Home » History of Brazil » Colonial Brazil » Carlos Julião: The Military Engineer and Artist Who Depicted Colonial Brazil

Carlos Julião, a military engineer and a draughtsman of Italian origin in the service of the Portuguese Crown, never actually lived or settled in Brazil. He lived in Portugal, where he worked in the colonial administration, but produced a vast body of work on the Portuguese colonies, including Brazil. His drawings and watercolours document the social life, cultural life and  ethnic life of the colonies and were based on accounts, documents and possibly on occasional visits. Consequently, there are no records of Julião’s arrival in or departure from Brazil specifically, but his work remains one of the most important iconographic representations of the Portuguese colonial period.

Quick Summary: Who was Carlos Julião?

Carlos Julião (Turin, 1740 — Lisbon, 18 November 1811) was a  military engineer and draughtsman of Italian origin who served the Portuguese Crown for almost five decades. He joined the Portuguese army in 1763, spent around six years in India in the service of the colonial administration and, on his return journey to  Portugal, he stopped off in Brazil — without ever having lived in the country. It was from this experience, combined with third-party accounts and documents, that Julião produced his best-known work, the album of watercolours  ‘Illuminated Sketches of Figures, Both White and Black, Depicting the Customs of Rio de Janeiro and Serro do Frio’, today one of the most studied iconographic sources on daily life, slave labour and social types in colonial Brazil. He ended his career as a brigadier in the army, retiring in 1811 under Prince Regent Dom João, who was then in Rio de Janeiro — but he died in Lisbon, where he commanded the city’s defensive artillery under Field Marshal Beresford. His works are now preserved in institutions such as the Office for Archaeological Studies in Military Engineering (GEAEM) and the National Library of Portugal, in Lisbon, and the  Ricardo Brennand Institute and the National Library, in Brazil.

In this article

• Works by Carlos Julião on Brazil
  • 1. The Representation of Colonial Space
  • 2. Stickers of Whites and Blacks: an album of Brazilian types
  • 3. Stickers in Painting
• Biography and Military Career of Carlos Julião
  • 1. Background and Education
  • 2. Early Career in the Army
  • 3. Departure for the East Indies
  • 4. Return to Portugal and the quest for recognition
  • 5. Royal Army Arsenal
• Frequently Asked Questions about Carlos Julião

Works by Carlos Julião on Brazil

1. The Representation of Colonial Space
2. Black-and-White Stickers: an album of Brazilian characters
3. Stickers in Painting

1. The Representation of Colonial Space

According to the caption, an Elevasam, Fasada, which depicts a seascape view of the City of Salvador, situated in Baía de Todos os Santos, in  South America, situated at 13 degrees south latitude and 345 degrees and 36 minutes longitude. At the bottom are detailed plans and perspectives on a larger scale of the entire fortification protecting the said city. This drawing was produced by  Carlos Julião, Captain of Miners in the Court Artillery Regiment, whilst aboard the ship Nossa Senhora Madre de Deus. In May 1779, the work is preserved at the Office for Archaeological Studies in Military Engineering (GEAEM), in Lisbon (Figure 1).

The Elevation and façade is a work comprising  three parts or segments, which are distributed across the four horizontal segments into which the backing paper is divided:

1. First segment

The first of these, the top one, features a perspective view of  Salvador, of a rather conventional style, in which the city is depicted in profile as seen from the sea. The drawing highlights the way in which the urban centre rests upon the natural terrain of the site. In this plan, the main buildings and public spaces of the former  capital of Brazil, each corresponding to an item in the explanatory key which runs along the entire lower edge of the plate, flanking the extensive title. Both Ferrez (1963:38) and Reis (2000:316) consider that this brochure of  Salvador is a copy of thecity profile drawn up by  José Antonio Caldas (1725–1782)³ in 1756, under the guidance of military engineer Manuel Cardoso de Saldanha.

 The main evidence for this fact would be the depiction, in the elevation and façade, of the Salvador Cathedral still with two towers, one of which had been demolished in 1756 following a landslide on the Ladeira da Misericórdia. According to both historians, the survey of Caldas was widely copied  by various other authors throughout the 18th century.

2. Second Segment

The second section, in turn, depicts the defence system of the city, with its eight forts and  two batteries drawn simultaneously in plan and elevation, with the two batteries depicted  superimposed and occupying the central niche of the section. The drawings are accompanied by an explanatory caption, which details the  geographical location of each fort, as well as the respective calibre of its artillery, as per the captions below:

1. São Bartholomeu da Passagem Fort, situated on the River Pirajá, one league from Bahia. Its artillery consists of eight iron guns, namely: one 12-calibre, one 8-calibre and six 6-calibre guns.
2. Santo Antônio da Barra Fort in the city of Bahia. This fort defends the Porta da Barra, which provides access to the bay. Its artillery consists of 16 guns, 8 of which are bronze, namely: two 26-calibre guns, four 16-calibre guns and two 19-calibre guns. The remaining 8 guns are iron, 36-calibre.
3. Santa Maria Fort. This small fort, situated to the north of Santo António da Barra Fort, within cannon range, defends a strategic point in Barra, suitable for a landing. Its artillery consists of 24- and 18-calibre iron guns.
4. São Diogo Fort. Situated to the north of the Santa Maria Fort, within a musket’s shot. Between these two forts lies Porto Irajá da Barra. Its artillery consists of five iron guns, namely: three 10-calibre guns and two 8-calibre guns.
5. Paulo’s Battery and the Ribeira Battery. These batteries exchange fire with the Fortaleza do Mar and constitute Bahia’s strongest defences. VI. Its artillery consists of 19 iron guns of 24-calibre. V. Its artillery consists of 2 bronze guns, one of 14-calibre and the other of 12-calibre. In addition, it has a further 30 iron guns, of which 18 are 26-calibre, 10 are 18-calibre and 2 are 8-calibre.
6. Fortaleza do Mar. This fortress is built out at sea, two musket shots from the shore. Its armament consists of bronze cannons of 24, 18, 16 and 8 calibre, and iron cannons of 40, 36, 26 and 18 calibre.
7. Francisco’s Fort. Situated in the centre of the village of Marinha in the City of Bahia, it is in a state of disrepair and offers no defence due to the buildings encroaching on either side. Its artillery consists of seven iron guns, namely: two 12-calibre guns, two 10-calibre guns and three 6-calibre guns.
8. Alberto’s Fort. Situated next to the novitiate house that once belonged to the Jesuits, this fort is in a state of disrepair, having been taken over by the Navy. Reinforcements are required here. Its artillery consists of seven iron guns, namely: two 72-calibre guns, three 10-calibre guns and two 8-calibre guns.
9. Monserate Fort. Situated at the northern tip, [above?] the Peninsula, to the north and south of the Fort of Santa Maria, which lies at the southern tip, the city of Bahia and its suburbs lie along the […] that forms this line. Its artillery consists of iron guns, 18-calibre and 12-calibre.

Taken together, therefore, the two parts that make up the upper half of Julião’s panel constitute a type of representation that is quite consistent with the world of visual records of a military nature, which are abundant in the output of visual records of a military nature, which are abundant in the iconographic output of the eighteenth century relating to Brazil. The drawing serves here to demonstrate control over the territory: the outline of the  city highlights the occupation of the site, indicating the presence of specific civil and religious civil institutions and religious institutions, an indicator of the level of development of the urban centre; the record of forts, on the other hand, reveals the resources available for the maintenance of this domain. We are faced with what Belluzzo calls a finalist, instrumental drawing, which “does not allow the  imagination to flow (…) and serves to construct real life” (Belluzzo 1994:3,49).

3. Third Segment

The third of the horizontal segments that make up the façade of the Elevação and  façade, however, sets Julião’s work apart within the field of iconographic production of a military nature. The five sections into which this part of the work is divided contain depictions of human figures, prototypes of the urban types that would later be widely disseminated through the  costumbrista artists travelling artists of the 19th century.

The figures depicted on Julião’stwo white ladies,  two figures of slaves (one being a black man with a clay jug on his head and a black woman carrying a fruit tray), as well as a  central group, in which two slaves are carrying a white lady in a  small chair⁴, accompanied by a gentleman who is showing them the way⁵. The figures are identified with the following captions:

1. The way mulatto women dress in the city of Bahia
2. Black man who sells milk in Bahia
3. A carriage or pram in which the ladies travel around the city of Salvador da Bahia de Todos os Santos
4. Mossa dancing the landú from her bottom to her waist
5. The ‘pretas’ costume women from Bahia who sell fruit and vegetables

Given this complementarity between text and image, it is worth noting the importance of the clothing worn by each  character’s clothing as the main indicator of identity for that figure, whether in terms of race,  social status, cultural context or even role played within the society under consideration. The mulatto woman from Bahia, for example, is defined here as a native of the Americas with  African blood less by the colour of her skin than by her manner of dressing. The Black milk seller has his slave status not mentioned in the caption, although he is  barefoot and his clothes are in tatters, which we know to be sufficient indications to identify a captive. In the central group, the refinement surrounding the figure of the ‘lady’ from Bahia is evident, whether from the point of view of the  little chair in which she is carried (made of carved wood, with gilding and  ornaments), or from her own garb (which peeks out from behind the curtains and is more sophisticated than that of the other  characters), or even of the black men who carry her, dressed with great care, although barefoot. It cannot go unnoticed that the fact that it is being carried and accompanied is also a clear indication that this is a society that grants  privileges to certain individuals at the expense of others, and is therefore organised hierarchically. The figure below is described simply as a “dancer” (although it appears static in the image), without any specification of their  race or social class is specified. However, the fact that she dances the lundu, a dance of African origin, may be taken as a sign that the character does in fact have  African ancestry, or, at the very least, that the expressions of this culture are familiar to him⁶.   Finally, we are shown the costume of the “black women of Bahia”, in which one can distinguish the “mandinga pouch” hanging from the sash around the waist, as well as the scarifications on the face, which Julião draws with great attention⁷.   Although we know that these are types that belong to and operate within an urban context, nothing in their  representation is a clear indication of this, not even the small portion of ground on which they stand. The association with the urban context arises from a general reading of the document, which links the human figures to  occupation and defence of territory. These figures were, moreover, cut out and  glued onto the current backing, which suggests that the artist made a selection and had a purpose in the way he arranged them on the panel. Indeed, it is worth noting that the types chosen and arranged by the artist on the support reveal, to contemporary eyes, aspects that are fundamental to understanding structural issues within  colonial Brazilian society. Naturally, aspects relating to material culture immediately come to the fore, as expressed in the fabrics and the way they are arranged on the body, in the  hairstyles and ornaments, in utensils, means of transport, etc. On the other hand, there is also clear evidence of a social hierarchy relating to variations in skin colour, the prevalence of manual labour among the  African population, as well as the extent of the influence of African traditions on social groups other than just slaves. In depicting the city of Salvador, what Julião brings to light is, therefore, a typical organisation of a colony: a  hierarchical society, in which ethnic groups and diverse cultures coexist, and which is maintained as such through measures of  control and domination over the territory. In the same Portuguese archive, there is yet another document which, although not  signed, can be attributed to the same author of the ‘Elevation and Façade’ (Figure 2)⁸.

