Escolar Documentos
Profissional Documentos
Cultura Documentos
Edited by
Benjamin Schmidt
University of Washington
and
Wim Klooster
Clark University
VOLUME 16
Between Empires:
Brazilian Sugar in the Early Atlantic
Economy, 1550–1630
By
Christopher Ebert
LEIDEN • BOSTON
2008
Cover illustration: ‘Ships Leaving the Port of Lisbon,’ from: Theodor de Bry, Americae
tertia pars memorabilē provinciæ Brasiliæ historiam. Apud Ionnem Wechelum, 1592.
Courtesy of the Anne S.K. Brown Military Collection, Brown University Library.
Ebert, Christopher.
Between empires : Brazilian sugar in the early Atlantic economy, 1550–1630 / by
Christopher Ebert.
p. cm. — (Atlantic world ; 16)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-90-04-16768-1 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Sugar trade—Brazil—
History—16th century. 2. Sugar trade—Brazil—History—17th century. 3. Sugar
trade—Europe, Northern—History—16th century. 4. Sugar trade—Europe,
Northern—History—17th century. I. Title. II. Series.
HD9114.B6E24 2008
382’.4566410981—dc22
2008011348
ISSN 1570-0542
ISBN 978 90 04 16768 1
Chapter One
Introduction .............................................................................. 1
Chapter Two
Portuguese Trade with Northwestern Europe ......................... 17
Chapter Three
Sugar, Institutions and Politics ................................................. 39
Chapter Four
Merchants and Merchant Networks ....................................... 61
Chapter Five
The Cost of Shipping .............................................................. 85
Chapter Six
Transactions and Risk Management ........................................ 109
Chapter Seven
Illegal Trade .............................................................................. 131
Chapter Eight
Supply, Demand, Prices and Profitability ................................ 151
Appendix A
The Transatlantic System: Ports and Routes in Brazil,
Portugal and the Atlantic Islands ............................................. 181
vi contents
Appendix B
Portugal and the Dutch Republic in Baltic Trade .................. 187
Appendix C
Freight Charges ......................................................................... 191
Map
Tables
Appendices
Figures
In the spring of 1997, I met with Herbert Klein for the first time over
coffee. This was not in his favorite haunt, the Hungarian Pastry Shop in
Morningside Heights in Manhattan, but at the Cafe de la Presse in San
Francisco. I was considering graduate work at Columbia and expressed
my interest in exploring early Portuguese colonialism in Brazil. At the
time we were wondering how I might make my German skills useful
in such a study, and Klein brightly suggested: “Why don’t you learn
Dutch?” That moment was the genesis of this project.
From PhD thesis to manuscript was not always a straightforward
path, and there were many people who offered help, advice and use-
ful criticism. Foremost among them was Professor Klein, who was
unstinting in his time, advice and encouragement. While I owe a debt
of gratitude to many other professors at Columbia, several in particu-
lar were instrumental in offering suggestions for this work, especially
Martha Howell, Pablo Piccato, and the late Wim Smit. I have also
received valuable encouragement and advice from Professors Alan Dye,
Johannes Postma and Wim Klooster. I greatly appreciated and—hope-
fully—took to heart the excellent advice of the two anonymous readers
of the manuscript.
In order to aid my research in Portuguese archives I received generous
support from the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation. While there I also
benefited enormously from conversations and advice from Professor
Leonor Costa of the Universidade Technica de Lisboa whose work has
had a profound influence on mine. Professor Pedro Cardim was also
a welcoming presence during my time in Portugal and helped me to
negotiate the archives there. I am also most grateful for the support and
warm friendship of my dear friends in Portugal: Keith Mason, Marcelo
Albuquerque, Jean Wallace, Carol Pearce and Lothar Bräutigam.
In my several stays in the Netherlands, I have benefited from con-
versations with Professors Pieter Emmer and Ernst van den Boogaart,
whose good advice helped guide my project at an early stage. Professor
Victor Enthoven was also a great help and very free with his time and
advice. To Dr. Raoul Hammers I owe many thanks for taking me into
his flat in Amsterdam on two occasions. Also to my friends Stephen
Keizer, Stephen Rodda and Jeffrey Sanders I owe many thanks for
helping to make my time in Amsterdam so enjoyable.
xii acknowledgements
INTRODUCTION
1
This is a hypothetical account, but documentation supporting my claims for how
trade was conducted will appear in detail in following chapters.
2 chapter one
From here sugar entered upon a new transaction, one that would
take it to another place in Europe. In 1612 there was a good chance
this would be Amsterdam. Probably sugar did not need to stay long in
the warehouse of a merchant from Porto, because a large number of
ships—mostly of Dutch origin—sailed every year from that Portuguese
town to northern destinations. One of these ships would have arrived
with instructions for the Porto merchant from his correspondent in
Amsterdam, asking to buy sugar. In this case, the hypothetical ship
that carried our sugar was larger, with two decks, a broad bottom and
a shallow draft. The ship had probably arrived in Porto with a cargo
of grain purchased in Danzig, and its owners measured its holding
space not in pipas-based tons, but in lasts, a unit of measure—based on
grain shipments—common in northern European shipping. The ship
measured 100 lasts, and the freighters reckoned that they could load
eight to ten crates of sugar per last. Even so, the Dutch crew of 25
only loaded 250 crates of sugar, and this shared cargo space with salt
from Aveiro. Loading time was two weeks and then the ship set sail
for Amsterdam, arriving there a month later. Here a similar process to
that seen at Porto was played out. Local officials taxed the transaction,
while wholesale merchants claimed the cargo and made adjustments
in their account books. At this point sugar was destined for one of
Amsterdam’s sugar refineries.
By the time Brazil become an important producer of sugar, Portugal’s
role as a supplier of sugar to elite households in Europe was well
established. A once medieval, domestic sugar industry had followed
ocean-going caravels during Portugal’s great age of overseas expan-
sion and discovery. By the end of the sixteenth century, the newly
discovered Atlantic islands—especially São Tomé and Madeira—were
producing sugar at a level that rendered European domestic production
inconsequential. This expansion of cultivation, processing and shipping
to areas distant from Europe required more capital than Portuguese
resources could provide. Merchant capital from Germany, Italy and
the Low Countries filled the gap. In its earliest phases, sugar was a
pan-European undertaking.
An initially unpromising colony, Portuguese Brazil achieved economic
importance in the middle of the sixteenth century when a combination
of capital, labor and political sponsorship created the right conditions
for an extension of cane cultivation to certain sections of the vast
introduction 3
Brazilian coastline. Cane grew very well in Brazil, and it was also a
propitious time for expansion. Sugar remained a luxury item, affordable
to only a few in Europe, but the sixteenth century saw the growth of
towns as well as the elite, urban populations that formed the market for
sugar. In the latter half of the sixteenth century, Brazilian production
increased to a level that dwarfed, in turn, the output of the Atlantic
islands. Around 1612, Brazil may have been producing 672,000 arrobas
(9,871,680 kilograms) per year. By that time in Europe, sugar was nearly
synonymous with Brazilian sugar.
Brazilian sugar was, in fact, not one, but three chief products. The
process of refining on the plantation created sugar in a range of purity
that, typically, was described as branco, or white; moscovado, essentially a
light-brown sugar; and panela, a dark brown sugar. The first two types
were known as machos, and they formed the greatest amount of exports.
Panela left Brazil in much smaller quantities, and usually commanded
about half the price of white sugar. Other products of refining on the
plantation—including molasses—made their way to Europe, but not
in appreciable quantities.
Needless to say, moving all of this sugar—as well as other Brazilian
products—to markets in Europe called for significant resources in ship-
ping. By 1611, this trade occupied at least 150 ships per year, and maybe
as many as 200 or more, depending on the size of the harvest and the
cargo space available at any given time in the merchant marine. These
were ships just for carrying sugar from Brazil to Portugal. Many more
ships moved sugar from there to other European markets. The spurs
to employment, naval construction, provisioning and finance were not
small. The requirements of moving Brazilian sugar placed it at the
center of the first age of trans-Atlantic shipping.
For all its importance, the Brazilian sugar trade in its earliest phases
remains poorly understood. Part of the reason for this is simply that
there is little information in European archives to support conclusions
with great certainty. Merchants’ account books for this period remain
extremely rare. For Portugal, there are virtually no detailed series of
data emanating from crown sources about imports and exports that have
survived for this period. When such information for the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries does survive, it presents difficulties of interpreta-
tion. Regarding sugar, contemporary descriptive sources are notoriously
imprecise about types and provenance, and they are sometimes prone
to exaggeration about quantities produced and shipped.
4 chapter one
2
Forty years ago, Vitorino Magalhães Godinho laid out the structure of the entire
Portuguese overseas empire in its earliest phases in Os descobrimentos e a economia mundial,
2 vols. (Lisbon: Editora Arcádia, 1965). This, however, focused mainly on Portuguese
expansion in the Indian Ocean region. A few decades later, Frédéric Mauro’s seminal
work, Le Portugal, Le Brésil et l’Atlantique au XVIIe siècle (1570–1670), filled in important
gaps in scholarly understanding of Portugal’s westward expansion (Paris: Calouste
Gulbenkian Foundation, 1983). I have used a recent Portuguese translation throughout
this work: Frédéric Mauro, Portugal, o Brasil e o Atlântico, 1570–1670, 2 vols. (Lisbon:
Editorial Estampa, 1997). Mauro provided a macroeconomic study of the entire Por-
tuguese Atlantic trading region, including a generalized sketch of the Brazilian sugar
trade. Both works were based on broad research in Portuguese archives and remain
important overviews—in the Annales tradition—of the Portuguese empire.
3
One such work was contributed by Manuel Antonio Fernandes Moreira, who
has documented the activity of merchants in Viana involved in the Brazilian sugar
trade in Os mercadores de Viana e o comércio do açúcar brasileiro no século XVII (Viana do
Castelo: Câmara Munícipal, 1990). In a recent doctoral dissertation, Amélia Polónia
has described the responses of a northern Portuguese town, Vila do Conde, to new
opportunities provided by the opening of trade with Brazil. Amélia Polónia, “Vila
do Conde. Um porto nortenho na expansão ultramarina quinhentista” (PhD Diss,
Faculdade de Letras, Universidade do Porto, 1999).
4
Leonor Freire Costa, O transporte no Atlântico e a Companhia Geral do Comércio do Brasil
(1580 –1663), 2 vols. (Lisbon: Comissão Nacional para as Comemorações dos Desco-
brimentos Portugueses, 2002).
introduction 5
5
Amélia Polónia, “Descobrimentos e a expansão ultramarina portuguesa,” Anais de
História de Além-Mar 1 (2000): 9–32. The author laments the fact that little Portuguese
historiography of overseas expansion employs a larger European context. Neverthe-
less, two German historians who studied transnational merchant communities laid
important groundwork for this study. Hermann Kellenbenz wrote about the migrations
of merchant communities from the Iberian Peninsula to German towns, especially
Hamburg. Hermann Kellenbenz, Unternehmerkrafte im Hamburger Portugal- und Spanienhandel
1590 –1625 (Hamburg: Verlag der Hamburgischen Bücherei, 1954) and Hermann
Kellenbenz, Sephardim an der unteren Elbe (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1958). Also,
Hans Pohl contributed an excellent study of the Portuguese merchant community
in Antwerp in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen
(1567–1648): zur Geschichte einer Minderheit (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1977). Both Kellenbenz
and Pohl took prosopographic approaches. While they did not focus primarily on the
Brazil trade, they showed the activities of merchants who sometimes traded there. Each
also contributed an article that discussed the role of Portuguese merchants residing in
northwestern Europe in importing Brazilian sugar: Hans Pohl, “Die Zuckereinfuhr nach
Antwerpen durch Portugiesische Kaufleute während des 80jährigen Krieges,” Jahrbuch
für Geschichte von Staat, Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft Lateinamerikas 4 (1967): 348–73; Hermann
Kellenbenz, “Der Brasilienhandel der Hamburger ‘Portugiesen’ zu Ende des 16. und
in der ersten Hälfte des 17. Jahrhunderts,” Portugiesische Forschungen der Görresgesellschaft,
Aussätze zur Portugiesischen Kulturgeschichte 1 (1960): 316–14. Another major contribution
was Eddy Stols’ magisterial, Spaanse Brabanders, which examined merchants from the
southern Low Countries in the Iberian Peninsula in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries. This work followed extensive research in archives in Antwerp, Spain and
Portugal, and demonstrated that merchants from the Low Countries lived, worked and
traded in significant numbers in Spain and Portugal. Eddy Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders
of de handelsbetrekkingen der Zuidelijke Nederlanden met de Iberische Wereld (Brussels: Paleis der
Academiën, 1971). See also: Eddy Stols, Os mercadores flamengos em Portugal e no Brasil antes
das conquistas holandesas (São Paulo: Separata dos Anais de História, 1973). Although
he did not study the Brazil trade per se, Stols has shown a keen appreciation of the
international dimensions of the early development of Brazil. As he has demonstrated
through several works, these were reinforced through merchant immigration and large
webs of correspondents, credit and finance.
6
Engel Sluiter seems to have been the first to make this claim in 1942, without
providing much evidence. See: Engel Sluiter, “Dutch Maritime Power and the Colonial
6 chapter one
‘primary routes’ of sugar imports, i.e. between Brazil and the Portuguese
metropolis, while the redistribution—or ‘secondary’—routes were in the
hands of foreigners.7 These views implicitly or explicitly credit mercantil-
ist-type state policies as a major force shaping international trade in the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. These arguments have considerable
merit but overemphasize, respectively, the supposed ethnic identity of
sugar traders and the role of the state in directing the trade.
In regard to the former, a common assumption has been to assign
responsibility for the movement of trade goods—especially sugar—from
Portugal to the Dutch republic to the Sephardim, i.e. a merchant ‘nation’
of Jewish ancestry.8 Some evidence supports these arguments, but it
Status Quo, 1585–1641,” Pacific Historical Review 11 (1942): 29–41. Since then historians
have repeated it frequently and uncritically, including Charles Boxer, Celso Furtado
and Pieter Emmer, to name just a few. Celso Furtado, The Economic Growth of Brazil
(Westport: Greenwood Press, 1984), 8–9. This work appeared originally in Portuguese
in 1959. Furtado sometimes confused the Dutch with Flemish. This conflating of Low
Countries merchants was also common in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
during which nearly all Germanic-speaking northerners might fall under the Portu-
guese rubric of “Flamengos” or “Framengos.” This mistake has even continued in
contemporary discourse—at least in the popular media—as Evaldo Cabral de Mello
has recently lamented: Evaldo Cabral de Mello, “Uma questião de nuança,” Folha de
São Paulo, 1–23–2000. Furtado’s source for the early history of the Brazilian sugar trade
was mostly: Noel Deerr, The History of Sugar, 2 vols. (London: Chapman and Hall,
Ltd., 1949). Deerr’s work, while wide ranging is not based on detailed archival work
and—in regard to the early trade in Brazilian sugar—consists mostly of unsubstanti-
ated generalizations. See also: P.C. Emmer, The Dutch in the Atlantic Economy, 1580–1880:
Trade, Slavery and Emancipation (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998).
7
In Portuguese overseas trade in general, Costa has seen structural inhibitions to
foreign involvement. According to this view there was an investment and informa-
tion-obtaining structure that discriminated against non-Portuguese investors. Costa,
O transporte no Atlântico, 1:116–22. Costa posits this but does not offer a convincing
explanation about how it might work. The example she offers pertains to the Africa
trade, considered a Portuguese monopoly. But crown correspondence dating from the
middle of the sixteenth century attests to the fact that other European interlopers
had already penetrated trade routes between Portugal and Africa. To offer but a few
examples: IANTT, Corpo Cronológico, Parte I, maço 103, no. 57; maço 104, no. 72;
maço 107, no. 4.
8
This approach can be seen in Jonathan Israel, who has claimed that Dutch involve-
ment in the Brazil trade was chiefly a result of Portuguese New Christian immigration
to the Dutch Republic, which fostered growing trade links between Brazil, Portugal
and Amsterdam after 1609. Jonathan Irvine Israel, Empires and Entrepôts: the Dutch, the
Spanish monarchy, and the Jews, 1585–1713 (London: Hambledon Press, 1990), 200–10;
Jonathan Irvine Israel, Dutch Primacy in World Trade, 1585–1740 (Oxford: Clarendon,
1989), 1–11. Similar arguments are made in the following works: Arnold Wiznitzer,
Jews in Colonial Brazil (New York: Columbia University Press, 1960); Anita Novinsky,
Cristãos novos na Bahia (São Paulo: Editôra Perspectiva, 1972); Daniel M. Swetschinski,
Reluctant Cosmopolitans, The Portuguese Jews of Seventeenth-Century Amsterdam (London: The
Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2000); P.C. Emmer, “The First Global War:
introduction 7
The Dutch Versus Iberia in Asia, Africa and the New World, 1590–1609,” e-journal of
Portuguese History 1, no. 1 (2003), 8–9.
9
There is a large literature on the subject of identity by now, but in reference to the
mutability of the identities of Portuguese New Christians, I strongly agree with: H.P.
Salomon, Portrait of a New Christian Fernão Álvares Melo (1569–1632) (Paris: Fundação
Calouste Gulbenkian, 1982).
10
As David Grant Smith has shown, there is little evidence that New Christian
business practices were different from those of Old Christians, or that these networks
were particularly exclusive or separated. David Grant Smith, “The Mercantile Class
of Portugal and Brazil in the Seventeenth Century: A Socio-Economic Study of the
Merchant of Lisbon and Bahia, 1620–1690” (PhD Diss, University of Texas, 1975);
David Grant Smith, “Old Christian Merchants and the Foundation of the Brazil
Company, 1649,” Hispanic American Historical Review 54, no. 2 (1974): 233–59.
11
I believe that these distortions have arisen where scholars have focused on Portu-
guese Sephardic communities in Amsterdam. Seeing that merchants in these commu-
nities were active sugar traders, they may have inadvertently assumed that they were
the exclusive traders of this commodity. Some of the theoretical issues surrounding
identity and business practices have been defined by: Avner Greif, “On the Interrela-
tions and Economic Implications of Economic, Social, Political, and Normative Factors:
Reflections from Two Late Medieval Societies,” in The Frontiers of the New Institutional
Economics, ed. John N. Drobak and John V.C. Nye (San Diego and London: Academic
Press, 1997), 57–94. This discussion continues in Chapter 4.
8 chapter one
12
This was posited some years ago during the Twelfth International Economic
History Congress, which characterized the international trading economy as evolving
through four eras of mercantilism (1415–1846), liberalism (1846–1914), neo-mercantil-
ism (1914–48) and decolonization (1948–74). Patrick K. O’Brien and Leandro Prados
de la Escosura, “The Costs and Benefits for Europeans from their Empires Overseas,”
Revista de Historia Económica (Madrid) 16, no. 1 (1998): 29.
13
Fernand Braudel, The Wheels of Commerce, Civilization and Capitalism 15th–18th
Century, vol. 2 (New York: Harper & Row, 1979), 542.
14
An excellent exposition of the ad hoc assembly of mercantilist policies and their
selective reception among colonial merchants can be seen in Cathy Matson, Merchants
& Empire: Trading in Colonial New York (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press,
1998), 44–49.
15
A good example of the state approach is in: Jorge M. Pedreira, “‘To Have and
to Have Not’ The Economic Consequences of Empire: Portugal (1415–1822),” Revista
de Historia Económica (Madrid) 16, no. 1 (1998): 93–122. There have been at least two
important impetuses to the continued use of the mercantilist/imperial point of view.
One has to do with disciplinary structures. Alison Games has recently pointed out
that “fundamental organizing schemes of graduate programs in history” have led to
the division of the Atlantic into linguistic and imperial units that are “clumsy and
counterproductive.” Alison Games, “Atlantic History: Definitions, Challenges, and
Opportunities,” American Historical Review 111, no. 3 (2006): 750. Few scholars have
been able to overcome the linguistic and logistical obstacles that arise from an inquiry
framed in trans-national or inter-imperial terms. The result has been the persistence of
imperial perspectives, or, in the case of Atlantic history, the categories of the “Dutch
Atlantic,” the “Portuguese Atlantic,” the “British Atlantic,” etc. Some recent authors
have effectively revised and de-centered traditional imperial history, notably Henry
Kamen who has shown that the supposed “Spanish” empire was more of a mas-
sive multi-ethnic collaboration. Henry Kamen, Empire: how Spain became a world power,
1492–1763 (New York: Harper Collins, 2003).
introduction 9
16
Braudel, Wheels of Commerce, 542.
17
Henk den Heijer, “The Dutch West India Company,” in Riches from Atlantic Com-
merce: Dutch Transatlantic Trade and Shipping, 1585–1817, ed. Johannes Postma and Victor
Enthoven (Leiden: Brill, 2003); for an analysis of Spanish economic thinking under
Olivares see: Daviken Studnicki-Gizbert, A Nation upon the Ocean Sea: Portugal’s Atlantic
Diaspora and the Crisis of the Spanish Empire, 1492–1640 (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2007), especially chapter 5.
10 chapter one
18
An abundance of recent monographs and edited collections point in this direc-
tion. See for example the essays in Peter A. Coclanis, The Atlantic Economy during the
Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries: Organization, Operation, Practice, and Personnel (Columbia:
University of South Carolina Press, 2005).
19
David Hancock has found just such a decentralized, inter-imperial trade facilitated
by a motley group of international traders in the Madeiran wine trade: “L’émergence
d’une Économie De Réseau (1640–1815): Le vin de Madère,” Annales, histoire, sciences
sociales 58 (2003): 649–72. See also: Claudia Schnurmann, “Atlantic Trade and Regional
Identities: The Creation of Supranational Atlantic Systems in the 17th Century,” in
Atlantic History, History of the Atlantic System 1580–1830, ed. Horst Pietschmann (Göttingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002). Wim Klooster’s study of Dutch and Spanish illegal
trade interactions in the Caribbean and on the Wild Coast offers good examples of
this process. Wim Klooster, Illicit Riches: Dutch Trade in the Caribbean, 1648–1795 (Leiden:
KITLV Press, 1998). For contraband trade and interloping in the British North Atlantic,
see Matson, Merchants & Empire, especially 203–14.
introduction 11
20
Braudel, Wheels of Commerce, 190–4. Braudel makes this point for the sugar trade
in general throughout its history.
21
Frederic C. Lane, “The Role of Governments in Economic Growth in Early
Modern Times,” Journal of Economic History 35, no. 1 (1975): 8–17. Costs imposed by
the government did not reach the level of “tribute” discussed by Lane, which would
have put a brake on the development of the trade. Chapter Eight will show that after-
tax profits in the sugar trade remained high.
14 chapter one
Next I examine price margins in the trade and speculate on likely profit
levels, considering the transaction costs of trading. Finally, the chapter
examines the effects of sugar income on state revenues and assesses its
economic significance comparatively in parts of Europe. Sugar, I show,
was consistently profitable before 1630, and taxes on it made a major
contribution to the revenues of the Portuguese crown.
This study draws upon a wide range of sources. In Lisbon I have
looked at the records kept by the Concelho da Fazenda, the crown
body responsible for regulating trade in Brazil before 1630. I have
also examined trial transcripts of the Holy Office in order to glean
information about the investment activities and family networks of
New Christian merchants ensnared in the Inquisition. In Amsterdam
I have explored the extensive notarial archives in the Gemeentearchief.
As do most researchers, I have relied on the card index to navigate
through these archives, and have sometimes used just the summaries
on the card indices themselves.22 I have also read in various sections
of the Nationaal Archief in The Hague.23
I have also made extensive use of printed primary sources, many
originating from notarial collections. I have also read relevant printed
primary works from other sources, including merchants’ correspondence
and descriptions of trade or trading voyages. The excellent series pub-
lished over decades by the Rijks Geschiedkundige Publicatiën has been
particularly helpful. Needless to say, this work rests on the scholarship
of others, many whom are mentioned above. Their works have often
had a strong influence, even when I have not always agreed with their
conclusions.
22
The sheer number of records in this archive is quite daunting, and so I have
followed a research methodology also used by recent researchers. See, Arjan Poelwijk,
‘In dienste vant suyckerbacken.’ De Amsterdamse suikernijverheid en haar ondernemers, 1580–1630
(Hilversum: Verloren, 2003).
23
Before June 2002 it was called the Algemeen Rijksarchief.
CHAPTER TWO
1
The Schelde was ‘closed’ in 1585 and not ‘opened’ until 1795: Jan de Vries
and A.M. van der Woude, The First Modern Economy: Success, Failure, and Perseverance of
the Dutch Economy, 1500 –1815 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 371.
18 chapter two
Danzig
Hamburg
London Amsterdam
Antwerp
Viana
Porto
Azores Lisbon
Setubal
Madeira
The Canary
Islands
At la n t ic
São Tomé
O ce a n
Recife
(Pernambuco)
Salvador
(Bahia)
Espirito Santo
Rio de Janeiro
Merchandise continued to reach Antwerp through French harbors such as Calais. See:
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 294–5.
2
de Vries and van der Woude, The First Modern Economy, 362–6.
3
For a general treatment see: Bailey W. Diffie and George D. Winius, Foundations of
the Portuguese Empire, 1415–1580 (Minneapolis: Univerisity of Minnesota Press, 1977).
4
Fernand Braudel, The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II,
2 vols. (New York: Harper & Row, 1966), 1:586–7.
20 chapter two
5
M.N. Pearson, The Portuguese in India (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1987), 62.
6
See tables and figures at the end of this chapter.
7
Braudel, The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World, 586–7.
8
Pearson, The Portuguese in India, 42.
9
de Vries and van der Woude, The First Modern Economy, 358.
portuguese trade with northwestern europe 21
Likewise the wholesale market for sugar, and refining industries that
served the retail trade, flourished in a variety of towns.10 There was
a hierarchy of scale among northern wholesale sugar importers, but
in every case the towns that eventually imported Brazilian sugar had
a pre-existing trade relationship with Portugal. So while the flow of
sugar from Portugal to northwestern Europe was unimpeded, the rela-
tive strength of different towns in attracting sugar depended on specific
economic and political factors.
One of Portugal’s oldest and most significant trading relationships
was with Flanders, dating from the end of the twelfth century. There
are mentions of Portuguese merchants in Bruges as early as 1212, and
by 1308 they congregated on their own street in that town. The Duke
of Burgundy granted them privileges in 1386, and a Portuguese trade
house existed in Bruges by 1387, combining the functions of a ware-
house, hostel and meeting place. Portuguese privileges were extended
in 1411, 1421 and 1438, and in the latter year the Portuguese mer-
chant community received some rights of self-government embodied
in the election of consuls.11 These merchants organized themselves into
a voluntary association known as a bolsa, similar to other merchant
groups active in Flanders.12 This type of association, adapted from
Italian models, served to provide cohesion to the merchant community
and could be used to police and enforce contracts.13 Still, the bolsa was
not autarchic. Portuguese merchants interacted extensively with their
10
Lisbon was not without its own refineries, probably serving a domestic market only.
Fr. Nicolao de Oliveira, Livro das grandezas de Lisboa (Lisbon: 1804), 181, 183. Oliveira
noted several in Lisbon in 1620.
11
Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 23–4.
12
The most recent treatment is: Ivana Elbl, “Nation, Bolsa, and Factory: Three
Institutions of Late-Medieval Portuguese Trade with Flanders,” The International His-
tory Review 14, no. 1 (1992): 1–22. See also: A.H. de Oliveira Marques, “Notas para a
história da feitoria portuguesa na Flandres no século XV,” in Ensaios da história medieval,
ed. A.H. de Oliveira Marques (Lisbon: Sá da Costa, 1965) 217–67; and Virgínia Rau,
“Feitores e feitorias portuguesas do século XVI,” Brotéria 81, no. 5 (1965): 458–78. The
bolsa or factory organization continued to characterize the Portuguese merchant com-
munity in Flanders—especially Antwerp—through the seventeenth century. Although
it had social consequences for the merchants involved and offered opportunities for
integration of new arrivals, it did not primarily affect how trade was prosecuted, i.e.
it did not supercede the company, usually family based.
13
Elbl, “Nation, Bolsa, and Factory,” 11. See also: Frédéric Mauro, “Merchant
communities, 1350–1750,” in The Rise of Merchant Empires. Long-distance Trade in the
Early Modern World, 1350 –1750, ed. James D. Tracy (New York: Cambridge University
Press, 1990), 262–3.
22 chapter two
14
Elbl, “Nation, Bolsa, and Factory,” 16–17.
