,”46 promising
abundance, military success and the end of diseases.
These caraíbas enjoyed enormous prestige,47 being considered great “he-
roes” (the mythical cultural heroes, possessors of shamanic knowledge, were
also called caraíbas) and “masters of speech.” For them the natives organized
large festivities with “many songs, men and women together, drinking a great
deal of wine, all day and night long, performing diabolical harmonies.”48
For the Tupinambá, the oratory skills of the Jesuits also made them “mas-
ters of speech.” The missionaries were soon identified, and sought to iden-
tify themselves with the caraíbas. The priests also gave speeches through the
nights, and promised abundance and victory over the enemies, besides curing
(or trying to cure) their diseases, many times brought about by the Europeans.
More interesting than this “conversion” of the Jesuits into the practices of the
caraíbas, however, was the reverse movement: the adoption by the caraíbas
of some parts of the language of Christian discourse and liturgy. It is a phe-
nomenon of which the Santidade do Jaguaripe, studied by scholars such as
Ronaldo Vainfas and Alida Metcalf, was the most extraordinary, albeit not the
only, example.49
The Santidade do Jaguaripe was a hybrid religion that flourished around the
year 1585, and which information came to us, basically, through inquisitorial
documentation. To Vainfas, native parties represented the center of the mes-
tizo cult to the idol Tupanasu (in Tupi, “great god”) which took place in the
lands of Bahia. Notwithstanding, the cauins are absent. Perhaps this absence
was due to the bias of the documentation, which consisted of accounts of in-
dividuals more than willing to erase their faults and, by so doing, decrease the
number of their sins. The descriptions of the rituals of Jaguaripe are extremely
vague and general, but do not make reference to cauinagens.
Apparently, from the mix of elements of Tupinambá culture and Christian
liturgy which formed the core of the santidades, tobacco was given more im-
portance than fermented beverages. It is possible that the “defeat of the femi-
nine part of the society,” expressed by the progressive loss of prestige of caui-
nagens, reached its peak when the caraíbas took the role of the misogynistic
 Fernandes, Catholic Missionaries and Native Celebrations in Brazil 121

Figure 2: Théodore de Bry, “Caraíbas are protagonists of the

dance of the Land Without Evil, shaking their rattles and smoking

Source: Ronaldo Vainfas, A Heresia dos Índios: Catolicismo e Rebeldia no

Brasil Colonial (São Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 1995), 39.
priests. As Vainfas asserted, the privileged religious feature of that cult, was
indeed tobacco (Figure 2): “more than inebriating, the smoke of the santidade
was divine, like ardently exclaimed a given member of the sect: ‘Let us drink
the smoke, for it is our God that comes from Paradise’.”50
In these heresies of native origins, the cauins were abandoned as a religious
vehicle. In a wider scale, this meant the disappearance of a traditional space of
ritual action. By the end of the Sixteenth Century, the writings of Jesuits dis-
played a much more optimistic tone. Fernão Cardim wrote in 1584 that many
natives “even took Communion, for which they let aside their wines to which
they are very given, and this is the most heroic task they can do.”51 José de
Anchieta, in 1585, stated that the Tupinambá easily disposed of “the depraved
customs” such as one of “habitually intoxicate themselves with wines.”52
The name of José de Anchieta will be marked as the greatest and more tena-
cious enemy of cauinagens. Anchieta was the most important Jesuit to exercise
his authority in colonial Brazil, being usually referred to as Apóstolo do Brasil
(the Apostle of Brazil). He spoke Tupi fluently, having created a grammar of
the language, and several religious and theatrical texts in Tupi. Anchieta is the
one who features as having one of the most interesting aspects of Jesuitical
entrepreneur in Brazil: the creation of a composite language, which blended
the Tupinambá lexicon in a grammar inspired by Latin structure.53
This new language, on the one hand, simplified the native language (from
the Europeans’ standpoint) and on the other, allowed for the introduction of a
series of words representing an unexpected translation of Christian notions to
the symbolic discourse world of the Tupinambá. That is the case of Paí-guaçu
[great shaman] used to translate for “Bishop” or Tupansy (mother of Tupã, or
122 Social History of Alcohol and Drugs, Volume 23, No 2 (Spring 2009)