Its overall layout is very similar to the previous one, and is also divided into four horizontal segments, although, in this case, the  city views occupy a much smaller area, limited to just the two upper bands. There,  views taken from the sea of four cities in Portuguese possession in  Asia, America and Africa, as indicated by the following captions:

1. Layout of the Barra de Goa Inlet. Number 1: Agodá Fort, Number 2:  Forte dos Reis and Number 3: Nossa Senhora da Piedade.
2. BC: A prospectus showing Dio Square as seen from the sea, at a distance of half a mile from Dio Fortress (No. 4) and the entrance to the bar (No. 5).
3. Map showing the Rio de Janeiro inlet at a distance of half a league from the sea. No. 6: Copacabana Beach; No. 7: Sugarloaf Mountain; No. 8: Fortaleza de Santa Cruz.
4. A map showing the Island of Mozambique as seen from its harbour. This island is 850 braças long and 120 braças at its widest point. No. 9: the fortress on the right is armed with 40 bronze cannons and 20 iron cannons.

Julião once again makes use of the technique of profile drawing of cities, highlighting in the drawing the  forts that form part of their defence systems. The only exception is the profile of Rio de Janeiro, where we do not actually see the  city as such, but the entrance to Guanabara Bay, where, in addition to the forts of Copacabana and Santa Cruz, the  Sugar Loaf Rock stands out, acting as a landmark on the landscape. It is essential to note the way in which Julião arranges the combined views  as if they were a representation of the same territory, even though we know they are cities that are geographically very distant. The side view, moreover, is linked to the practice of navigation, emphasising the nature of the territory observed from afar, and the risk taken on the high seas. It is associated with the perspective of the person concerned with what Murilo Marx  calls the “duality of defending oneself and landing” (Marx 1996), which guides the logic of Portuguese occupation in the Americas. These two upper panels are followed by another two in which we are presented with nineteen human figures, some  standing alone, others in groups. These figures are identified by the following captions:

1. A hermit begging for alms
2. A black woman with a tray of sweets and a water jug
3. As the Rosary beads are ready
4. A network used to transport Americans to their smallholdings or farms
5. A black woman carrying dinner in a coya
6. A young woman dancing the landu, with her bottom right up to her waistband
7. A mixed-race woman receiving a letter addressed to her
8. Costumes for the female lifeguards
9. Traditional costume of the Nhonhas of Macao
10. Goan Gentio in everyday dress
11. A Gentio from Goa in formal dress
12. Bayé from Goa in Brahmin dress
13. Goa Bay from the Chardos variety
14. Farás de Mancilla showing the Indian sun
15. Tapuyas that have already been domesticated
16. Mistissa serving chicken soup
17. I brought back two Chinese women from Macao
18. Baye with two water bottles
19. Canarim, go and give the coconut tree a good thrashing

What immediately distinguishes this plate from the one analysed previously is that there is no  division into compartments in which the figures are contained. Here they are presented in a row, as in a  parade, which allows us to draw a parallel with the city skylines, drawn as a continuum. Taken together, these images evoke the extent of Portuguese rule over a diversity of territories and peoples  across the world, in that they bring together two sites of Portuguese colonisation in Asia (Goa and  Diu), one in Africa (Mozambique) and one in the Americas  (Rio de Janeiro), combining them with types of people from these and other unrepresented regions. Naturally, a certain process of levelling is implied – if indeed the term is appropriate in this context – given that, in their diversity, expressed in their  clothing and ornaments, the characters are equivalent, as they live under the same rules of Portuguese government. All these territories and all these peoples are united. And all this is Portugal. In this list of types of people, Ferrez (2000) identifies as originating from Rio de Janeiro the  figures from numbers one to eight, which comprise the entire  upper section of the “parade”, as well as the wild Indian who opens the lower section. Meanwhile, Tenreiro (2007) considers it significant that all types in the upper section are  Brazilian, though not necessarily from the same region, and that the other Brazilians represented in the lower section  are only indigenous people: a savage and a ‘domesticated’ Tapuia couple⁹.

Once again, let us consider the sequence in which the figures are arranged in the work, since, as  Elevation and façade, all the figures were cut out and glued onto this new backing. From this perspective, it is interesting to note how the figures of Brazilians in the  upper section are presented in such a way as to suggest a certain symmetry: a couple on the far left, one on the  right; on either side, a female figure, one black and one  white woman, both with one of their arms raised to the height of their heads; occupying the centre, two  black men carrying a net, which also draws a parallel with the central group on the panel featuring the profile of Salvador. In the lower section, Tenreiro  (2007) also notes an intention of symmetry in the arrangement of the figures. The author draws attention, for example, to a possible correspondence between those occupying the ends of the band, the  wild Indians of Brazil and the “Canarim” – a resident of Karnataka (or  Canara), situated south of Goa –, both representative of ethnic groups that do not inhabit the urban environment. They may also be regarded as emblematic figures of resistance to colonisation, in the author’s view, since the Canarim continued to practise the  Hindu religion, rejecting Catholicism, in a similar way to the Brazilian natives, who, moreover, refused to submit to the condition of slavery. To the right of the Brazilian savage, Julião presents us with a “Nhonha”, a term denoting a  lady from Macau, who would have her counterparts on the right-hand side in the  Chinese woman and a mixed-race woman from the same region, respectively the third and fourth figures from right to left. Next, we see four figures from Goa: two “Baye”, or women, both representing the highest Indian castes –  Brahmins and Chardos – and two male figures, the “gentiles”, one dressed in  ceremonial attire, the other in his everyday clothes. Occupying a position close to the centre, the character designated as “Farás de Mancilla” represents the lowest  lowest of the Indian castes, who carries out the work that all the others refuse to do. The caption identifying him not only indicates his place in the social hierarchy, but also describes his role: mancilla bearer, or palanquin bearer. As a final suggestion of correspondences, it is also possible to relate the “Farás” to the central group in the upper segment, whose occupation is also  to carry other people, in this case, in a net. However, it is worth emphasising that these are attempts to interpret a supposed logic that may have guided the artist in organising the plates, and these interpretations may or may not be valid. Above all, it is important to avoid seeking in the works echoes of  pre-existing discourses, as well as treating with caution the parti pris that a drawing always corresponds to what lies before one’s eyes. The fact is that Carlos Julião creates a composition and it is not certain that there was any narrative intent in the act of combining these elements, or even that he was aware of everything he was expressing through his drawing. narrative intention, or even that he was aware of everything expressed through his drawing to the contemporary eye, a perspective already shaped by anthropological studies. At least in the case of the  illustrations of Brazilian characters, Julião revisits motifs that had already been explored by foreigners before him. A rather obvious example is that of the ‘wild woman’ depicted in Scene at the entrance to the bar…, an almost archetypal portrayal of the  Brazilian indigenous woman who, naturally, cannot be taken as a record of a visual fact. Julião’s drawing reminds us of the illustrations in Amerigo Vespucci’s letters published in the 16th century, in which the  Native Americans were depicted schematically with   feathers around their hips and heads, holding bows and arrows  (Figure 3), as well as certain allegorical figures from America featured in map cartouches.

Similarly, the motif of a woman being carried in a hammock had already been part of the repertoire of images of Brazil since at least the  Dutch presence in the north-east of the country in the 17th century. This can be seen, for example, in drawing no. 104 from  Thierbuch¹⁰ by Zacharias Wagener (1614–1668) (Figure 4). Furthermore, in the context of the  Dutch Brazil, the same theme appears reworked in the decorative style of the Gobelins Manufactory in the tapestry.

 The two bulls (Figure 5), which allude to the African presence at the sugar mills in Pernambuco.

It is quite evident that both the Elevation and façade and the Layout of the entrance to the Goa Bar are organised, from a compositional point of view, on the basis of the same operation: the  superimposition of cut-out human figures onto topographical views. The main effect of this operation is to foster a direct identification between the figures and that ‘place’. As regards the characters themselves, these drawings reinforce the idea of a ‘type’, a figure composed of a combination of certain attributes that make a particular  social group. Viewed strictly in terms of these means of representation, there is little innovation in the works of Julião. Both the construction of the type and the association between the  type and the place draw on visual traditions  that have been quite widespread in European art, notably in cartography and travel literature, since at least the 16th century. For now, we would like to suggest a connection between Julião’s works and the well-known Map of Brazil under Dutch rule  (Figure 6), by the geographer, astronomer and botanist Georg Marcgraf (1610–1644).

Like the Thierbuch, the Marcgraf map forms part of the exceptional iconographic series relating to the brief  reign of Maurício de Nassau (1604–1679), who was based in Pernambuco between 1637 and 1644. As Beatriz Bueno¹¹ points out, the  cartographic representation by Georg Marcgraf is the result of observations and surveys carried out by the geographer himself during his stay in  Brazil, and brings together detailed information on the river network and road network that facilitated migration into the interior, the  vegetation and the topography of the region, the urban network and the rural properties, the  fortresses for coastal defence, as well as the indigenous tribes who were allies or enemies of the Dutch.