15
Ibid., 8–9.
16
Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 26–27.
portuguese trade with northwestern europe 23
the crown and grandees that had been satisfied in Bruges. Portugal’s
lucrative Guinea trade depended on iron and copper manufactures,
none of which were produced in Portugal, but which could be supplied
by the German merchants in Antwerp. Additionally, Antwerp allowed
Portugal to exploit new and large sources of finance, which were nec-
essary to promote trade and settlement along the African coast and in
the Atlantic archipelagos, not to mention the crown’s daring ambitions
for direct trade with Asia. This symbiosis was cemented as Portugal’s
colonial products found an ideal market in Antwerp.17
One such product was sugar, which was rapidly increasing in output
just at the time that Portuguese trade activity assumed its Antwerp
orientation. Although Madeiran sugar had been sold on the market
in Bruges, production in São Tomé began to accelerate around 1500,
and Antwerp proved to be the ideal entrepôt for the second phase of
European redistribution of sugar from both São Tomé and Madeira.
Sugar became a veritable Portuguese monopoly as competition from
Mediterranean plantations withered. And yet, although Portuguese kings
from the beginning envisioned sugar as a commodity whose trade should
benefit the crown, the exploiting of new lands for sugar was an activity
that drew merchant capital, and even direct participation, from a wide
range of European sources.18 Unsurprisingly, Flemish merchants to a
significant extent became partners with the Portuguese in this enterprise,
and capital from the great German banking families also played its
part. Consequently, the Antwerp sugar market was the largest for much
of the sixteenth century, and remained a significant market into the
seventeenth century for sugar produced in the Portuguese colonies.
Northern Europe’s newly dominant entrepôt embraced new forms of
doing business along global trade routes. The institutional participation
of Portugal in this system, however, reflected—at least outwardly—old
norms. As in Bruges, the Portuguese bolsa in Antwerp received privi-
leges, exemptions and limited rights of self-government. The Portuguese
merchants would elect from among themselves a consul and officers,
17
Herman van der Wee, “Structural changes in European long-distance trade,
and particularly in the re-export trade from south to north, 1350–1750,” in The Rise
of Merchant Empires. Long-distance Trade in the Early Modern World, 1350–1750, ed. James
D. Tracy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 21–8; Niels Steensgaard,
“The growth and composition of the long-distance trade of England and the Dutch
Republic before 1750,” in The Political Economy of Merchant Empires, ed. James D. Tracy
(New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 103.
18
Pohl, “Die Zuckereinfuhr nach Antwerpen,” 349–50.
24 chapter two
and a house was designated in 1511 for use of the Portuguese resident
merchants as well as new arrivals. Here the community met and resolved
disputes.19 The institutions and privileges of the Antwerp bolsa persisted
into the seventeenth century, even as Antwerp’s Portuguese ‘nation’
became more fluid, attracting more and more transient members. The
royal factor also survived, although his role increasingly resembled that
of a representative of a powerful trading house. Between 1495 and 1521
the royal factors in Antwerp arranged the import of 150,293 arrobas
and 6,068 crates of sugar from São Tomé. Royal factors—once busy
in Bruges with exporting luxury items to the Portuguese court—were
now sugar traders, sending this valuable commodity from Portugal’s
new Atlantic empire to northern Europe’s redistribution hub.20
Toll data from the Portuguese factory in Antwerp gives an idea of
the scale of trade in the mid-sixteenth century. Between July, 1535
and May, 1551 at least 342 Portuguese vessels delivered goods from
Portugal or Portuguese possessions to Antwerp. The vast majority of
these ships carried at least some sugar in their holds, virtually all of it
from Madeira and São Tomé.21 By 1567 Portuguese sugar moving to
Antwerp may have been worth around 250,000 guilders (36,363,636
reis). This was a respectable amount, but still small compared to the
value of other trade items belonging to the ‘rich trades.’ In the same
year, spices from Portuguese Asia may have been worth 2,000,000
guilders (290,909,090 reis).22 Other valuable commodities moving back
and forth were fabrics from Low Countries textile centers, and pearls,
coral and gems from the Portuguese and Spanish colonies. Antwerp’s
merchants also imported brazilwood, indigo and other dyestuffs, and
wool and leather from Spain and Portugal. The list concludes with
metal manufactures from Germany, Scandinavia and the Netherlands,
and even books and paintings.23
A different category of commodities assumed increasing volume and
importance as the sixteenth century progressed. This was the bulk trade
19
Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 59.
20
Pohl, “Die Zuckereinfuhr nach Antwerpen,” 348–9.
21
The bolsa taxed this trade, which was mainly directed through Portuguese ports.
Officials kept records of the ships and listed consignees of sugar shipments. IANTT,
Feitoria de Flandres, “Livros de Avarias.” See also, Virgínia Rau, Estudos sobre a história
do sal Português (Lisbon: Editorial Presença, 1984), 208–21.
22
Wilfred Brulez, “The Balance of Trade in the Netherlands in the Middle of the
Sixteenth Century,” Acta Historiae Neerlandica 4 (1970): 20–48.
23
This trade is described in detail in Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 177–211.
portuguese trade with northwestern europe 25
24
Ibid., 64–7.
25
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 49–51.
26
Ibid., 54–6.
26 chapter two
27
Jürgen Pohle, Deutschland und die überseeische Expansion Portugals im 15. und 16. Jahr-
hundert (Münster: Lit Verlag, 2000), 18; Kellenbenz, Unternehmerkrafte, 15.
28
Pohle, Deutschland und die überseeische Expansion Portugals, 21–2.
29
Ibid., 18–19.
30
José Antonio Gonsalves de Mello, “Os livros de saídas das urcas do porto do
Recife, 1595–1605,” Revista do Instituto Arqueológico Histórico e Geográfico de Pernambuco 58
(1993): 21–143.
portuguese trade with northwestern europe 27
31
Kellenbenz, Unternehmerkrafte, 49.
32
Ibid., 50.
33
Ibid.
28 chapter two
time for departure as German ships loaded lasts of grain for delivery in
southern ports.34 German ships leaving in the fall would winter in the
Iberian Peninsula. Significantly, however, the ships could be employed
during this time on trips to the Atlantic Islands, the Mediterranean
or even to Brazil, where sailing was far less restricted by weather. 35
These trips sometimes involved transport of sugar, which thus moved
to European markets on ships designated for the ordinary trade in bulk
commodities (see Chapter 4).
Germany’s Baltic and North Sea ports dominated trade relation-
ships with Portugal, but other German cities—such as Nuremberg
and Augsburg—also played a part. Portugal’s need for German copper
manufactures in its West Africa trade led to links with the German cit-
ies that marketed these items. This demand prompted the appearance
of merchants from Nuremberg in Portugal at the end of the fifteenth
century.36
Once arrived, these merchants from Oberdeutschland diversified their
economic activities. The great German banking families played a
significant role in facilitating Portuguese expansion, and they had an
early presence in Portugal. Along with Genoese and Flemish bankers,
these German houses helped to provide the capital that underwrote
the creation of the Iberian overseas empires, and they were specifically
involved in the early expansion of sugar cultivation in various Atlantic
islands. In the early sixteenth century, Lucas Rem was present in Lisbon
as the Welser factor, along with other merchants from Augsburg. Rem
marketed grain, German metals, cloth and manufactures in Portugal.
His interests extended to Portugal’s new overseas colonies and during
these years he sailed to Madeira. Additionally he sent ships to the
Azores, Cabo Verde, and North Africa. By 1509 there was a Welser fac-
tory in Madeira, but it did not exist for long. Increasingly, the German
bankers turned toward investment in the Carreira da India as a source of
profit. Rem, along with a consortium of Fugger and Venetian banks,
financed a voyage of three ships with Portuguese crews to India in
34
Last=two tons. The volumetric standard in the Baltic trade was based on grain
transport, unlike the southern ton, which was a measurement of casks of wine. See
Frederic C. Lane, “Tonnages, Medieval and Modern,” Economic History Review 17, no. 2
(1964): 213–33.
35
Kellenbenz, Unternehmerkrafte, 34–5.
36
Pohle, Deutschland und die überseeische Expansion Portugals, 44.
portuguese trade with northwestern europe 29
37
Ibid., 99–102. Probably in the first half of the sixteenth century the total value
of exports from Portugal to the East—mostly specie—did not exceed 80,000 cruzados
in most years: Godinho, Os descobrimentos, 1:270. This shows the extent to which the
Portuguese crown was dependent on foreign capital to finance its earliest trading ventures
in the Indian Ocean. For Rem’s activities in Madeira, see IANTT, Corpo Cronológico,
Parte I, maço 7, no. 85; Parte II, maço 14, no. 119; maço 16, no. 105, maço 16, no.
150, maço 17, no. 138, maço 18, no. 128, maço 29, no. 189, maço 29, no. 194.
38
Pohle, Deutschland und die überseeische Expansion Portugals, 104–7, 255–6.
39
Hermann Kellenbenz, ed., Die Fugger in Spanien und Portugal bis 1560: Dokumente,
vol. 34, Schriften der Philosophischen Fakultäten der Universität Augsburg (Munich:
Verlag Ernst Vögel, 1990), 490–4. It is probably impossible to reconstruct the total
debts of the Portuguese crown at this time. In the case of the Casa da Mina, Fugger
loans represented a substantial investment. In 1553 the Lisbon Mint (Casa da Moeda)
reported gold receipts from Mina at 25,679 cruzados, although in 1555 it reported 98,406
cruzados received from Mina: Godinho, Os descobrimentos, 1:192. 1 ducat = 1 cruzado.
40
Gertrud Gramulla, Handelsbeziehungen Kölner Kaufleute zwischen 1500 und 1650 (Köln:
Böhlau Verlag, 1972), 311–20.
30 chapter two
41
Ibid., 337.
42
Ibid., 319–20.
43
John Everaert, “Les barons flamands du sucre à Madère,” in Flandre et Portugal,
ed. John Everaert and Eddy Stols (Antwerp: Fonds Mercator, 1991), 108–9.
44
Gramulla, Handelsbeziehungen Kölner Kaufleute, 342–5.
portuguese trade with northwestern europe 31
45
Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 68–9. This process of merchant migration has
received its best explanation to date from Oscar Gelderblom, Zuid-Nederlandse kooplieden
en de opkomst van de Amsterdamse stapelmarkt (1578–1630) (Hilversum: Verloren, 2000). His
ideas are also synthesized in English in Oscar Gelderblom, “Antwerp Merchants in
Amsterdam after the Revolt,” in International Trade in the Low Countries (14th–16th Centuries)
Merchants, Organization, Infrastructure, ed. Peter Stabel, Bruno Blondé, and Anke Greve
(Apeldoorn: Garant, 2000), 228–30. Gelderblom echoes Jan de Vries and Ad van der
Woude in believing that Amsterdam’s rise was a result of its own maturation, inde-
pendent of the chaos in Antwerp in the last two decades of the seventeenth century.
As Gelderblom indicates, by the time Parma took Antwerp, 100 merchants from the
southern Low Countries had already settled in Amsterdam. Between 1578 and 1630,
over 400 such merchant families immigrated to Amsterdam. See also: de Vries and
van der Woude, The First Modern Economy, 366–9.
46
For the Bristol trade with Portugal, which was not insubstantial in the sixteenth
century, see David Harris Sacks, The Widening Gate: Bristol and the Atlantic Economy,
1450–1700 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), 27–48, 66–7. At least a
few ships from Bristol made their way directly to Madeira during this century.
47
Wendy R. Childs, “Anglo-Portuguese Trade in the Fifteenth Century,” Transactions
of the Royal Historical Society 6, no. 2 (1992): 206–7.
32 chapter two
48
Ibid., 204–5.
49
Ibid., 200.
50
Ibid., 209, 212.
51
Ibid., 215, 219.
52
Kenneth R. Andrews, Trade, Plunder and Settlement: Maritime Enterprise and the Genesis
of the British Empire, 1480–1630 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 63.
Pohl also mentions a large English nation in Antwerp. In 1560 there were 300 to 500
portuguese trade with northwestern europe 33
English in Antwerp involved in trade. In 1574 there were said to be 300. See: Pohl,
Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 73.
53
Andrews, Trade, Plunder and Settlement, 22.
54
Pauline Croft has argued for a considerable continuity of trade with England
during the war, but this is not supported by a large amount of evidence. Some trade
undoubtedly survived through the Atlantic Islands. Nevertheless, the volume of ship-
ping was small compared to that supplied by Dutch and Hansa fleets. Pauline Croft,
“Trading with the Enemy,” The Historical Journal 32, no. 3 (1989): 289–30. See also:
G.V. Scammell, “The English in the Atlantic Islands, c. 1450–1650,” Mariner’s Mirror
72, no. 3 (1986): 295–317.
55
Andrews, Trade, Plunder and Settlement, 24.
56
Ibid., 25.
34 chapter two
57
Rudolf Häpke, ed., Niederländische Akten und Urkunden zur Geschichte der Hanse und zur
Deutschen Seegeschichte, 2 vols. (Lübeck: Gebrüder Borchers, 1923), 2:50.
58
Israel, Dutch Primacy, 48–52.
59
Christopher Ebert, “Dutch Trade with Brazil Before the Dutch West India
Company, 1587–1621,” in Riches from Atlantic Commerce, ed. Victor Enthoven (Leiden:
Brill, 2003), 49.
60
Häpke, ed., Niederländische Akten und Urkunden, 1:50.
portuguese trade with northwestern europe 35
61
Israel, Dutch Primacy, 48–52.
62
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:37.
63
Ibid., 1:35.
36 chapter two
64
de Vries and van der Woude, The First Modern Economy, 368, 370, 419–20. For a
description of the early efforts of the Dutch to retrieve salt in America, see: Cornelis
C. Goslinga, The Dutch in the Caribbean and on the Wild Coast 1580–1680 (Assen: Van
Gorcum, 1971).
65
de Vries and van der Woude, The First Modern Economy, 406–7.
portuguese trade with northwestern europe 37
200
Number of Ships
Aveiro
150
Viana
100 Porto
Lisbon
50
Setubal
0
1594 1595 1596 1597 1598 1599 1600
66
Poelwijk, ‘In dienste vant suyckerbacken’, 102.
38 chapter two
1
Diffie and Winius, Foundations of the Portuguese Empire, 316. For general information
on the ancient regime in Portugal see: Vitorino Magalhães Godinho, Estrutura da antiga
sociedade portuguesa (Lisbon: 1977); as well as a very good summary by the same author
in English: Vitorino Magalhães Godinho, “The Portuguese Empire 1565–1665,” The
Journal of European economic history 30, no. 1 (2001): 49–104; also: Veríssimo J. Serrão,
40 chapter three
anyone, i.e. it was ‘free trade,’ although this was not the situation for
the brazilwood trade, which was organized as a crown monopoly. The
main restriction was in the area of transport. Here the crown required
that ships returning from Brazil should call in Portugal so that cargoes
could be taxed. Nevertheless, the main purpose of this legislation was
to ensure that some of the profit from sugar would enter crown coffers,
not to restrict the trade to a particular group.
The second major factor affecting the sugar trade was the involve-
ment of Portugal in the dynastic struggles of the Spanish Habsburgs
following the union of the Iberian crowns in 1580. Subsequently,
Portugal’s trade with previously friendly regions, especially England and
the Dutch Republic, came into conflict with the political objectives of
successive Spanish-Habsburg rulers. These northern European nations,
in turn, responded in belligerent ways. This did not mean that trade
was broken off entirely. Merchants in both regions continued to trade
during periods of prohibition. But increasingly, laws in both regions
affecting the Brazilian sugar trade were promulgated for purely political
and military reasons. As a result, free trade in Brazil came increasingly
under threat, disrupted as a result of policies resulting from the Eighty
Year War between the Spanish Habsburgs and the Dutch Republic.
In the period up to 1621, however, this was an ad hoc process, and
not a result of the conscious application of mercantilist principles.
The establishment of the WIC in 1621 marked a turning point for
the Atlantic trade in Brazilian sugar, since the leaders of the Dutch
Republic attempted to incorporate this trade into a monopolistic, partly
state-organized system. Nevertheless, even then, many merchants were
not ready to abandon the system that had prevailed before.2
Various institutions governed the sugar trade in the Portuguese king-
dom. The original function of administration of trade and finances in
both Portugal and Brazil belonged to the Vedores da Fazenda, a body of
three governing from Lisbon. This function was somewhat subsumed
under the Concelho da Fazenda, formed in 1560, although the role of
Vedores did not die out entirely. The Concelho increased in power over time.
O tempo dos Filipes em Portugal e no Brasil (1580–1668) (Lisbon: Edições Colibri, 1994);
and, not least: Antonio Manuel Hespanha, As vésperas do leviathan: instituições e poder
político Portugal-Séc. XVII (Coimbra: Livraria Almedina, 1994).
2
In subsequent decades the Portuguese crown did attempt to control the sugar
trade—also unsuccessfully—through a government granted monopoly. This receives
detailed treatment in Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 477–586.
sugar, institutions and politics 41
3
Godinho, “The Portuguese Empire,” 70–2.
4
Hespanha, As vésperas do leviathan, 216–17.
5
Fernando Jasmins Pereira, “O açúcar madeirense de 1500 à 1537, produção e
preços,” Estudos Políticos e Sociais: Instituto superior de ciências sociais e política ultramarina 7,
no. 1 (1969): 136–8.
6
Virgínia Rau and Jorge de Macedo, “O açúcar na Ilha da Madeira: Análise de
um cálculo de produção dos fins do século XV,” Actas: Congresso Internacional de Historia
dos Descobrimentos 5, no. 1 (1961): 193. The “Livro do almoxarifado dos açuquares
das partes do Funchal,” mentioned here, gave export quotas, which probably were
much higher than actual amounts of export achieved. They limited export to 120,000
arrobas total, of which: 7,000 to Portugal, 40,000 to Flanders, 13,000 to Genoa and
15,000 to Venice.
42 chapter three
7
This was instituted at the behest of the first governor of Brazil, Tomé de Sousa,
in order to encourage the industry. Mauro, Portugal, o Brasil e o Atlântico, 1:300–1.
8
Ibid., 1:304.
9
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:39–42.
10
Mauro, Portugal, o Brasil e o Atlântico, 1:305.
11
Hespanha, As vésperas do leviathan, 121.
12
Mauro, Portugal, o Brasil e o Atlântico, 1:305. Also: “Preço do açúcar em Lisboa” in
the appendix (there are no page numbers in the appendices in this edition).
sugar, institutions and politics 43
13
Peter Thomas Rooney, “Habsburg Fiscal Policies in Portugal 1580–1640,” The
Journal of European Economic History 23, no. 3 (1994): 553.
14
Or at least this was claimed by at least one defendant in an Inquisition trial,
Marcos de Góes. He said that one of his accusers, who had been the Rendeiro in Porto,
bore him a grudge since Marcos and his partners frequently unloaded shipments of
Brazilian sugar in Vila do Conde instead of Porto, depriving the tax collector of
income. Other officials of the Alfândega disputed this. IANTT, IL, Processo de Marcos de
Góes, no. 3148.
15
Hespanha, As vésperas do leviathan, 121.
16
(“dat tot Lisbona voir het recht van de suyckeren, die aldair werden ingebracht, betaelt wordt
an den coninck van Spaignen, van elcke aroba, niet bedragende over XX ten hondert, daer nochtans
wel rekeninge gemaect was van XXIII ofte XXX ten hondert, darinne begrepen het recht van het
consulaet . . .”) N. Japikse, ed., RSG, 1600 –1601, RGP, grote ser. no. 85 (The Hague:
Nijhoff, 1941), 215.
17
This price for sugar in Lisbon, however, is far too low! It may be that merchants
contrived to undervalue sugar in the Lisbon Alfândega in order to reduce their taxes.
See chapter eight for a range of prices for this decade.
18
Mauro, Portugal, o Brasil e o Atlântico, 1:305.
44 chapter three
19
See chapter eight for a discussion of crate sizes.
20
“o peso dos asuqres se despachem por arrobas e não por caixa e pague-se à rezão das ditas
arrobas como se ffaz em todas as mais allfandeguas do reyno.” Quote in: Moreira, Os Mercadores
de Viana, 137.
21
Ibid.
22
The term avaria is closely linked with maritime usage in Portugal. It could mean
damages to a ship or cargo, as well as the sum of incidental expenses incurred on
a voyage, including port fees, tolls, etc. These costs could be collected by captains
alongside freight charges, although they formed, comparatively, a small portion of the
revenues of a voyage. Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:372–3.
23
Donald J. Harreld, “Antwerp Sugar Prices from the Hundredth Penny Tax Records
(1543–45),” Journal of European Economic History 31, no. 3 (2002): 611–17.
24
Johannes Hermann Kernkamp, De handel op den vijand 1572–1609, 2 vols. (Utrecht:
Kemink en Zoon N.V., 1931), 1:146.
sugar, institutions and politics 45
West Friesian cities) and Zeeland and Friesland.25 Although duties were
supposed to be applied evenly throughout the Republic, the structure of
collection allowed for variations in practice.26 Unfortunately, few records
of these duties remain, although it is known that Brazilian sugar was
taxed with the convooien en licenten as early as 1597.27
Other taxes that were levied on wholesale shipments of sugar
included charges for the use of municipal scales, although various
towns organized them differently. In Amsterdam only foreigners paid
weighage taxes in transactions with citizens. The fees were very low in
comparison to the value of sugar, probably less than 1% in most years.
Nevertheless, in 1622, Portuguese merchants in Amsterdam claimed
to the States General that 35,000 to 40,000 guilders (5,090,909 to
5,181,818 reis) entered the state’s coffers each year in weighage fees
from Brazilian sugar.28 There were also broker’s fees, which although
not paid directly to the state, amounted to a tax on merchants. These
costs were also very small compared to the value of the sugar.29 Taxes
in Amsterdam were far lower than in Lisbon.
25
de Vries and van der Woude, The First Modern Economy, 98–101.
26
Ibid., 129.
27
The States General set these in that year. The document shows that not all sugar
was not synonymous with sugar from Brazil by the end of the sixteenth century since it
mentions: “St. Thomas zuyvers suyckers hondert vijfftich ponden; Brasilie-kisten zuyver twee hondert
vijftich ponden; Canarie-, Madere-, Barbarie-brootsuycker.” N. Japikse, ed., RSG, 1596–1597,
RGP, Grote Ser. No. 62 (The Hague, Nijhoff, 1926), 587. Taxes were probably in the
range of 5%.
28
J.W. IJzerman, “Deductie vervaetende den oorspronck ende progres van de vaart
ende handel op Brasil, 1622,” in Journael van de reis naar Zuid-Amerika (1598–1601) door
Hendrik Ottsen, Linschoten Vereeniging, grote ser. no. 16 (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1918),
103. The original was sent to the States General and later distributed to the repre-
sentatives of the provinces. There is a copy in the ARA, SG (liassen admiraliteiten),
5486 (26 January, 1622). This is the same document that claims that Dutch-based
merchants moved two-thirds of the Brazilian sugar. It remains, however, a politically
motivated document and is therefore very unreliable as a source for quantifying Dutch
trade with Brazil.
29
J.J. Reesse, De Suikerhandel van Amsterdam van het begin der 17de Eeuw tot 1813 (Haar-
lem: Kleynenberg, 1908), 14–7. Documents provided by Reesse show the waaggeld
figured in 1605 as “Allerley suycker, de 100 ponden: 5 stuyvers.” In 1620 it was “Allerley
suycker, de 100 ponden: 6 stuyvers.” This would have been a charge on wholesale sugar
of all types. In 1620, white sugar in Amsterdam may have cost about 20 groten per
pound, so this represents a charge of 12 groten on a volume of sugar that was worth
around 2,000 groten, i.e., a nominal fee. The broker’s fee was unequivocally meant to
refer to wholesale prices since it was a sale per crate: “Van alle Brasilische ende Maderische
suyckeren per kiste 10 st.” This was also nominal, since in a year of high prices, a crate
may have been worth 3,800 stuivers. (see chapter eight for prices and measures) Quotes
are from CV–CVI.
46 chapter three
The fiscal regime for sugar, described above, though subject to modi-
fications over time, derived from the traditional taxing authority of the
state and municipalities. Merchants perceived them as ordinary costs
of doing business, although they might complain or otherwise make
efforts to evade taxes. As we will see in a later chapter, the ordinary taxes
on sugar did not prevent merchants in the Brazil trade from making
a profit. But aside from these various fiscal policies, political consid-
erations affected the sugar trade. When ruling elites acted to regulate
the Brazilian sugar trade in extraordinary ways, they proceeded from
a variety of motives. One was to maximize revenue. Another was to
punish the trade of another state, or to protect the integrity of a dynasty.
These motives, sometimes tangled together, can be seen in the follow-
ing discussion of the changing political contexts of the sugar trade and
their concrete results in policy.
Before the outbreak of the Eighty Year War between Spain and
the Low Countries, trade on the Iberian Peninsula was free for all
West European lands, and not subject to a regime of monopolies or
privileges.30 The ascension of Philip II to the Portuguese throne in
1581 threw Portugal and its commercial empire into Habsburg Spain’s
complex web of European conflicts. Philip II and his advisors seized
immediately upon the idea of using Portuguese commerce as a lever
against the ‘rebellious provinces.’31 Here sugar exports to the Dutch
Republic were of minor consideration. The sixteenth-century embar-
goes did include bans on Portuguese exports to the Dutch Republic,
and Brazilian sugar was affected. But foremost in the minds of Philip
and his advisors was to deny Zeeland and Holland—with their thriv-
ing herring industries—access to Portuguese salt.32 In 1578 and 1579
around 130 Dutch ships per year delivered Portuguese salt to the Baltic
region alone, so this trade was very considerable.33
30
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 1.
31
An emissary of Philip II to Portugal, fray Hernando del Castillo, stated clearly
the importance of Portugal to Philip’s hegemonic ambitions: the Portuguese succes-
sion was a trial that “Dios lo encamina para dar orden en toda la christiandad y para reprimir la
potencia del turco por la yndia y enfrenar los hereges de flandes, Inglaterra y alemania, que braman en
oyendo que vuestra majestad ha de poner los pies en Lisboa.” Quoted in: Fernando Jesús Bouza
Alvarez, “Portugal en la politica flamenca de Felipe II: sal, pimienta y rebelion en los
Paises Bajos,” Hispania; revista española de historia 52, no. 2 (1992): 692.
32
Ibid. See also Jonathan Irvine Israel, The Dutch Republic and the Hispanic World,
1606 –1661 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1982), 25.
33
See Appendix C, Table C.2, “Volume of shipping through the Øresund.”
sugar, institutions and politics 47
The plans of Philip II and his advisors reached fruition in 1585 with
a general embargo on Dutch and English shipping that lasted until
1590. Historians have debated the effectiveness of this embargo.34 On
the one hand, records for the Øresund tolls indicate a sharp drop in
Dutch shipping following 1580 with a concomitant rise in shipping from
various German and Scandinavian harbors. In fact, Philip II wished for
Hanseatic to replace Dutch shipping, and he ordered Parma to write
to the cities of the League to tell them that Iberian ports were open to
them.35 At the same time, there is ample evidence of Dutch cheating.
An arrest and search of supposedly neutral ships in Andalusia in 1587
led to the seizure of ninety-four disguised ‘Dutch’ vessels. The king took
note of the fraud, as did his memorialists, one of whom wrote that
supposedly ‘Hanseatic’ ships should be checked for Dutch crews.36
Although the illegal trade that most concerned Philip and his advi-
sors was the import in Dutch manufactures and especially the export
of Portuguese salt, the re-export market for Brazilian sugar would
have been affected as well. While there is little evidence from this time,
undoubtedly the 1580s were a difficult time for the trade, at least in
the transportation sector. Habsburg policies toward England and the
Dutch Republic had obvious deleterious effects, in the first case by
inducing English privateering, and in the second by decreasing the
supply of shipping for the re-export phase of the sugar trade. With the
Spanish recapture of Antwerp in 1585, the main wholesale market for
Brazilian sugar went into decline, at least temporarily. Too few records
from this period allow us to quantify the effects on the Brazilian sugar
34
Jonathan Israel has argued for the effectiveness of the sixteenth century embar-
goes pace views expressed by, among others, Fernand Braudel and Henry Kamen,
who believed that they were not enforceable and were often circumvented. Israel
bases his arguments on the Danish tolls and Amsterdam notarial records summarized
by IJzerman. Given the lack of any statistically reliable database for this period, it is
unlikely that this debate will ever be satisfactorily resolved, but at least regarding the
first embargo, it seems clear that evasion was widespread. Israel, Empires and Entrepôts,
189–201. See also: Nina Ellinger Bang, Tabeller over Skibsfart og Varetransport genem Øresund
1497–1669, 2 vols. (Copenhagen: Gyldenalske Boghandel, 1928); de Vries and van der
Woude, The First Modern Economy, 370–1.