God) for the Virgin Mary. Also, the notable word karaibebê [flying prophet]
invented to designate the angels. The idea – absolutely odd for the Tupinambá
culture ­ – of “sin” was translated as angaipaba [things of the evil soul], or
things of Anhangá, an evil spirit identified by the Jesuits to the devils.54 This
true “parallel mythology” found itself an ideal space to be expressed in the
theatre of José de Anchieta. It presented itself in the form of autos, a type of
theatre presentation of medieval origin, of a naïve and moralistic nature, which
represented one of the most efficient tools for the religious proselytism among
the Tupinambá who watched and enthusiastically took part in the plays.55
The most important of these plays is the Auto de São Lourenço,56 in which
were presented all the priests’ prejudices against the cauins and all the strate-
gies used to demoralize the followers of alcoholic ceremonies. In the play, the
main characters are Guaixará, identified as the Devil, and his two assistants,
Aimbirê and Saravaia. Guaixará is a Tupinambá chief of the Rio de Janeiro
region, who attacked the Portuguese in 1566-67. Guaixará starts by complain-
ing of the arrival of the Jesuits to his land and presenting himself as leading
champion of Tupinambá “bad customs”:
This foreign virtue
annoys me exceedingly.
Who has brought it here,
with their polite manners
spoiling the whole land?…
Who is strong as I am?
Like me, highly regarded?
I am a well-roasted devil.
My fame preceded me;
Guaixará I am called.
My system is well-living.
Shall never be upset
the pleasure, nor abolished.
I want to light up the villages
with my favorite fire.
A good measure is to drink
cauim until you vomit.
This is the way to enjoy
life, recommend it to
those who want to enjoy.
The young drinkers
I regard well.
Brave is the one who gets drunk
and pours in every cauim,
and to the fight, then, is consecrated…
Then now come the priests
with untimely rules
so as for the people to cast doubt on me.
Law of God that does not come into force.57
The old women that fabricated the cauim, and so many problems brought to
the Ignatians, were not forgotten:
O evil-smelling devil,
your stench bothers me.
If my husband was alive,
 Fernandes, Catholic Missionaries and Native Celebrations in Brazil 123

my poor Piracaê,
this I would now tell you.
You are useless, you are a bad devil.
I will not let you drink
of the cauim I chewed.
I will drink it all alone,
until I fall I will drink.58
The devil Guaixará sends his assistant, Saravaia, to ravage the villages and
imprison the natives that had drift away from Christian preaching:
Guaixará
It was faster than lighting!
Did you really go, Saravaia?
Saravaia
I did. Are already celebrating
the indians our victory.
Rejoice!
Overflowed the cauim,
the pleasure regurgitated.
And in drinking, the igabaças
got drained to the bottom.
Guaixará
And was it strong?
Saravaia
Strong it was.
And the drunk young men
that pervert this village,
fell over when soaked
Old men, old women, youngsters
that cauim misled.59
Saint Sebastian enters the scene and asks the demons who gave them the right
to command the natives:
Saint Sebastian
Who was that insensibly,
one day or presently
the indians gave to you?
If God Himself so potent
this people in Holy Office
body and soul has shaped!60
The Devil’s aide, Aimbirê, answers, showing who was the real villain, the true
instrument of demonic action among the natives:
Aimbirê
They drink cauim in their way,
as complete fools
to cauim they pay homage.
This cauim is what hampers
their spiritual grace.
Lost in the bacchanal
their spirits shrink
in our fatal noose.
…They have booze to waste,
124 Social History of Alcohol and Drugs, Volume 23, No 2 (Spring 2009)

cauim will not fall short.