When it was reproduced as an engraving in Amsterdam in 1647, the map  was embellished with vignettes attributed to the artist Frans Post (1612–1680), as well as garlands and  cartouches, and a lengthy text recounting the conquests of Maurício de Nassau. This map constitutes, according to Bueno, a sort of “report/register of the economic potential and  military capabilities” of the Dutch occupation of north-eastern Brazil. It presents information from a  atlas, condensed into a single cartographic volume, summarising the Dutch perspective on Brazil and its  potential as a strategic territory for colonisation and economic exploitation. The purpose of this brief digression was to emphasise the fact that the elements added to the Marcgraf Map – cartouches, vignettes,  landscapes, garlands – far from being merely ornamental, or intended simply to make the cartographic representation more interesting, play a part in the  description intended by the publisher or by the person who placed the commission¹². By bringing together on the same plate the drawing of the coastline, the watercourses, the sugar mill, the battle with the indigenous people, the local fauna etc., the Map brings to light what would otherwise be invisible, constituting a record of a historic undertaking. According to Alpers, the historical record in  maps and Dutch atlases of the 17th century is “concise, factual and non-interpretative – in short, descriptive” (1999:305). In these, “it is the places, rather than the actions or  events, form their basis, and it is space, rather than time, that must be transposed” (1999:305). According to the interpretation of Dutch cartography suggested by Alpers, the Marcgraf Map  can be regarded as a historical description of the Dutch occupation of north-eastern Brazil. And this perspective seems to us to be useful in bringing together the two works by Carlos Julião that we have been discussing so far. On the one hand, the comparison of Julião with Marcgraf may serve to shed light on the somewhat unusual combination of  front elevation, side elevation, plan, elevation, text and  human figures on a single medium, whilst at the same time ruling out the possibility of viewing the presence of these figures on the plates as a mere decorative choice. On the other hand, this hypothesis allows us to propose, for example, that the Elevation and  façade be understood as a historical account of the development of Salvador, as demonstrated by the presence of the  institutions highlighted in the brochure, the presentation of its sophisticated defensive system, as well as the complexity of its social fabric, expressed by the  types of people represented there. It is the ability of the Portuguese to bring their civilisation  to America that is being discussed. It is true that Salvador had lost its status as capital to Rio de Janeiro, but it remained, and would continue to be, until the arrival of the royal family in  1808, the port with the highest volume of trade in the colonial Portuguese world, according to Boxer  (2002:241). The former capital of Brazil was therefore a strategic location for the Portuguese Crown in terms of  representation of its overseas territories. Is it possible to interpret the Configuration of the entrance to the sandbar… in the same light? It seems to us that it is, but to do so, it is necessary to bring certain points not yet addressed into the discussion.& Carlos Julião was appointed to serve in the Portuguese State of India in 1774, remaining there for six years. It is Boxer who points out that, in that very same year, a new viceroy and a new  archbishop were sent to Goa, both with explicit instructions from the Marquis of Pombal himself  (1699–1782) to “enforce the anti-racist legislation that their predecessors had quietly shelved” (Boxer 2002:269). The racial issue in Portuguese India had connotations that differed from those that characterised the colonisation of the Americas. The gruelling conditions of the voyage to India – a journey lasting between six and eight months on overcrowded ships, where various diseases raged  and an extremely high rate of mortality prevailed (it was said that between one-third and half of those on board died during the voyage) – coupled with the notorious unhealthiness of  Goa, did not make it a particularly attractive prospect for immigration by Portuguese women, who had always been few in number in Portuguese East India. The Portuguese immigrants, most of whom could scarcely afford the return journey to  Lisbon, ended up marrying native women who had converted to Christianity. The mixed-race population was, therefore, quite large. And this group was, as a rule, denied access to public office or even the possibility of advancement in the ecclesiastical career. The Royal Charter of 2 April 1761 was the first attempt to bring the  legal and social status of subjects born in the East, provided they were Christians, with that of natives of the Kingdom. Signed by the king and by the then Count of Oeiras, the Charter orders that “all  My Vassals born in East India, and the Dominion that I hold in Portuguese Asia; provided they are  Christians and baptised; and provided they are not otherwise legally disqualified, they shall enjoy the same  honours, pre-eminences, prerogatives, and privileges enjoyed by the  native subjects of these Kingdoms enjoy, without the slightest difference¹³ . Although the penalties were severe for those who broke the law – ranging from the loss of titles and  privileges to the payment of fines and exile to Mozambique – it was necessary to reiterate it two years later in more forceful terms. forceful terms. Meanwhile, nothing was done by the local authorities to effectively implement the orders contained in the Alvará, which meant that  Pombal to continue to insist on the adoption of an anti-racist policy in India. According to Boxer, it was central to his governing logic that the Portuguese should act in the colonies using “the same strategies employed by the  Romans in their conquests’ (2002:270), which implied including the natives in the system for granting posts and  benefits, without which the climate of social tension would have become unbearable for the Portuguese. It does not strike us as coincidental that, in this context in which the debate on the promotion of social equality is reigniting and new  political and religious authorities are being sent to Goa, Julião has produced a drawing that brings together geographically distant territories and arranges in a row culturally distinct peoples. If we take the Configuration of the entrance to the bar… as a historical description, in the terms put forward by Alpers, the “levelling” carried out by  Julião from the perspective of representation—to which we referred earlier—becomes far more significant. It finds its counterpart in the very policy of Portuguese domination in the  East, suggesting that the panel brings to the fore the famous phrase by Pombal: “His Majesty does not distinguish his vassals  by their colour, but by their individual merits” (cited in Boxer 2002:269). In any case, it does not seem an exaggeration to say that the presence of these “figurines” is what lends artistic interest in its own right to the work of Carlos Julião. Undoubtedly, they set his work apart from the iconographic output resulting from the work of military draughtsmen, who produced such a significant proportion of the  visual records of Portuguese America in the eighteenth century. One need only recall that, without them, the Elevation and façade would be just another of the well-known copies of the prospectus of Salvador drawn up by José António Caldas.

2. Black and White Stickers: an album of Brazilian characters

It is also important to bear in mind that the act of cutting out and rearranging these stickers in different  formats suggests the existence of a repertoire of types established a priori by the artist. In this regard, the collection of watercolour drawings that make up the ‘Riscos Iluminados’, known as figurines of Blacks and Whites from Rio de Janeiro and Serro do Frio’, held in the collection of the  National Library Foundation (FBN), Rio de Janeiro. Consisting of 43 plates of illustrations unaccompanied by  text, this manuscript bears no indication of authorship, but is traditionally attributed to Julião  due to the similarity and even direct correspondence between many of his illustrations and those comprising the plates mentioned above. Originally, the collection of drawings attributed to Julião formed part of a volume bringing together three works, namely: Noticia summaria do Gentilismo da Ásia& nbsp;containing ten illustrated sketches purportedly depicting figures of White and Black people in the customs of Rio de Janeiro, and Serro do Frio: Supposedly Depicting Peruvian Vases and Textiles¹⁴.

According to a document signed by Lygia Cunha, dated 11 January 1971, and which is attached to the back cover of the volume containing these works, the album featuring& drawings of Brazilian figurines is said to have been separated from its original binding in 1950, when the Riscos iluminados came to form a separate volume. There is, however, a misunderstanding regarding the interpretation of the names given to the different manuscripts. The “riscos iluminados” actually refer to the ten illustrations from the  Brief Account of the Most Gracious of Asia, whilst the “little figures of white and black people” are referred to simply as Sayings of little figures…. However, traditionally, the collection of illustrations drawn by Carlos Julião is known as “Illuminated Sketches of White and Black Figures… ’, a title also used in the facsimile edition of the manuscript, published in 1960 by the FBN  (Cunha 1960). The first part of the volume, the Summary account… , covers, in 107 chapters, aspects of the Hindu religion, in particular the forms of worship of its deities (devas). The text is accompanied by ten illustrations which differ considerably, both in technique and style, from those found in the other two parts of the volume. Three other copies of this manuscript are known to exist and are held in the collections of the National Library of Portugal (BNP) and the Oriente Foundation, both in Lisbon. One of the BNP’s copies – manuscript 607 from the Restricted Access Section – is transcribed and annotated in the Collection of Information on the History and Geography of Overseas Nations, published by the Lisbon Academy of Sciences (ACL). The preface to this edition states that an original manuscript written by a Portuguese Jesuit missionary in India in the early  17th century was found in the Archives of the Fathers of the Society of Jesus following the expulsion of the order from Goa in  1759. This manuscript is believed to have been copied, and the copy was sent to the ACL by one of its corresponding members, Francisco Luiz de Menezes, Captain of the Ordnance in Goa. Subsequently, the codex came into the possession of the BNP. The codex, which contains 107 chapters and  11 illustrations, was bound together with two other texts, namely Relação histórica and Profecia política, which were subsequently published in Lisbon. The copy held by Fundação Oriente, meanwhile, contains the same 107 chapters, but is illustrated with 15 watercolours. The entry accompanying its listing in the catalogue Presença portuguesa na Ásia (Pereira 2008) states that the manuscript dates from the late 18th or early 19th century, originates from  Goa and belonged to José Câncio Freire de Lima, a member of the Governing Council of the State of India (1840). The author of the entry also suggests that the original from which all copies derive “cannot predate 1764, since, in the text, the author refers to the English as the rulers of the territory between Allahabad and  Bengal, following the Battle of Buxar in October 1764” (Pereira 2008:65).

Whatever the date of the original manuscript may be, it is a fact that the copies of the Summary Report…  held in Portuguese collections all originate from Goa and date from the  second half of the 18th century. Aware of the presence of Carlos Julião in that  region between 1774 and 1779 – as we shall have the opportunity to examine in Chapter 2 of this work – it would be natural to assume that the  copy of the FBN was copied by him during his period of service in India. However, as has already been noted, there is nothing in terms of style that links the illustrations in this manuscript to the  drawings attributed to Julião in Ditos de figurinhos de brancos e negros… , so one must therefore accept that the hypothesis of considering him the author of the copy of  Summary report… is solely due to the  presence of both manuscripts in the same binding. Now, the collection of different  documents in the same volume is not a reliable indicator of authorship, since this process  is, in most cases, governed by criteria established for the convenience of the owner. The question of authorship must be approached with care in this case, as it is by no means obvious to accept that the  copy of the Indian codex in the collection of the FBN was produced by Julião. The section on Peruvian Vessels and Textiles consists of 33 plates of illustrations in  sepia-toned watercolours, without any accompanying text. In these images, it is interesting to note the attention paid by the  artist to the patterns that adorn vases and textiles, as well as certain tools such as looms, for making fabrics and lace. Beneath the title that opens the album, there is a note in  graffiti which states: “the designs on these vases were taken from the originals found on the Spanish galleon that ran aground off the coast of Peniche and which was laden with silver during the reign of Queen Maria I”. The most famous shipwreck to have occurred off the coast of Peniche during the  Marian era was that of the Spanish warship San Pedro de Alcántara, in February 1786¹⁶.