35
Carlos Gomez-Centurion Jimenez, “Las relaciones hispano-hanseaticas durante
el reinado de Felipe II,” Revista de historía naval 4, no. 15 (1986): 69.
36
“porque tienen por estilo de nombrar un maestre alemán para que diga que vienen de Alemania
y las urcas en que los dichos maestres alemanes vienen son postiças y traen patentes falsas y hacen
ventas falsas de las dichas urcas para poder con ellas contratar en estos reinos, y las mercadurías que
en las dichas urcas traen realmente son de Holanda y Zelanda, donde se fabrican y hacen, y no de
Alemania como dicen.” quoted in Ibid., 71–2.
48 chapter three
trade, but it must have been quite disruptive. The documented rise of
the London sugar refining industry in this decade is ample testimony
to the re-routing of supply.37
Following the lapse of the first Habsburg embargo in 1590,
Portuguese trade with northern Europe resumed with vigor, although
England remained under the ban. This decade also marked probably
the greatest involvement of non-Portuguese shipping in all phases of
sugar transport. Trade with Brazil had been opened to Catholic foreign-
ers since 1532 with a 10% tariff on exports and imports, and from this
time on Low Countries merchants were active on the Brazilian coast.
Dom Sebastião set the first restriction on foreigners in 1571, allowing
only Portuguese ships to sail to Brazil, but this ban was honored in the
breach. Philip II renewed it in 1591, but foreign shipping remained in
Brazilian waters, either under subterfuge, or with licenses granted by the
crown.38 Probably, with the devastation wrought on Portuguese shipping
by Elizabethan privateers, there was no alternative except to resort to
foreign ships to bring sugar and brazilwood from the Brazilian coast.
German and Dutch ships played a significant role in this trade.39
With the ascension of Philip III to the Habsburg throne, Dutch
trade was once again barred from Habsburg realms in 1598. As with
the previous one, this embargo intended mainly to deprive fisheries in
the Dutch Republic of Portuguese salt and to deprive the Dutch of
markets for their manufactured goods in the Iberian Peninsula. The
success of this embargo is also subject to debate, but it seems certain
that it had some effect since the Spanish put more effort into enforce-
ment. One result was to spur the Dutch to sail in greater numbers to
the coasts of Venezuela and New Granada to collect salt, and to the
West African coast to trade. On the other hand, some of the regular
flow of commodities, including sugar, probably continued through fraud
and contraband trade.40
37
Kenneth R. Andrews, Elizabethan Privateering: English Privateering during the Spanish
War, 1585 –1603 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1964), 207–9.
38
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 100–3.
39
Mello, “Os Livros de Saídas,” 21–143; J.W. IJzerman, ed., “Amsterdamsche
bevrachtingscontracten, 1519–1602. Deel 1, De vaart op Spanje en Portugal”, Econo-
misch-Historisch Jaarboek (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1931).
40
Israel, Empires and Entrepôts, 197–201. Dutch exports continued to reach Iberian
ports, and commodities were traded with the connivance in some cases of Flemish
merchants. In January of 1601, the adelantado of Sanlúcar jailed three hundred factors
and correspondents trading in forbidden Dutch goods. After they were forced to confess
about their counterparts in Seville, authorities there seized thirty persons, the majority
sugar, institutions and politics 49
of them from the southern Netherlands and holding goods valued at 260,000 ducats
(104,000,000 reis). Furthermore, Dunkirk pirates who preyed on Dutch shipping during
the first decade of the 17th century sometimes unloaded their prizes in Lisbon, even
though Spanish authorities forbade this. Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 8–10.
41
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 33–5.
42
At the start of the embargo, some Dutch shipping was simply re-routed through
Emden, but aware of this fraud, Spanish officials eventually even applied the embargo
to this German port in 1607. Israel, Empires and Entrepôts, 196.
43
Kellenbenz, Unternehmerkrafte, 17.
44
Gomez-Centurion Jimenez, “Las Relaciones Hispano-hanseaticas,” 70.
50 chapter three
45
Ibid., 80–3. According to Portuguese records studied by Costa, in the years
1605–1607, among the 92 known foreign ships leaving Lisbon’s harbor, only 5 were
recorded as being from Hamburg. In these years, French and English shipping appeared
to dominate. Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:124–5. Nevertheless, I suspect that this
number for Hamburg ships is far too low. Probably, a good number of the ships listed as
English or French were actually Dutch and German, traveling with false passports.
46
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 12–4.
47
Kellenbenz, Unternehmerkrafte, 21–24.
48
For exceptions, see chapter 7. Of course, the lack of records documenting this
trade does not mean that it did not exist, but there is no reason to think there was
widespread evasion.
sugar, institutions and politics 51
Dutch origin from Iberian ports, whether or not they traded in Dutch
goods. This ban applied even to those who had relatives in the rebel
provinces. Lisbon was hit particularly hard, since it had stronger connec-
tions to northern Netherlands ports, and no less than 24 Lisbon-based
merchants were banned.49 Dutch merchants, therefore, were in a poor
position to carry on any trade with Brazil whatsoever.
However, the 1598 embargo did not prevent properly licensed ships
from other nations from stopping in Brazil, and they continued to do so
through the early years of the sixteenth century. In the 1590s the brazil-
wood contract was in the hands of Flemish merchants, and the Flemish
merchant community in Brazil remained strong. In fact, the presence
of Low Countries residents in Olinda was so marked by the 1590s that
Portuguese residents showed xenophobic reactions.50
1605 marked a watershed year after which the Habsburg crown
made serious efforts to restrict all foreigners from Brazilian ports. Partly
this was a reaction to the discovery that the Flemish contract holders
for the brazilwood monopoly had taken cargoes directly to northern
European ports from Pernambuco instead of trans-shipping in Lisbon
as required.51 As a result, Philip III issued an Alvará in 1605 forbidding
the presence of all non-Portuguese in Brazil.52 This time the ban was
enforced. In 1606 the crown took away the brazilwood contract from
Flemish merchants and gave it to Sebastião de Carvalho with a high sal-
ary to guard against corruption. It also sent a military officer, Alexandre
de Moura, to root out Low Countries residents in Pernambuco and
Paraíba. The king repeated warnings against foreigners in Brazil in
1612, 1613, 1615, and 1617. Officials on the spot, however, sometimes
colluded with Low Countries residents and visitors.53 Flemish residents
in Brazil did not entirely disappear. This was obvious from the fact that
in the 1620s there was renewed suspicion in Madrid that they could
form a fifth column and cooperate with Dutch invaders.
Occasionally exemptions were made for foreign captains. Philip II had
foreseen exemptions for foreign shipping in the Brazil trade, and—as
49
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 12.
50
Ibid., 105–6.
51
Ibid., 107.
52
A copy is in the: AHU, Livro do Brasil, Cod. 1193 (1605). Subsequently, lists of
‘authorized’ foreign residents seem to have been kept, and these were small in number.
Livro Primeiro do Governo do Brasil, 1607–1633, (Rio de Janeiro: Seção de Publicações do
Serviço de Documentação, 1958), 183–5.
53
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 108–9.
52 chapter three
54
Ibid., 106–7.
55
The motive once again was to weaken the Dutch Republic by attacking their
economic base. See: Jonathan Irvine Israel, “A Conflict of Empires: Spain and the
Netherlands 1618–1648,” Past and Present 76 (1977): 34–74.
56
Bernardo José López Belinchón, “‘Sacar la Sustancia al Reino.’ comercio, con-
trabando y conversos Portugueses, 1621–1640,” Hispania; revista española de historia 61,
no. 3 (2001): 1029–30.
57
Israel, Empires and Entrepôts, 204–5.
58
Israel, “A Conflict of Empires,” 48.
sugar, institutions and politics 53
59
Kernkamp, De Handel op den Vijand, 1:117–20.
60
Ibid., 1:166–74.
61
Ibid., 1:218–29.
62
Ibid., 1:235–47.
54 chapter three
Trading with enemy states was too important a part of the economy of
the young Republic to stifle with politically motivated embargoes, and
the States General partially lifted the ban on trade with these regions.63
A similar cycle was played out in 1605. After Spanish officials began to
arrest Dutch ships again in Iberian harbors—following the collapse of
their short-lived tariff policy—the States General retaliated and forbade
shipping to Iberian ports.64
As measures affecting trade passed back and forth, not only the vital
salt and grain carrying trades of the Holland and Zeeland fleets were
at stake, but also the burgeoning ‘rich trades’ of the Dutch Republic.
In regard to the trade in Asian and African goods, the States General
coordinated the activities of merchants who were competing with the
Portuguese. After 1602 they sailed together under the auspices of the
VOC. But by this time, the Dutch had also established themselves as
carriers of Brazilian produce, both in the primary and secondary routes
of redistribution. Furthermore, Amsterdam had developed a sugar
industry, which depended on continued imports of this commodity.
While still not as important as Setubal salt, Brazilian sugar now figured
significantly in the Dutch Republic’s trade relationship with Portugal.
Not surprisingly, during the second embargo, some voices in the
Dutch Republic clamored for a chartered company—patterned on
the VOC—to prosecute trade and persecute the Habsburg interest in
the Atlantic. These demands found their most articulate exposition
through the Antwerp-born merchant Willem Usselincx, a resident of
Middleburg since 1591. Usselincx had in common with many of his
expatriate brethren a strong attachment to Calvinism and a deep hatred
of the Spanish. Nevertheless, his vision for a West India Company
embraced more the idea of agrarian colonies rather than a monopoly
trade company to pry America’s trade from Spanish hands. By 1606,
Usselincx had the ear of the States of Holland, which began to study
the matter.65 The plans of Usselincx in these years came to nothing,
sacrificed to the negotiations for a truce with Spain by the chief politi-
cian in the Republic, the Advocaat van den Lande, Oldenbarnevelt.
63
Ibid., 1:253–4.
64
Ibid., 1:306.
65
For the WIC in general see: Henk den Heijer, De geschiedenis van de WIC (Zutphen:
Walburg, 1994). A recent short summary in English by the same author can be found
in Heijer, “The Dutch West India Company,” 77–112. See also Boxer’s classic account,
although Boxer follows the “Deductie” in erroneously exaggerating the role of the Dutch
in trade with Brazil during the Twelve Year Truce. C.R. Boxer, The Dutch in Brazil,
1624 –1654 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957).
sugar, institutions and politics 55
Still, ideas for a West India Company showed that the Dutch viewed
Portuguese trade, and Brazilian trade in particular, in a special light.
Officials of the Dutch Republic tended to believe that it should not
be subject to the same restrictions that applied to trade with Spain
in general. In 1600 some Dutch vessels continued to carry sugar and
brazilwood to the Dutch Republic via Lisbon, and the States General
deliberated whether to consider this traffic under the rubric of ‘enemy
shipping.’66 On October 2 of the same year, the States General decided
to grant an exemption, allowing free entry of goods from Brazil. This
was granted as a favor to Portuguese New Christian merchants resi-
dent in Amsterdam, but was extended to any resident merchants who
wished to trade in Africa or on the Brazilian coast.67 Later in the year,
the States General granted several passports for such journeys, some of
which allowed for return sailing via Portugal.68 Nevertheless, the exemp-
tion was understood to allow sugar and brazilwood to enter the Dutch
Republic: sailing to Brazil via Portugal was permitted, but the return
trip to the Dutch Republic was generally meant to be direct so that
taxes on sugar would not benefit the Spanish crown.69
66
One case was under discussion in August 1600. The ship was Dutch and car-
rying not only a Brazilian cargo but also a Portuguese family picked up in Lisbon
as well. The Holland admiralty asked the States General if it should be considered
enemy shipping in accordance with the edict from the previous year. Nevertheless a
petition for the freedom of the ship and cargo was: “gepresenteert by verscheyden cooplu-
iden, ingesetenen van Amstelredam, soo voor haerselver als uuyt den naem ende van wegen de gemeene
geinteresseerde ingesetenen van dese landen ende coopluiden van de Portugiesche nacie.” Japikse, ed.,
RSG, 1600 –1601, 339.
67
“De Portugiesche nacie ende heuren handel in dese landen zijn gegunt, ende dat die van deselve
nacie oversulcx vryelijck ende vredelijck sullen genieten d’effecten van de entrecourssen, contracten ende
resolutiën, die van wegen de Vereenichde Provintiën met hen van tijt te tijt respectivelijck sijn gemaect
ende op hare voorgaende remonstrantiën genomen, voorsooveele aengaet de goeden ende coopmanschap-
pen, die sy in dese landen alreede gebrocht hebben ende voorder noch sullen brengen ende vertieren, ende
dat sy dienvolgende oock over Lisbona ofte Portugael op Brasiliën sullen mogen handelen, gelijck dat
gebruckelijck is, ende heure goeden in dese landen brengen, ordonnerende de collegiën ter Admiraliteyt
respective hen hierna te reguleren ende tselve alsoo to gedoogen, sonder den remonstranten daerinne eenige
verhinderinge te doen ofte gedoogen gedaen to wordden.” Ibid., 341.
68
Ibid., 344–5. Another passport was granted in February 1601 to Jacques Karbeel
and Alexander van den Berge, merchants of Amsterdam, to travel with a Dutch ship
to the Canary Islands and to continue from there with some German and Spanish
sailors to Brazil, and then to return to Tenerife and finally Holland. 694.
69
Kernkamp, De Handel op den Vijand, 2:279. An incident to this effect can be seen
in the proceedings of the States General. Several ships were taken off the coast of
Portugal in 1602 by a fleet commanded by the Heer van Opdam, arriving from Bra-
zil with cargoes of sugar belonging to “Spaignaerden, Portugesen ende anderen in Spaignen,
Portugael, Brasiliën, tot Antwerpen ende in andere steden ofte plaetssen van den vyant woonende”
Those cargoes and ships found to belong to the enemy were to be sold with the
profits going to the state. Those merchants in the Republic that could guarantee that
56 chapter three
the cargoes did not belong to the enemy were allowed to claim them, provided that
they paid the same duties to the Admiralty that they would have paid in the Lisbon
Alfândega. Among those affected by the seizure were some of the richest members of
Antwerp’s Portuguese merchant community, along with their correspondents elsewhere:
“Nicolaes Rodriguez Devora, Duarte Ximenex ende Anthonio Faillero, woonende binnen Antwerpen,
mitsgaders Duarte Fernandes, Francisco Pinto de Brito, Hendrick Garcez, Manuel Rodriges Veiga
ende Fernando de Mercado, woonachtich tot Amstelredam, alle coopluyden van Portugesche nacie.”
H.H.P. Rijperman, ed., RSG, 1602–1603, RGP, grote ser. no. 92 (The Hague: Nijhoff,
1950), 215–6, 289.
70
On Nov. 14 from Martin van de Moere, Johan Samuel and Paulus Bisschop,
Amsterdam merchants; Nov. 15 from Hans van Uffele, from Amsterdam; and Dec.
13 from Jan Jacobsz. Huydecooper, Adriaan Barthout, Joachim Diercsz, Assuerus van
Blokland, Barent Sas, Henrick Ghijsbertsz Delft, and Lucas van der Venne. Rijperman,
ed., RSG, 1602–1603, 630 –1.
71
On this topic, more in chapter 7. For an account of the voyage: J.C.M. Warn-
sinck, ed., De reis om de wereld van Joris van Spilbergen, 1614–1617, vol. 47, Linschoten
Vereeniging, grote ser. no. 38 (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1943).
sugar, institutions and politics 57
72
Heijer, “The Dutch West India Company,” 80–1.
73
Ibid.
74
Boxer, The Dutch in Brazil, 14–5. Boxer and others make much of Dutch beliefs
that the Portuguese would welcome Dutch intervention in Brazil, either because they
were New Christians chafing under the Inquisition persecution, or that they hated the
Spanish overlordship of Portugal. There is no doubt that these sorts of ideas circulated
around the Republic, but I think the most telling motive for attacking Brazil was its
vulnerability. Dutch notions of Portugal’s purportedly shallow allegiance to Spain
extended to indigenous people, who many Dutch assumed would greet them as saviors.
A good example of the pro-invasion arguments made during this time is: “Advies tot
aanbeveling van de verovering van Brazilië,” Kroniek van het Historisch Genootschap ser. 6,
27, no. 2 (1871): 228–56. The political and intellectual importance of South America
in the Republic been recently explored by Benjamin Schmidt, Innocence Abroad: The
Dutch Imagination and the New World, 1570 –1670 (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2001). Nevertheless, no matter the ideas floating around in the pamphlet lit-
erature of the time, the decision to attack Brazil and Portuguese shipping was—no
doubt—practically motivated.
58 chapter three
75
Heijer, “The Dutch West India Company,” 81.
76
Johannes de Laet, Jaerlyck verhael van de verrichtinghen der gheoctroyeerde West-Indische
Compagnie in derthien boecken, 4 vols. (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1931–1937), 1:7.
77
Stuart B. Schwartz, “The Voyage of the Vassals: Royal Power, Noble Obligations,
and Merchant Capital before the Portuguese Restoration of Independence, 1624–1640,”
American Historical Review 96, no. 3 (1991): 735–62.
78
Laet, Jaerlyck verhael, 2:47–56. This would amount to 27,000 arrobas in this year,
since one crate of sugar around this time generally held 18 arrobas.
79
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico 1:206.
sugar, institutions and politics 59
80
If the Brazil trade suffered in the 1620s as a result of Portugal’s incorporation
into the Spanish empire, Portuguese merchants compensated themselves handsomely
by crawling into every corner of the Spanish Empire and Spain itself, many of them
growing enormously rich in the process. See Studnicki-Gizbert, A Nation upon the Ocean
Sea, especially Chapter 4.
81
E.M. Koen, “Notarial Records Relating to the Portuguese Jews in Amsterdam up
to 1639,” Studia Rosenthaliana 35, no. 1 (2001): 69, 70, 76, 77, 87.
82
Heijer, “The Dutch West India Company,” 82.
60 chapter three
1
For a general discussion see: Swetschinski, Reluctant Cosmopolitans; Jonathan Irvine
Israel, “Sephardic Immigration into the Dutch Republic, 1595–1672,” Studia Rosen-
thaliana 23, no. 2 (1989): 45–53.
2
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 1, no. 1 (1967). This series has continued through present
issues.
3
The Inquisition did much to promote this view, which supported the widespread
belief that members of society with Jewish blood were predisposed to heresy. Salomon,
Portrait of a New Christian, 34–35.
4
Boxer, The Dutch in Brazil, 14–5.
merchants and merchant networks 63
5
Avner Greif, “On the Interrelations and Economic Implications of Economic,
Social, Political, and Normative Factors: Reflections from Two Late Medieval
Societies.”
6
See notes 8–10 in the Introduction for a discussion of this historiography.
64 chapter four
Nor does it appear that their business practices were different from those
of other merchant groups. As David Grant Smith has shown, Old and
New Christians in Portugal showed remarkable integration in their eco-
nomic activities, often intermarried and essentially practiced business
in the same way. Leonor Costa, following Smith, has also underplayed
the New- and Old-Christian dichotomy in her study of the founding of
the Companhia Geral do Comércio do Brasil. Here she sees more of a sig-
nificant differentiation between larger and smaller wholesale merchants
as social groups in Portugal.7 To be sure, the ethnicities and religions
that merchants embraced, however fluid, played an important role in
forming business relationships. However, in this case it is impossible
to reduce trade networks to religion or ethnic identity. Returning to
Greif ’s models, it would appear that most Atlantic merchants during
this period, whatever their ethnicity, displayed both collectivist and
individualist characteristics.8
Indeed, the logic of merchant activity in the Brazilian sugar trade was
determined more by circuits of trade than by any particular national or
religious affiliation. Brazil offered a new trans-Atlantic circuit, and mer-
chants organized themselves to meet new opportunities, sending their
younger sons to live in Brazil and arrange shipments of brazilwood and
sugar. Portugal remained in this scheme a natural returning point, since
it was already part of a well-established route linking northern European
shipping with Iberian markets. Furthermore, sugar remained only one
product traded on the circuit comprising Brazil, the Atlantic Islands,
Portugal and northwestern Europe. Profits in trade on this route came
from a wide range of commodities, as seen in Chapter 2. Not surpris-
ingly, merchant communities of a very heterogeneous nature collected
at the staging points of this trade and were tied together through their
common involvement. This chapter offers a descriptive examination
of how an inter-imperial merchant network was constructed through
space and across political and ethnic boundaries.
In regards to Portuguese merchants, specialized portfolios were
exceedingly rare in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and there-
7
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:515–28. Smith, “Old Christian Merchants and
the Foundation of the Brazil Company, 1649,” 233–59.
8
The persistence of family organization—described in this chapter—is a collec-
tivist quality. The widespread use of the correspondence system, which transcended
ethnicity, indicates an individualist base for trade. The latter phenomenon is clearly
linked to increased state-involvement in business practice, a phenomenon discussed
in Chapter 6.
merchants and merchant networks 65
9
These families were all New Christian. James C. Boyajian, Portuguese Trade in
Asia under the Habsburgs, 1580–1640 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993),
254–7.
10
Virgínia Rau, “Fortunas ultramarinas e a nobreza portuguesa no século XVII,” in
Estudos sobre história económica e social do antigo regime, ed. Virgínia Rau (Lisbon: Editorial
Presença, 1984), 29–33.
11
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:438–45. The lack of account books for this period
makes it difficult to uncover these networks.
12
Ibid. Leonor Costa believes that, with the erosion of profits in the 1610s, there was
some concentration of the business among larger merchants, who also integrated their
businesses vertically with mill ownership in Brazil. Her database of freight contracts is
suggestive of this, but not totally convincing, since it is fairly thin.
66 chapter four
13
IANTT, IL, Processo de Francisco de Palácios, no. 4481. His two trials fall under the
same inventory number. For Pedro de Palácios see Kellenbenz, “Der Brasilienhandel
der Hamburger ‘Portugiesen’,” 316–334.
14
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:405. This merchant shows up in other docu-
ments as a partner/owner with Portuguese merchants from Lisbon, Porto, Viana and
Guimarães of a “Flemish” urca. This was in 1628, at which time he was apparently
living in Porto.
merchants and merchant networks 67
15
IANTT, IL, Processo de Francisco de Palácios, no. 4481. Palácios after his second trial
was convicted on sodomy charges and sentenced to four years exile in Angola. Given
the death rate for Europeans there, this must have been, as with galley sentences,
tantamount to capital punishment.
16
A fair number of scholars have by now presented these types of case studies based
on records of the Portuguese inquisition, and these show the patterns of investment
of Francisco de Palácios to be quite common. I will not offer details here, but can
refer the reader to: Smith, “The Mercantile Class of Portugal and Brazil;” two more
recent works by James C. Boyajian, Portuguese Bankers at the Court of Spain, 1626–1650
(New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1983), and Boyajian, Portuguese Trade
in Asia; finally the recent work of Studnicki-Gizbert, A Nation upon the Ocean Sea, also
uncovers far-flung Portuguese trading networks through the records of the Spanish
inquisition.
17
This event sapped Porto of its dynamism as a commercial center in the early part
of the 1620s, coming at an especially bad time on the eve of resumption of hostilities
with the Dutch Republic. Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:61–2.
18
IANTT, IC, Processo de Paulo Lopes da Cunha, no. 5385.
68 chapter four
19
Bento Novais claimed: “. . . e que avera tres annos que Luís da Cunha contraditado
publicamente se queixava co[m] Reo, lhe não dar satisfassam da dita farinha, e que sobre isso ouve
entre elles algumas desaversas e palavras de cuia formalidade se não lembra . . .” Of course, some
witnesses and “familiars” supported charges against defendants. IANTT, IC, Processo
de Pedro Aires Vitoria, no. 3217.
20
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:301–5.
merchants and merchant networks 69
21
Ibid., and IANTT, IL, Processo de Marcos de Góes, no. 3148.
22
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:296. These at least were projected shipments, as
described in freight contracts. The merchants were Antonio Martins Viegas, Diogo
Fernandes D’Elvas, Diogo Ribeiro, Fernão Rodrigues D’Elvas, Garcia Rodrigues Vaz,
Gaspar Fernandes Penso, Manuel Rodrigues D’Elvas, Manuel Rodrigues Mértola.
23
IANTT, IL, Processo de Manuel de Medeiros, no. 9974
24
IANTT, IL, Processo de Diogo da Fonseca, no. 9462. This apparently is not the same
Gonçalo Cardoso who was active as a merchant in Hamburg after 1610. Kellenbenz,
Unternehmerkrafte, 244–5.
70 chapter four
25
One official claimed: “E consta por duas testemunhas de crédito que muitos dos ditos cristãos-
novos de Anvers vão à dita cidade de Amsterdão e continuam na dita sinagoga e não conversam nem
tratam com os judeus portugueses que vão a ela principalmente no tempo em que os judeus fazem suas
festas e os que vivem em Holanda e Zelandia vão quase todos os sábados à sinagoga, e os que vivem na
mesma cidade de Amsterdão vão três vezes na semana a ela, e é público que nesta cidade de Amsterdão
todos os portugueses são judeus.” Isaías Rosa Pereira, ed., A inquisição em Portugal, (Lisbon:
Vega, 1993), 81–2. According to the mother of Francisco de Palácios, who testified at
his trial, there was even a network of informers, including familiars of the Inquisition
who extorted money from New Christian travelers to Amsterdam, threatening to expose
them as judaizers. IANTT, IL, Processo de Francisco de Palácios, no. 4481.
26
“tevessem la alguma coisa contra nossa santa fee catholicqua” IANTT, IL, Processo de
Cristovão Lopes, no. 1418.
27
Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 82–3.
merchants and merchant networks 71
Lisbon in 1581, he began his merchant life in Brazil and had moved
to Antwerp by 1613. There he married into the rich and powerful
Andrade family and he raised enough wealth to be counted among the
richest of the Antwerp Portuguese. In 1646 he moved on to Cologne
and later to Hamburg, where he converted to Judaism.28
As with de Sampaio, members of prominent merchant families in
Antwerp often radiated out into other northwestern European cities.
Holland was frequently the destination. Luís Fernandes was a prominent
sugar trader in the second half of the sixteenth century in Antwerp.
His brother, Duarte, moved to Amsterdam in the 1590s with his son
Manuel Rodrigues da Veiga, who was the first Portuguese resident
attested in the city’s notarial archives.29 Manuel’s brother—also named
Duarte—moved between Rouen, Amsterdam and Rotterdam. This
period marked the beginning of a steady immigration, as many other
families followed similar trajectories. Another early arrival was Garcia
Pimentel, coming to Holland from Venice in 1596.30 These merchants
brought with them a rich world of connections. The trade networks of
da Veiga and Pimentel encompassed between them Portugal, Brazil,
North Africa, Spain, England, the Atlantic islands, and the Levant.31
Trading sugar appeared to be a chief activity of these early immi-
grants in Amsterdam, performed in collaboration with family mem-
bers and correspondents in Antwerp and Portugal.32 Already in 1600,
the States General had taken notice of the trading activities of the
Portugiesche natie, although their numbers were small.33 In 1602 the
Dutch admiralty seized off the coast of Portugal several vessels car-
rying sugar. Subsequent investigation revealed that the ship’s investors
28
Ibid., 86–87. He was the brother-in-law of Porto merchant Manuel de Andrade:
IANTT, IC, Processo de Manuel de Andrade, no. 8970.
29
This was in 1595. See: Koen, “Notarial Records,” 1, no. 1 (1967): 111.
30
Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen. 90–1; Koen, “Notarial Records,” 1, no. 1 (1967):
109. It is my purpose here only to provide a few examples that show typical patterns.
The subject of Sephardic immigration to northern port cities is already very well
documented in the secondary literature.
31
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 1, no. 2 (1967): 110–2, 118–22; 2, no. 1 (1968): 111–12,
114–15, 117–18, 123; Israel, “Sephardic Immigration,” 49.
32
For general information about this immigration: Israel, “Sephardic Immigration,”
45–53; Daniel M. Swetschinski, “The growth and composition of the long-distance
trade of England and the Dutch Republic before 1750,” (Brandeis, 1980); and more
recently by the same author: Swetschinski, Reluctant Cosmopolitans.