When drunk they lend themselves to misdeed,
hurt each other, fight, whatever!61
The play is filled with new recriminations against the old “witches,” who
made the cauins and disturbed, with their spells, the minds and the sexuality
of the young, removing them from the sphere of influence of the priests:
Guaixará
Let me help you explain.
The old women, as serpents,
profane one another angrily,
cursing without cessation.
The ones that silence acquiesce.
Commit sin the inconsequent
with well-woven intrigues,
prepare dark beverages
to be beautiful and ardent
in love, in bed and in life.
Aimbirê
And the greedy lads,
chasing the women
for slaves of the gentile…
Thus they invade lustfully…
the dwellings of the white men.62

The auto ends, as it should, in an edifying way, with Guaixará ruined in

hell and with Aimbirê (who, historically, turned to the side of the Portuguese)
acting as the infernal executioner of the Roman emperors Decius and Vale-
rian, persecutors of Christians. Ironically, Anchieta’s hell combined natives
and Romans, sinners themselves for they had harassed and killed God´s sons,
as well as made drinking and alcoholic pleasures essential in their relationship
with the world and life. On improvised stages in the Jesuit villages, the Chris-
tian struggle against alcohol and drunkenness was presented: it united, at the
same time, the beginning and the end of the history. There, in the middle of
the Brazilian jungles, the millenarist dream of re-establishing the world was
taking place, amidst the war against the expansion of consciousness and of the
senses, and against the freedom and the laughter enabled by ebriety.
The Jesuits’ combat against the cauinagens was just the initial episode of a
long story of ethylic relations between the indigenous peoples of Brazil and
colonial and post-colonial societies. In the course of history, other native mod-
els of making and consumption of fermented beverages, as well as of its ritual
usage, were incorporated or banished due to the advancements of Portuguese
or other Europeans and Brazilians. In these advancements, a new character
was created, in the seventeenth century: cachaça, a spirit distilled from sugar
cane. It constituted an innovation which brought enormous consequences for
the Indian societies. Part of my current project is to investigate some of these
consequences.
As for cauins and other traditional fermented beverages, they continue to be
produced by many other contemporary indigenous peoples.63 It is worth men-
 Fernandes, Catholic Missionaries and Native Celebrations in Brazil 125

tioning that some of the descendants from the sixteenth-century Tupinambá

still make cauins and provide feasts, as anthropologist Susana Viegas has
shown.64 The Tupinambá in Olivença (Bahia) still construct their cultural
identity around celebrations with manioc beer, which they call giroba and
whose consumption enable them to build friendships as well as exercise old
forms of religiosity, through trances provoked by high giroba ingestion. On
the same beaches where the first European settlers arrived, manioc still boils
in jars, bringing back memories of a past full of singing, dancing, wars and
feasts.