With a crew of four hundred people, including some  Peruvian rebels from the separatist movement led by Túpac Amaru (1780–1781), the  ship had left Peru two years earlier and had called at  four months’ in Rio de Janeiro for repairs, as it was well known that the cargo of  silver, gold and copper exceeded its capacity for transport. This cargo also contained a significant collection of pre-Hispanic pottery from the  Chimu culture, which had been collected in Peru by two European botanists. The value& cargo was such that its disappearance sparked a massive recovery effort organised by the Spanish Government. Within three years, almost all of the items carried by the San Pedro de Alcantara had been  retrieved from the bottom of the sea by divers of various  nationalities hired by the Spanish Crown. It is clear that only a comparison that is more rigorous between the  drawings in the manuscript of the FBN and the  ceramic objects recovered from San Pedro de Alcántara could attest to the  existence or otherwise of a direct link between them. In any case, it does not seem very likely that another Spanish ship carrying  cargo of silver and “Peruvian vases” would have run aground on the rocks at  Peniche during the same period, which lends support to this hypothesis. Given that this is a fact of great significance and of a nature  remarkable rarity, it is justified to record these items in drawings, whether out of curiosity or in accordance with specific criteria  items, whether out of curiosity or in response to a request from a superior. In any case, what was stated above regarding the Summary Report also applies to this manuscript. In other words, the fact that it is bound together with the Sayings of Black and White Figures is not sufficient grounds to assume that the  authorship of these drawings is attributable to Carlos Julião¹⁷.  As for the ‘Sayings’ of black-and-white figurines¹⁸ these originally occupied the  central section of the volume, as can still be seen from the gap in the  binding. The album of drawings attributed to Julião opens with an allegorical scene that evokes what appears to be a& military victory, as we see a figure in uniform, on horseback, brandishing a sword& nbsp;in his right hand under a triumphal arch, being greeted by figures from the crowd in the foreground (Figure 10). On the triumphal arch, just below the pediment, the coat of arms of Portugal can be seen, whilst on the  ruin on the left-hand side of the drawing, there is a  fallen flagpole from which the Spanish flag can be seen. Between the two buildings, one can see soldiers in uniform such as the main figure leading a  group of other soldiers towards the back of the scene. The allegory  is interpreted by Lygia Cunha ((1960:XIII) on the basis of a graffiti inscription in the margins of the drawing, which, according to her, is written in “18th-century script”: “victory achieved by Pinto Bandeira of Minas Gerais against the Spaniards, probably during the War of the South in 1762”. Thus, the author concludes that the allegory alludes to the most important victory led by  Rafael Pinto Bandeira (1740–1795), colonel of the Rio Grande do Sul cavalry corps (and not that of  Minas Gerais, as the inscription states): the capture and destruction of the Spanish fort of Santa Tecla, in 1776, which put an end to the Castilian invasion of what is now the territory of Rio Grande do Sul.  Pinto Bandeira is a name as legendary¹⁹ as it is controversial, having been involved in several  military campaigns that were decisive in defining the border lines in the southern part of Portuguese America. Viewed alternately as a hero and a villain, Pinto Bandeira was appointed to the  military administration of Rio Grande de São Pedro do Sul, whilst at the same time facing open  accusations of what we would today call “illicit enrichment” through smuggling. These accusations led to a criminal case against him, which was only dismissed in 1780  by a royal decree issued by Queen Maria I. His main opponents were the governor of the captaincy, José Marcelino de Figueiredo  (1735–1814)²⁰, who eventually lost his post, and the  viceroy Luís de Vasconcelos (1742–1809). Despite the replacement of the governor, Vasconcelos would continue to try to gather  evidence to incriminate Pinto Bandeira. Aware of this situation, the colonel proposed, in the words of Augusto da Silva (1999:135), to “bypass the viceroy and seek support from the metropolis”. Thus, Pinto Bandeira arrived in Lisbon in  February 1789, where he would remain for about a year. Upon his return, he enjoyed not only the  recognition of his role in the expansion of Brazil’s southern borders, but also a brigadier’s commission.

Figures 10 to 12  – Carlos Julião (attributed to). Plates 1 to 3 from Sayings of white and black characters…, undated (18th century). Watercolour on paper. National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro.

Figures 13 to 16  – Carlos Julião (attributed to). Plates 4 to 7 from Sayings of white and black characters…, undated (18th century). Watercolour on paper. National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro.

There is no doubt that the international situation worked in Bandeira’s favour on this occasion, given that in the tumultuous year of  1789, the differences that would eventually pit Portugal and  Spain—allies of England and France respectively—on opposite sides of the European conflict, a situation that would certainly have had repercussions in the American territories. For the Portuguese Crown, therefore, it was essential to be able to draw on the experience of war against the Spanish that Pinto Bandeira already possessed. The fact is that, as early as August 1790, he was dispatching documents in his capacity as Commander-General of the Captaincy of São Pedro  (Silva 1999:137). There is only one image of Pinto Bandeira reproduced in the dissertation by Augusto da Silva (1999) dedicated to him. The illustration bears no indication of authorship, date or source, but it is this image that enables us to confirm that it depicts the same figure brandishing a sword on horseback as on the title page of the FBN manuscript [Figure 9]. This therefore confirms the hypothesis put forward by Cunha that this allegorical scene celebrates the victories of Pinto Bandeira against the Spanish in the south. The military theme continues in prints two to seven of the Ditos de figurinhos de brancos e negros… , which depict various types of officers’ uniforms [Figures 11 to 16] and a scene of a more anecdotal nature, in which a young woman tearfully bids farewell to an officer. They were identified by José Washt Rodrigues (1891–1957) in 1949, as attested by a typewritten document signed by this artist and historian, which was attached to the opening page of the album and is entitled: “Clarification regarding certain military uniforms featured in the book of original colour prints from the last quarter of the 18th century, acquired in the  USA by the Brazilian government, and currently held at the National Library, Rio de Janeiro”. The name given by Rodrigues formed the basis for the titles used by Ferrez  (2000: vol. 1, 115) uses to identify the prints in his Iconography of Rio de Janeiro, as well as to the captions cited by Cunha in the facsimile edition of the album (1960). Even the description of print number seven as a “romantic scene” is repeated by both authors. The theme of military uniforms is undoubtedly one of the most recurring motifs with regard to the depiction of the human figure in eighteenth-century Portugal, as evidenced by its presence in virtually all the archives consulted, notably the  ANTT [Figure 17], the AHU [Figure 18] and the FBN [Figures 19 and 20]. These drawings circulated in various formats, usually as attachments to documents sent from the colonies to the Kingdom. Thus, during our research, we came across military uniforms from  São Tomé and Príncipe, Mozambique and Macao, as well as Brazil. The drawings frequently accompanied the “Truppenverzeichnisse”, tables in which all the officers and soldiers comprising each regiment of the regular and auxiliary troops in a given region were listed and quantified. They should certainly be understood as part of the reorganisation of the Portuguese army led by the Count of Lippe (1724–1777) in the decade of  1760, which we shall discuss in the next chapter. It was Lippe who, for the first time, provided the Portuguese army with a plan for uniforms in  1764, which covered all troops of the Kingdom and Conquests, and it is not surprising that drawings of military uniforms began to multiply from this date onwards. It is important to note that the manufacture of the various elements that made up the uniforms of officers and soldiers serving in Portugal  and overseas – such as buttons, footwear, braids, hats,  weapons, etc. – as well as the procurement of fabrics and the actual manufacture of the uniforms, were centralised at the Royal Army Arsenal in Lisbon. It seems logical to conclude that the military uniform designs, accompanied by the troop rosters, also served to enable the Arsenal to quantify the essential materials required to clothe the military forces in each region. It is worth remembering that the Portuguese army comprising troops serving in  Europe, Asia, Africa and America and the visualisation of the  uniforms made possible by the drawings certainly facilitated the logistics of outfitting all the contingents in accordance with the recent instructions from the Count of Lippe. With regard to the depiction of figures, in no other ‘genre’ – if one can indeed consider these illustrations a ‘genre’ – is the issue of drawing based on models more evident. The various series are very similar, differing only in terms of linework, or more precisely the artist’s personal style, depending on their greater or lesser skill in depicting the human figure and their greater or lesser proficiency in the use of watercolour. In fact, it is often the same figure dressed differently: there are almost no variations in the positioning of the hands – which may be resting on a staff, holding a  weapon or resting on the chest – nor in the figure’s posture.

Figures 19 and 20 – José Corrêa Rangel. Illustration of the Rio de Janeiro garrison in their uniforms, with maps showing the numbers of paid regiments and auxiliary units.  By José Corrêa Rangel. Infantry adjutant serving as an engineer, 1786 – Watercolour and ink on paper – National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro.