33
Japikse, ed., RSG, 1600–1601, 339, 341. See also: Arend H. Huussen, “The Legal
Position of the Jews in the Dutch Republic,” in Dutch Jewry: Its History and Secular Culture
(1500–2000), ed. Jonathan Israel and Reinier Salverda (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 31.
72 chapter four
34
Rijperman, ed., RSG, 1602–1603, 215–6, 289.
35
Swetschinski, Reluctant Cosmopolitans, 91.
36
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 13, no. 2 (1979): 238.
37
Kellenbenz, “Der Brasilienhandel der Hamburger ‘Portugiesen’,” 324.
38
Kellenbenz, Unternehmerkrafte, 242–3. Hulks or urcas from Hamburg and Lübeck
were frequent visitors to Brazilian harbors, as discussed in the previous chapter, but
their freights were financed by Portuguese merchants in Portugal and Antwerp and a
variety of Flemish and German merchants.
39
Ibid., 244–5.
merchants and merchant networks 73
40
Ibid., 251.
41
Drawing widely from Iberian and Low Countries archives, as well as published
sources, Eddy Stols’ work is still the most comprehensive study of the presence of
foreigners from the southern Netherlands in the Iberian Peninsula or in Spanish and
Portuguese colonies. He compiled a list of 587 Low-Countries merchants involved in
the Iberian trade. Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, Bijlagen, 1–71. A few on his list are from
the northern Netherlands or Germany.
42
Azevedo e Silva, José Manuel, A Madeira e a construção do mundo Atlântico (séculos
XV–XVII), 2 vols. (Funchal: Centro de Estudos de História do Atlântico Secretaria
Regional do Turismo e Cultura, 1995), I: 400–4. The others were largely from France
and Italy. A few hailed from England. For many of these foreigners—including some
mentioned below—an earlier commercial presence on Madeira, or other Atlantic
Islands, was a convenient starting point for involvement in the Brazilian sugar trade.
Indeed, although Madeiran production declined at the same time that Brazilian produc-
tion soared, the trades were linked. Throughout the period described here, Madeira
74 chapter four
was an intermediary port of call for Brazilian ships. Not only that, but towards the end
of the sixteenth century, merchants shipping Brazilian sugar sometimes trans-shipped
their product in Madeira and relabeled it to take advantage of the price premium that
accrued to sugar from Madeira during that time: 416–18.
43
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, Bijlagen, 52.
44
Ibid., Bijlagen, 28.
45
Ibid., 229.
merchants and merchant networks 75
46
Ibid., 232–7. See also, Bijlagen, 84–91.
47
Probably the same person as Pedro van Husen, mentioned above.
48
IANTT, IL, Processo do João Piper, no. 3269. Balthasar Pels Sinel was descended
from the Pels and Snel (Sinel) families described elsewhere in this chapter.
76 chapter four
49
His daughter, Catarina, married Baltasar Pels, son of Gaspar Pels. Stols, De Spaanse
Brabanders, Bijlagen, 52. Baltasar lived and traded in Porto, but he apparently kept up
his associations with his Flemish relatives and correspondents. He is mentioned in the
inquisition trial of the above-mentioned Limburg-born merchant, João Piper (Pijper),
where it was stated that “Balthezar Pelles Sinel,” though born in Lisbon and trading
in Porto, had at one point resided in Flanders “por hum pouco de tempo aprender
lingua framengo.” IANTT, IL, Processo do João Piper, no. 3269.
50
J. Nanninga Uitterdijk, Een Kamper handelshuis te Lissabon, 1572–1594 (Zwolle: De
Erven J.J. Tijl, 1904), I–LXXXIX.
51
“indien wy verstan van Senor Spilman dat dar aftrek end profit op is” Ibid., 26.
52
Ibid., 37, 50, 153–4, 94.
merchants and merchant networks 77
53
Ibid., 234.
54
Cunertorf often refers to himself and other Low Countries and Hansa merchants
as “wy Duytschen.” See for example, Ibid., 314.
55
Other correspondents included: Bonaventura Bodicker who was in Antwerp in
1566 and was practicing business in Danzig by 1572; Johan Cleinhardt who became
Consul of the Hansa “nation” in Lisbon in 1579; Adrian Cornelissen Cuper, a mer-
chant in Armuiden in Zeeland; João Felipe Denís, Portuguese merchant in Antwerp;
Luís Fernandes, Portuguese merchant in Antwerp; Gillis de Greve, Antwerp merchant
who migrated to Hamburg; Gabriel de Haze, merchant in Antwerp; Gillis Hofman
(or van Eyckelberg), merchant in Antwerp; Hans Huisman, Hansa merchant in Ant-
werp; Cornelis Loeffsen who had previously employed Cunretorf in Amsterdam and
traded later in Danzig; Pieter van den Moere, merchant in Antwerp; Adriaan Pauw,
merchant from Amsterdam also active in Emden and Hamburg; Johan van Pelcken,
factor of Danzig merchants in Lisbon in 1569 and later; Andries Stever, merchant in
Danzig. Ibid., CX–CXIV.
78 chapter four
56
GAA, NA, no. 645, 1551–1552.
57
GAA, NA, no. 747, 125–126. They were Hans Nijs, Gijsbrecht Janssen van
Herdenberch, Carel Wanter and Gerrit Stuyver. The latter, 19 years old in February
of 1622, lived with van Otter for two years between 1619 and 1621.
58
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 104. Schetz was a factor in Antwerp’s Lisbon fac-
tory. He purchased an engenho in São Vicente sometime before 1550 and left it to his
children. Also see: Stols, Os Mercadores Flamengos, 12–13, 20–27.
merchants and merchant networks 79
59
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 100–4. A Pieter Jansz, probably from Amsterdam,
sent a shipment of sugar with a ship from Enkhuizen from Brazil around 1591. GAA,
NA, no. 8, 121.
60
Ibid., 104.
61
GAA, NA, no. 42, 84V.
62
GAA, NA, no. 47, 6. There is no explicit indication that these ships did not follow
the prescribed journeys through Lisbon, and it seems most probable that Joao Hulscher
80 chapter four
coordinated activity from there. Several of the ships indicated had both Portuguese
names and Dutch captains, so it is possible that there was some attempt to conceal
the national origins of the ships and captains.
63
GAA, NA, no. 47, 96V; no. 48, 21; One contract, from 1598, specifies a journey
from Amsterdam to Danzig to load grain to be shipped to Masagan. From there wine
was to be loaded in the Canaries or Madeira to be taken to Pernambuco where another
cargo, to include brazilwood, would be returned to Portugal. Ibid., no. 50, 39V. Hans
de Schot had business dealings with the Hulscher brothers again in 1595–1597 regard-
ing a shipment of sugar from Duarte Hulscher. GAA, NA no. 52, 101V. Presumably
other investors stood behind him in these freight contracts. For other activities of de
Schot see: GAA, NA, no. 32, 340; no. 49, 271; no. 51, 79.
merchants and merchant networks 81
for five years, which was the intended duration of the company. Behind
these three major investors, who contributed 4,000 guilders (581,818
reis) to the company, stood seven smaller investors from Amsterdam,
Rotterdam and Antwerp, each contributing 1,000 guilders.64 Basiliers,
more of a partner than a factor, was also to receive 8% commission on
export sales from Brazil and 5% on imports. They probably assumed
that if the face of the company comprised Catholic Low Countries
merchants in Portugal and Brazil, they would not meet with the oppo-
sition of crown officials who would be unaware that they operated on
mostly Dutch capital.
It is not known how this company fared, but one of the inves-
tors—Snellinck—appears in Amsterdam’s notarial records throughout
the decade in transactions involving Brazil. In 1604 he received from
Manuel Rodrigo Veiga—one of the first Portuguese New Christians
to take up residence in Amsterdam—262 pounds Flemish to establish
himself as a partner in a voyage to Brazil and Angola. The captains
were Barent Sas and Hendrick Gijsbertsz. In 1604, a ship of which he
was part owner, t’Fortuyn, was seized at sea on a trip between Brazil and
Portugal. In 1605 he was involved in a dispute with a ship’s captain and
its owners over costs related to a voyage that he had freighted to Brazil.
In 1606 he received a summons from a notary to settle an account
over another cargo sent to Brazil, in this case with a Portuguese cor-
respondent, Raphael Fernandes, based in Antwerp. In the same year,
one of the Dutch admiralties seized a ship in whose Brazilian cargo
he had invested.65 He appears to have retired from the Brazil trade
sometime in the middle of this decade.66 Snellinck ran risks in a period
during which both Dutch and Portuguese authorities could threaten
Dutch vessels traveling to Brazil, but he persisted in trading. He was
able to do so because of his far-flung and cosmopolitan network of
correspondents.
64
Antwerp: Vincent van Hove; Rotterdam: Hendrick Uylkens; Amsterdam: Willem
Willemsz, Willem Aertsz Organist, Hillebrant den Otter, Marten Papenbroeck and
Jacques de Meijere. GAA, NA, no. 33, 390V–392. Snellinck was originally from
Antwerp and had a Portuguese wife from there. Koen, “Notarial Records,” 2, no. 2
(1968): 259.
65
GAA, NA, no. 98, 21V; no. 196, 91V; no. 35, 254–254V; no. 104, 61V; no. 195,
56V.
66
He claimed in 1617 to have been active as a freighter for Brazil fifteen years
previously. GAA, NA, no. 645, 43V–44.
82 chapter four
67
GAA, NA, no. 197, 173–174.
68
GAA, NA, no. 645, 43V–44.
69
Livro Primeiro do Governo do Brasil, 1607–1633, 183–5.
merchants and merchant networks 83
Buying cheap in one place and selling dear in another was the invio-
lable principle of merchant activity, then as today. However, many
variables affected the ability to trade and to gain. When a merchant
considered trading along a particular route, he was—in part—limited
by the extent of his commercial contacts. Beyond this, merchants relied
on the availability of shipping and infrastructure in various ports that
would make their trading possible. These imposed obvious transaction
costs and were an important calculation in their trade.1
This chapter considers transaction costs in the trade in Brazilian
sugar and treats three main themes. The first is the port system and the
ports themselves, since their size and efficiency affected the speed with
which sugar could be delivered to markets. The second is the operating
costs of shipping, which was one of the main expenses for merchants.
These costs were mainly conditioned by the types of vessels used and
the lengths of voyages. Finally, the chapter examines the ownership and
supply of shipping, since the supply of ships contributed to the cost of
transportation in general. Specifically for the Brazilian sugar trade, the
demand for ships in the empire probably exceeded domestic supply.
The chapter concludes by showing how foreign-built ships entered the
Portuguese merchant marine and examines the patterns of ownership
that made this possible. The originality of this chapter—which other-
wise owes a great debt to the monumental work of Leonor Costa—lies
precisely in this latter conclusion. By extending the scope of her study
to Dutch archives I have been able to modify her conclusions to show
important trans-imperial integration even in the area of shipping.
1
For a theoretical framework on transaction costs, see: Douglass C. North, “Institu-
tions, Transaction Costs, and the Rise of Merchant Empires,” in The Political Economy
of Merchant Empires, ed. James D. Tracy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991);
Russell M. Mennard, “Transport costs and long-range trade, 1300–1800: Was there a
European ‘transport revolution’ in the early modern era?,” in The Political Economy of
Merchant Empires, ed. James D. Tracy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991).
86 chapter five
The working of the port system, the cost of shipping and the cost
of ships were indispensable pieces of knowledge to merchants in the
early modern period. Along with information about prices in differ-
ent places, this enabled them to adopt profit-making strategies. These
concerns were reflected when they contracted with a captain to carry
freight. Contracts varied somewhat in style from place to place, but
their basic elements were the same. A merchant-freighter agreed to pay
a captain to deliver goods to one place and—usually—to return with
others. These were to be delivered within a set period of time, and
therefore envisioned a maximum turnover time in port. Contracts also
accounted for related incidental expenses, such as tolls. In the event of
disputes, they also allowed for systems of adjudicating conflicts, usually
stipulating that they be judged by a group of respected merchants who
were not interested in the transaction.
Unfortunately for historians, most shipping arrangements transacted
between 1550 and 1630 were by mutual verbal agreement between
parties who knew each other. Merchants hired a notary in only a
minority of cases, and probably usually in a climate of uncertainty
or distrust. It is impossible to know with precision how representative
are the data from freight contracts.2 Also, freight prices could fluctuate
widely, even in the short term. But, although their use for quantifying
trade is limited, freight contracts remain the best source for indicating
patterns of trade and also for showing cost, which is at least loosely
indicated in the freight price. They may also indicate changes in ship-
ping costs over time.
A salient feature of the Brazilian sugar trade was that it was decen-
tralized and operated out of many ports both in the colony and in
Europe. In Portugal, the trade’s growth offered new opportunities
for the kingdom’s northern and smaller harbors, including Porto and
Viana. These had been shut out of the trade routes between Portugal
and Asia but were allowed to trade with Brazil. They were already
well connected with international markets, and furthermore, the wine
estates of their hinterland—Entre Minho e Douro—offered a readily
negotiable commodity for Brazilian markets. Along with Lisbon, these
harbors contributed to the supply of shipping available to merchants.
2
For a general discussion on Dutch freight contracts see: Winkelman, ed., Bronnen
voor de Geschiedenis van de Nederlandse Oostzeehandel, 2:VIII–XIII. For the Portuguese freight
contracts Leonor Costa is excellent: Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:23–26, 250–72.
the cost of shipping 87
3
As in once in the late 1570s, when a large arrival of sugar from Brazil tied up the
Alfândega for weeks. Uitterdijk, Een Kamper Handelshuis, 234.
4
GAA, NA, no. 197, 84. This was the testimony of Cornelis Cornelissen Dogger
and Joris Adriaensz in 1611 in Amsterdam. They claimed to have been active in the
Brazilian sugar trade thirteen years prior.
5
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:37.
88 chapter five
6
Ibid., 329–338.
7
Ibid., 341.
the cost of shipping 89
120
Number of Mentions
There are very few surviving documents that break down these expenses,
but the total costs probably find a fair reflection in the freight charges
that merchants paid to move cargoes (see Figure 5.1).
Operating costs on sugar voyages could vary widely because there was
no standard type of vessel used. Normally, in early modern shipping
practices, the ratio of value to bulk of a particular commodity played
a large role in determining the type of vessel that would transport it.
In a climate of naval warfare and near constant threat from pirates
and privateers, trade items with a high value-to-bulk ratio were typi-
cally transported in large and well-armed ships, since their sales value
justified the extra expenses that large ships entailed.8 These larger ships
were typical on routes that served the ‘rich trades,’ especially the circuits
connecting Europe and Asia. As an item of transportation, sugar fell
into an intermediary category, with a value-to-bulk ratio that probably
stood somewhere between that of high-value commodities such as pep-
per and low-value commodities, such as salt. It is not surprising, then,
that sugar was transported from Brazil on vessels ranging from the very
small to the very large. Shipping practices responded to a variety of
variables beyond the desire to observe economies of scale.9
8
Large ships were obviously more expensive to run, although they could achieve a
certain economy of scale, since the staffing requirements of large ships did not increase
proportionally to the increasing tonnage of a ship. Ibid., 350.
9
The question of how to protect these vessels was hotly debated between merchants
and crown officials, who all wished to protect the sugar trade but disagreed about the
best way to go about it. This thesis does not attempt to explore these debates in detail,
since they are written about fairly extensively. In particular see the work of Costa,
90 chapter five
Although ship sizes on the sugar routes could vary quite dramatically,
contemporary descriptions of ships were often imprecise, and freight
contracts rarely specified the exact tonnage of a ship. Portuguese sources
describe vessels as naus, navios (boat), caravelas, urcas (hulks) and patachos.
Although their construction could vary, one of the major distinctions
among them was their size. Costa has located the main threshold at
about 130 tons. Below this number, ships were generally described as
patachos, navios and, most commonly, caravels. These could be as mod-
est as 35 tons, although a range of 60 to 80 tons may have been most
common. Larger ships were generally described as naus, and they may
have ranged from 130 to 350 tons.10 Hulks (urcas) were similar in size
to naus but these were northern European ships averaging 200 to 300
tons. They were constructed for the Baltic trade in bulk goods, espe-
cially grain. Compared to naus they were slow and flat-bottomed, which
were necessary qualities for shallower Baltic harbors. Their size meant
that they might have been frequently underutilized when employed on
Brazilian routes, since the goods traded on these routes were somewhat
less bulky than the commodities they had been designed to carry.11
Brazilian sugar has often been associated in the scholarly literature
with transportation in caravels. Leonor Costa has challenged that
notion, demonstrating that merchants’ preferences for smaller or larger
vessels were determined both by supply and their perceptions of risk
at sea.12 Speaking only about the primary routes of distribution, she
has presented a schema in which, in the earliest phases of Brazilian
production, transportation was arranged mainly in small ships, navios
or caravels. English privateers wrought devastation on the Portuguese
merchant marine—especially smaller, poorly armed vessels—in Atlantic
waters by in the last decades of the sixteenth century. This led mer-
chants to take advantage of larger vessels supplied in the Low Countries
and in the northern German ports of Lübeck and Hamburg. These
urcas played an important rule until about 1605, when, as a result of
abuses, foreign shipping was banned from Brazil.13 Subsequently, the
caravel once again dominated in Brazilian waters. But in the second
cited frequently above, and Evaldo Cabral de Mello, Olinda restaurada: guerra e açúcar no
Nordeste, 1630–1654 (Rio de Janeiro: Editora Forense-Universitária, 1975).
10
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:180–186.
11
Ibid., 1:185–7.
12
Ibid., 1:190–201.
13
Costa sees the end of transportation in Hansa hulks in 1601, but these continued
for at least a few more years (See Chapter 3).
the cost of shipping 91
Years Ships probably under Ships probably over 130 Other ships
130 tons: navios, tons: naus mentioned
patachos, caravelas
1580–89 12 7
1590–99 35 6 1
1600–09 79
1610–19 53 18 1
1620–29 50 60 1
Table 5.1 Ship types mentioned in the Lisbon and Porto notarial archives
according to tonnage
Source: Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 2:167–78. From 1615 to 1623 only nine caravels
are named in contracts.
14
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:190–201. These arguments are developed at some
length in diverse parts of her work, but for a summary, see: 1:605–7.
15
IJzerman, ed., Amsterdamsche bevrachtingscontracten, 163–291. Unlike the freight con-
tracts drawn in Lisbon and Porto, Amsterdam freight contracts invariably mention the
tonnage of the vessel, given in lasts. 1 last = 2 tons. Winkelman suggests that these
92 chapter five
The levels of staffing required for these ships varied with their size.
Here as well there are significant differences between the Portuguese
fleets on the routes between Brazil and Portugal, and the Dutch ships
carrying cargoes from Portugal to the north. The evidence for numbers
tonnages are reliable, since both parties in the contracts would have had an interest in
establishing the size of the ship. P.H. Winkelman, ed., Bronnen voor de geschiedenis van de
Nederlandse oostzeehandel in de zeventiende eeuw, 6 vols., RGP, grote ser. no. 133, 184, 165,
186, 178, 186 (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1971–83), 2:XX–XXI.
16
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 14, no. 1 (1980): 82.
17
Winkelman, ed., Bronnen voor de Geschiedenis van de Nederlandse Oostzeehandel, 2:XX.
18
Ibid., vol. 6, 177. Again, the vast majority of these vessels were contracted to
lower-value bulk commodities, of which salt was the most important. However, some
of these ships may have moved sugar as well, though it is rarely mentioned in these
freight contracts. See also: Richard W. Unger, Dutch Shipbuilding before 1800 (Assen: Van
Gorcum, 1978), 32–40.
the cost of shipping 93
19
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:348–9.
20
Ibid., 1:356–7.
94 chapter five
The low operating costs of Dutch ships also shows in the fact that
Dutch ships plying the routes between the Baltic Sea and Portugal
sometimes were prepared to travel considerable distances just on bal-
last. Trips from Portugal to northern harbors were relatively short:
probably around one to two months.21 Given these short routes, and
attendant reduced costs, it is not surprising to find that many merchants
and ship owners found it profitable to make some legs of their voyages
carrying no freight at all.22 This shows that, at least during the Truce,
large Dutch ships could travel at a significant level of underutilization
and still make a profit. In times of war, some of the Dutch advantages
were diminished. When the Dunkirk privateers renewed their attacks
on the merchant marine of the Dutch Republic in the 1620s, the cost
of Dutch shipping rose.23
The size of a ship’s crew had important repercussions for merchant-
freighters, since crews needed to be paid and fed. Costa has suggested
that these costs remained stable for the period described here, and that
they were in keeping with European norms. For voyages to Brazil, the
21
Uitterdijk, Een Kamper Handelshuis, LXXXVI–LXXXVII. This was already the
case in 1578, where two sea journeys from Lisbon to Amsterdam lasted respectively
27 and 59 days.
22
IJzerman, ed., Amsterdamsche bevrachtingscontracten, 290–1. See also numerous
examples in Winkelman, ed., Bronnen voor de Geschiedenis van de Nederlandse Oostzeehandel.
Pace Israel, this was not a phenomenon from only the period before 1590. Instead, as
the freight contract data from the 1610s shows, many Dutch ships sailed to Portugal
on ballast to collect salt, or sailed to the Baltic on ballast to collect grain, with Portugal
as the eventual destination. Israel, Dutch Primacy, 49.
23
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 299–303. For prizes taken by Dunkirk privateers see:
Ibid., Bijlagen, 171–6.
the cost of shipping 95
diet comprised biscuit, wine, dried meats and fish, olive oil, vinegar,
water and vegetables. Constituting about 4,000 calories, this diet would
have cost about 50–60 reis per person per day, or—for a total crew of
ten to twelve on a caravel—between 500 and 700 reis per day. Freight
contracts frequently stipulated daily charges for delays in getting mer-
chandise on board. And in the case of caravels—with crews typically
in the range of ten to twelve men—these were most often calculated at
1,000 reis per day, which confirms the plausibility of her estimates.24
The compensation of crews beyond their daily rations is an altogether
more complex problem, not least because of an almost complete lack
of account books from captains of ships from this period. Probably
there were different methods of payment, but a few seem likely. For
one, payment almost certainly followed a hierarchy, with valuable crew
members such as the pilot receiving more than cabin boys. In the case
analyzed by Costa—comprising a nau and a crew of 28—compensation
for most of the crew was based on the division of the freight charges
after the completion of the voyage. In this case, after operating expenses
were subtracted, the remaining money was divided into 21 partidas,
or portions. Each sailor received one partida, for example, while the
grumetes received half each. On top of this, the most valuable staff—pilot,
captain, steward and boatswain—received a salary. If this type of
compensation was common—which remains entirely uncertain—the
crew’s interests would have been allied with those of the freighters in
maximizing profit through reducing turnover time in port.25
Additional expenses on voyages had to do with miscellaneous tolls
and customs paid in various ports of call and which fell under the
category of avarias. These were generally considered to be a relatively
small part of the total operating costs of a voyage. Captains gener-
ally collected the costs of avarias separately from merchants alongside
freight charges.26
Altogether, the daily operating costs of Portuguese shipping probably
usually fell into a range between 2,000 and 4,000 reis. Costa believes
the penalty charges for delays in loading that were sometimes stipu-
lated in freight contracts, although imprecise, offer a reasonable guide
to the cost of the crew, including food and pay. If so, this gives a close
24
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:352–4.
25
Ibid., 1:357–9.
26
Ibid., 1:372–3.
96 chapter five
27
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 13, no. 2 (1979): 239.
28
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:354, 359.
29
Ibid., 1:344–6.
30
Ibid., 2:191–216.
the cost of shipping 97
then, that ships frequently made more than one round trip journey in
a year, although, this would have been theoretically possible.
The operating costs for ships described above constituted part of
the freight charges paid by merchants to move merchandise from one
place to the other. Also, through freight charges, merchants indirectly
paid the purchase price of ships themselves. Consequently, the sup-
ply of shipping and the purchase costs of ships had a direct result on
merchants’ expenses. This invites an investigation of ship ownership
and the market for ships in general. There is good evidence for ship
ownership in freight contracts, but the evidence for the capital value
of ships themselves is scant and problematic. Where the value of a
ship is quoted in the available sources—contracts or other types of
documents—it is not always given with an indication of the size, age
or condition of the vessel. Any comparative price analysis must be
taken with caution.
A further complication to understanding how the price of ships
affected merchants was the fact that they were often both customers
and suppliers. The act of carrying cargo implied an expense for a
merchant and income for the ships’ owners. In fact, merchants who
bought the freighting services of a ship were also often ship-owners
themselves, and they sometimes freighted their own ships. Furthermore,
captains, freighters and ship-owners engaged in complicated types of
transactions—such as bottomry contracts—in which the ship itself
served as security on the value of a cargo, a transaction described in
the following chapter.
If merchants were also usually ship owners, it is useful to ask why
they didn’t habitually freight cargoes in their own ships, thereby verti-
cally integrating their operations and saving on freight charges. In fact,
merchants rarely did so because of the structure of ship ownership,
which will be described below. Costa has shown that merchants treated
ship owning and freighting as distinct economic activities, even if in
practice the distinctions were sometimes blurred.31 Prices for ships,
then, were an indirect—though important—variable in determining
transaction costs for freighters of Brazilian sugar.
Demand for ships stimulated industry in a variety of Portuguese
towns. Particularly in the north, more abundant pine forests supplied
31
Ibid., 1:391–472.
98 chapter five
some of the needs for new ships. In the 1620s, Porto and its hinterland,
including Massarelos and Matosinhos, contributed significantly to the
supply of ships available for the Brazil trade. Lisbon had its own ship-
yards as well as recourse to shipbuilding facilities along a fair stretch
of coastline, where towns such as Peniche and Cascais contributed to
the supply.32
Vessels produced there invariably had multiple owners. Well before
the Brazilian sugar trade, it had been a practice for investors to own
only part of a ship, and this practice continued on Brazilian routes.
In Portugal, ownership of vessels was frequently measured in eighths,
although an investor might own more than one-eighth, or an eighth
share could be further subdivided.33 Álvaro Gomes Bravo claimed to
the inquisition around 1618 that he owned one eighth of a navio, valued
after a trip—probably to Brazil—at 500,000 reis.34 The sugar merchant,
Francisco de Palácios also owned one eighth of a caravela, for which
he paid 113,000 reis.35
Captains were also part owners of ships, in conjunction with mer-
chant investors. Captains usually obtained their share of a ship on
credit, but as both investors and suppliers of transportation they had
opportunities to improve their position. On Brazil routes, captains
received a fixed salary. Apart from this, they were entitled to a por-
tion of the profits of the journey that was divided up among all of
the investors in the ship. But beyond this, captains could sometimes
trade on their own account or act as correspondents for merchants,
assuming that the latter did not mandate that their own super cargoes
sail on board. Captains gained valuable knowledge of the trade and
were able to raise their own capital. In such a manner, captains could
achieve real social mobility, and they sometimes joined the ranks of
wealthy and successful merchants.36
Plural ownership—common throughout Europe—reduced risk for
merchants since, when a ship was lost or captured, the loss was spread
32
Ibid., 1:454–72.
33
Ibid., 1:403–9.
34
IANTT, IC, Processo de Álvaro Gomes Bravo, no. 6900.
35
IANTT, IL, Processo de Francisco de Palácios, no. 4481. This would place the entire
value of the caravel at about 900,000 reis, which seems a bit high. But it is difficult to
know how large the vessel was. Perhaps he meant that the entire ship cost 113,000
reis.
36
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:438–46.
the cost of shipping 99
37
Ibid., 1:413–24.
38
Häpke, ed., Niederländische Akten und Urkunden, 2:421–30.
39
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:424–32.
40
Ibid.
100 chapter five
of the ships was not indicated, nor generally was the tonnage.41 The
few records where the tonnage was indicated with precision are given
on Table 5.4. These, unfortunately, are too few and too varied to show
any kind of pattern.
The Portuguese shipbuilding industry was hardly anemic, but it
seems certain that ships were built more cheaply in the Dutch Republic
than in Portugal. While Portugal and Iberian regions such as Galicia
had vigorous shipbuilding industries in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, they were handicapped by their lack of a domestic supply
of some of the integral elements in shipbuilding. Trees large enough
for masts typically came from Scandinavia, and various kinds of ships’
stores were imported from northwestern Europe and the Baltic region.
