Week 16: Should have been a movie

Oil on canvas by Antônio Parreiras depicting the moment Augusto Xavier de Carvalho, holding a crucifix, asks his son José Peregrino to surrender to the crown’s military officers.

A sad movie, as are many stories of people who die for their ideals. Here is the story of my Xavier de Carvalho branch, and the tragic end of my 1st cousin 5 times removed, José Peregrino Xavier de Carvalho, who was executed in the Pernambucan Revolt of 1817. His father, Augusto Xavier de Carvalho, and his uncle José Maria Xavier de Carvalho – my 4th great-grandfather, were also arrested for their involvement in it.

José Peregrino joined the military at an early age. His father requested a special dispensation, so he could join a military school, ”assentando praça com pão e soldo”, in 1804. He would be a mere six years old. According to Abilio Bandeira (see below), he was born on 18 Aug 1798 to the Portugal native Augusto Xavier de Carvalho, and his wife Jacintha de Mello Muniz.

The Pernambucan Revolt was a Brazilian nativist movement against the Portuguese crown’s absolutism, based on French Revolution ideals. The Portuguese court had moved to Brazil evading the Napoleonic troops in 1808, and the prosperous Brazilian Northeast, still producing plenty of sugar, was largely responsible for supporting its costly maintenance. The revolt had ample support among the military, whose wages were delayed due to the court’s high expenses, and the clergy. This movement was a precursor and gave momentum to what would come to pass in 1822 when Brazil broke its colonial ties with the metropolis. During the Pernambucan Revolt, the first proclamations of Brazilian independence from Portugal happened. In my family’s hometown of Mamanguape, this was carried out by my fourth great-grandfather.

The movement had the support of the United States and from officers from the disbanded troops who served under Napoleon Bonaparte, that even had a plan to set him free from the island of Saint Helena, to take him to Pernambuco, and ultimately to New Orleans. The stuff of movies! Much of the history of this movement, including the involvement of the Xavier de Carvalho men, is found in the book O Brazil Heroico em 1817, by Alipio Bandeira.

My 4th great-grandfather proclaimed the independence of his town, along with the local priest. His brother Augusto was also enthusiastic about the independence, as was José Peregrino, who traveled to the neighboring province of Rio Grande do Norte to bring news that Brazil was severing ties with Portugal. During his absence, troops loyal to the crown arrived to Mamanguape, making arrests and looking for the conspirators.

The account of Augusto’s attempt to dissuade José Peregrino are dramatic:

Once it became clear that the locals would not prevail and the arrests started, Augusto and José Maria certainly worried about not only their fate, but José Peregrino, who was a soldier and would face harsher consequences, as Alipio Bandeira writes.

The hand of the crown, by the authority of the Count of Arcos (Marcos de Noronha e Brito), was swift, punishing the young officers who committed crime de lesa-majestade, a direct attempt against the crown. José Peregrino, arrested and sent to Fort Cabedello in Recife, Pernambuco, was executed on 21 Aug 1817, along with other members of the military. His body was quartered, his severed head and hands sent back to this home province of Paraíba, displayed at the steps of the Our Lady of Lourdes Church.

Plaque commemorating José Peregrino, placed on the site where his head and hands were on display.

Augusto and José Maria Xavier de Carvalho were sent to Salvador, Bahia, where they awaited their trial. Both brothers had their assets seized. A letter by my fourth great-grandmother, Antônia Maria de Padilha, José Maria’s wife, exists in the National Archives, though I have not yet been able to obtain a copy. It makes a plea for her husband’s return, noting she was left in their sugarcane farm with five young daughters, one of them being my third great-grandmother, Francisca de Paula de Vasconcellos e Carvalho, born around November 1815, still a toddler when her father was arrested. She would not meet him again until she was around seven.

Both José Maria and Augusto went through lengthy trials, and were eventually acquitted after four years in prison. Augusto Xavier de Carvalho went on to serve in public office, including member of the national assembly to draft the first constitution of Brazil as a free country, no longer a Portuguese colony. He cosponsored the freedom of the press bill. It is not known where and when he died.

José Maria returned to his home and due to the poor state of the Mamanguape church books I could not establish when he died, either. He returned not too long before, finally, Brazil became independent. Their lives were already changed, in great part, for they had been important agents on the local level to raise a movement that would cost lives, including his nephew’s, but it would propel the country towards the future. This ancestry line is interesting because it is widely mentioned in history books, and primary documents have survived in the Tombo Tower Archives in Portugal, enough to create a rich portrait of the lives of the Xavier de Carvalho family.

On a side note, I have two other ancestors who were imprisoned during the Pernambucan Revolt, for entirely different reasons, but this is a subject for another post, and their eventful lives, too, would make an interesting movie.

Week 14: Starts with a vowel

When my sister announced her second daughter would be called Elisa, my paternal grandmother was delighted because that was her own grandmother’s name. Elisa Dulce Travassos Serrano, née Peres Campello Travassos, is this week’s blog subject.

Elisa was born on 29 Aug 1859 in Recife, Pernambuco, to Victorino de Souza Travassos Júnior and Josefa Amélia Peres Campello. The couple had married just over nine months before, Elisa was the firstborn and would remain an only child after Josefa died on 23 Mar 1860 due to tuberculosis at age 20. Victorino did not remarry, and it appears that he faced a number of health problems and financial setbacks in the coming years. I was able to read about that in newspapers, with more context later, when I made a surprising find inside his father-in-law’s massive probate files.