Figure 21 – Artist unknown. General uniforms of the Spanish troops, 1778. Etching and watercolour on paper. Office for Archaeological Studies in Military Engineering, Lisbon (Ref. 4309_I-4-55-64-1)

And Julião’s military costumes form part of this world of ‘toy soldiers’. The origins of these drawings can be found in engravings, particularly in the prints depicting troop formations, as can be seen in Figure 21. The military uniforms are followed by a group of four illustrations in which the figures are indigenous couples  [Figures 22 to 25]. Figures 22 to 25  – Carlos Julião (attributed to). Prints 8 to 11 from Sayings of white and black figures…, undated (18th century). Watercolour on paper. National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro

In plate eight, a scene in which the figures are moving appears for the first time; in this case, it consists of a river, mountains and  trees. The couple appear to be still wild, as both are carrying bows and  arrows and have just killed a jaguar which is bleeding in the foreground. Once again, we draw attention to the archetypal representation of the  Brazilian indigenous person: the figure of the indigenous woman with a single breast evokes the ancient myths of the Amazonian warrior women, whilst the  indigenous man, although adorned with a headdress and feather skirt, is depicted with a beard like a European. The other couples appear far more peaceful, with the one in print eleven being exactly the same as the tamed Tapuias depicted in  Configuration of the bar’s entrance…. Print ten is somewhat more intriguing in terms of composition, as it features the same mirrored figure, a technique also used in Figure 15. The presence of plant elements and some suggestion of relief, which is common to all four illustrations, contributes to the creation of meaning in the image, reinforcing the assumption that the habitat of the  indigenous people is the natural environment, as yet unaltered by civilisation. In a sense, these attributes serve as allegories for the figures depicted, constituting distant echoes of the  ethnographic paintings by Albert Eckhout (1610–1666). Following the indigenous couples are three further illustrations of women being carried  [Figures 26 to 28], the first in a hammock, and the others by black slaves carrying the famous  small chairs on their shoulders.  plate twelve [Figure 26] is similar to the central figure on the plate  Configuration of the entrance… , although in that illustration the porters are Black. In illustration thirteen [Figure 27], however, the central figure in the group of three  women following the small chair, whom Lygia Cunha (1960) identifies as  slaves, is also identical to the mulatto woman in Elevation and Façade. The group in plate fourteen [Figure 28] is repeated in the same work relating to the prospectus of Salvador. It is important to note that the theme of small chairs has resonated strongly in the collective imagination regarding Portuguese society in the East since the 16th century. Both Chaudhuri and Russell-Wood²¹  remind us that the desire for  enrichment and social distinction was the main driving force behind the Portuguese who set out for the  Indian States, and that public ostentation was common practice amongst Portuguese society in the colonies. In this context, the means of transport served to distinguish the nobles and gentry, who had themselves carried in  palanquins, followed by retinues of slaves.

This practice, as well as the ostentatiousness in dress, is noted and criticised by the various chroniclers who wrote about  Portuguese India, amongst whom the most famous is certainly the Dutchman Jan Huygen van Linschoten (1563–1611), to whom we shall return in due course. By way of comparison, we highlight here an engraving from his Histoire de la navigation (…) aux Indes Orientales, in which we see a  Portuguese woman and her daughters being carried in a palanquin. [Figure 29]  Plates fifteen to seventeen refer to garments worn by  white people, and we see a repetition of the technique used by the artist in the military uniforms. The same figures are replicated with slight variations in the positioning of their heads and dressed in different ways. In fact, the clothing itself does not vary; what changes are the colours and patterns of the fabrics and  embellishments [Figures 30 to 32]. In these illustrations, a trait so characteristic of Julião’s watercolours is particularly evident: the way in which the  coat envelops the figure in such a way as to reveal its silhouette from behind. Figures 26 to 28  – Carlos Julião (attributed to). Plates 12 to 14 from Sayings of figures in white and black…, undated (18th century). Watercolour on paper. National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro.

Figures 30 to 33  – Carlos Julião (attributed to). Plates 15 to 18 from Sayings of white and black figures…, undated (18th century). Watercolour on paper. National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro.

Figures 34 to 37  – Carlos Julião (attributed to). Plates 19 to 22 from Sayings of white and black figures…, undated (18th century). Watercolour on paper. National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro.

In illustrations eighteen and nineteen, scenes are depicted featuring  characters interacting [Figures 33 and 34]. The first, apparently a scene set in the street, shows us a Black man serving milk to a lady, both of whom are being watched by a  man (resembling the figure in plate fifteen). The other is described by  Cunha (1960) as a scene of duck hunting and does not appear to bear much relation to the others. The clothing of white women reappears in the  prints from twenty to 22 [Figures 35 to 37], also characterised by the repetition of the same character who has only the  costume, with the ornaments and the positioning of the hands altered. In plate 23 [Figure 38], we see another scene classified by  Cunha as a “romantic scene”, in which a man with a walking stick, “dressed in 18th-century style” (Cunha 1960), hands a young woman a letter which reads: “To Mrs Joanna Rosa”. Another white couple appears in plate 24 [Figure 39], the  male figure similar to those illustrating plates sixteen and seventeen. Plate 25 [Figure 40] shows us two female figures which could well be compared once again to the  mulatto woman from Elevation and façade. From plate 26 onwards, all the others refer to Black figures. The first five, from 26 to 30 [Figures 41 to 45], are devoted exclusively to costumes, whilst the following four, from 31 to 34 [Figures 46 to 49], depict scenes featuring Black street vendors. Here we see the fruit seller again, in a version identical to that in Elevation and  façade, as well as the milk vendor from the same prospekt of Salvador, and the  sweet seller from the Composition of the entrance to the Goa bar… in slightly altered versions. It is interesting to note that the street vendors are depicted in such a way as to incorporate various suggestions of movement, unlike the other characters seen so far. Plates 35 to 39 [Figures 50 to 54] are perhaps the  illustrations most frequently reproduced from this collection, invariably used to illustrate texts about festivals during the colonial era in Brazil. In fact, they refer to the festivals staging the coronation of the kings and  queens of the Congo, linked to the Brotherhoods of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks. These are also the illustrations that differ most, in terms of style, from the other  illustrations in the manuscript, as they feature various characters in an entourage with varied body movements and props. Figures 38 to 41  – Carlos Julião (attributed to). Prints 23 to 26 from Sayings of White and Black Figures…, undated (18th century). Watercolour on paper. National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro.

Figures 42 to 45  – Carlos Julião (attributed to). Prints 27 to 30 from Sayings of white and black figures…, undated (18th century). Watercolour on paper. National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro.

Figures 46 to 49  – Carlos Julião (attributed to). Plates 31 to 34 from Sayings of white and black figures…, undated (18th century). Watercolour on paper. National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro.

Much of the charm of the drawings in this series lies precisely in the miniaturisation of these characters, each depicted with their  colourful clothes, their musical instruments, headdresses and dance moves. In illustrations 36 and 39, it is interesting to note how, when faced with a larger number of figures, the  artist composes them individually, ensuring that the structure of the ‘scene’ results from the sum of these elements. The figures are not subject to any  spatial arrangement; on the contrary, it is their positioning on the page that shapes the space. It is also worth noting that this sort of parasol under which the king and the queen walk in the  procession is a well-known attribute of African kings; it suffices to mention here two examples in which it features: the tapestry  The Black King Carried in Triumph, from the Nouvelles Indes series (Gobelins Manufactory) and the Allegory of Africa& nbsp;[Fig. 59], engraved from a drawing by Charles Le Brun (1619–1690). The final illustrations in the album refer to the work involved in extraction at the “mines” of diamonds, possibly from Serro do Frio (Diamantina), as stated in the volume’s title. We can therefore see, in plate 40 [Figure 55], the Black stone-breakers, who reappear on the left-hand side of  plate 41 [Figure 56], a more comprehensive view that encompasses further stages of the extraction process. The washing of the gravel is depicted in plate 42 [Figure 57], characterised by the presence of a  structural form drawn in an extremely exaggerated perspective which visually takes the form of a strange  parallelepiped set against a landscape of hills and forms rendered with greater grace.  A similar illustration appears in the early nineteenth century in the book Travels in the interior of Brazil (1812) by the British mineralogist John Mawe  (1764–1829) [Figure 60], the first foreigner to be granted permission to visit the gold-mining district of Minas Gerais. Finally, illustration 43 [Figure 58], which concludes the Ditos de figurinhos de brancos e negros… , shows us a slave stripped naked to be inspected by the overseers. Of the 43 illustrations discussed, seventeen (around 40 per cent) refer exclusively to the ways of dressing of different  social groups within the population of Brazil, including military uniforms. Other themes involve indigenous peoples (from the most savage to the most civilised), illustrations relating to  social practices (including  means of transport, street vendors, African festivals), as well as an important (and lucrative) extractive industry. We have already had the opportunity to note the importance that Julião attaches to all the constituent elements of the costume and to the possible presence of identity markers  as defining features of the characters depicted. Generally speaking, the figure does not require a setting, which is only used in cases where the presence of other narrative elements contributes to the creation of  meaning in the image. Figures 50 to 54  – Carlos Julião (attributed to). Prints 35 to 39 from Sayings of white and black figures…, undated (18th century). Watercolour on paper. National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro.

Figures 55 to 58  – Carlos Julião (attributed to). Plates 40 to 43 from Sayings of white and black figures…, undated (18th century). Watercolour on paper. National Library Foundation, Rio de Janeiro

We have so far been examining the works of Julião in order to assess to what extent we might be dealing with a  body of work based on representational codes and which traditions might be implicated therein. It remains to be asked what motivation Carlos  Julião had  in compiling this collection of illustrations, organised as   Carlos Julião in compiling this collection of illustrations, organised in the form of an album. It is worth bearing in mind that the very notion of an album implies that the motifs were drawn from the world and rearranged in a different order. That being the case, is it possible to consider that the FBN album was compiled with a intended audience in mind? In this regard, Lygia Cunha comments:

The iconographic collection was compiled by Carlos Julião whilst he was travelling to distant lands, gathering whatever he found that was most distinctive items he came across, with the aim of compiling an album of curiosities, perhaps to present it to a superior in the hierarchy – a plausible hypothesis given the subject matter illustrated on  plate no. 1.

Indeed, the allegorical composition that opens the volume suggests a possible dedication, whose  recipient might well have been Brigadier Rafael Pinto Bandeira himself. We have already seen that Bandeira remained in Lisbon for almost the whole of the year 1789. As he was a soldier, just like Julião²², at that time  captain of one of the companies of the Court Artillery Regiment, it is quite reasonable to assume that the two met during this period.