So dependent was Iberian shipbuilding on these supplies, that even in
time of rigorous embargo, crown authorities saw the need to make
exceptions for these vital items. In 1623, with the termination of the
Truce, the Concelho da Fazenda still petitioned the crown to grant licenses
to buy in Holland “mastos, e mais cousas necessarios” for a warship.42
At the same time, based on their effective use of technology and
energy supplies, the Dutch had developed their shipbuilding industry to
a degree unparalleled elsewhere in Europe.43 The shipbuilding yards of
the Zaanstreek and other places employed sawmills powered by windmills,
41
Ibid., 1:362.
42
AHU, Conselho Ultramarino, cod. 35, fol. 13v–14.
43
Jan de Vries and Ad van der Woude, The First Modern Economy: Success, Failure, and
Perseverance of the Dutch Economy, 1500–1815 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1997), 296–9, 344–5. These advantages slipped away by the middle of the seventeenth
century, as Dutch industrial processes were borrowed by rivals.
the cost of shipping 101
so the Dutch were generally able to keep their labor costs down through
mechanization. Furthermore, their trade position in Scandinavia was
strong enough to afford them Norwegian lumber at a cost that was
even below that available to shipbuilders in Norway. 44 As a result,
Dutch shipyards probably turned out 400 to 500 ships per year in the
period between 1625 and 1700. In Holland during this period, the
industry may have employed almost 5% of the industrial work force.45
Unfortunately, no study has cast detailed light on the cost of ships in
the Netherlands. But the examples in Table 5.5 show the prices of some
Dutch ships that were eventually used on Brazil routes.
The data here are not extensive or detailed enough to permit hard
conclusions about the differences in costs of ships between Portugal and
the Dutch Republic, but they do nothing to dispel the impression that
Dutch ships were substantially cheaper. The N.S. do Rosario sold new
for the equivalent of 3,731,059 reis in 1618, to be used on Brazilian
routes. The ship was 360 tons, so this means that it sold for 10,364
44
For Dutch shipbuilding see: Richard W. Unger, Ships and Shipbuilding in the North
Sea and Atlantic, 1400 –1800 (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997), VI; Unger, Dutch Shipbuilding
before 1800, 32–40, and Violet Barbour, “Dutch and English Merchant Shipping in the
Seventeenth Century,” The Economic History Review 2, no. 2 (1930): 271–83.
45
Vries and Woude, The First Modern Economy, 297.
46
Exchange calculation is based on an average exchange of 110 groten to 400 reis.
1 guilder = 40 groten. This was a fairly stable exchange rate for the period of 1600 to
1630. Ranging from about 99 groten or stuivers per cruzado (= 400 reis) to 115 or slightly
higher in some years. Most years it stayed in range of 105 to 111 per cruzado. Stols,
De Spaanse Brabanders, 214–5.
102 chapter five
reis per ton. The previous year two Portuguese 80-ton vessels sold
for 1,040,000 and 1,072,000 reis, also for use on Brazilian routes (see
Table 5.4). These cost respectively 13,000 and 13,400 reis per ton, or
roughly 20% more. The Dutch-built ship would also have likely enjoyed
a higher ratio of tonnage to manpower, making it more economical to
sail than the smaller Portuguese vessels.
Given fluid ownership arrangements, how frequently was the demand
for shipping on the Brazil-Portuguese routes met by ships built abroad?
Before 1605 it happened often. As described previously, Dutch and
Hanseatic shipping complemented the Portuguese merchant marine on
colonial routes, especially as many Portuguese caravels fell into the hands
of English privateers in the last two decades of the sixteenth century.
Between 1595 and 1605 at least 34 urcas passed through Pernambuco,
probably all of them carrying at least some sugar.47 The provenance
of most of these ships was German, according to the registers, but this
was mostly likely a fiction, since some ships from the Netherlands used
German papers to evade embargoes. Rather, the ownership structure
of these fleets appeared to be highly convoluted, and Dutch investment
was certainly implicated. The merchants who invested in these trips
were a heterogeneous lot as well, comprising Portuguese in the kingdom
and abroad, as well as northern European merchants.48
Once shipping was legalized between Portugal and the Dutch
Republic during the Twelve Year Truce, there is no doubt that
Portuguese participated in the ownership of Dutch-made vessels on
47
Mello, “Os Livros de Saídas,” 87–143.
48
In 1592, Lambert Pietersz a captain from Flushing applied for a license to sail
to Bremen, Brazil and back to the Netherlands. The ship must have been sizeable
since it held ten guns. N. Japikse, ed., RSG, 1590–1592, RGP, grote ser. no. 55 (The
Hague: Nijhoff, 1923), 726. See also several such applications in 1599, including one,
by the Amsterdam merchants Pieter de Hasselaer, Reynier Pauw and Henrick Buyck,
who meant to sail a ship, the “St. Franciscus,” to Brazil and back to the Netherlands.
The ship boasted captains described as Flemish and Brazilian. They planned to sail
with a crew from Portugal or somewhere else. This may very well have been a joint
Portuguese and Dutch investment. N. Japikse, ed., RSG, 1598–1599, RGP, grote ser. no.
71 (The Hague: Nijhoff ), 808–9. But even if not in so in this instance, transnational
investment during this period became very apparent in the following years when some
of the “German” hulks were seized and Portuguese and Dutch investors came forward
to claim the cargoes. Rijperman, ed., RSG, 1602–1603, 108, 215–6, 288–289, 303,
630; H.H.P. Rijperman, ed., RSG, 1604–1606, RGP, grote ser. no. 101 (The Hague:
Nijhoff, 1957), 225–6, 502, 505, 506, 806, 807, 808, 810, 811.
the cost of shipping 103
49
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 13, no. 2 (1979): 235.
50
Ibid., 17, no. 1 (1983): 76.
51
I have dealt with this theme also in: Ebert, “Dutch Trade with Brazil,” 69–73.
The question might also be posed regarding shipping from other nations. However,
given the dynamism of the Dutch shipbuilding sector during this period, their strong
trade relationships with Portugal during the Twelve Year Truce, and the well-known
cheapness of their vessels, it seems prudent to believe that there were no other—or at
least few—viable foreign competitors in the Portuguese market.
52
“Waerdoor geduirende de voors. twaelff iaeren dese vaert ende handel soo sterck heeft aengenomen,
dat iaerlijcx meer dan 10. 12 ende 15 schepen hier te lande zijn getimmert ende uitgerust geworden,
die van hier over Portugael iaerlijcx 40. 50, iae met duijsenden kisten suijckeren, behalven al het bresili
hout, gember catoenen, huijden ende andere waeren, in grote menichte uijt Bresil hebben hiergevoert . . .”
(“Whereby during the Twelve Years mentioned this trade and trade route have expanded
so much that every year 10 or 12 to 15 ships are built in this country and fitted out
and bring via Portugal every year 40 or 50 thousand crates of sugar, not to mention
all the brazilwood, ginger, cotton, hides and other commodities brought here in great
quantities from Brazil.”) IJzerman, “Deductie,” 100.
104 chapter five
53
GAA, NA, no. 611B, 430. This type of illegal trading is dealt with in Chapter 7.
54
Two pipes occupied one ton of space.
55
GAA, NA, no. 646A, 39–41.
the cost of shipping 105
This, in short, is the origin, purpose and nature of this trade, whose profits
have been enjoyed by the land and shall be enjoyed in the future, as we
will indicate. And we will show how different the situation is with all of
the other routes of the Spanish to the West Indies and elsewhere; the
Portuguese to Cabo Verde, São Tomé, Mina, Angola, the Congo, the East
Indies and elsewhere: in which all of the voyages are made with their own
ships, of which your excellencies’ subjects have neither part nor portion,
since they make all these voyages on their own account. In consequence
when these ships are taken at sea, brought here and declared to be just
prizes, this happens without harm or disadvantage to the inhabitants of
these lands. This is quite different with the ships and goods traveling to
and from Brazil, in which we with the Portuguese, and they with us are
inseparably attached and mingled.56
Whether or not ships plying the Brazilian routes were Dutch ships with
Dutch crews and captains, or had become ‘Portuguese,’ the pattern of
transnational investment was indisputable.
The availability of relatively inexpensive Dutch ships to serve on
Brazilian routes during the Twelve Year Truce probably reduced over-
all costs for Portuguese shippers. This is claimed in the Deductie and
confirmed by indirect evidence.57 The contribution of 10 to 15 Dutch
ships per year to the Portuguese merchant marine would have made
a difference. In the year 1612, for example, total sugar production in
Brazil was probably around 672,000 arrobas. At 54 arrobas per cargo
ton, this would have amounted to 12,444 cargo tons of sugar needing
transportation (see Chapter 8, Table 8.1). If even only ten ships of
Dutch provenance, each capable of carrying 200 tons, served that year
on Brazil routes, this means that Dutch-built ships would have been
able to carry 2,000 tons of sugar to Portugal, or 16% of the total. If
more Dutch-built ships were involved, or the average carrying capacity
was larger, the percentage of the total may have been higher. These, of
course, are theoretical calculations, but it is highly credible that cheap
Dutch ships in the Portuguese merchant marine helped to lower the
transaction costs for shipping sugar from Brazil to Portugal. This helps
also to explain the fact that freight charges during this period were
relatively low (see Chapter 8).
The data presented here do not always admit of firm conclusions
regarding the transactions costs in trading Brazilian sugar. In a trade
that was literally born on the winds, there was never any sure way to
56
IJzerman, “Deductie,” 101.
57
Ibid.
106 chapter five
predict how long a voyage would last or how much it would cost. Given
these constraints, merchants nevertheless tried to exert some control
over the variables that affected their costs.
As we have seen, one of these involved a choice of ports. The sugar
routes between Brazil and Portugal operated out of a variety of ports.
To a certain extent, this allowed merchants flexibility in deciding where
to land cargoes. In Portugal the northern ports of Viana and Porto
taxed less than Lisbon, but Lisbon offered relatively speedy loading
and unloading. Undoubtedly, Lisbon got the major share of sugar
cargoes between 1550 and 1630. In Brazil, Pernambuco attracted the
most traffic, at least until 1630, and also offered the fasted turnaround
time in harbor, although it is difficult to know if this was a cause or
an effect of its leading role as a producer. Traffic directed to northern
harbors seems to have been contingent on the geographical orienta-
tion of merchant networks and political circumstances, described in
preceding chapters.
Operating expenses of ships were a major part of the transaction
costs of trading sugar. These were tied to their size, and from 1550 to
1630 merchants freighted ships of different sizes based on supply and
their perception of the risks of piracy and privateering at sea. Larger
ships, those above 130 tons, usually offered a more economical ratio
of tonnage to manpower. But for much of the period between 1550
and 1630, smaller ships—caravels—predominated on the sugar routes
between Portugal and Brazil, and the Portuguese shipyards turned
out these vessels in considerable quantities. When sugar moved to the
northwest of Europe it traveled in ships built in the Low Countries
and Germany. Especially during the Twelve Year Truce, Dutch-built
ships probably carried the vast majority of sugar from Lisbon to other
European destinations. These ships were associated with operating costs
that were so low that they frequently performed segments of trading
voyages on ballast.
These same Dutch ships—cheaply built and operated—penetrated
the sea-lanes between Portugal and Brazil during the Twelve Year
Truce. They could do so because the patterns of inter-imperial invest-
ment that linked merchants in Portugal, Brazil and the Dutch Republic
allowed for Dutch ships to be sold in Portuguese markets and effectively
become ‘Portuguese.’ A likely result was that cheap Dutch shipping put
downward pressure on freight charges between Brazil and Portugal.
The savings produced in Dutch shipyards were passed on to sugar
merchants indirectly through lower transaction costs. These benefits
the cost of shipping 107
did not outlast the Truce. When hostilities were renewed, horrified
Portuguese merchants in Amsterdam testified to the damage that would
be done to two economies that were highly interlinked in the Brazilian
sugar trade.
CHAPTER SIX
1
For a theoretical framework see: North, “Institutions, Transaction Costs,” 22–40.
2
Vries and Woude, The First Modern Economy, 368–9. Note the authors’ description
of economic modernity, describing the Dutch economy after about 1585. As this
chapter will reveal, Dutch financial practices were applied to the sugar trade along
with Dutch investment.
110 chapter six
this was usually expressed in relation to the various silver coins that
formed the principal means of exchange in early modern Europe and
the smaller coins related to them that were everywhere in circulation.
In Portugal this was the silver cruzado, comprising four hundred reis
and roughly equivalent to an Italian or Spanish ducat. In the Dutch
Republic, the chief silver coin was the guilder ( ƒ), made up of forty
groten. The exchange rate between groten and reis might fluctuate in this
period from 102/400 to 119/400; these currencies generally maintained
a stable exchange rate with each other in the period discussed here.3
In some cases, sugar was used as a payment in lieu of money: in 1578
The Dutch merchant, Hans Snell, recorded that the exchequer of the
new Portuguese king, Cardinal Antonio, was repaying him a debt in
sugar worth 5,500 arrobas. We can be sure that Hans Snel, who kept
close track of international sugar prices, knew precisely the value of
this merchandise in the money of account.4
The value of sugar might be paid in silver coins, but, fortunately,
its circulation was not always conditioned by the availability of specie.
Although the money supply in Europe was increasing by the middle
of the sixteenth century, it was far from enough to accommodate all
commercial transactions. The shortage of specie was particularly acute
in Brazil, in spite of some contraband movement of Potosí silver into
the colony from the settlements at the mouth of the Rio de la Plata.5
The sixteenth century witnessed a great expansion in the circulation
of paper money and new instruments of payment and credit. These
new techniques for doing business and providing enforcement developed
within merchant communities, with only the fitful involvement of states,
since neither Roman nor Germanic law were well suited to resolve
merchant disputes.6 The developments were centered on Antwerp in
the sixteenth century and then in Amsterdam in the seventeenth. Since
these two cities were also the predominate staples for Brazilian sugar, it
3
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 1, no. 2 (1967): 110.
4
Uitterdijk, Een Kamper Handelshuis, 149. There are also numerous references of
payment in sugar dating to the early sixteenth century in: the IANTT. Two indicate
just a few: Corpo Cronológico, Parte I, maço 6, no. 5; maço 6, no. 31.
5
Stuart B. Schwartz, Sugar Plantations in the Formation of Brazilian Society: Bahia,
1550 –1835 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 204–8.
6
Douglass C. North, “Institutions, transaction costs, and the rise of merchant
empires,” in The Political Economy of Merchant Empires, ed. James D. Tracy (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 1991), 30–1.
transactions and risk management 111
7
Herman van der Wee, A History of European Banking (Antwerp: European Investment
Bank: Fonds Mercator, 2000), 97–9.
8
Herman van der Wee, “Monetary, Credit and Banking Systems,” in The Cambridge
Economic History of Europe, vol. 5, ed. E.E. Rich and C.H. Wilson (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1977), 324.
112 chapter six
crisis, coupled with competition from the Dukes of Burgundy who were
acting as moneychangers, hindered its development. As Antwerp rose
as an important money market in the sixteenth century, the banking
function was taken over rather by the kassiersbedrijf (cash keepers), who
kept deposits and handled financial transactions on behalf of others.
A similar cash-keeping business arose in Amsterdam by the end of
the sixteenth century. A bit later, Amsterdam made the transition to
a nearly modern type of deposit and clearing bank, the wisselbank,
founded in 1609.9
The expansion of trade in the Atlantic world, and the burgeoning
trade centers that arose to serve it in the sixteenth century called for
new types of credit. As van der Wee has clearly shown, the innovation
of the northwest, and particularly Antwerp, was not in institutions, but
in new instruments of credit, which met the exigencies of Atlantic trade.
The main achievement in this area was to improve the negotiability of
credit instruments, particularly promissory notes. The principle of exten-
sion of payment had been well established in northern trading areas
since the late Middle Ages, and IOUs, not bills of exchange, were the
main form of security. Unlike bills of exchange, letters obligatory were
long-term, necessitated by the patterns of trade predominating in the
north. By the late middle ages, these letters obligatory were sometimes
written with bearer’s clauses, but insecurity persisted, since there was
no legal framework to provide protection as the IOU circulated from
hand to hand. The first step towards resolving this problem was taken
with a judicial verdict in Antwerp in 1507 that provided the same legal
protection to bearers as original creditors in collecting from a debtor.
This rule quickly spread, and was institutionalized in 1537 for all of
the Habsburg Netherlands in an imperial edict. Circulation of letters
soon became widespread.10
Antwerp’s merchants took a further step towards negotiability by
applying the principle of ‘assignment’ to the circulation of IOUs. Bills
could circulate up to twenty times, and intermediary bearers ceased to
be responsible once the bill left their hands. Since not all merchants
were intimately connected, a risk persisted that a bearer might not be
able to collect from an original debtor whom he might barely know.
Assignment meant that now all intermediary bearers were jointly
9
Ibid., 310–15, 323.
10
Ibid., 325.
transactions and risk management 113
responsible if the original debtor was in default. While bills were not
actually endorsed in the sixteenth century, merchant’s accounts books
or separate letters of assignment could prove the provenance of IOUs.
The principle of assignment, designed to encourage confidence and
honest business practices, received imperial endorsement in an Edict of
31 October 1541. By the end of the sixteenth century it had become
standard business practice in England, the Hansa towns and much of
the Atlantic trading sphere.11 One of the Antwerp merchant bankers
who had petitioned the government to adopt the principle of assign-
ment was none other than Erasmus Schetz, an early Flemish owner
of a Brazilian sugar mill. By the early seventeenth century, assignment
had been adopted for the ever more common bills of exchange, and,
in fact, the innovation of written endorsement for bills of exchange
developed out of this practice.12
Two further innovations of the Antwerp market were ‘discounting’
and futures speculation. As commercial instruments began to circulate
widely and the Antwerp Exchange increasingly took on the aspect of
a money market, money dealers and cash keepers purchased unexpired
IOUs and eventually bills of exchange, for cash, less a premium. By the
early seventeenth century, this form of discount banking had become
common in Antwerp and later elsewhere. The financial nature of the
Antwerp Exchange also invited futures speculation, which, although
not an entirely new phenomenon, grew to be practiced widely by the
middle of the sixteenth century. Purchasers either received goods for
which they would pay later, or received pay for goods to be delivered
at a future date. Both forms of transactions involved bets on the rise
or fall in prices.13
Underlying this great extension of circulating paper in the sixteenth
century was the infusion of specie into European society. Both the pro-
ductivity of European mines as well as the flow of great quantities of
New World silver into Europe offered a greater abundance of money
in the European economy, symbolized by the large silver coins— such
as the ducat and the stuiver—which circulated everywhere. This had
a major effect on the terms of extension of payment, especially in
northwestern Europe. The letter obligatory reflected a new spirit of
11
Portuguese merchants living in Antwerp used these instruments widely. Pohl, Die
Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 239.
12
Wee, “Monetary, Credit and Banking Systems,” 326–8.
13
Discounting was not practiced in Portugal. Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 323.
114 chapter six
14
Ibid., 321–3.
15
Ibid., 320. Pedreira mentions the persistence of usury laws as a possible structural
impediment to the development of the Portuguese economy. However, it should be
noted, that Portuguese merchants had access to credit markets outside of Portugal.
Pedreira, “ ‘To Have and to Have Not’,” 93–122.
16
GAA, NA, no. 381, 506–8. The use of a notary to record this transaction prob-
ably indicates some degree of caution on the part of the parties to this transaction.
Perhaps they had not done business before and sought to formalize the exchange with
a notary in case there was any future problem.
transactions and risk management 115
Did the Brazilian sugar trade force further innovation in the develop-
ment of paper instruments for trade? In the period to 1630 no evidence
so far collected has shown this. However, it stands to reason that the
quick incorporation of these credit instruments into the burgeoning
Atlantic trading world only enhanced their popularity. On the other
hand, many of the trades centered in northwestern Europe were carried
out over long distances, even in the inter-European routes. A round-trip
from Portugal to Brazil was no longer than a round trip from Danzig
to Lisbon. Lengthy time and distance, and extended inter-imperial
merchant networks were not unique to the Brazil trade but rather
characteristic of many of the bulk trades that formed the backbone
of the northwestern European commercial economy.
When specie did change hands, it was more likely to be in the
financial centers of Lisbon or Amsterdam, rather than in Brazil. In
1620 two Amsterdam Portuguese merchants partially settled a debt
with a payment of 130,350 reis. Rui Diaz D’Orta paid this amount
to Dr. Francisco Lopes Enriques. However D’Orta paid on behalf of
the debtor, Antonio Ruiz Chaves who lived in Bahia. Chaves did not
send currency from Brazil. Chaves and D’Orta had sent Rouen linen
to Bahia, sold it and purchased sugar for shipment to Portugal. The
payment came from the proceeds of the sugar in Lisbon.17
Just as the sixteenth century witnessed a much greater mobility of
capital through the use of new financial instruments, transaction costs
probably also fell through new techniques of spreading risk. Risks to
shipping in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were abundant, and
vessels carrying sugar, particularly those plying the Brazil-Portuguese
routes were vulnerable. As opposed to cargoes arriving from Asia,
Brazilian cargoes of sugar and brazilwood did not offer profits that
easily justified the use of large and heavily armed and manned ships.
The Portuguese preference for the use of caravels on the Brazil routes
invited the scorn of Padre Vieira who described them as “schools
for cowardice” since they seldom held many guns or those trained to
fire them.18 Dutch merchants were also wary of the costs imposed by
17
GAA, NA, no. 645, 909. See also many examples of paper transactions in Koen,
“Notarial Records,” including 4, no. 1 (1970): 124; 12, no. 1 (1978): 175, 177–9; 13,
no. 1 (1979): 106; 16, no. 2 (1982): 217.
18
Schwartz, Sugar Plantations, 180.
116 chapter six
19
Violet Barbour, “Marine Risks and Insurance in the Seventeenth Century,” Journal
of Economic and Business History 1 (1928/29): 563.
20
Ibid., 565.
21
AHU, Conselho Ultramarino, Cod. 35, fol. 128, 128v; fol. 165, 165v; fol. 187
and following pages.
22
A good example is a fleet organized to depart from Pernambuco on the 21st of
August 1618. The fleet consisted of “vinte e tres Vellas, desanove Naos e quatro Caravellas,
hua pera a ilha da Madeira, tres pera esta cidade, e treze Naos; Pera o Porto tres, Viana duas, e pera
Aveiro hua.” Citing the dangers from corsairs in the shipping lanes, authorities required
the captains to sign an agreement to sail in a fleet, with a penalty of 20 cruzados laid
out for breaking rank. A Capitão Môr, Manoel Mendes de Vasconcelos, presided over
the fleet. Seven days under sail, the Viana-destined ship sailed away from the fleet, and
subsequently discipline collapsed totally. Presumably, the desire to profit by being first
into Portuguese harbors outweighed the disincentives of potential capture by pirates or
a 20-cruzado (8,000 reis) fine, AHU, Pernambuco, caixa 1, (November 21, 1618).
23
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 192–3.
24
The “Sampson” a ship from Zeeland was considered to be in poor shape after
one trip to India and two to Brazil. In 1593, it nevertheless made a third trip to Brazil,
transactions and risk management 117
via Lisbon, on the return voyage its mast was damaged. Nevertheless, after a three-
month voyage it landed a cargo of 500 crates of sugar in Vigo. GAA, NA, no. 75,
5–7. See also: G.V. Scammell, “European seamanship in the great age of discovery,”
Mariner’s Mirror 68 (1982).
25
As was the case with the unfortunate with “Den Neptunus,” which arrived in Lis-
bon from Brazil in 1596 with a cargo of sugar. The super cargo sent it on to Livorno,
but it made it no further than Cadiz owing to its damaged and leaky condition. In
Cadiz, its sugar was stored in a warehouse, while repairs proceeded at a dilatory pace,
partly since, according to the owners, the workmen observed too many feast days. Alas,
the ship remained too long in Cadiz and was burned under English attack and the
sugar was taken. GAA, NA, no. 54, 130.
26
For the popularity of investment in shipping by small shareholders in the Dutch
Republic, see: Barbour, “Dutch and English Merchant Shipping,” 278–9. In the Dutch
case, it seems that shipbuilding was simply valued as a good investment.
118 chapter six
27
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:408–13.
28
Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 265–6.
29
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 315–6.
30
T.R. de Souza, “Marine Insurance and Indo-Portuguese Trade History: An Aid
to Maritime Historiography,” The Indian Economic and Social History Review 14, no. 3
(1977): 377–8.
transactions and risk management 119
on a shipment, and that they freight 10% of their cargo at their own
risk.31 In Antwerp, as elsewhere, premiums varied dramatically depend-
ing on the perception of risk. Trips from Portugal to Brazil could cost
at times as much as 24% of the value of the cargo.32 The insurance
business waxed and waned following the vagaries of politics and war,
and premiums rose and fell accordingly. The second half of the six-
teenth century—not a felicitous time for Brabant—witnessed a falling
back of the insurance business in Antwerp, and premiums were high.33
But at the same time, insurance markets were growing in the cities of
London, Dover, Hamburg and Amsterdam, partly because now cargoes
frequently ended up there instead of Antwerp.34
Amsterdam’s insurance market—and its regulatory framework—rose
at the same time as the city moved into economic preeminence.
Insurance probably became common in Holland in the latter half of
the sixteenth century. By 1598 the city of Amsterdam set up a chamber
of assurance to register policies and settle disputes.35 Policies were sold
by official brokers and subject to the rules of the brokers’ guild.36 The
Amsterdam chamber enjoyed a high reputation for secrecy and for
prompt settlement. Merchants especially esteemed the former quality
since they dreaded any public airing of their business practices.37
At least some evidence shows that the particular risks of the Brazilian
sugar trade prompted merchants to seek stronger institutional support in
the Dutch Republic, and the States General took notice. One example
of this process can be seen in the events surrounding the capture by
French pirates of the ship the Hoope which left Rio de Janeiro with a
cargo of sugar at the beginning of 1618.38 Several institutions came
into play in the case of the Hoope: Amsterdam’s insurance courts at
31
Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 265–6.
32
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 316–7.
33
Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 267.
34
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 317. Chambers of Assurance appeared in London
in 1601, Rotterdam in 1614, Marseilles in 1669 and Paris in 1671. Barbour, “Marine
Risks and Insurance,” 573.
35
Violet Barbour, Capitalism in Amsterdam in the 17th Century (Ann Arbour: University
of Michigan Press, 1963), 33.
36
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 12, no. 1 (1978): 175–76.
37
Barbour, “Marine Risks and Insurance,” 573–5.
38
This voyage is mentioned elsewhere in this and other chapters, and is documented
in the following sources: GAA, NA, no. 381: 300; 460: 386–386v; 381: 299, 300, 329,
350, 391, 485, 508. Summaries of some of these documents are also to be found
in Koen, “Notarial Records,” 13, no. 1 (1979): 108; 13, no. 2 (1979): 222–3, 230; 14,
no. 1 (1980): 94; 16, no. 2 (1982): 200; 18, no. 2 (1984): 167, 174.
120 chapter six
the local level and the States General of the Dutch Republic at the
state level. Once news of its capture became known in Europe, the
investors in the cargo, whether in the Dutch Republic or in Portugal
began to seek a payout from their insurers. These cases were decided
through Amsterdam’s insurance courts, and claims on the cargoes were
made in France as late as four years after the seizure of the vessel.39
Furthermore, the case propelled merchants to seek the assistance of the
States General of the Dutch Republic who wrote to the French crown
in an attempt to retrieve the Hoope for its owners once it was known to
be in France, and directed its diplomatic personnel to pursue the case.40
The merchants involved paid for these interventions. This represented
a state, and not just a local, response to merchants’ disputes.
In spite of a developing institutional framework, much maritime
insurance was informally arranged. It came down to merchants insur-
ing other trusted merchant parties to disperse risk without the benefit
of a publicly celebrated contract. Usually the only stipulation was that
the insurer was not a party to the transaction he insured, but even this
caution was not always observed. Furthermore, merchants contracted
with various insurers to insure parts of a cargo. Few insurers took on
responsibility for more than 200 ducats per shipment or ship.41 This
meant that providing insurance was a widely dispersed activity. The
testimony of a single broker in Amsterdam in 1618 revealed that 42 dif-
ferent underwriters, mostly large merchants from Holland and Zeeland,
had contracted services through him.42 Insurance as a highly special-
ized economic activity belonged to the future, since investors typically
included insurance as only a part of their portfolio. A group of large
merchants in Amsterdam hatched a plan in 1628 to form a company
39
Freighters included: Francisco Coutinho, Luís Pereira de Miranda, Simão de
Leão, Joseph Pinto, Francisco de Cáceres, Diogo Gomes Mendes, Diogo Lopes Pinto,
Manuel Pinto and Pedro and João de la Faya, Gaspar Marcos Mendes, Álvaro Gomes
Bravo. Many of these freighters were based in Amsterdam, but some, such as Cáce-
res, were in Portugal. The latter was imprisoned in 1618 by the Holy Office. Insurers
included: Pieter van Gheel, David de l’Hommel, Hans Willemsse van Elsinck, Valerius
van Gistele de Oude, Jan Smit, Jan Stassart, Albert Schuijt, Henri Thibault, Manuel
Carvalho, Daniel and Jan van Gheel.