Universidade Federal da Paraíba, João Pessoa, Brazil

joaser@uol.com.br

Endnotes
1. Gilbert Quintero, “Making the Indian: Colonial Knowledge, Alcohol, and Native Ameri-
cans,” American Indian Culture and Research Journal 25 (2001): 57-71.
2. Michael Dietler, “Alcohol: Anthropological/Archaeological Perspectives,” Annual Review
of Anthropology 35 (2006): 229-49.
3. João A. Fernandes, “Alcohol,” in Iberia and the Americas: Culture, Politics, and History
– A Multidisciplinary Encyclopedia ed. J. Michael Francis (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2006),
1: 58-61.
4. João A. Fernandes, “Selvagens Bebedeiras: Álcool, Embriaguez e Contatos Culturais no
Brasil Colonial” (Ph. D. diss., Universidade Federal Fluminense, 2004).
5. Michael Dietler and Brian Hayden, “Digesting the feast: good to eat, good to drink, good
to think – an introduction,” in Feasts: archaeological and ethnographic perspectives on food,
politics, and power, ed. Michael Dietler and Brian Hayden (Washington/London: Smithsonian
Institution Press, 2001): 1-20.
6. About the indigenous peoples of Brazil in the times of European conquest, see John Hem-
ming, Red Gold: The Conquest of Brazilian Indians (Chatham: Papermac, 1995), and Manuela
L. Carneiro da Cunha (ed.), História dos índios no Brasil (São Paulo: Companhia das Letras,
1992).
7. From Tupi kara’ib, “wise,” “intelligent,” word which later came to be used to describe the
Europeans.
8. The existence or not of cannibalism, beyond colonial stereotypes regarding the barbarism of
native peoples, represents one of the most controversial topics in anthropology. The Tupinambá
are at the centre of this controversy, as a result of the account of Hans Staden, German artillery-
man who is said to have been a prisoner of the Tupinambá for nine months, in 1554-55. The
criticism to the ethnographical of Staden’s accounts (of which one of the most recent is H. E.
Martel, “Hans Staden’s captive soul: Identity, imperialism, and rumors of cannibalism in six-
teenth-century Brazil,” Journal of World History 17 [2006]: 651-69) seem fragile to me when
they ignore, frequently, the existence of other descriptions of cannibalism, especially those of Je-
suit missionaries (concerning these accounts, see Douglas W. Forsyth, “The beginnings of Brazil-
ian anthropology: Jesuits and Tupinamba cannibalism,” Journal of Anthropological Research 39
[1983]: 147-78). The best analysis of the role of cannibalism in native cultures of Brazil, one that
owes much to the historical records about the Tupinambá, is that of Eduardo Viveiros de Castro,
From the Enemy’s Point of View: Humanity and Divinity in an Amazonian Society (Chicago: The
University of Chicago Press, 1992).
9. Fernandes, “Selvagens Bebedeiras,” 86-125.
10. Michael Dietler, “Theorizing the feast: rituals of consumption, commensal politics, and
power in african contexts,” in Dietler and Hayden, eds., Feasts, 65-114.
11. The best introductory study in the English language about the history of the Jesuits in Bra-
126 Social History of Alcohol and Drugs, Volume 23, No 2 (Spring 2009)