Bandeira’s exploits in the  wars against the Spanish in southern Brazil may well have made him a renowned figure in the Portuguese army, which resulted in his promotion to brigadier. To consider that Julião might have given him an album of drawings featuring Brazilian characters  as a sign of admiration or friendship is by no means far-fetched, although this hypothesis would still require more compelling evidence. A commission from Bandeira cannot be ruled out either. Still on the subject of this argument, if the title page was designed specifically as  tribute to the recipient of the album, it is reasonable to assume that the entire set of illustrations was also created on the same occasion, with the intention of being presented as a gift. In other words, it is reasonable to assume that Julião, drawing on a wider repertoire of drawings, which included characters from various parts of the  Portuguese world, selected certain Brazilian types to compile an album that he wished to present as a gift. Several reasons lead us to this hypothesis: firstly, we know that he drew other figures  not only of Brazilians, as can be seen from the Indians and Chinese depicted in the composition of the entrance to the Goa bar… ; secondly, if the figures from the GEAEM plates were cut out and pasted alongside the  city leaflets, it is because they previously existed on some other medium or were copied from there; finally, the fact that several  illustrations are repeated in the FBN album and on the GEAEM plates is an indication that the  artist had a practice of duplicating or “reusing” the  types and that, therefore, there was a set of templates to which he referred in order to do so. In view of this, in our opinion, the FBN album should be regarded as the result of a selection of drawings drawn from a  more extensive collection, a selection which was probably intended to compile a volume to be presented, or which had been commissioned from him.

3. Stickers in Painting

Further support for this hypothesis is provided by the existence of two paintings that currently belong to the  collection of the Ricardo Brennand Institute in Recife [Figures 61 and 62]. The canvases were acquired at Sotheby’s in New York and constituted lot 400  of the auction held on 28 January 1999 (Sotheby’s 1999) ²³. In the catalogue, they were simply titled Peoples of Lisbon and Portugal, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and Angola.

There is no mention of the provenance of the works. In the catalogue entry, it is stated that the attribution to Carlos Julião was made by diplomat Mário Calábria.

Indeed, it is impossible not to link the paintings in question to Julião’s work, as they present us with a cast of human figures, amongst whom we can recognise  some characters whom we have already encountered in the works analysed previously. Furthermore, the figures are arranged in the same ‘parade’-like structure that we had the opportunity to observe in the  Goa Bar Configuration, now surprisingly including characters from the Kingdom and not just from the Conquests, as was the case in the other works. It is worth noting, however, some significant differences regarding certain formal solutions adopted, such as, for example, that of the  support on which the figures rest, which differs considerably from the works seen previously, as well as the fact that some of the figures display far greater expressiveness in terms of gesture and a suggestion of bodily movement.

Each screen is divided into three horizontal bands

Each of the canvases is divided into three horizontal bands in which the figures are depicted with  captions in Portuguese and Italian. In the top band of painting 61, occupying a central position within the composition, one sees the symbol of the city of Lisbon – the  caravel with two ravens²⁴ – surrounded by a gilded ornament in the rocaille style, surmounted by a  royal crown. Beneath this coat of arms, we read the following inscription: “A painting depicting the Arms of the City of Lisbon and the various styles of dress in Portugal, particularly at Court. A painting depicting the coat of arms of the City of Lisbon and the various styles of dress in Portugal, particularly in Lisbon, 1779”. This inscription therefore allows us to date the canvases to the year 1779, which indicates that they are contemporary with the plate depicting the elevation and façade.  

 In this painting (Figure 61), there are 24 figures, all relating to metropolitan Portugal,  with the exception of the first soldier, who is Brazilian. The figures are identified by the following captions (starting from the top row, from left to right):

1. Sargento Mor das Minas / Senior Sergeant of the Brazilian Mines
2. Assistant Sergeant Major / Sergeant Major of the Urban Militia
3. Assistant Captain Major / Captain Major of the Urban Militia
4. Dezembargador / A Court Minister
5. Doorman at the Caza / Doorman at the Palace
6. Soldado de Malta / Soldier of Malta
7. Assistant Sergeant / Sergeant of the Urban Militia
8. Auxiliary Soldier / Urban Militia Soldier
9. A woman in a hunting coat with her / A woman in a coat with her
10. Slave / Schiava
11. Woman from Porto / Woman of Porto
12. A Midwife / Mammana
13. Huma Fidalga on foot during Holy Week / A lady dressed in Holy Week attire, walking and visiting the churches on Holy Thursday.
14. A woman in a cloak with her / A woman in a cloak and her
15. Maid / Servant
16. Huma Regateira / A Regatta Sailor
17. Huma Frialeira / A fishmonger’s, selling fish for the town
18. A member of the Confraternity, who asks for alms / A Brother of the Congregation who asks for alms
19. Huma Saloia dressed for summer / A Saloia dressed for summer
20. The town bailiff with his assistants on a day out with the band, on their way to some festival / An official of the town, namely the town crier, with his two assistants
21. Saloia on horseback, dressed for winter / Saloia on horseback, dressed for winter
22. Huma Colareja / A Fruit Seller
23. Huma Galinheira / A Chicken Seller
24. Hum Mariola de Alfandega / A Customs Porter

The first panel (Figure 61), therefore, features six military figures, similar to those we saw in the manuscript of the  FBN. Flanking the coat of arms of Lisbon, we see two figures associated with the judiciary: the Appellate Judge and the  Doorman. Among the military personnel, note the presence of a Black officer in the uniform of the Minas Gerais regiment, as well as a  soldier referred to as ‘of Malta’, certainly linked to the Military Order of the Knights of Malta. The other officers are the captain, sergeant-major,  sergeant and auxiliary soldier, responsible for maintaining order in the city. Taken together, the figures seem to evoke a sense of authority. In the next section of Figure 61, all the figures are women, with the  noblewoman dressed for Holy Week occupies the  central position, beneath the city’s coat of arms. The section comprises three other ladies, one from Porto, another accompanied by her  maid and another with her slave. It is surprising that reference is made to an urban slave in this context, given that slavery had been abolished in the  Kingdom and in India in 1761. In addition to the midwife, standing next to the noblewoman, the last two figures on the right-hand side of the canvas already introduce the theme of street vendors, which is also addressed in the following section.& In the lower section, we again see, in a central position, a figure who conveys authority: the  Meirinho, a local administrator and enforcer of judgements. He is accompanied by “his  Black men on a day of public assembly”, that is to say, men dressed and attired for the public proclamation of a decree or of a penalty imposed on a offender. The other male figures are the customs porter and the monk begging for alms for the  Confraternity. Four female figures complete the painting: the “country girl”, or  peasant woman, in summer and winter attire, as well as two street vendors. In the painting as a whole, we therefore count six soldiers, three male figures representing authority, four  street vendors, eight female figures (a noblewoman, ladies, the maidservant, the slave, the midwife and the peasant woman), as well as the  beggar brother and the customs porter. The second painting (Figure 62) is also divided into three  horizontal bands, but its 22 figures are arranged in a less symmetrical and orderly manner. The resemblance to drawings by Julião is more clearly evident here than in the image seen previously. The captions identifying the figures are: The first panel of Figure 62, therefore, is occupied by six military figures, similar to those we saw in the  manuscript of the FBN. Flanking the coat of arms of Lisbon, we see two figures associated with the  judiciary: the Appellate Judge and the Doorman²⁵.

Among the military personnel, note the presence of a Black officer wearing the regimental uniform of  Minas Gerais, as well as a soldier referred to as ‘from Malta’, certainly linked to the Military Order of the Knights of Malta. The other officers are the captain,  staff sergeant, sergeant and auxiliary soldier, responsible for maintaining order in the city. Taken together, the figures seem to evoke a sense of authority. In the next segment of Figure 62, however, all the figures are women, with the  noblewoman dressed for Holy Week occupies the central position, beneath the city’s coat of arms. The section comprises three other ladies, one from Porto, another accompanied by her maid and another by her  slave. It is surprising that reference is made to an urban slave in this context, given that slavery had been abolished in the  Kingdom and in India in 1761. In addition to the midwife, standing next to the noblewoman, the last two figures on the right-hand side of the painting already introduce the theme of street vendors, which is also discussed in the following section.& nbsp;In the lower section, we again see, in a central position, a figure who exudes authority: the  Meirinho, a local administrator and enforcer of judgements. He is accompanied by “his  Black men on a day of public assembly”, that is to say, men dressed and attired for the public proclamation of a decree or of a penalty imposed on an offender. The other male characters are the customs porter and the monk who begs for alms for the  Brotherhood. Four female figures complete the painting: the “country girl”, or  peasant woman, in summer and winter attire, as well as two street vendors. In the painting as a whole, we can therefore count six soldiers, three male figures representing authority, four  street vendors, eight women’s outfits (noblewoman, ladies, the  maid, the slave, the midwife and the peasant woman), as well as the  beggar brother and the customs porter. The second painting (Figure 62) is also divided into three  horizontal bands, but its 22 figures are arranged in a less symmetrical and orderly manner. The resemblance to drawings by Julião is more clearly evident here than in the image seen previously.

The captions that identify the characters are:

1. o do Rio de Jan.o / Zerbinetto del Rio di Jan.o
2. A woman from Rio de Janeiro / A lady from Rio de Janeiro
3. The way in which a Black man from the forest comes to present himself at the Angola Customs House in order to be sold / The way in which a Black man from the forest […] comes to the Angola Customs House to sell himself
4. Mocamba da Baya / Servant of the City of Baya
5. Mocamba, which is ground, is treated with care / Serva, known as Mulatta, is treated with care
6. Mocamba of the River of O / Serva of the River of Jan.o
7. Mocamba of the River of O / Serva of the River of Januário
8. Pirate of the River of O / Servant of the River of Jano
9. Just as the ladies of Rio de Janeiro walk in the Cadeyrinhas, those who follow behind are the Mocambas who always accompany them / Just as the ladies of Rio de Janeiro walk in the Segette, those who follow behind are the maids who always accompany them
10. Mocamba […] / A maid who goes […] at night to […]
11. Mocamba in disguise / A transvestite servant
12. Pirate of the River of O / Servant of the River of Januário
13. How women usually are in their homes in Rio de Janeiro / How women are in their homes in Rio de Janeiro
14. Pretta Mocamba do Rio de Janeiro / Serva of Rio de Janeiro
15. A priest sells water in Rio de Janeiro / A black man selling water in Rio de Janeiro
16. Mocamba of Angola / Serva of Angola
17. Preta q. sells lemonade in Rio de Janeiro / A Black woman selling lemonade in Rio de Janeiro
18. The Way Black People Are Treated in Rio de Janeiro / La Maniera di […] li Negri nel Rio di Janeiro
19. How Black people walk in Angola / The way Black people walk in Angola
20. Preta sells sweets in Rio de Janeiro / A Black woman selling sweets in Rio de Janeiro
21. Preta sells eggs in Rio de Janeiro / A Black woman selling eggs in Rio de Janeiro
22. Black Mocamba from Baya / Serva Negra della Baya

Unlike the previous painting (Figure 61), the central part of each segment of this work is occupied by groups of figures:

• In the top panel, we see a scene from a slave market in Angola;
• in the central lane, a child’s seat being carried by two slaves and followed by maids (which corresponds to plate thirteen in the FBN album, see Figure 27);
• in the lower section, a group of Black people carrying a barrel.