40
The capturing of “de Hoope” also prompted a diplomatic exchange between
the States General and the Kingdom of France, transcribed in, Grote Ser., No. 152.
The Hague: Nijhoff, 1975 J.G. Smit, ed., RSG, 1617–1618, RGP, Grote Ser. 152 (The
Hague: Nijhoff, 1975), 422, 447, 451, 559–60, 579, 583.
41
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 316.
42
Ebert, “Dutch Trade with Brazil,” 67.
transactions and risk management 121
43
Barbour, “Marine Risks and Insurance,” 573–5.
44
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 316–7.
45
Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 267.
46
GAA, NA, no. 33, 390v–392.
47
Pohl, Die Portugiesen in Antwerpen, 268.
48
Ibid., 269–70. There are no insurance policies in the notarial archives in Lisbon
or Porto, but this does not mean that insurance was not arranged in these commercial
centers. Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:228.
122 chapter six
49
GAA, NA, no. 381, 506–508.
50
Barbour, Capitalism in Amsterdam, 34.
transactions and risk management 123
trade, and hosts to fleets preying on the same shipping they sometimes
insured. This was so during both periods of open hostility as well as the
Twelve Year Truce.51 There is no doubt that the necessity of insuring
against attacks at sea drove up transaction costs. However, it is less clear
that this provided clear advantages or disadvantages to any particular
group. Many ships transporting sugar were themselves Dutch, or partly
owned by Dutch investors who might suffer from the predations of
their fellow countrymen.52 Furthermore, although Amsterdam was a
large and important market for insurance, it was not the only one. If
Portuguese merchants used the insurance market in Amsterdam, it was
likely because of its excellent reputation and because they already had
an investment presence there, not because there were no other options.
The fact that Portuguese merchants also sold insurance in Amsterdam
further complicates any analysis based on national interest.53 Rather it
seems that insurance policies for Portuguese merchants continued in
Amsterdam after 1621 simply because it was impossible to enforce their
prohibition, given the informal nature of the business, its inter-imperial
dimensions and the still weak institutional context of the business.
Aside from difficulties arising to the business of insurance from
political circumstances was a more endemic problem. The wide invest-
ment and geographic dispersal of insurance markets—as well poor
information—often led to fraud. The notarial archives in Amsterdam
show several such disputes over insurance. News of a ship being cap-
tured or lost at sea could trickle unevenly into European ports and
might reach different insurers at different times. This fact, coupled
with the merchant practice of only first insuring cargoes long after a
voyage was underway, led to accusations of abuses. Around 1619 the
notable Porto-based merchant, Francisco de Cáceres, asked his son in
Amsterdam, Simão Rodrigues de Cáceres, to arrange for an additional
100 Flemish pounds of insurance on the ship the Hoope—mentioned
above—whose arrival in Porto was expected with a cargo of sugar
from Rio de Janeiro. Cáceres the younger placed the order through
his compatriot and correspondent in Amsterdam, José Pinto, who in
turn arranged insurance from Daniel and Jan van Gheel, well-known
51
Costa has suggest that this amounted to a type of tribute that drove up costs
for Portuguese shippers to the advantage of Dutch merchants: Costa, O transporte no
Atlântico, 1:230.
52
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 317.
53
Barbour, Capitalism in Amsterdam, 34.
transactions and risk management 125
54
GAA, NA, no. 645, 668–669.
55
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 318–9.
56
Boyajian, Portuguese Trade in Asia, 120–1.
126 chapter six
57
The king in 1623 wrote that ships fell to the enemy “sem se defenderem delles como
podorão fazer se tem por cousa certa que a causa disto era de os homens do mar tomarem dinheiro a
responder a risco dos ditos navios e embarcações e cascos delles” Quoted in Costa, O transporte
no Atlântico, 1:234.
58
Ibid.
59
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 2:191–216.
60
This is confirmed in the case of a bottomry loan made by Lisbon merchant
Francisco de Palácios to Francisco Borges Veiga from Porto at a rate of 105%. The
loan was on the security of a pataco that was to sail to Angola, Brazil and then Lisbon
around 1630. IANTT, IL, Processo de Francisco de Palácios, No. 4481. Another such loan
was made around 1618 with a premium of 47% on a return trip from Porto to Rio
de Janeiro. IANTT, IL, Processo de Álvaro de Azevedo, no. 728. Also: Costa, O transporte
no Atlântico, 1:231.
61
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 2:191–229. Costa has found around 70.
transactions and risk management 127
62
IANTT, IL, Processo de Francisco de Palácios, no. 4481.
128 chapter six
63
ARA, SG (Liassen admiraliteiten) 12561.31: “Declaratie van de schaden bij de
Portugeesen tot Amsterdam resideerende geleeden in Portugal door hun factooren
ende vrienden door de Inquisitie gevangen ofte gevlucht, ende alle de goederen hun
lieden, ende de Voorgs. Portugeesen toecoomende gesequestreert.” Thanks to Victor
Enthoven for directing me towards the latter source.
transactions and risk management 129
and privateering drove costs up for everyone, but these costs were
eventually so widely distributed that it is difficult to say whether there
were clear winners or losers in the insurance markets. At the least, risk
management techniques allowed for the persistence of a valuable long
distance trade through sometimes perilous waters.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ILLEGAL TRADE
This chapter considers the Brazilian sugar trade that took place out-
side of legally sanctioned channels. This was a business that tried to
operate beyond the reach of customs houses and officials, government
regulations, and treaties between governments concerning trade. I
have tried to take a very broad definition of illegal trade and treat it
more as a category of analysis than a precise definition. For purposes
of this analysis I include an assessment first of ‘contraband’ trade, a
category that includes trading along prohibited routes and in prohibited
places, and the evasion of customs rules in various ports. The second
part of the chapter turns to piracy and privateering. I have made the
usual distinction between piracy and privateering in which the latter
is understood as a manifestation of state policy that is authorized with
letters of reprisal. However, I agree with other scholars that the dis-
tinction between piracy and privateering is thin and often a matter of
perspective between the perpetrator and the victim.1
Such a study presents fairly obvious problems of quantification.
In the case of ships seized at sea by political enemies or pirates, it is
possible to estimate roughly the quantities of commodities passing out
of officially sanctioned trade routes, since evidence often survives in
contemporary accounts and insurance claims. However, when insid-
ers were involved in trade fraud, the results are probably impossible
to measure. Smuggling obviously was done as discreetly as possible.
Nevertheless, Dutch and Portuguese archives yield sufficient material to
describe the kinds of fraud that existed on sugar routes. These descrip-
tions follow, even though it is impossible to assert with total confidence
how representative they are.
1
Anne Pérotin-Dumon states that “the dispute about whether someone should
be called a pirate or not is really about who has the power.” in “The pirate and the
emperor: power and the law on the seas, 1450–1850,” in The Political Economy of Mer-
chant Empires, ed. James D. Tracy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 204.
For a general discussion of violence and power in an economic context see: Frederic
C. Lane, “Economic Consequences of Organized Violence,” Journal of Economic History
18, no. 4 (1958): 401–17.
132 chapter seven
2
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 136.
3
Some English merchants continued to trade peacefully with the Portuguese after
the union of the Iberian crowns, especially in the Azores. Scammell reports that two
English ships under Portuguese command sailed to the Azores in 1587 with the inten-
tion to exchange textiles for wine. This was to be traded for slaves in Africa and then
sugar in Brazil, which was to return to London. It is not known if the journey was
completed. This kind of trade could not have been common, for sugar prices were
already declining in England as a result of so much sugar entering via privateers and
pirates. If illegal trade did continue between the Azores and England after 1580 it
was likely oriented towards trade in commodities such as cloth and woad. Scammell,
“The English in the Atlantic Islands,” 310–11. See also: Mello, “Os livros de saídas
das urcas.”
134 chapter seven
4
Kellenbenz, “Der Brasilienhandel der Hamburger ‘Portugiesen’,” 317–8.
5
GAA, NA, no. 197, 173–4.
6
GAA, NA, no. 79, 8V–12. After the captain and clerk of the “Roode Leeuw” were
imprisoned, the captain of the “het Swarte Vercken” sailed from Cadiz in order to
avoid the same intervention by customs officials. The remaining crewmembers of the
“Roode Leeuw” followed. When the freighters arrived to pay the surety, they found
the ships gone with no clear idea of the destination. In fact they had returned north
and sold the wine and oil in England, claiming that the owners of the cargo were
Spaniards and enemies.
illegal trade 135
tains evaded the rules before 1605, but presumably the majority of ships
leaving Brazil returned to Portugal to unload. The Baltic and North
Sea hulks were of very large capacity, and were probably underutilized
on trips returning from Brazil. These ships were built for the classic
bulk trades in grain and salt. Furthermore, as we have seen, they often
made voyages to Brazil while wintering in southern ports, waiting for
the thaws in the north that would allow return voyages. Profit potentially
could be made every time a cargo was exchanged in a new port, and
so it made sense for northern captains to return to Portugal and load
salt or other commodities, along with sugar, for return voyages. Still,
factors affecting profitability could vary widely even over a short period
of time. From time to time, merchants and captains decided that their
best chances for profit lay in evading the prescribed system of trade.
When European vessels did sail illegally to Brazil in order to engage
in contraband trade, their reception could be mixed. In 1606 Sebastião
da Rocha received an English ship with trade goods off the coast of
Pernambuco in spite of efforts of the governor, Alexandre de Moura,
to prevent the trading. This is revealed in a document that also reports
illicit Dutch and French trading in the region.7 The English continued
to make at least a few contraband voyages to less populated parts of
Brazil after 1610.8 On the other hand, foreigners were not always
welcome to trade on the Brazilian coast. In the 1580s residents of the
Brazilian coast must have been alarmed at the arrival in heavily armed
foreign ships of Hawkins and Drake, even if they professed motives
of peaceful trade.
Among the northern European nations trading illegally with Brazil,
the Dutch deserve special consideration. They were the most heavily
targeted by Habsburg trade policies, which were in force in Brazil after
1580. The beginning of Dutch-flagged shipping in Brazil is not clear,
but probably there was no significant presence of Dutch ships in Brazil
before 1580 when the Spanish and Portuguese crowns were united.
Dutch shipping was subject to a general embargo from 1585 to 1590,
but this was mainly an ineffective measure. There was at least some
trading in the period until 1598 when the embargo was renewed, this
time with stronger enforcement. After 1605, all foreign shipping was
7
Frédéric Mauro, ed., Le Bresil au XVII e Siecle. Documents inédits relatifs à L’Atlantique
Portugais (Coimbra: University Press, 1963), 225–6.
8
Scammell, “British Smuggling in the Iberian Americas,” 148.
136 chapter seven
banned from Brazil, but shortly after this—during the Twelve Year
Truce—the Dutch Republic became one of the chief destinations for
Brazilian goods. It is not entirely surprising that some Dutch merchants
attempted to trade directly, even during the Truce. When the Truce
expired in 1621, illegal trade appears to have expanded considerably.
Dutch ships began to appear in Brazilian harbors between 1580
and 1605, although it is not always clear whether they were trading
legally. In the Amsterdam notarial archives at least 19 records make
explicit mention of Dutch ships and shippers traveling or planning to
travel to Brazil before 1598.9 This probably represents only a fraction
of the total, which perhaps was closer to 100.10 Some ships obtained
royal permission to travel.11 However, during periods of lax vigilance,
surely some of them traveled illegally. A projected trip—celebrated in
a bottomry contract in 1597—stipulated that the Edam captain, Dirck
Willemss Pastoor should sail the Roode Leeuw from Zeeland to Lisbon,
North Africa, Cadiz or the Canary Islands, Brazil and then back to
Lisbon. According to the contract, if he heard that his ship might be
subject to arrest he was to return directly to Zeeland or Holland.12 If
they did not or could not obtain permission to sail, captains gathered
as much information about conditions en route as possible in order to
ascertain the level of risk. Captain Claes Claessen from Amsterdam
sailed from Hamburg to Lisbon on a voyage freighted by Adam Hulscher
of Antwerp in 1590. He was to receive further orders from Hulscher’s
correspondent in Lisbon about a projected trip to Brazil but was forced
to return north because of the royal ban on travel there.13 Presumably
officials in Lisbon did not let him sail, perhaps because of the Dutch
origins of the ships and shipper.
Dutch merchants who had a wide international ambit of correspon-
dents could overcome these obstacles. In 1594, the above-mentioned
Adam Hulscher, now in Amsterdam, declared to a notary that he had
done considerable business importing Brazilian goods through, among
9
GAA, NA, no. 72, 25; no. 208; no. 51, 88; no. 54, 36V; no. 54, 130; no. 95, 143;
no. 8, 21; no. 42, 84V; no. 47, 6; no. 32, 176; no. 47, 96V; no. 48, 21; no. 32, 340; no.
73, 5–7; no. 50, 39V; no. 76, 187V; no. 51, 79; no. 52, 101V; no. 79, 8V–12.
10
This is the figure given by: E. van den Boogaart, “La expansión holandesa en el
atlántico, 1580–1800,” in Los neerlandeses en el mundo comercial atlántico de la Doble Monarquía
Ibérica, 1590–1621, ed. E. van den Boogaart (Madrid: Niel-Gerond, 1992), 76–77.
11
GAA, NA, no. 79, 8V–12.
12
GAA, NA, no. 76, 208.
13
GAA, NA, no. 42, 84V.
illegal trade 137
14
GAA, NA, no. 47, 6.
15
A few such journeys are indicated in GAA, NA, no. 98, 21V.
16
GAA, NA, no. 98, 133V; no. 35, 111; no. 104, 209.
17
GAA, NA, no. 196, 299–301V. Louis del Becque, originally from Lille, had lived
in Amsterdam since 1587 where he was an experienced trader to the Iberian Peninsula.
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 2, no. 2 (1968): 265.
138 chapter seven
few months later to the same notary that the trading coordinated by
Louis del Becque was coerced trade.18 Trans-shipment, they claimed,
was not practiced because Portuguese officials punished it severely.
Furthermore, they had not heard of the Portuguese allowing it to
happen on a friendly basis with vessels of any nation, neither in the
Canary Islands or elsewhere. One merchant, Pieter Dumolijn, claimed
that in Lisbon he had heard complaints about this kind of forced trade
by ships freighted by Louis del Becque.19
Another Dutch trip to the coast of Brazil in 1614 revealed both the
hope of some that the Portuguese would trade freely with illegal Dutch
ships and the frustration of those hopes. The VOC fitted out a fleet of
six ships commanded by Joris van Spilbergen, including two 600-ton
warships and a total of 750 sailors and soldiers. The stated purpose
of the journey, encouraged by the States General, was to explore the
route to the Pacific via the Straits of Magellan. Another hope was to
trade on the southwest coast of America. Although trade with Brazil
did not figure as a major goal of this endeavor, the fleet arrived on
the coast of Brazil at the end of the year seeking fresh provisions.20
Spilbergen knew that his fleet would not be well received in any of
the major ports of Brazil, so he first landed a party on Ilha Grande
near Rio de Janeiro to obtain fresh water. There his landing party was
attacked and several were killed by an armed party of “Portuguese and
mestizos,” while others were taken prisoner.21 In mid-January the ship
sailed southwest to Santos in São Vicente Bay, hoping to obtain more
provisions. Here the reception was mixed, as the Portuguese settlers
regarded the fleet warily. Some provisions were secretly bartered, but
the leaders of the Dutch fleet soon realized that there was no advantage
18
Pieter Beltgens, Jan Jansz Backer, Jacob Geurts Cleijnsorch and Pieter Dumolijn
deposed at the request of Amsterdam Portuguese merchants Gasper Lopes Homem,
Duarte Fernandes, and Sebastião Rodrigues de Leão, GAA, NA, no. 196, 325–
326V.
19
Dumolijn claimed “dat voor sijn vertreck van Lisboa de clachten aldaer sijn gecommen vant
nemen van de carvelen bij de schepen van Louwys Beeckque ende dat zij haar goet door bedwanck
gelost hadde.” Ibid. These various notarized testimonies probably indicate some kind of
dispute among merchants about del Becque’s activities, which may have hurt Amsterdam
merchants with an interest in ordinary shipping between Brazil and Portugal.
20
Warnsinck, ed., De reis om de wereld van Joris van Spilbergen, 1614–1617, XXXVI–
XLIX.
21
Ibid., 8.
illegal trade 139
to staying in Santos and felt that the Portuguese residents seemed intent
only on ‘deceitful’ behavior.22
Incidents such as these cast doubt on the frequently made—but
unsubstantiated—claims in the historical literature that the Dutch mer-
chant marine was heavily involved in the carrying trade in Brazilian
sugar during the Twelve Year Truce. It was inevitable that some Dutch
ships trying to pass as Portuguese would sail to Brazil during the Truce,
but there is no evidence that many did so. Dutch captains faced harsh
penalties if discovered by officials and were not generally likely to have
received an amiable reception in Brazil ports.23 One captain, Engel
Habet sailed the 180–ton ship the Hoope—discussed in Chapter 6—from
Amsterdam to Porto.24 From there he planned to sail to Rio de Janeiro
to buy sugar, and he had even hired a Portuguese crew. Unfortunately
for him, the Portuguese government commandeered his ship to carry
the new governor of Rio de Janeiro along with his family across the
ocean. The governor, Rui Vaz Pinto, discovered the fraud while he was
on board, since there were five Dutchmen traveling along including
Engel Habet and his brother. Once in Rio de Janeiro, Habet and his
constable were imprisoned.25 The significance of the voyage of the Hoope
is clear. Probably it was not completely anomalous, and other Dutch
ships intending to make such journeys may have had better luck. But
illegal travel to Brazil was beset with risks. At the very least, a Portuguese
crew would have to be maintained on such a journey.
Some Dutch ships were actually licensed to travel to Brazil after
1609, but not in significant numbers. According to Stols, in the entire
period from 1609 to 1687, Portuguese officials granted licenses to only
22
Ibid., 11–20. During one landing party, the Dutch discovered an engenho, that they
learned had been built by none other than the Antwerp merchant Hans de Schot!
Sugar cane grew thick nearby, but the mill’s owners had fled, taking their equipment
with them. “Corts daer nae zijn wy opwaerts geroeyt in de riviere, alwaer wy vonden eene ingenie,
in de welcke zy altemael met hare meubelen ghevlucht waeren, zijnde de selve inghenie groot, sterck,
wel ghebouw’t ende bewoont, hebbende eene kercke ghenaemt Signora de Negues; wy verstonden vande
Portugijsen datse ghebouw’t was van een seecker gheslacht van Antwerpen ghenaemt de Schotsen; hier
ontrent was het seer playsant, ende de plaetse rontomme was rijck van suycker-riet.” 15–6.
23
One Dutch merchant trying to sail cloth clandestinely in Pernambuco in March
of 1621 failed to find enough buyers. Koen, “Notarial Records,” 20, no. 1 (1986):
117–18.
24
This ship is mentioned in the previous chapter in the context of insurance, since
it eventually left Rio with a cargo of sugar and was taken by French pirates.
25
GAA, NA, no. 381, 300; no. 460, 386–386V; no. 381, 485. They were not the
only ‘framengos’ to be imprisoned in Brazil around this time for illegal trading. See
Livro Primeiro do Governo do Brasil, 1607–1633, 130–3, 168.
140 chapter seven
26
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 115.
27
The crown wrote: “E indo a ella desta reino direito em cadanno tres e quatro navios caregados
de fazendas numqua se arecadarão direitos dellas nem os oficiaes da Alfandega fazião por isso diligencia
alguma por receberem gros sospeittas das pesoas cujas erão as dittas fazendas e quasi se caregarão
em cada hum anno mais de vinte mill cruzadas em asuqeres por liberdade não ouzando della sem os
dittos oficiaes acuidirem disso por parte de minha fazenda tendo obrigacão de o fizer por rezão de seus
cargos e que não ha senhorio de emgenho que mudando nelle dous esteos não tenha gozado de duas
liberdades no que outro sy se tem levado muitos direitos aminha fazenda.” AHU, Espírito Santo,
Papeis Avulsos, Caixa 1, doc. 4.
28
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 65.
illegal trade 141
(at least 20%) that accrued to sugar in the Portuguese metropolis, prices
were usually high enough before 1630 to guarantee a high premium of
arbitrage (see Chapter 8). A less restrictive trade regimen characterized
by high profits did not necessarily invite cheating.
Once the Truce expired—accompanied by the most aggressive
efforts yet by the Habsburg crown to deny imperial products to Dutch
markets—the Dutch had a much greater motivation to trade illegally.
Subsequently, there was a wholesale return to the system of fraudulent
passports. One Amsterdam merchant, Tomás Nunes Pina, continued
to arrange for shipments of Brazilian goods after 1621 through his
Viana factor, Gaspar Caminho Rego, who ostensibly sent them on to
Hamburg.29 Smuggling was also rampant after 1621 and helped to
ensure some commodity flow. During a four-month period, eight Dutch
ships visited ports in the Algarve and Andalusia, with the connivance
of Portuguese merchants from Santiago de Compostela, Antwerp,
Hamburg and Amsterdam.30 Amsterdam notarial records indicate other
illegal Dutch voyages made later in the decade involving trans-ship-
ment of sugar in ports in the Azores. These were ‘intended’ voyages,
documented in freight contracts, so it difficult to say how frequently this
kind of trade was actually conducted.31 Once the WIC was successfully
installed in Pernambuco it seems unlikely that merchants based in the
Dutch Republic would attempt it.
On the other hand, the WIC devoted considerable energies in the
1620s to seizing Brazilian cargoes at sea. Privateers and pirates, another
category of Atlantic entrepreneurs, entered into the illegal sugar trade
because they were otherwise barred from it owing to political circum-
stances. Privateers belonged to states that were at war with Portugal
and were authorized by letters of reprisal (letters of manqué) issued
by their governments to take Brazilmen as prizes. Pirates were traders
who operated either outside of the legal control of their home states,
or belonged to states that officially sanctioned trading based on the
29
GAA, NA, no. 646A, 130.
30
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 15, see note 87.
31
See various in Koen, “Notarial Records,” 34, no. 1 (2000); 35, no. 1 (2001). Traf-
ficking in prohibited Dutch products to Portugal and especially Spain was widespread
after the expiration of the truce. This trade was usually mediated by New Christian
merchant houses with branches in Portugal, the Dutch Republic and Spain. Customs
officials were often complicit in this highly lucrative trade. See: Belinchón, “ ‘Sacar la
Sustancia al Reino’,” 1017–50.
142 chapter seven
violent seizure of ships at sea. Both groups found that Atlantic trade
was an easy target.
In regards to privateering, the earliest threat to ships carrying sugar
from Brazil to Portugal in the sixteenth century came from the English.
Alongside the French, the English made some early ventures onto
Brazilian coasts. In 1530–32, William Hawkins of Plymouth visited
Brazil in a 250-ton vessel, having also traded in Guinea. By 1540, he
may have completed two more such trips, returning with African ivory
and brazilwood. The Portuguese responded in the 1530s with measures
to extirpate interlopers in the African trade, but around 1540 a few
other Southampton merchants also visited Brazil.32 This early traffic
seemed to have involved dyewood, and it dwindled after 1540. English
trade ties with Iberia itself remained far more important. Also, trade in
Brazil at this juncture did not really attract the great London merchants,
who were mainly focused on the Antwerp trade.33
By the 1570s, the situation had changed, and once again some English
traders turned towards the idea of direct trade with Brazil. Stirred by
André Thevet’s account of the French colony in Guanabara Bay, and
emboldened by the collapse of the Anglo-Spanish alliance, men such as
Richard Grenville and William and John Hawkins—sons of the above-
mentioned trader—envisioned expeditions into the south Atlantic. These
plans came to fruition with Drake’s celebrated voyage of 1577.34 While
Drake’s goal was not Brazil per se, his success and the unification of the
Iberian monarchies in 1580 led to plans to counter Spanish hegemony
in the southern Atlantic. In 1582 William Hawkins sailed for Brazil
in four heavily armed ships that were also freighted with trade items.
As it turns out, his fleet never made it to the Brazilian coast. Hawkins
learned that a Spanish coast guard protected it, called into action by
Drake’s earlier marauding. In 1583 another warship, led by Edward
Fenton, called in São Vicente, where it engaged a Spanish armada and
later called in Espírito Santo. In both harbors the Portuguese refused to
trade. In 1583 another English ship traded in Olinda, but afterwards the
Spanish coast guard arrested the English factors in that town, seizing
32
Andrews, Trade, Plunder and Settlement, 59. See also: G.V. Scammell, “British Smug-
gling in the Iberian Americas Circa 1500–1750,” Itnerario 14, no. 3/4 (2000): 137–8.
Scammell exaggerates when he calls sixteenth century direct trade between England
and Brazil “flourishing,” 167.
33
Andrews, Trade, Plunder and Settlement, 63.
34
Ibid., 137–42.
illegal trade 143
35
Scammell, “British Smuggling in the Iberian Americas,” The author notes that
these fitful attempts at direct trade in the 1570s and early 1580s were opposed by English
merchants doing business in Lisbon, since they felt it undercut their business. Clearly
English merchant interests regarding sugar and brazilwood were not monolithic.
36
Andrews, Trade, Plunder and Settlement, 161–5.
37
Ibid., 245–7.
38
Ibid., 246–7. Merchants in Brazil must have grown wary of all foreign shipping
as a result of English predation. One Dutch captain, Cornelis Jansen, negotiating for
144 chapter seven
freight with Amsterdam merchant Hans de Schot, refused to sail to Brazil to trade
unless he was guaranteed that his freight charge would be paid regardless of whether
he landed or not. He worried that he would be barred because of fear of English
plundering. GAA, NA, no. 72, 25.
39
Andrews, Trade, Plunder and Settlement, 246–7, 252.
40
Ibid., 250. Both quotes here.
illegal trade 145
41
GAA, NA, no. 198, 329–329V.
42
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 111.
43
This was apparently the case with a Dutch ship that was seized by a Dutch
pirate working from the Barbary Coast in 1612. GAA, NA, no. 197, 422. See also:
Ibid., 311.
44
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:79.
45
Ibid., 196; Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 309–10; Pauline Croft, “English Mariners
Trading to Spain and Portugal, 1558–1625,” The Mariner’s Mirror 69, no. 3 (1983):
255.
46
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:198.
47
One fleet in 1618 was attempted. AHU, Pernambuco, caixa 1, (November 21,
1618). The Conselho Ultramarino discussed another proposal in 1623 as a response
146 chapter seven
to “muitos coçarios que nella andão.” AHU, Conselho Ultramarino, Codigo 35, Fol. 187
and subsequent.
48
GAA, NA, no. 379, 604.
49
GAA, NA, no. 381, 485.
50
GAA, NA, no. 49, 271. The insurers were: Heyndrick Hudde, Romboult Jacobs,
Gysbregt Bruininx, Berent Rutgersz, Francois Wolfaertsz, Cornelis Schellinger, Heyn-
drick Ruyter, Hans de Laet, Hans van Gheel, Adriaen du Yardin, Jacob Foreest, Fonger
Sierixz, Claes Andriesz, Pieter Herritsz, Delff and Jan Cornelis Vischer.
51
Andrews, Elizabethan Privateering, 210–12.
52
Ibid., 266–72.
illegal trade 147
53
Scammell, “British Smuggling in the Iberian Americas,” 145–6.
54
Andrews, Elizabethan Privateering, 207–9.
55
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 192–3.
148 chapter seven
1
Schwartz, Sugar Plantations, 167. In spite of claims made by contemporaries such
as Ambrósio Fernandes Brandão that large mills could produce between 10,000 and
152 chapter eight
Year Number of Mills Production in Cargo Tons (54 arrobas per ton)
Arrobas
1583 115 402,500 7,453
1612 192 672,000 12,444
1629 346 1,211,000 22,425
Table 8.1 Brazilian production in arrobas
Source: Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:174.