zil, to my mind, is Dauril Alden, The Making of a Enterprise: The Society of Jesus in Portugal,
Its Empire, and Beyond, 1540-1750 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1996). Recently other
works have shed some light for the study of the Society of Jesus: among others, Charlotte de
Castelneau-L’Estoile, Les ouvriers d’une vigne sterile: Les jésuites et la conversion des Indiens
au Brésil, 1580-1620 (Lisboa/Paris: Centre Culturel Calouste Gulbenkian, 2000) and Cristina
Pompa, Religião como Tradução: Missionários, Tupi e Tapuia no Brasil colonial (Bauru: Edusc/
Anpocs, 2003).
12. “Carta do Padre Manuel da Nóbrega ao Padre Simão Rodrigues, Lisboa (Bahia,
09/08/1549),” in Cartas dos Primeiros Jesuítas do Brasil, ed. Serafim Leite (Coimbra: Tipografia
da Atlântida/Comissão do IV Centenário da Cidade de São Paulo, 1954), 1: 119.
13. Carta do Pe. Manuel da Nóbrega ao Pe. Simão Rodrigues, Lisboa (Bahia, 10/04/1549),
Ibid., 111.
14. Carta do Pe. Manuel da Nóbrega ao Dr. Martín de Azpilcueta Navarro, Coimbra (Salvador
[Bahia], 10/08/1549), Ibid, 136.
15. Carta do Pe. Manuel da Nóbrega ao Pe. Simão Rodrigues, Lisboa (Bahia, 10/04/1549),
Ibid., 111.
16. Pompa, Religião como Tradução, 35-56.
17. Eduardo Viveiros de Castro, “O mármore e a murta: sobre a inconstância da alma selva-
gem,” in A inconstância da alma selvagem - e outros ensaios de antropologia,” (São Paulo: Cosac
& Naify, 2002): 192.
18. Jácome Monteiro, “Relação da província do Brasil, 1610,” in História da Companhia de
Jesus no Brasil, ed. Serafim Leite (Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira, 1949), 8: 410. The
Jesuits used to call the natives’ manioc beer “wines”, as they called their drinking bouts “wines”
(vinhos) or “winers” (vinhaças).
19. Viveiros de Castro, “O mármore e a murta,” 248.
20. Ruth C Engs, “Do Traditional Western European Practices Have Origins In Antiquity?”
Addiction Research, 2 (1995): 227-39.
21. Sonia C. de Mancera, El fraile, el índio y el pulque: Evangelización y embriaguez en la
Nueva España, 1523-1548 (México [D. F.]: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1991): 239-56.
22. Ibid., 154-60.
23. Martín de Azpilcueta Navarro, Manual de Confesores y Penitentes (1569), quoted in Sonia
C. de Mancera, Del amor al temor: Borrachez, catequesis y control en la Nueva España, 1555-
1771 (México [D. F.]: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1994): 53.
24. Mancera, Del amor al temor, 45.
25. Fernão Cardim, Tratados da Terra e Gente do Brasil, (São Paulo/Brasília: Cia. Ed. Nacio-
nal/INL, 1978): 116 (1st edition: 1625).
26. Yves d’ Evreux, Viagem ao norte do Brasil feita nos anos de 1613 a 1614, (São Paulo:
Siciliano, 2002) : 275-276 (1st edition : 1615).
27. Claude d’Abbeville, História da Missão dos Padres Capuchinhos na Ilha do Maranhão e
terras circunvizinhas (Belo Horizonte/ São Paulo: Itatiaia/Edusp, 1975) : 239 (1st edition: 1614).
28. In Greek, “bring the god within oneself”.
29. Viveiros de Castro, “O mármore e a murta,” 205, 256.
30. “Carta do Ir. Pero Correia ao Pe. Simão Rodrigues, Lisboa (S. Vicente, 10/03/1553),” in
Leite, Cartas, 1: 445-46; on this subject, see John M. Monteiro, Negros da Terra: índios e ban-
deirantes nas origens de São Paulo, (São Paulo: Cia. das Letras, 1994): 30-31.
31. Maria R. Celestino de Almeida, Metamorfoses Indígenas: Identidade e cultura nas aldeias
coloniais do Rio de Janeiro (Rio de Janeiro, Arquivo Nacional, 2003): 103.
32. The warriors who had already killed and eaten enemies had their bodies painted and tat-
tooed, and the old women were the great coordinators of beverage production for the cauinagens,
social function that brought them enormous prestige: Fernandes, “Selvagens Bebedeiras,” 103-
114.
33. “Carta de Mem de Sá, Governador do Brasil, a D. Sebastião, Rei de Portugal (Rio de Janei-
ro, 31/03/1560),” in Leite, Cartas, 3: 172.
34. “Carta do Pe. António Pires aos Padres e Irmãos de Portugal (Aldeia de Santiago, Bahia,
22/10/1560),” ibid, 312-13.
35. “Carta do Ir. António Rodrigues ao Pe. Manuel da Nóbrega, Baía (Aldeia do Espírito San-
 Fernandes, Catholic Missionaries and Native Celebrations in Brazil 127

to, Bahia, 09[?]/08/1559),” ibid, 126.