Just three characters occupy the top panel: a knight and a lady, both from Rio de Janeiro, and a maid from Bahia. In the second section, we have seven “mocambas” – a term not found in Bluteau, but which may be synonymous with “mucama”, or  domestic servant – all white, four of whom are from Rio de Janeiro. The final character in this segment is a  woman wearing the clothes she wears inside the house. The bottom row is occupied exclusively by Black characters. Among them, we see three ‘mocambas’ again, one from Rio de Janeiro, one from Bahia and one from  Angola, plus four street vendors (water, lemonade,  sweets and eggs), as well as a character wearing the traditional dress worn by the locals in Angola.  In view of this, it is worth devoting a little more attention to the question of the authorship of the paintings. In this regard, there are two possibilities to consider: whether or not to accept the attribution to Carlos Julião.  If we consider that the works were in fact executed by him, the first factor to consider is the dating. Even though only one of them is dated, it can be assumed that both canvases date from 1779, which leads us to conclude that they must have been painted whilst Julião was in the service of the Portuguese Crown in the overseas possessions.  During this period, incidentally, he was probably in Brazil, as the date coincides with that of the panel depicting the Elevation and façade. It follows from this that the entire collection of figures from the Kingdom was already organised by the time Julião left Portugal  in 1774, which implies that the habit of drawing with a view to compiling ‘an album of curiosities’ predates the journeys ‘to distant lands’, as  Cunha (1960) would have it. This leads us to another important conclusion: Julião’s interest  in recording human types was not sparked by what was later termed the “exoticism” of the peoples of Portuguese overseas territories.  On the contrary, it would seem that this interest predates the voyage to the Conquests, and may have been informed by international visual traditions, such as  costume books, illustrated travel literature and cartography. It would be worth investigating how Julião engages with these traditions. Furthermore, in view of the agreement regarding the attribution of the paintings to Julião, there are two other aspects that need to be addressed.& The first of these concerns the supposed ability of a military man to practise the craft of oil painting. Now, as we know – and we shall have the opportunity to return to this subject later – the practice of drawing formed part of military training in 18th-century  Portuguese military training in the 18th century, as was instruction in the use of watercolour, both of which were extremely useful tools for these professionals, particularly those directly involved in construction. Drawing and watercolour painting were easy to use in the field – that is, outside the controlled conditions of an office environment – whilst at the same time proving highly effective in “demonstrating” and “making visible” what needed to be communicated to superiors. It is no coincidence that there are treatises setting out standards for military drawing in 18th-century Portugal²⁶.

  However, the practice of oil painting requires a different technical preparation, which is certainly not acquired in the Military Academy. But, assuming he possessed this skill – which is possible – it seems unlikely that Julião would have painted these canvases in Brazil  as a mere hobbyist, which suggests that there must have been a commission involved. The presence, moreover, of captions in Italian further reinforces this assumption. To the extent that it were possible to ascertain with any certainty for whom these paintings were intended, new avenues of research would certainly come to light, which would broaden our understanding of Carlos Julião’s work in the field of the visual arts. If, on the other hand, we accept that Carlos Julião may not be the author of these works, then another artist comes into the picture, one who certainly used his drawings  as the basis for the composition of the canvases in question. And this raises a new problem: if Julião did not return to  Portugal only in July 1780, as we shall see, the two canvases cannot have been painted simultaneously. The first painting, which features the symbol of Lisbon, must therefore have been executed in 1779 by  anonymous artist, based on models by other draughtsmen other than Julião. The second painting, however  must have been painted some time later, using Julião’s watercolours as the main reference. In this case, the short interval between the first work and the second might explain some differences in  composition between them, notably with regard to the arrangement of the figures, who are much more clustered together in the second painting and better distinguished as individuals in the first. In any case, there is no doubt that these works occupy a unique position within the context of 18th-century Portuguese art, as  depictions of local working-class figures in painting before the last decade of that century.& Tenreiro (2008:129) notes this peculiarity by suggesting that the canvases be renamed ‘Castas de Portugal’ and ‘Castas do Atlântico Sul’ , in reference, naturally, to the castas paintings of the Hispano-American 18th century. Although for this work we have prioritised the relationship between  Julião with the world of military drawing and that we are unaware of the existence of any tradition of painting  breeds in Portugal, it is worth examining whether it is possible in any way to link these two traditions. As García Sáiz (1989) points out, the emergence of the genre of casta paintings in Spanish America  the 18th century corresponds to a chapter in artistic practices focused on secular themes in the art of the colonial period. With racial mixing as their main subject, caste paintings deal with  racial mixing, the caste paintings depict family groups comprising a couple, whose members come from  distinct racial groups, and at least one mixed-race child born of this union and, therefore, of mixed race. Taking into account all possible intermarriages between the three main ethnic groups – the white, identified as Spanish, the  Black and the Indigenous – and of these with the  mixed-race individuals resulting from each combination – this results in sixteen different “castes” that would make up the total Mexican population. Thus, it is common for castas paintings to be presented in series of sixteen paintings, although in some cases the painter chooses to depict them on a single  panel divided into sixteen compartments. The constant presence of an inscription explaining the racial mix depicted in the painting – such as “from Cambujo and  India produces Sambaigo” – appears to be a practice borrowed from the natural sciences. It is important to note that some historians suggest that the  caste registers were intended for parishes and that the entries served as  guidance for parish priests when registering births, since the  civil registry was only established in Mexico, for example, on 27 February 1856. [Figures 63 and 64] The Mexican caste paintings are set as  domestic scenes, in which the figures are depicted inside their homes or whilst carrying out their trades, constituting a vast repertoire of  everyday activities in colonial Mexico. Thus, in these paintings, the castes are defined not only by the  racial mixing from which they originated, but also by their way of dressing and the trade to which they were devoted. The series of sixteen paintings illustrates the status and the place of each  caste, thereby outlining a general picture of the social structure of New Spain in the eighteenth century. When considering the series of castes in a possible parallel with the paintings attributed to Carlos Julião, one of the first issues to consider is the fact that the genre of painting that emerged in Mexico is characterised as a perspective on  American society as it has developed in America. As such, it highlights as a distinctive feature of this society its  mixed-race nature and does not shy away from a moral judgement on the mixing of races. In the paintings of the Pernambuco collection (as well as in the other works attributed to Carlos Julião), on the contrary, the artist appears to construct a  narrative about the diversity of peoples and customs that come together under a single  ‘crown’ (as literally occurs in the painting of Portuguese types), a diversity which he chooses to express through different ways of dressing. It is not, therefore, a discourse about himself, as in the case of the castas, but about the ‘other’. And, as such, we cannot ignore the dual status of Carlos Julião: a Piedmontese by birth in the service of the Portuguese army. As a military man, he embodies what Pratt (1992) calls ‘the eyes of the empire’, insofar as he observes and represents the extent of  Portuguese dominion over different peoples and territories. At the same time, he is also a stranger in these domains, possibly drawn by the diversity of customs he encounters in this world. In any case, there does not seem to be any moral judgement on the part of Julião, nor any assessment of the  mixing of races, although the blending of customs is perceived and depicted by him.

However, as both are typical works of the 18th century, it is inevitable that both the castas paintings and the works of Carlos Julião  are, in some way, imbued with an Enlightenment mindset, which seeks to classify and organise the world. This underlying intention brings to light social organisations that are, in themselves, hierarchical. In Carlos Julião, there is no intention to draw up a complete picture of all the possibilities of social types in the Portuguese   kingdom and overseas and, in this way, to reveal a social structure. But it is indeed possible to glimpse this structure, which is hinted at in the more or less sophisticated ways of dressing, in the fact that all Black people carry something on their  shoulders or on their heads, whilst none of the white people carry anything, or in the  white people who supervise the work of the  Black people in the mines, or the fact that the indigenous people are close to the natural resources. In castas paintings, by contrast, there is a compositional scheme to be followed – the sixteen possible combinations of intermarriage between the three  races, represented by couples and a child – which ultimately reveals just how the more or less  prosperous living conditions in New Spain of the  eighteenth century were directly proportional to the amount of white blood brought by the individual representing that particular social class. On the other hand, as the castes constitute a specifically pictorial genre, it is natural that they should be depicted according to the conventions of  high art²⁸.