What then was the value of this crop? Evidence of sugar prices in
the earliest phases of the production of Brazilian sugar comes from a
variety of sources, but the series is riddled with gaps. No satisfactory
record of sugar prices exists to cover all of the years detailed in this
study, and these problems of lacunae in the documentary evidence are
probably insurmountable. Still, there are several useful sources. These
include price quotes from merchants themselves, which are lamentably
few in number. There are also institutional sources, such as figures from
customs houses or brokers’ guilds. These allow the building of series
showing the movement of prices of sugar over time. In some years these
sugar prices can be confirmed by a large number of observations. In
other years there is no information, and in others still the sugar price
quoted rests upon a single observation. In the latter situation, much of
the seasonality of the working of the sugar market is clearly lost.
In fact, when the evidence permits a closer view, it appears that
sugar markets were often distinguished by strong short-term fluctua-
tions in prices. This should come as no surprise. One possible reason is
that, given the limitations of demand, sugar prices responded quickly
12,000 per year, Schwartz has found that this very rarely occurred. Costa has also
found these estimates plausible and calculates on the basis of 3,500 per engenho. Costa,
O transporte no Atlântico, 1:174.
2
These are estimates based on a variety of sources, sometimes conflicting. Costa,
O transporte no Atlântico, 1:169; Schwartz, Sugar Plantations, 168.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 153
3
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 10, no. 2 (1976): 215.
4
Ibid., 13, no. 2 (1979): 239–40. This was on December 3, on which day the price
for moscovado per pound was 15 groten (55 reis) and panela 10 (36 reis). One week later
moscovado sold for 13 ½ (49 reis), while panela was down to 9 (33 reis).
5
Felipe Fernández-Armesto, Near a Thousand Tables: A History of Food (New York:
The Free Press, 2002), 157.
6
Eddy Stols, “The Expansion of the Sugar Market in Western Europe,” in Tropical
Babylons: Sugar and the Making of the Atlantic World, 1450–1680, ed. Stuart B. Schwartz
(Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 2004).
154 chapter eight
7
Poelwijk, ‘In dienste vant suyckerbacken’, 258–62.
8
Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, 192–3.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 155
9
In Antwerp in the sixteenth century merchants used the expression “gegharbrileirt”
to designate the best quality within a type of merchandise, worth a premium in price.
See examples in: Uitterdijk, Een Kamper Handelshuis, 103.
10
One case purportedly led to a conflict between Álvaro de Azevedo and Paulo
Lopes da Cunha around 1609. A ship arrived from Brazil and sprung a leak in Lisbon
harbor, wetting the sugar crates. They were retrieved as quickly as possible and sold
in auction in the Alfândega. IANTT, IL, Processo de Álvaro de Azevedo, No. 728. See also
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 11, no. 2 (1977): 227.
11
In 1610 this appeared to be the case for sugar purchased in Porto. Where the
price for moscovado from Bahia was 1,225 reis per arroba, but only 1,200 from Rio de
Janeiro. GAA, NA, no. 258, 5V–6.
156 chapter eight
Given all of the variables, analysis for sugar costs must be taken
with a great deal of caution. The tables that follow are an attempt
to gather the current information available about wholesale prices for
Brazilian sugar, and to provide the range of quoted prices in various
Brazilian and European centers in the first eighty years of the trade.
These tables present—as far as I am aware—the most comprehensive
summary of Brazilian wholesale sugar prices collected so far, but prob-
lems in analysis remain.12
Let us begin with a look at the price of sugar in Brazilian mills
(table 8.4). Here the available data give a very limited impression.
Nevertheless, it appears that prices may have increased until about
1611, after which they began a steady decline, leveling off in the 1620s
in the range of 800 to 900 reis per arroba. 1623 appears to have been a
low mark, as comments from contemporaries in Brazil confirm. This
may have been the result of a generalized depression coinciding with
the outbreak of the Thirty Year’s War in 1618. War and uncertainty
in Germany certainly would have had an effect on the demand for
sugar, significant quantities of which traveled to German states.13 At
any rate, soon after, sugar prices rose again. When the WIC began to
devastate various sectors of the Brazilian sugar economy after 1624,
there was a serious scarcity in both the supply of sugar and shipping
to carry it to Europe.
12
To show just one example, the two sources available for Lisbon sugar prices in
the year 1618 are highly disparate (see Table 8.4). Leonor Costa records the lower
price—1,100 reis per arroba—for white sugar, based on records reporting the price
in the Lisbon Alfândega. At the same time the Lisbon-based merchant, Pedro Clarisse,
quoted a range of 1,720 to 1,780 reis for white sugar during that year. This represents
a difference of value in the range of 36–38%. As indicated above, in the wartime
years of 1624–1625 this was not an unheard-of range, since prices often fluctuated
wildly. But 1618 was a time of peace. Furthermore, Schwartz records that Brazilian
sugar commanded 1,000 reis per arroba on Brazilian wharfs in 1618. Using the lower
estimate of sugar value in Lisbon has led Costa to conclude that the premium of
arbitrage for transporting sugar from Brazil to Portugal plummeted around the years
1618. Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:243–5. However, if the prices given by Pedro
Clarisse in 1618 are a more accurate estimation of average prices, then the picture
was not so dire for sugar traders. Furthermore, a lack of information about the prices
of moscovado and panela in Brazilian mills frustrates analysis. It could very well be that
the arbitrage margins on these sugars were even higher than for white sugar.
13
Schwartz, Sugar Plantations, 171–2. Although, paradoxically, much sugar began to
be diverted to Hamburg after the cessation of the Twelve Year Truce.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 157
While not apparent from the available data, Brazil, no doubt, also
experienced short-term fluctuations in price. Here European demand
played more of an indirect role. Brazil was insulated from prices in
Amsterdam, Antwerp and Hamburg by a sailing distance of many
months and—although it was prices in these entrepôts that mainly
conditioned the asking price in Brazilian warehouses—fluctuations in
northern European demand probably affected Brazil at slower and
more protracted rhythms. The causes for short-term shifts were prob-
ably more related to organization of the trade in Brazil itself. After the
158 chapter eight
14
Ibid., 169.
15
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:318.
16
Mello, Olinda restaurada, 49.
17
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:59–60; Schwartz, Sugar Plantations, 195.
18
See Claudinei Magno Magre Mendes, “A coroa Portuguesa e a colonização do
Brasil. Aspectos da atuação do estado na constituiçao da colônia,” História 16 (1997):
233–53.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 159
Consequently, in the price data, years for which only one price appears
must be taken with great caution. Where the price data comes from
merchant sources and reveals greater fluctuation over the course of a
single year, it undoubtedly shows real conditions with greater verisimili-
tude. Nevertheless, the Lisbon data show prices moving roughly in sync
with those in Brazil. For white sugar, prices seemed to rise consistently,
reaching a high point around 1610 after which they declined slightly
until about 1618 and remained low until the mid 1620s. After this,
prices rose again, presumably because of scarcity.
The same trends appear for moscovado and panela sugar, although the
data for panela does not provide for firm conclusions. One interesting
observation is that the ratio of value between the three grades of sugar
changed significantly, sometimes from year to year. Different sources
may account for some of the change, but even when the prices come
from the same source the difference is notable. In 1612 and 1613, the
highest price for white sugar recorded by Pedro Clarisse remained
1,800 reis. However, the highest price for moscovado descended from
1,330 to 1,240 reis.
As with Brazil and Lisbon, price information for northwestern
Europe also remains highly fragmentary. One source is the price cur-
rents published by the middle of the sixteenth century in Antwerp as
an aid to the brokers’ guilds.19 For the earliest period, however, these
documents do not always survive. Price currents appeared regularly in
Amsterdam by the end of the sixteenth century, and these provided
the basis for the data famously collected by Posthumus on prices in
Amsterdam. Herman van der Wee’s monumental work on the history
of the Antwerp economy did included sugar prices, but these, unfortu-
nately did not distinguish between grades of sugar, and therefore are of
limited use for the wholesale trade.20 Other municipal sources provide
general trends, but also fail to explain the wholesale prices of sugar.
Donald J. Harreld has analyzed a series of documents from Antwerp
from 1543 to 1545 that constituted the records of the merchant who
19
John J. McCusker and C. Gravesteijn, The beginnings of commercial and financial
journalism: the commodity price currents, exchange rate currents, and money currents of early modern
Europe (Amsterdam: Nederlands Economisch Historisch Archief, 1991), 51–2.
20
Prices are quoted for the St. Bavo Fair in October. It is not clear where the sugar
comes from, what grade it is, nor even if it is refined, which I suspect. The high price
of 60 Brabant groten (218 reis) per pound given in 1600 may very well have been for
sugar from Madeira. Van der Wee’s statistics end in 1600. Herman van der Wee,
The Growth of the Antwerp Market and the European Economy, 2 vols. (The Hague: Nijhoff,
1963), 1:319–21.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 161
had farmed the Hundredth Penny Tax. Harreld has discovered many
price quotes for São Tomé sugar in this period, including 506 registers
that refer to a weight of sugar and a price. Nevertheless, since this
particular tax applied to Antwerp’s exports of sugar, it means that it
was already refined in Antwerp’s refineries. These prices shed little
light then on the price of raw sugar on Antwerp’s markets, but confirm
that prices for sugar—even when refined—fluctuated significantly in
the short term.21
21
Harreld, “Antwerp Sugar Prices,” 611–17. I doubt that the very rich Antwerp
archives have been exhausted for commodities price information, and, hopefully, further
research there will yield more substantive data on sugar prices.
162 chapter eight
The limited data for Brazilian sugar in Antwerp, shown in Table 8.6,
do hint at price convergence between Antwerp, Lisbon and Brazil.22
The trend again is a rise towards 1610; a subsequent fall, especially
after 1618; and recovery by the middle of the 1620s. Additionally, these
prices follow those in nearby Amsterdam, as a later table will show. The
dense network of commercial relationships connecting the two trading
cities—including the Portuguese merchant houses—contributed to the
coordinated movement of prices. As seen in the previous tables, the
Antwerp data does not indicate short-term fluctuations in prices, which
most certainly existed in reality.
Another lacuna requires explanation. This is the lack of data for the
years between 1581 and 1607. But it should come as no surprise. After
the capture of Antwerp by Parma in 1585, the role of Antwerp as the
preeminent sugar staple was over. Although sugar imports to Antwerp
resumed in the following century, the sugar industry in the city on the
Schelde was severely disrupted for several decades.23
Sugar prices in Amsterdam for the period until 1630 remain little
known. The famous Prijsgeschiedenis of Posthumus—based on the afore-
mentioned price currents of the brokers’ guild—only offers consistent
series for the years beginning in 1624.24 Nevertheless, Table 8.7 also
includes mentions of sugar prices from the Amsterdam notarial archives,
as summarized in the Studia Rosenthaliana.25
22
A conversion of the Antwerp prices for sugar into a calculation of reis per arroba
allows a comparison of the change in the value of the commodity from Lisbon to
Antwerp. Stols counts 32 pounds to the arroba for Hamburg and Antwerp. Obviously
there was no standardization during this period. I have based conversions in the sugar
price tables for Antwerp and Hamburg at 28 pounds to the arroba for the sake of
consistency since the Amsterdam calculation is based on a pond value of 0.494 kilogram
and an arroba of 14.69 kilogram, i.e., 1 arroba = 28 pounds. Stols’ table of sugar prices
quoted by Clarisse indicates that the price is given in stuivers per pound, which I have
listed as groten per pound without changing the values. The quotes provided by Stols
seemed extremely high to me compared to other quotes coming from merchants, and
I am convinced that he simply made a mistake listing these quotes as stuivers instead
of groten. See: Stols, De Spaanse Brabanders, Bijlagen, 203–7. For a recent summary
of weights and measures pertaining to Dutch shipping, see: Johannes Postma and
Victor Enthoven, eds., Riches from Atlantic Commerce: Dutch Transatlantic Trade and Shipping,
1585–1817, (The Hague: Brill, 2003), 461–5.
23
In 1590, only 30 crates of sugar were imported into Antwerp. Pohl, “Die Zuck-
ereinfuhr nach Antwerpen,” 354.
24
N.W. Posthumus, Nederlandsche prijsgeschiedenis, 2 vols. (The Hague: Brill, 1943),
1:119, 122.
25
I have found only a handful of sugar price quotes out of the roughly 4,000 records
that have been summarized so far in this series, including those until the year 1628.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 163
and the Almirantazgo tightened the noose around illegal trade, this pres-
sure on prices surely remained, in spite of the sugar prizes brought to
Amsterdam by the WIC war fleets. Price convergence was affected by
the political actions of the states along the commodity chain.
Data for sugar prices in Hamburg are limited to the 1620s, shown
here in Table 8.8. The series is probably too small to be of much value,
but it still shows the general rise in prices seen in all other markets in
Europe towards the end of this decade. Hamburg probably benefited
from increased imports during this period as a result of the disrup-
tion to the Amsterdam sugar staple with the lapse of the Twelve Year
Truce.
A comparison of price data for Europe and Brazil, assembled in
Figure 8.1, confirms two main points, already suggested above. One is
that prices for sugar in Europe were relatively closely coordinated in
their movements. This is consistent with a ‘free’ market for sugar and an
inter-imperial organization in the wholesale sector. Secondly, sugar prices
remained high in Europe compared to Brazil. This indicates that the
premium of arbitrage in moving Brazilian sugar to Europe was usually
substantial. As discussed above, profit from arbitrage owed to a variety
of factors whose relative importance may have changed from period
to period. The larger trend driving profit until was the most likely the
growth of demand. As the data above suggest, increased production in
Brazil did not generally lead to lower prices in Brazil or Europe.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 165
3500
3000 Bahia
Reis per Arroba
2500
Lisbon
2000
Amsterdam
1500
1000 Antwerp
500 Hamburg
0
16 0
21
16 2
23
16 4
1625
16 6
16 7
28
1607
16 8
1609
16 0
11
16 3
16 4
1615
16 6
1617
16 8
19
16 2
2
2
0
1
1
1
1
16
16
16
16
16
Year
26
Koen, “Notarial Records,” 13, no. 2 (1979): 239.
27
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:307–9.
28
GAA, NA, no. 645, 43V–44. Costa confirms this from multiple sources. Costa,
O transporte no Atlântico, 1:310.
29
Costa’s scholarship on the financial structure of shipping arrangements is also
magisterial. See especially Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:369–81.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 167
16000
14000
12000
Reis per Ton
(54 arrobas)
10000
8000
6000
4000
2000
0
80
83
86
89
92
95
98
01
04
07
10
13
16
16
19
25
28
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
Year
30
The data for these years incorporate a high number of observations, which lends
them a very strong credibility as well. Ibid., 1:371.
31
Although many hundreds in the period to 1630 do stipulate return cargoes:
mainly of salt.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 169
freight charged per last of sugar moved from Portugal to the Dutch
Republic hovered between 27 and 39 guilders (1,964–2,836 reis per ton).
By 1627 the cost of shipping had nearly tripled, with freight charged
for the same route from 65 to 84 guilders (4,727–6,109 reis per ton).
Once again, risk explains the difference. These latter journeys were
contracted for contraband trade, sailing around Scotland and England to
avoid the Dunkirk privateers who were notoriously active in these years.
Their captains intended to land—probably with foreign passports—in
the Algarve, which was under less scrutiny by crown authorities. This
type of shipping, still being planned some years after the creation of
the WIC, could only be carried out at considerable risk.
A further point revealed in Table C2 (Appendix C) is the relative
cheapness of inter-European transportation of sugar. The few examples
from the years 1610–11 offer a comparison. Here freight is charged
per last, which is calculated as eight or ten crates per last. A last was
more-or-less double a Portuguese ton, and, as Costa has shown, the
practice during this period in Portugal was to charge freight per 54-arroba
ton. This amount of cargo space held generally four crates of sugar
in the period until 1621. So the Dutch show some approximation of
Portuguese freighting practices. If a ship had freighted eight crates
(around 13.5 arrobas per crate) per ton, then the total weight per ton
would be 108 arrobas. Consequently the freight charge in 1611 from
Rotterdam to Viana and back to Amsterdam with a cargo of sugar
would have been 14 guilders per 54 arrobas (i.e. one Portuguese ton of
sugar cargo). This translates into 2,032 reis per ton, based on average
peacetime values, shown in Table C2 (The average freight charge for
the Brazilian leg of the journey in that year was 9,000 reis per ton.). If
the Dutch were able to pack 10 crates into a last, as was stipulated in
one contract in 1610, the savings would have been even greater. This
should come as no surprise. The round trip from the Low Countries to
Portugal was significantly shorter than that between Brazil and Portugal.
It is true that Dutch ships were larger and therefore required a larger
crew, but the Dutch were still renowned for the economy of their ship-
ping. A merchant marine that had developed to move vast quantities
of grain and salt back and forth between the Iberian Peninsula and
northwestern Europe could easily absorb the shipping requirements of
a relatively small amount of sugar moving north from Portugal.
What, then, did freighters earn on shipping sugar? Without system-
atic evidence from merchant’s account books, this question remains
impossible to answer. However, it seems certain that price margins on
170 chapter eight
freighting sugar were highly variable both in times of war and peace.32
Freight charges between these two regions were generally stable during
the years of the Truce (1610–1621), averaging 9,127 reis per 54-arroba
ton (see Appendix C). So if this cost is weighed against the higher quotes
for sugar in this period, it appears that profitability was a distinct pos-
sibility throughout the Truce, as seen in Table 8.9. This remains only
an exercise, since none of the figures below come from actual voyages
undertaken. Also, they do not reflect the expense of taxes in Lisbon, or
other risk-management costs. However, assuming that these taxes were
about 30%, the potential price margins for sugar after taxes remained
high, ranging from 12–43%.33 If merchants used the ports of Viana
or Porto, the earnings may have been greater.
32
Costa has estimated that the premium of arbitrage for sugar shipped from Brazil
to Portugal remained high until around 1610, after which it dropped for nearly a decade
and a half. She only sees a return to profitability in the years following the invasion
of Bahia, with the return of high prices in Lisbon. This has led Costa to assume that
profitability in shipping sugar during this period must have accrued in the re-distribu-
tion routes. Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:239–48. Using higher figures for prices in
sugar during this period contradict this assessment.
33
I am assuming that taxes in Lisbon were paid on current wholesale values of
sugar in Lisbon. It is possible that sugar was often undervalued for this purpose as
some of the Alfândega data seems to suggest (see previous arguments in this chapter).
In that case, profits for traders were even higher.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 171
figures suggest, then the premium would have been even greater.34 But
even with these relatively high prices in Lisbon, the margin obtained by
moving sugar north was considerable. Although the gap between prices
in the two entrepôts was smaller than that between Brazil and Lisbon,
shipping was much cheaper. Presumably there was greater convergence
between these two European markets. Detailed information about freight
charges for freighting sugar from Portugal to the Dutch Republic during
the Truce is lacking, as we have seen, but this table assumes average
freight rates for the period at 2,032 reis per ton, as described above.
Likewise, the value of the convooien en licenten charged in Amsterdam on
sugar are not known for this period, but shippers could still profit even
if these taxes were 5%, which is very plausible.
34
As an exercise, we may look at Costa’s figure for sugar in Lisbon in 1618 at 1,100
reis per arroba. At this price, a ton shipped to Amsterdam would have netted 48,296
reis after freight charges. This represents a profit of 48,296 reis, or 81%. Given the
quantity and utter regularity of shipping between Portugal and the Dutch Republic,
i.e. their price integration, there is no way that this price imbalance could have been
sustained over the long term.
172 chapter eight
35
Hespanha, As vésperas do leviathan, 142.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 173
36
F.N. de Carvalho, H. Johnson, and M.B.N. da Silva, Nova História da Expansão
Portuguesa: O Império Luso-Brasileiro, 1500–1620 (Lisbon: Editorial Estampa, 1992), 296;
John Lynch, The Hispanic World in Crisis and Change, 1598–1700 (Oxford: Blackwell,
1992), 478.
37
The rest would have gone to Italy, England and other German towns. Of course,
some sugar stayed in Portugal, although it is difficult to say how much. The market
there would have been relatively small, although sugar consumption was increasing
in urban areas. Kellenbenz, Sephardim an der unteren Elbe, 478; Pohl, “Die Zuckerein-
fuhr nach Antwerpen,” 33; Stols, “The Expansion of the Sugar Market in Western
Europe,” 237–88.
174 chapter eight
How significant was sugar to the economy of the Dutch Republic, its
largest importer? At the peak period of trade, during the Twelve Year
Truce, probably at least half of all Portuguese sugar exports went to
Amsterdam. For the year 1612, this would have equaled 336,000 arrobas,
or 9,408,000 Dutch ponden. At 20 groten per pound (see Table 8.7), this
means that Brazilian sugar shipped from Portugal to Amsterdam had a
gross value of 4,704,000 guilders (684,218,181 reis).38 If accurate, that
was not a negligible amount. At a margin of 14%, merchants would
have yielded 658,560 guilders (95,790,545 reis) upon resale in the Dutch
Republic. This is close to the average annual profits of the VOC during
the 1620s, calculated at 750,000 guilders per year.39
The importance of sugar at this stage in European history must
be taken in context. Portugal was comparatively underdeveloped in
domestic industry and agriculture, and so the sugar trade—like all of
its overseas trade—loomed large as a source of wealth in the kingdom.
In the Dutch Republic this trade existed alongside thriving agriculture,
a diversified maritime sector, and a host of domestic industries. Profits
from the sugar trade only represented a small fraction of the wealth
created by the Dutch economy. For example, in the year 1630, woolen
cloth production from Leiden alone was probably worth 4 million
guilders. The gross value of the Dutch herring catch in the same year
may have been about 3 million guilders.40
But, unlike the herring and woolen cloth industries, the Brazilian
sugar trade was international, and the profit made by resale in the
Netherlands was only one aspect of the total profit made in the trade.
Given its overall value, it is not surprising that it prompted merchants
38
Strong confirmation for my estimate comes from the statement of Portuguese
merchants in Amsterdam in 1621 that sugar paid between 35,000 and 40,000 annu-
ally on the municipal scales. Since it was taxed here at 1% or less, that indicates
an annual import worth 4,000,000 guilders or more. See: “Deductie” in IJzerman,
“Deductie,” 103. Of course, the “Deductie” must be used with caution. Also note
that in 1618 Portuguese merchants in Amsterdam claimed that they had lost 539,071
guilders (78,410,327 reis) to confiscations by the Holy Office of goods in possession
of their correspondents in Portugal. A majority of these were sugar: “Declaratie van
de schaden” ARA, SG (Liassen admiraliteiten) 12561.31.
39
Actual revenues for the VOC in these years averaged 4,750,000 guilders
(690,909,091 reis). But expenses (4,000,000) were also high. Note that the value of
the silver from the Spanish silver fleet captured by Piet Heyn in 1628 was 11.5 mil-
lion guilders, equivalent to more than twice the average annual revenue of the VOC
around that time. Vries and Woude, The First Modern Economy, 390–9.
40
Ibid., 267, 286.
supply, demand, prices and profitability 175
were still relatively high. This profitability is what drove the Brazilian
sugar trade, and European governments recognized this when they
taxed it or otherwise tried to regulate it. It is no wonder that the lure
of profits from sugar prompted significant movements of merchants
from one country to another.
CONCLUSION
When Brazil began to produce sugar for European markets after 1550,
sugar was already a proven moneymaker for merchants who had been
shipping it for decades from São Tomé and Madeira. In the subsequent
eight decades, Brazilian sugar would come to dominate the market, and
although production in Brazil rose steadily during this time, markets
grew as well, evidenced by the high profitability of sugar throughout
these years in wholesale markets.
The demand for Brazilian sugar was satisfied during a politically
turbulent period and it overcame a variety of obstacles. Sugar pro-
duction was an Iberian initiative, but the wholesale markets for sugar
were in northwestern Europe. As it happened, in the second half of
the sixteenth century dynastic politics set the unified Iberian crown in
a military and political struggle against much of northwestern Europe,
and especially the Low Countries, its economic heart. Consequently,
one important context for the trade was the Eighty Year War between
Habsburg Spain and the Dutch Republic. During a pause in this
struggle—the Twelve Year Truce—the Brazilian sugar trade flourished
like never before.
Nevertheless, neither European political struggles nor mercantilist-
type state policies primarily shaped the course of the Brazilian sugar
trade in the period to 1630. This is partly because the trade was rela-
tively free, and not generally subject to state-based control or mono-
polies. But even when certain states tried to prevent it, Brazilian sugar
tended to flow through Portugal to its main markets in northwestern
Europe. In spite of occasional embargoes and the disruption of tra-
ditional markets in the Low Countries as a result of the Eighty Year
War, the sugar trade showed remarkable resilience. This was partly
the result of the dynamism of the highly multilocal merchant net-
works that facilitated it. Portuguese trade with northwestern Europe
spawned reciprocal migrations of merchants. Merchant houses formed
inter-imperial networks of correspondents and relatives with a vast geo-
graphic reach, allowing for flexibility and responsiveness when dealing
with sugar markets. Merchant mobility and inter-imperial organization
meant that the sugar trade could persist in spite of political crises. In
178 conclusion
logic. Given the cosmopolitan nature of their networks, they had the
means to do so.
At the same time, at least during the Twelve Year Truce, there is no
evidence to show that contraband trading was widespread. Although
Brazil’s vast coastline invited illegal access, most sugar was channeled
through specific ports where controls were in place. More importantly,
the system of controls and taxation was not at great odds with the
structure of the market. Portugal remained the logical returning point
from Brazil, given its position in the center of trade networks. And
taxation in the metropolis was not so high that it prevented merchants
from making good profits.
These high profits were the driving force in the sugar trade until
1630. When voyages were successful, price margins less freight in the
sugar trade were very high. The trade not only enriched merchants, but
it also contributed to the income of states; in Portugal, sugar receipts
formed the largest part of customs income.
The trade in Brazilian sugar—the first major Atlantic trade—was an
inter-imperial phenomenon. This showed in the merchants who drove
it, the investment structure that facilitated it, and the merchant marine
that carried it. The early modern European states that benefited from
the sugar trade—especially Portugal—taxed it, but generally left it free.
Therefore it is wrong to identify the first age of Atlantic commerce as
‘mercantilist,’ or to identify the Brazilian sugar trade as a particularly
Portuguese or Sephardic enterprise.
The international nature of the trade, and the merchant networks
that facilitated it, allowed it to prosper during a turbulent political
period. The greatest demand for sugar was in the Low Countries,
and the political rebellions that broke out there in the 1550s could
not help but affect the rhythms of the trade. But they did not alter its
basic geographic orientation: most of the supply continued to move
from Brazil to Portugal to northwestern Europe. During a pause in
the Eighty Year War, free trade blossomed between Portugal and the
Dutch Republic.
Hopefully this study will continue to lead to a wider interpretation
of the early Atlantic world. In particular, it strongly suggests that
mercantilism in the creation of the Atlantic world was generally more
normative than descriptive. This fact has all too often been obscured
through analytical categories and national narratives that are ill sup-
ported by evidence. Not only that, but this work suggests a level of
integration in the early Atlantic world that is usually posited only for
180 conclusion
the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Most would agree that
the economy of the present day is marked by the mobility of capital
and the internationalization of finance. The story of the Brazilian
sugar trade challenges us to admit that the antecedents of modern
globalization are distant.
APPENDIX A
One of the most significant decisions for a merchant was his choice of
ports for trade. Aside from the obvious need to have a partner in that
port, the decision was influenced by the availability of both commodi-
ties for trade and a port infrastructure that allowed him to move this
commodity expeditiously. Ports in Brazil served the largest sugar produc-
ing areas, and consequently it is not surprising that Pernambuco and
Bahia attracted the most traffic. The evidence from notarized contracts
celebrated in Lisbon and Porto confirms this abundantly. The numbers
of contracts fluctuate significantly from year to year and they cannot
show absolute traffic. But taken in ten-year increments they indicate
a remarkable orientation towards these two major ports, with Rio de
Janeiro and Espírito Santo following at a significant lag.
1580–89 8 8 1 0 19 37
1590–99 11 26 5 3 44 71
1600–09 34 43 2 5 82 144
1610–19 24 38 0 6 74 165
1620–29 34 64 0 12 114 191
Totals 111 179 8 26 333 608
Table A.1 Lisbon and Porto notarial contracts mentioning Brazilian ports
of call, 1580–1630
Source: Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 2:191–216. Note: these are not all freight contracts,
but rather all contracts in which a voyage was implicit. Some contracts mentioned
either only Brazil as a destination, or multiple ports of call in Brazil.
the kingdom’s customs income.1 Some twenty years later when the
crown wished to levy an exceptional tax on merchants for the rescue
of Pernambuco it still assumed that nearly 60% of the revenue would
come from Lisbon alone.2
Freight contracts celebrated in Amsterdam for the Baltic-Portuguese
trade in the second decade of the seventeenth century also point to the
preeminence of Lisbon. Generally, since this trade was heavily oriented
towards salt, Setubal received pride of place as the most visited har-
bor. But among the other ports, stops in Lisbon were anticipated most
frequently. In 1619, Lisbon surpassed Setubal as the port-of-call most
contracted. Nevertheless, in many cases contracts left the exact port-of-
call open, mentioning several stops in Portugal as possibilities.