36. Viveiros de Castro, “O mármore e a murta,” 259.
37. João A. Fernandes, De Cunha a Mameluca: A Mulher Tupinambá e o Nascimento do Brasil
(João Pessoa: Editora UFPB, 2003), 30-41.
38. “Ao Geral Diogo Lainez, de São Vicente, janeiro de 1565,” in José de Anchieta, Cartas,
informações, fragmentos históricos e sermões (Belo Horizonte/São Paulo: Itatiaia/Edusp., 1988):
211.
39. “Carta do Pe. Luís da Grã ao Pe. Inácio de Loyola, Roma (Piratininga, 08/06/1556),” in
Leite, Cartas, 2: 294.
40. On the Jesuit strategy concerning the boys, see Rafael Chambouleyron, “Jesuítas e as
crianças no Brasil quinhentista,” in História da criança no Brasil, ed. Mary del Priori (São Paulo:
Contexto, 2006), 55-83 and Plínio F. Gomes, “O ciclo dos meninos cantores (1550-1552): música
e aculturação nos primórdios da colônia”, Revista Brasileira de História, 11 (1990/1): 187-98.
41. “Carta do Ir. Pero Correia ao Pe. Brás Lourenço, Espírito Santo (São Vicente, 18/07/1554),”
in Leite, Cartas, 2: 70.
42. “Carta de São Vicente, a 15 de Março de 1555,” in Anchieta, Cartas, informações, 89.
43. “Ao Padre Geral, de São Vicente, a 1 de Junho de 1560,” ibid, 166.
44. “Ao Geral Diogo Lainez, de São Vicente, janeiro de 1565,” ibid, 239.
45. “Carta do Pe. Juan de Azpilcueta Navarro aos Padres e Irmãos de Coimbra (Porto Seguro,
24/06/1555),” in Leite, Cartas, 2: 248.
46. “Informação do Brasil e de suas Capitanias – 1584,” in Anchieta, Cartas, informações,
339.
47. Ronaldo Vainfas, A Heresia dos Índios: Catolicismo e Rebeldia no Brasil Colonial (São
Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 1995): 61.
48. “Carta do Ir. Pero Correia ao Pe. João Nunes Barreto, África (S. Vicente, 20/06/1551),” in
Leite, Cartas, 1: 225.
49. Alida C. Metcalf, Go-betweens and the Colonization of Brazil (1500-1600) (Austin: Uni-
versity of Texas Press, 2005).
50. Vainfas, A Heresia, 135-37.
51. Cardim, Tratados, 191.
52. “Informação da Provincia do Brasil para nosso Padre (1585),” in Anchieta, Cartas, infor-
mações, 443.
53. Yonne Leite, “A Arte de gramática da lingua mais usada na costa do Brasil e as línguas
indígenas brasileiras,” in Línguas Gerais: política lingüística e catequese na América do Sul
no período colonial, ed. José R. B. Freire and Maria C. Rosa (Rio de Janeiro: EdUERJ, 2000):
11-24.
54. Alfredo Bosi, Dialética da Colonização (São Paulo: Cia. das Letras, 1992), 64-70.
55. For more on the theatrical work of Anchieta, see Renata Wasserman, “The Theater of José
de Anchieta and the Definition of Brazilian Literature,” Luso-Brazilian Review, 36 (1999): 71-
85; and Celso G. do Nascimento, “Raízes distantes: José de Anchieta, o modelador de imagens,”
in Transformando os Deuses: Os múltiplos sentidos da conversão entre os povos indígenas no
Brasil, ed. Robin M. Wright (Campinas: Editora da Unicamp, 1999): 479-531.
56. José de Anchieta, Auto representado na festa de São Lourenço (Rio de Janeiro: Serviço
Nacional de Teatro - Ministério da Educação, 1973).
57. Ibid., Act II: 4.
58. Ibid., II: 5-6.
59. Ibid., II: 13-14.
60. Ibid., II: 16.
61. Ibid., II: 19.
62. Ibid., II: 21.
63. About the contemporary use of native fermented beverages, see, among others, Tãnia S.
Lima, Um peixe olhou para mim: O povo Yudjá e a perspectiva (São Paulo/Rio de Janeiro: Edi-
tora UNESP / ISA / NuTI, 2005).
64. Susana de M. Viegas, “Nojo, Prazer e Persistência: beber fermentado entre os Tupinambá
de Olivença (Bahia),” Revista de História 154 (2006): 151-88.