Elisa Dulce’s maternal grandfather was Captain José Peres Campello, a reformed naval officer who had been arrested during the Pernambucan Revolt of 1817, declared innocent, later turned sugarcane plantation- and mill owner. When he died on 12 Oct 1869, none of his children were alive. Besides Josefa, he had a son named Preciliano who passed prematurely and unexpectedly 6 months prior. With that, the named heirs were five grandchildren: four by Preciliano, and Josefa’s only child.

There are several copies of coming-and-going mail regarding Elisa’s whereabouts that were unknown when her grandfather died. The mystery was eventually solved when she was located living in the neighboring province of Paraíba alongside her ailing father, where he had sought better weather in Campina Grande. I have ongoing research that hints at some of Victorino’s mother’s family also living there, but right now this is merely speculative. Elisa would not be there much longer, though. Her father died on 15 Jul 1871, back in Recife. She was only 11.

Elisa’s grandfather’s probate file had the aforementioned big surprise tucked within its almost 500 pages. It contains the transcription of Victorino’s last will and testament. He talks about his health problems and how they forced him to move, taking Elisa along, and how that had been detrimental to her education. He asks that after his passing, she stays in Recife to live with his brother Marcolino de Souza Travassos, and that Elisa goes back to school to finish her education with nuns.

The same day Victorino died, his will was brought to the judge to be unsealed. The carrier was a law school student named Anésio Augusto de Carvalho Serrano, the brother of Enedina Augusta de Carvalho Serrano, Marcolino’s wife. Anésio was in Recife pursuing his degree in the city’s renowned college, one of two that existed in Brazil at that time.

Whether it was one of the many practical matches made by families of that time, or if it was true love, I do not know, but Anésio and Elisa became husband and wife on 9 Dec 1876, when he was 26 and she was 17. In total, they had more than twenty children, according to my grandmother. I could not find documents for all of them (current tally is 17), as the family moved a few times within the neighboring provinces of Pernambuco and Paraíba during the 1880s and 1890s, and ultimately to the Southeast, to my home state, moving within it a few times.

My great-great-grandfather was elected representative for Paraíba in 1891, a two-year term, during a time when Brazil was still a young republic and the political landscape was very tumultuous. In 1895, he was appointed judge in Espírito Santo, when he and Elisa moved with a brood of at least five children. Again, hard to know exactly how many were born where and when, specially in Esp. Santo where records are scarce. Two of Anésio’s single sisters moved with them: Zulima and Francisca, who died in Guarapari in 1898. Zulima eventually moved back to Paraíba.

The last child born to Elisa and Anézio was my great-grandmother Noêmia, in Guarapari on 7 Feb 1903. When she was still a toddler, one of her older sisters, named Laura, passed away aged around 22. The number of children who reached adulthood, not counting Laura, was six: José Mário (1879-1954), Maria das Neves, a.k.a. Neva (1880-1970s?), Martha (1891-1970), Rômulo (1895-1980), Carlos Augusto (1900-1965) and Noêmia (1903-1989).

Vovó Elisa became a widow on 21 Jul 1917. Sometime after the last of her children got married in 1924 (my great-grandma Noêmia), she moved in with daughter Martha in Aribiri in the city of Vila Velha, but often traveled to visit Rômulo and his family in Salvador, Bahia. I found the record of her last travel accompanied by granddaughter Maria Isaura, known as Marisa, on 11 Feb 1946. She would remain in Salvador until her death on 17 Jun 1948 from metastatic breast cancer, aged 88.

My grandmother has told me of many stories about Elisa’s life, and up until I started researching document-based family history, some of them sounded somewhat fantastic, as it happens with stories who get recounted many times over the decades. Vovó Lena says Elisa inherited a village after her parents died, but an uncle stole the village from her. This in its face already sounds absurd. Who owns a village? Turns out there was some basis to the tale.

The sugar mill owned by Elisa’s grandfather was large, it was named Engenho Roncador, and there was housing built around it. Roncador and other sugar mills in the area formed the village of São Lourenço da Mata, today a Recife suburb. The probate records show that, because all the heirs were minors at the time of his death, they needed legal tutors to administrate and protect their interests. Marcolino Travassos was Elisa’s, and one of José Peres Campello’s nephews was in charge of Preciliano’s kids. Their mother was still alive but was largely outside the process; as a matter of fact, newspaper clippings show the dealings with her late husband’s family were contentious, with her going to the judge, decrying the fact that her family was destitute. I did not find any evidence that Preciliano’s children have ever taken possession of the lands or the mill, and like Elisa, they did not have any wealth. Rather, we see that Preciliano’s children’s tutor turns into a lessee and sole administrator of the business during the next couple of decades at least, past the time when the heirs became of age. So, there is where we find the proverbial nugget of truth to the story of the uncle who took everything away.

Elisa’s baptismal record – September 1859
Elisa’s portrait in a cameo, made likely around the time of her engagement.
Circa 1900
With great-grandson Sérgio Vereza Miranda circa 1946
Elisa’s children, from left: Martha, Rômulo, Noêmia, Carlos, Neva and José Mário.