Nevertheless, even if Lisbon remained the most important port, the
Brazilian sugar trade gave a new life to merchant activity in Porto and
Viana. For Viana, involvement in the Brazilian sugar trade began early,
and already in 1566 several Vianese ships were recorded as having
transported Brazilian sugar. That number may have risen to as many
as several dozen per annum in subsequent decades. In the year 1617,
Viana may have accounted for about one fifth of sugar imports into
Portugal.3 During this period the relatively low level of its customs
1
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:102–3.
2
Ibid., 1:101.
3
Moreira, Os Mercadores de Viana, 24–6. The Vianese had a particularly strong asso-
ciation with Pernambuco, according to Fernão Cardim, a Jesuit observer in 1584.
appendix a 183
taxation must have helped to boost its fortunes. However, the cost
advantages of Viana had to be weighed against the difficulties of her
harbor, which was too silted to admit large vessels.4
While Viana probably remained in most years only the third larg-
est importer of Brazilian sugar, the importance of this product to
the economic life of the port is hard to over-estimate. In 1598, sugar
accounted for 85% of all of the sisa receipts in the town. This number
rose to 87% in 1631.5 Of 120 freight contracts examined by Moreira,
76% of them—91 in total—refer to planned trips to Brazil.6
Mauro has also emphasized that the period from 1550 to 1620
marked the reemergence of the northern ports. But, in his view, this
happened at the expense of Lisbon.7 The Carreira da Índia, which was
centered on Lisbon, had dominated the earlier phase of Portuguese
overseas expansion, generating the preponderance of wealth. This was
a monopoly venture. Mauro argues that, with the emergence of the free
Brazilian sugar trade, the northern ports enjoyed resurgence, since they
were effective redistribution centers for northern destinations. Viana and
Porto, as well as smaller ports such as Caminha, Aveiro and Vila do
Conde had always possessed merchant communities as well as impor-
tant fishing fleets. When new opportunities beckoned, merchants were
quick to seize them, sending their sons to Brazil to become lavradores
and senhores do engenho as well as factors and correspondents for sugar
trading.8 At the same time, ships that had been employed in fishing
were converted for use in trans-Atlantic trading expeditions.
Mauro was correct to show that sugar revitalized northern ports, but
as Costa has shown, he incorrectly assumed that this growth came at the
expense of Lisbon.9 She has, rather, emphasized the interdependency
of all of the Portuguese harbors (see Tables A.3 and A.4). Her evidence
from notarial contracts offers a compelling argument that this was so.
Many of the contracts that she has analyzed show that—on Brazil
voyages—a ship might leave one harbor in the metropolis and return
4
According to one English trader it could only be entered with “a fair wind and
a fair weather, a smooth and calm water, a spring tide, and that there hath no great
water lately fallen on the land . . . for that the said port is as aforesaid full of rocks,
shelves and sands.” Quote in Croft, “English Mariners,” 261.
5
Moreira, Os Mercadores de Viana, 26.
6
Ibid., 61.
7
Mauro, Portugal, o Brasil e o Atlântico, 2:255–7.
8
Moreira, Os Mercadores de Viana, 13–23.
9
Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:106.
184 appendix a
1580–89 14 14 0 0 0
1590–99 37 20 0 10 5 2
1600–09 52 7 0 36 0 9
1610–19 28 6 1 2 4 15
1620–29 54 40 0 0 1 13
10
I take this argument from Costa, but I am using her data in a different way,
especially in regard to periodization. I believe that this data is far too thin to interpret
quantitatively. Rather it shows some typical patterns of trade.
appendix a 185
A few of the freight contracts drafted for Hans de Schot in the 1590s
show that foreigners in the Brazil trade before 1605 also adhered to this
pattern that encompassed the Atlantic Islands, as well as other ports.
In 1595 de Schot freighted the ship Den gulden Leeuw, captained by Ben
Jans of Enkhuizen. This large ship—of 300 tons—was to load grain
in Danzig for sale in North Africa, a typical circuit for Baltic grain.
However, de Schot instructed the shipper then to load wine in Cadiz,
the Canary Islands or Madeira and then to sail to Bahia or Pernambuco
for merchandise—presumably sugar—to return to Portugal.11 In the
next few years he freighted several more Dutch ships for nearly identi-
cal patterns of trade.12 In at least one case, he mentioned that a super
cargo would travel on board to make the local arrangements.13
11
GAA, NA, no. 47, 96V.
12
GAA, NA, no. 48, 21; no. 50, 39V; no. 51, 79.
13
GAA, NA, no. 50, 39V.
APPENDIX B
FREIGHT CHARGES
1580 5800
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585 6400
1586 6500
1587 8000
1588 8700
1589 8500
1590 8000
1591 9500
1592 9000
1593 9600
1594 9750
1595 10500
1596 10000
1597
1598 11000
1599 10600
1600 10700
1601 10750
1602 10350
1603 10300
1604 9600
1605 10200
1606 10100
1607 10000
1608 10000
1609 9800
1610 10000
1611 9000
1612 8280
1613 9000
1614 8800
1615 8800
1616 9160
1617 8820
192 appendix c
1618 9500
1619 9500
1620 9000
1621 9660
1622
1623 7600
1624 10000
1625
1626 12500
1627 15000
1628 14950
1629
1630 15000
Table C.1 Freight charges: Brazil to Portugal, reis per ton
Source: Costa, O transporte no Atlântico, 1:371.
Table C.2 Freight charges for sugar, Portugal to the Dutch Republic
Source: Koen, “Notarial Records,” 4, no. 2 (1970): 254; 5, no. 1 (1971): 107–8, 115,
119–20; 5, no. 2 (1971): 230–1, 235; 6, no. 1 (1972): 107–8, 114; 11, no. 2 (1977):
160; 17, no. 1 (1983): 78; 23, no. 1 (1989): 207; 32, no. 1 (1998): 88; 35, no. 1 (2001):
69, 70, 76, 77, 87.
* The Condaet or Condado was technically the region between the rivers Guadiana
and Guadalquivir in Andalusia, but also sometimes meant the Algarve. Contracts for
the southern coast of Spain and Portugal were quite often loosely prescriptive, suggest-
ing that the captain visit a number of ports until he got a full cargo. Koen, “Notarial
Records,” 1, no. 2 (1967): 113.
BIBLIOGRAPHY AND SOURCES
Archives
Gemeentearchief Amsterdam
Notarieel Archief
Bibliography
Primary Sources
“Advies tot aanbeveling van de verovering van Brazilië.” Kroniek van het Historisch
Genootschap ser., 6, 27, no. 2 (1871): 228–56.
Bang, Nina Ellinger. Tabeller over skibsfart og varetransport genem Øresund 1497–1669. 2 vols.
Vol. 1. Copenhagen: Gyldenalske Boghandel, 1928.
Brandão, Ambrosio Fernandes. Diálogos das grandezas do Brasil. Edited by José Antonio
Gonsalves de Mello. Vol. 1, Documentos para a historia do Nordeste. Recife: Imprensa
Universitária, 1966.
Garcia, Rodolfo. “Livro das denunciações que se fizerão na visitação do Santo Ofício
à cidade do Salvador da Bahia de Todos os Santos do Estado do Brasil, no anno
de 1618.” Anais da Biblioteca Nacional do Rio de Janeiro 49 (1927): 75–198.
Häpke, Rudolf, ed. Niederländische Akten und Urkunden zur Geschichte der Hanse und zur
Deutschen Seegeschichte. 2 vols. Lübeck: Gebrüder Borchers, 1923.
IJzerman, J.W, ed. Amsterdamsche bevrachtingscontracten, 1519–1602. Deel 1, De vaart Op
Spanje en Portugal, Economisch-Historisch Jaarboek. The Hague: Nijhoff, 1931.
——. “Deductie vervaetende den oorspronck ende progres van de vaart ende handel op
Brasil, 1622.” In Journael van de reis naar Zuid-Amerika (1598–1601) door Hendrik Ottsen,
98–111, Linschoten Vereeniging, Grote Ser. No. 16. The Hague: Nijhoff, 1918.
Japikse, N., ed. RSG, 1590–1592, RGP, Grote Ser. No. 55. The Hague: Nijhoff,
1923.
196 bibliography and sources
——, ed. RSG, 1596–1597, RGP, Grote Ser. No. 62. The Hague, Nijhoff, 1926.
——, ed. RSG, 1598–1599, RGP, Grote Ser. No. 71. The Hague: Nijhoff, ?
——, ed. RSG, 1600–1601, RGP, Grote Ser. No. 85. The Hague: Nijhoff, 1941.
Kellenbenz, Hermann, ed. Die Fugger in Spanien und Portugal bis 1560: Dokumente. Edited
by Josef Becker, Henning Krauss and Erich Weber. Vol. 34, Schriften der Philosophischen
Fakultäten der Universität Augsburg. Munich: Verlag Ernst Vögel, 1990.
Koen, E.M. “Notarial Records Relating to the Portuguese Jews in Amsterdam up to
1639.” Studia Rosenthaliana.
Laet, Johannes de. Jaerlyck verhael van de verrichtinghen der Gheoctroyeerde West-Indische
Compagnie in derthien boecken. Edited by S.P. L’Honoré Naber and J.C.M. Warnsinck.
4 vols., Linschoten Vereeniging, Grote Ser. No. 34, 35, 37, 40. The Hague: Nijhoff,
1931–1937.
Livro primeiro do governo do Brasil, 1607–1633. Rio de Janeiro: Seção de Publicações do
Serviço de Documentação, 1958.
Mauro, Frédéric, ed. Le Bresil au XVII e Siécle. Documents inédits relatifs à l’Atlantique Portugais.
Coimbra: University Press, 1963.
Mello, José Antônio Gonsalves de. “Os livros de saídas das urcas do porto do Recife,
1595–1605.” Revista do Instituto Arqueológico Histórico e Geográfico de Pernambuco 58 (1993):
21–143.
Oliveira, Fr. Nicolao de. Livro das grandezas de Lisboa. Lisbon, 1804.
Pereira, Isaías Rosa, ed. A Inquisição em Portugal. Lisbon: Vega, 1993.
Posthumus, N.W. Nederlandsche prijsgeschiedenis. 2 vols. The Hague: Brill, 1943.
Rego, A. da Silva, ed. As Gavetas Da Torre Do Tombo. Vol. I, Gav. I–II. Lisbon: Centro
de Estudos Históricos Ultramarinos, 1960.
——, ed. As Gavetas Da Torre Do Tombo. Vol. IV, Gav. XV, Maços 1–15. Lisbon: Centro
de Estudos Históricos Ultramarinos, 1964.
——, ed. As Gavetas Da Torre Do Tombo. Vol. V, Gav. XV, Maços 16–24. Lisbon: Centro
de Estudos Históricos Ultramarinos, 1965.
——, ed. As Gavetas Da Torre Do Tombo. Vol. VIII, Gav. XVIII, Maços 1–6. Lisbon:
Centro de Estudos Históricos Ultramarinos, 1970.
——, ed. As Gavetas Da Torre Do Tombo. Vol. IX, Gav. XVIII, Maços 7–13. Lisbon:
Centro de Estudos Históricos Ultramarinos, 1971.
——, ed. As Gavetas Da Torre Do Tombo. Vol. X, Gav. XIX–XX, Maços 1–7. Lisbon:
Centro de Estudos Históricos Ultramarinos, 1974.
Rijperman, H.H.P., ed. RSG, 1602–1603, RGP, Grote Ser. No. 92. The Hague: Nijhoff,
1950.
——, ed. RSG, 1604–1606, RGP, Grote Ser. No. 101. The Hague: Nijhoff, 1957.
Smit, J.G., ed. RSG, 1617–1618, RGP, Grote Ser. No. 152. The Hague: Nijhoff, 1975.
Uitterdijk, J. Nanninga. Een Kamper handelshuis te Lissabon, 1572–1594. Zwolle: De Erven
J.J. Tijl, 1904.
Warnsinck, J.C.M., ed. De reis om de wereld van Joris Van Spilbergen, 1614–1617. Vol. 47,
Linschoten Vereeniging, Grote Ser. No. 38. The Hague: Nijhoff, 1943.
Winkelman, P.H., ed. Bronnen voor de geschiedenis van de Nederlandse oostzeehandel in de zeven-
tiende eeuw. 6 vols., RGP, Grote Ser. No. 133, 184, 165, 186, 178, 186. The Hague:
Nijhoff, 1971–83.
Barbour, Violet. Capitalism in Amsterdam in the 17th Century. Ann Arbor: University of
Michigan Press, 1963.
——. “Dutch and English Merchant Shipping in the Seventeenth Century.” The Economic
History Review 2, no. 2 (1930): 261–90.
——. “Marine Risks and Insurance in the Seventeenth Century.” Journal of Economic
and Business History 1 (1928/29): 561–96.
Belinchón, Bernardo José López. “ ‘Sacar la sustancia al reino.’ comercio, contrabando
y conversos Portugueses, 1621–1640.” Hispania; revista española de historia 61, no. 3
(2001): 1017–50.
Beylen, Jules van. Schepen van de Nederlanden, van de late middeleeuwen tot het einde van de 17.
Eeuw. Amsterdam: P.N. van Kampen, 1970.
Bijlsma, R. “Rotterdams Amerika-vaart in de eerste helft der zeventiende eeuw.” Bijdragen
voor Vaderlansche Geschiedenis en Oudheidkunde 5, no. 3 (1916): 97–142.
Birmingham, David. Trade and Empire in the Atlantic, 1400–1600. London: Routledge,
2000.
Bloom, Herbert I. The Economic Activities of the Jews of Amsterdam in the Seventeenth and
Eighteenth Centuries. Williamsport, Penn: The Bayard Press, 1937.
Boogaart, E. van den. “La expansión Holandesa en el Atlántico, 1580–1800.” In Los
Neerlandeses en el mundo comercial Atlántico de la doble monarquía Ibérica, 1590 –1621, edited
by E. van den Boogaart. Madrid: Niel-Gerond, 1992.
——. “The Trade between Western Africa and the Atlantic World, 1600–90: Estimates
of Trends in Composition and Value.” 33, no. 3 (1992): 369–85.
Bouza Alvarez, Fernando Jesús. “Portugal en la política Flamenca de Felipe II: sal,
pimienta y rebelión en los Países Bajos.” Hispania; revista española de historia 52, no. 2
(1992): 689–702.
Boxer, C.R. The Dutch in Brazil, 1624–1654. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957.
——. The Dutch Seaborne Empire, 1600–1800. New York: Viking Penguin, 1988.
——. From Lisbon to Goa, 1500–1750: Studies in Portuguese Maritime Enterprise. London:
Variorum Reprints, 1984.
——. Salvador De Sá and the Struggle for Brazil and Angola, 1602–1686. London: University
of London, 1952.
Boyajian, James C. Portuguese Bankers at the Court of Spain, 1626–1650. New Brunswick,
NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1983.
——. Portuguese Trade in Asia under the Habsburgs, 1580–1640. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1993.
Braudel, Fernand. The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II.
2 vols. New York: Harper & Row, 1966.
——. The Wheels of Commerce, Civilization and Capitalism 15th–18th Century, Vol. 2. New
York: Harper & Row, 1979.
Brito, Pedro de. “The Stillbirth of a Portuguese Bourgeoisie: Leading Families of Porto
(1500–1580).” Mediterranean Studies 5 (1995): 7–29.
Bruijn, Jaap R. “Institutions, Transaction Costs, and the Rise of Merchant Empires.”
In The Political Economy of Merchant Empires, edited by James D. Tracy. New York:
Cambridge University Press, 1991.
Brulez, Wilfred. “The Balance of Trade in the Netherlands in the Middle of the
Sixteenth Century.” Acta Historiae Neerlandica 4 (1970): 20–48.
Carvalho, F.N. de, H. Johnson, and M.B.N. da Silva. Nova história da expansão Portuguesa:
o império Luso-Brasileiro, 1500 –1620. Edited by H. Johnson and M.B.N. da Silva.
Lisbon: Editorial Estampa, 1992.
Childs, Wendy R. “Anglo-Portuguese Trade in the Fifteenth Century.” Transactions of
the Royal Historical Society 6, no. 2 (1992): 195–219.
Coclanis, Peter A. The Atlantic Economy during the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries:
Organization, Operation, Practice, and Personnel. Columbia: University of South Carolina
Press, 2005.
198 bibliography and sources
In The Frontiers of the New Institutional Economics, edited by John N. Drobak and John
V.C. Nye, 57–94. San Diego and London: Academic Press, 1997.
Hancock, David. Citizens of the World: London Merchants and the Integration of the British
Atlantic Community, 1735–1785. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997.
——. “L’émergence d’une Économie De Réseau (1640–1815).” Annales, histoire, sciences
sociales 58 (2003): 649–72.
Harreld, Donald J. “Antwerp Sugar Prices from the Hundredth Penny Tax Records
(1543–45).” Journal of European Economic History 31, no. 3 (2002): 611–17.
Heijer, Henk den. De geschiedenis van de WIC. Zutphen: Walburg, 1994.
——. “The Dutch West India Company.” In Riches from Atlantic Commerce: Dutch Trans-
atlantic Trade and Shipping, 1585–1817, edited by Johannes Postma and Victor Enthoven,
77–112. The Hague: Brill, 2003.
Hespanha, Antonio Manuel. As vésperas do Leviathan: instituições e poder político Portugal-Séc.
XVII. Coimbra: Livraria Almedina, 1994.
Huussen, Arend H. “The Legal Position of the Jews in the Dutch Republic.” In Dutch
Jewry: Its History and Secular Culture (1500–2000), edited by Jonathan Israel and Reinier
Salverda. Leiden: Brill, 2002.
Israel, Jonathan Irvine. “A Conflict of Empires: Spain and the Netherlands 1618–1648.”
Past and Present 76 (1977): 34–74.
——. Dutch Primacy in World Trade, 1585–1740. Oxford: Clarendon, 1989.
——. The Dutch Republic and the Hispanic World, 1606–1661. Oxford: Clarendon,
1982.
——. The Dutch Republic: Its Rise, Greatness, and Fall, 1477–1806. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1995.
——. Empires and Entrepôts: The Dutch, the Spanish Monarchy, and the Jews, 1585–1713.
London: Hambledon Press, 1990.
——. “Sephardic Immigration into the Dutch Republic, 1595–1672.” Studia Rosenthaliana
23, no. 2 (1989): 45–53.
Kamen, Henry. Empire: How Spain Became a World Power, 1492–1763. New York: Harper
Collins, 2003.
Kellenbenz, Hermann. “Der Brasilienhandel der Hamburger ‘Portugiesen’ zu Ende
des 16. und in der ersten Hälfte des 17. Jahrhunderts.” Portugiesische Forschungen der
Görresgesellschaft, Aussätze zur Portugiesischen Kulturgeschichte 1 (1960): 316–34.
——. “Der Norden und die Iberische Halbinsel von der Wikingerzeit bis ins 16.
Jahrhundert.” In Kleine Schriften, Bd. 1: Europa, Raum Wirtschaftlicher Begegnung, 51–76.
Stuttgart: Vierteljahresschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte: Beihefte, 1991.
——. Sephardim an der unteren Elbe. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1958.
——. Unternehmerkrafte im Hamburger Portugal- und Spanienhandel 1590–1625. Hamburg:
Verlag der Hamburgischen Bücherei, 1954.
——, ed. Die Fugger in Spanien und Portugal bis 1560: Dokumente. Edited by Josef Becker,
Henning Krauss and Erich Weber. Vol. 34, Schriften der Philosophischen Fakultäten der
Universität Augsburg. Munich: Verlag Ernst Vögel, 1990.
——, ed. Fremde Kaufleute auf der Iberischen Halbinsel, Kölner Kolloquien zur Internationalen
Sozial und Wirtschaftsgeschichte; Bd. 1. Köln: Universität Köln. Forschungsinstitut fur
Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 1970.
Kernkamp, Johannes Hermann. De Handel op den vijand 1572–1609. 2 vols. Utrecht:
Kemink en Zoon N.V., 1931.
Klooster, Wim. Illicit Riches: Dutch Trade in the Caribbean, 1648–1795. Leiden: KITLV
Press, 1998.
Lane, Frederic C. “Economic Consequences of Organized Violence.” Journal of Economic
History 18, no. 4 (1958): 401–17.
——. “Oceanic Expansion: Force and Enterprise in the Creation of Oceanic Com-
merce.” Journal of Economic History 10, Supplement: The Tasks of Economic History
(1950): 19–31.
200 bibliography and sources
Sobre História Económica E Social Do Antigo Regime, edited by Virgínia Rau. Lisbon:
Editorial Presença, 1984.
Rau, Virgínia, and Jorge de Macedo. “O açúcar na ilha da Madeira: análise de um
cálculo de produção dos fins do século xv.” Actas: Congresso Internacional de Historia dos
Descobrimentos 5, no. 1 (1961).
Rau, Virgínia, and Maria Fernanda Gomes da Silva. Os manuscritos do Arquivo da Casa
de Cadaval respeitantes ao Brasil. Coimbra, 1955.
Reesse, J.J. De suikerhandel van Amsterdam van het begin der 17de eeuw tot 1813. Haarlem:
Kleynenberg, 1908.
Rooney, Peter Thomas. “Habsburg Fiscal Policies in Portugal 1580–1640.” The Journal
of European Economic History 23, no. 3 (1994): 545–62.
Russell-Wood, A.J.R. “Brazilian Archives and Recent Historiography on Colonial
Brazil.” Latin American Research Review 36, no. 1 (2001): 75–105.
Sacks, David Harris. The Widening Gate: Bristol and the Atlantic Economy, 1450–1700.
Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991.
Salomon, H.P. Portrait of a New Christian Fernão Álvares Melo (1569–1632). Paris: Fundação
Calouste Gulbenkian, 1982.
Salvador, José Gonçalves. Os Cristãos-Novos e o comércio no Atlântico Meridional (com enfoque
nas capitanias do sul 1530–1680). São Paulo: Livraria Pioneira Editora, 1978.
——. Os Cristãos-Novos: povoamento e conquista do solo Brasileiro (1530–1680). São Paulo:
Livraria Pioneira Editora, 1976.
Saraiva, Antonio José. Inquisição e Cristãos-Novos. Lisbon: Editorial Estampa, 1985.
Scammell, G.V. “British Smuggling in the Iberian Americas Circa 1500–1750.” Itnerario
14, no. 3/4 (2000): 135–72.
——. “England, Portugal and the Estado Da India C. 1500–1635.” Modern Asian studies,
London 16, no. 2 (1982): 177–92.
——. “The English in the Atlantic Islands, C. 1450–1650.” Mariner’s Mirror 72, no.
3 (1986): 295–317.
——. “European Seamanship in the Great Age of Discovery.” Mariner’s Mirror 68
(1982): 357–76.
Schmidt, Benjamin. Innocence Abroad: The Dutch Imagination and the New World, 1570–1670.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001.
Schnurmann, Claudia. “Atlantic Trade and Regional Identities: The Creation of
Supranational Atlantic Systems in the 17th Century.” In Atlantic History, History of
the Atlantic System 1580–1830, edited by Horst Pietschmann, 179–98. Göttingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002.
Schwartz, Stuart B. Sugar Plantations in the Formation of Brazilian Society: Bahia, 1550–1835.
New York: Cambridge University Press, 1985.
——. “The Voyage of the Vassals: Royal Power, Noble Obligations, and Merchant
Capital before the Portuguese Restoration of Independence, 1624–1640.” American
Historical Review 96, no. 3 (1991): 735–62.
——, ed. Tropical Babylons: Sugar and the Making of the Atlantic World, 1450–1680. Chapel
Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 2004.
Serrão, Joaquim Veríssimo. História de Portugal. Vol. 4. Lisbon?: Verbo, 1960.
——. O tempo dos Filipes em Portugal e no Brasil (1580–1668). Lisbon: Edições Colibri,
1994.
Sluiter, Engel. “Dutch Maritime Power and the Colonial Status Quo, 1585–1641.”
Pacific Historical Review 11 (1942): 29–41.
Smail, John. Merchants, Markets and Manufacture: The English Wool Textile Industry in the
Eighteenth Century. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999.
Smith, David Grant. “The Mercantile Class of Portugal and Brazil in the Seventeenth
Century: A Socio-Economic Study of the Merchant of Lisbon and Bahia, 1620–
1690.” University of Texas, 1975.
bibliography and sources 203
——. “Old Christian Merchants and the Foundation of the Brazil Company, 1649.”
Hispanic American Historical Review 54, no. 2 (1974): 233–59.
Souza, T.R. de. “Marine Insurance and Indo-Portuguese Trade History: An Aid to
Maritime Historiography.” The Indian Economic and Social History Review 14, no. 3
(1977): 377–84.
Steensgaard, Niels. “The Growth and Composition of the Long-Distance Trade of
England and the Dutch Republic before 1750.” In The Political Economy of Merchant
Empires, edited by James D. Tracy. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991.
Stols, Eddy. De Spaanse Brabanders of de handelsbetrekkingen der zuidelijke Nederlanden met de
Iberische Wereld. Brussels: Paleis der Academiën, 1971.
——. “De Zuidelijke Nederlanden en de oprichting van de Oost- en Westindische
Compagnie.” Bijdragen en Mededelingen betreffende de Geschiedenis der Nederlanden 88, no. 1
(1973).
——. “The Expansion of the Sugar Market in Western Europe.” In Tropical Babylons:
Sugar and the Making of the Atlantic World, 1450–1680, edited by Stuart B. Schwartz,
237–88. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 2004.
——. Os mercadores Flamengos em Portugal e no Brasil antes das conquistas Holandesas. São
Paulo: Separata dos Anais de História, 1973.
Studnicki-Gizbert, Daviken. A Nation upon the Ocean Sea: Portugal’s Atlantic Diaspora and the
Crisis of the Spanish Empire, 1492–1640. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Swetschinski, Daniel M. “The Growth and Composition of the Long-Distance Trade
of England and the Dutch Republic before 1750.” PhD diss., Brandeis, 1980.
——. Reluctant Cosmopolitans, the Portuguese Jews of Seventeenth-Century Amsterdam. London:
The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2000.
Tracy, James D., ed. The Political Economy of Merchant Empires, Studies in Comparative Early
Modern History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991.
——, ed. The Rise of Merchant Empires: Long-Distance Trade in the Early Modern World,
1350–1750. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990.
Unger, Richard W. Dutch Shipbuilding before 1800. Assen: Van Gorcum, 1978.
——. Ships and Shipbuilding in the North Sea and Atlantic, 1400–1800, Variorum. Aldershot:
Ashgate, 1997.
Vlessing, Odette. “The Portuguese-Jewish Merchant Community in Seventeenth-
Century Amsterdam.” In Entrepreneurs and Entrepreneurship in Early Modern Times.
Merchants and Industrialists within the Orbit of the Dutch Staple Market, edited by C. Lesger
and L. Noordegraaf. The Hague: Stichting Hollandse Historische Reeks, 1995.
Vries, Jan de, and Ad van der Woude. The First Modern Economy: Success, Failure, and
Perseverance of the Dutch Economy, 1500–1815. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1997.
Wätjen, Hermann. Das Holländische Kolonialreich in Brasilien. The Hague: Nijhoff.,
1921.
Wee, Herman van der. The Growth of the Antwerp Market and the European Economy. 2 vols.
The Hague: Nijhoff, 1963.
——. A History of European Banking. Antwerp: European Investment Bank: Fonds
Mercator, 2000.
——. “Monetary, Credit and Banking Systems.” In The Cambridge Economic History of
Europe, Vol. 5, edited by E.E. Rich and C.H. Wilson, 290–393. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1977.
——. “Structural Changes in European Long-Distance Trade, and Particularly in the
Re-Export Trade from South to North, 1350–1750.” In The Rise of Merchant Empires.
Long-Distance Trade in the Early Modern World, 1350–1750, edited by James D. Tracy.
New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990.
Wiznitzer, Arnold. Jews in Colonial Brazil. New York: Columbia University Press,
1960.
INDEX