Thus, it is possible to observe in many of the canvases that make up the various series the ways in which  gestures and body postures derived from Baroque religious painting, or even from genre scenes – the still lifes – from 18th-century Spain. In Pernambuco paintings, it is quite evident that the figures, always conceived individually, are referenced by other  figures, probably derived from drawings or engravings, but not from models in paintings. In the case of the other works attributed to Julião, even though there is more than one figure depicted on the same plate, they rarely  interact or form a scene. His drawings retain the impression of a fragmented vision, which removes the  characters from their usual context and rearranges them in a different order. It is also worth noting that the artwork of Julião, in general, displays a certain ‘affectation’ in the way it depicts  gestures and body postures, which is, moreover, typical of eighteenth-century illustration. Contributing to this is the notion of ‘theatricality’ which, inherited from the Baroque, continues to inform  visual style with regard to the depiction of the human figure. In any case, it must be acknowledged that the Pernambuco canvases exhibit a composition that resembles certain casta paintings, specifically those in which the  sixteen couples are gathered in the same painting. As can be seen from Figure 65, in this type the castas are arranged in separate compartments and, just like the  canvases in the Brennand Collection, they feature captions to identify the characters. A detailed examination of the body of work by Carlos Julião or works  attributed was intended, first and foremost, to define the corpus around which this work is structured. At the same time, we sought to ascertain what has already been said about them, to assess the ‘state of the art’, so as to build, on that basis, hypotheses regarding  statements and intended audiences. An attempt was also made to ascertain the extent to which these works imply familiarity with repertoires of images that are already well-established. The first issue that arises when examining this corpus is the lack of clarity regarding authorship. Only one of the works is signed by Julião, a military officer, whilst the others  attributed to him due to their resemblance to this first one. Now, if we consider that the prospectus and the forts depicted in the Elevation and façade are  copies of other drawings, what guarantees that the figures are not as well? Similarly, it is not difficult to see that there is a certain disparity in the treatment of the figures in the Configuration of the bar’s entry…  However, as a starting point, we accept this set as a single corpus, which falls within the same spectrum of issues. Moreover, issues of authorship are quite common in the context of Portuguese-Brazilian iconography of the eighteenth century. We shall return to this subject in due course. Among the hypotheses that have emerged throughout this chapter, we highlight those relating to the two plates by Carlos Julião held at the GEAEM. According to the interpretation proposed by Alpers (1999) of the Dutch map of Brazil by Marcgraf  as “historical cartography”, we suggest that the  Elevation and façade be regarded as a “historical description” of Salvador, and also that the Configuration of the entrance to the bar…  be linked to attempts to implement anti-racist laws in Portuguese India. Naturally, this interpretation implies that the intended audience for these works is the  Portuguese state itself, which is entirely consistent with the fact that Julião was a army officer. The fact that they are currently part of the collection of a military institution only serves to reinforce the likelihood that their origin is linked to some higher-level requisition. These drawings reveal to city dwellers what would otherwise be invisible. The ‘sticker’ album by FBN, for its part, appears to have a different target audience, which, as we have suggested, would be  Brigadier Rafael Pinto Bandeira, the central figure of the allegorical composition that opens the volume. This also implies that the album was compiled to be presented as a gift, drawing on a broader repertoire of ‘stickers’. It is worth noting that some scenes of a more anecdotal nature, such as Figures 16 and  Figures 34, stand out somewhat from the rest, introducing a narrative rhythm that differs from the others. As for the paintings belonging to the  Ricardo Brennand Institute, we consider it unlikely that they were painted by Julião. There is no doubt that the painter draws on the drawings by Julião  for the composition, which is a perfectly common practice in the period in question, but this is not sufficient evidence to assume that he is the author of these works. On the other hand, we disagree with the view of Tenreiro regarding the interpretation of these works according to the model of Hispano-American caste paintings. In our view, Julião is not concerned with racial mixing, but rather with  diversity, which he depicts through styles of dress. In any case, it is possible to discern many traditions and conventions of representation in this collection of  works. This makes Julião not only an attentive observer, but also an informed observer. In other words, what is expressed in these works stems not only from perception, but also from some prior knowledge of the subjects depicted. Next, we shall trace the biographical journey of Julião, at least as far as we have been able to reconstruct it. Let us see what can be revealed about his artistic personality from this.

Biography and Military Career of Carlos Julião

Carlos Julião is yet another of the countless officials whom the Portuguese Crown has put “on the move” – to use the expression coined by Russel-Wood (1998) – travelling throughout the colonial sphere spanning four continents. He is therefore certainly not a figure mentioned in dictionaries or compilations of biographies of famous men. The biographical details that can be corroborated by documentation concerning him are still  scarce and, to reconstruct a chronological account of his life, it is necessary to draw on rather scattered sources. The pioneering work aimed at sketching out a  biography of Julião was published by Lygia Cunha in 1960, as an introduction to the facsimile edition of the album Riscos iluminados de figurinhos de brancos e negros… , held by the FBN, Rio de Janeiro  (Cunha 1960). Silvia Hunold Lara (2002 and 2007) largely built upon the biography already outlined by  Cunha, adding a number of hypotheses, such as those relating to the artist’s place of death. A crucial step towards a deeper understanding of the issue was taken by Maria Manuela Tenreiro (2007 and 2008), who, having examined documents in the  Portuguese archives, brought to light the manuscript held at the National Library of Portugal (which we shall discuss later), as well as various other significant pieces of information. Another source worth highlighting in this regard is the short text by Carlo Burdet (1986), the first to point out the close relationship between Julião and  Colonel Carlo Antonio Napione (1756–1814) from 1801 onwards, when the metallurgist and  mineralogist from Turin began serving in the Portuguese army as inspector of the Royal Army Arsenal. Both Cunha, Lara and Tenreiro consider that Julião& performed the duties of an engineer within the ranks of the Portuguese army, as can be inferred from the statements: “the data that has come into our possession does not specify the date on which he was appointed as an engineer” (Cunha 1960), or “an engineer by training”²⁹  (Lara 2002) or even “Julião, who served in the Portuguese colonial army as an engineer” (Tenreiro 2007). Consequently, in order to properly understand the origins of the iconographic work of Carlos Julião, it is essential to assess his role within the context of the  military engineers in eighteenth-century Portugal.

The importance of the role played by these professionals during the 18th century in Portuguese America in areas as wide-ranging as cartographic surveying and border demarcation, as well as  civil engineering and urban design, amongst others. In view of this, it is sometimes difficult to precisely define his range of activities, as  Rafael Moreira points out when he describes the 18th-century engineer as “a generalist, a man of a thousand unspecified trades” (apud Faria 2001:72). Indeed, the expectation surrounding the work of these pragmatic professionals was that they would be capable of facilitating  occupation and defence of the territories subject to the Portuguese Crown, finding  solutions and proposing interventions based on the characteristics and variables presented by the site itself, rather than merely taking into account theoretical principles. The foundation for the performance of all his duties was his knowledge of mathematics and drawing.  Beatriz Bueno (2003) notes the convergence of meaning between the words “drawing” and “design” in that context. The notion of “drawing” amongst the Portuguese is therefore imbued with a strong  instrumental character, since it is identified with reasoning, the “mental exercise that preceded the realisation of any intention” (Bueno 2004a:153). Another important aspect to highlight is the use of drawing during the  18th century in Portugal for the purpose of “demonstrating”, making known, and bringing to the attention of metropolitan administrators the process of effective  occupation and control of the territories of the Conquests. Within the colonial logic, the drawings produced by military engineers in Portuguese overseas territories served as mediators of  political action of territorial domination undertaken by the metropolis. It is essential to establish this distinction between the  ‘utilitarian’ nature of the design practised in Portugal and the more speculative nature of the  drawing engendered by classical culture, in which it becomes a means of grasping the visible structure of things, thus serving as a means of knowledge of the world. Given the need to convey objective information, it was natural that the practice of drawing among  military engineers would, to a large extent, be standardised through the use of conventions of representation. Indeed, it is chiefly in the publications of the Chief Engineer of the kingdom Manoel de Azevedo Fortes (1722 and 1729) that the  methods, instruments and the codification of the graphical representation used in  Portuguese of the 18th century (Bueno 2004a:176). In light of these considerations, in this chapter, the information on the life of Julião provided by the authors cited above will be supplemented and cross-referenced with the  documentation uncovered during research carried out in Portuguese archives in the course of this work, notably in the Military Historical Archive (AHM),  Overseas Historical Archive (AHU), Torre do Tombo National Archive (ANTT) and National Library of Portugal (BNP). The information gleaned from the documentation will be cross-referenced with other  historical nature, which aim to provide evidence that may clarify whether, and in what way, Carlos Julião was involved in the practice of military engineering or in  institutions for the teaching of drawing within the context of the Portuguese army, namely: the Artillery Regimental Schools  (established during the army reform of 1762), the Royal Academy of Fortification, Artillery and Drawing (founded in 1790), the  Class in Drawing and Metalwork at the Army Arsenal Foundry (in operation since the mid-18th century) or the Drawing Room of the Royal Botanical Garden of Ajuda (established in 1780)30. Let us see to what extent it has been possible to piece together this puzzle.

1. Origin and Formation

As stated in several of the documents consulted, Julião was born in the city of  Turin, then the capital of the Kingdom of Sardinia³¹, in 1740.

One of the issues that arises from the recognition of his  Piedmontese nationality is the surname “Julião” itself.& Burdet (1986) draws attention to this fact, noting the difficulty of deducing the original Italian surname from the Portuguese translation, a point highlighted by Burdet   Italian first name from the surname is highlighted by Burdet (1986). According to the author, the surnames Giuliano or  Giuliani – which could be rendered as Julião in Portuguese – are very common in the region, even when written with the initial ‘J’.& Burdet does not, however, rule out the possibility that Julião was born in  Piedmont as part of a family of Portuguese origin, a possibility that Tenreiro also considers (2008:27). The matter, however, could only be properly clarified through more thorough research in the Turin archives. The fact is that, in all the documentation consulted regarding Carlos Julião in  Portugal, his surname always appears in the Portuguese form, with a single exception: the 1807 Lisbon Almanac. In this publication, the name Julião is mentioned twice: the first time on page 120, where it reads “Carlos Juliani, at the  Royal Army Arsenal, Campo de Santa Clara”; the second on page 355, where he is referred to as “Colonel Carlos Juliani, near the Santa Clara Field Park”. This is probably based on the  Almanac in which Silvia Lara adopts the spelling of the surname Juliani in her writings (2007). Julião himself, however, always uses the Portuguese form of the name, whether in his correspondence or in the  works he authored, signing “Carlos Julião” on the drawing Elevação and façade… and “Carlos Valentim Julião” on the manuscript at the BNP. The details regarding the education of Carlos Julião are rather vague, just as the reasons for his move to Portugal remain unclear. The document that may provide some clues to clarify these fundamental issues is held at AHU, and is dated February 1781. It is a Notice from the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, Aires de Sá e Melo  (1715–1786), to the Secretary of the Navy and Overseas Affairs, Martinho de Melo e Castro  (1716–1795), which stipulated that the artillery officers returning from service in Brazil and  India were to be incorporated into the artillery regiments of the Court, in any posts that were vacant. Attached to this Notice is a document written in his own hand by  Julião, in which the then first lieutenant of artillery states that he is “a native of the Court of Turin from whence he came to this Court of Lisbon, solely to attain the  glory of serving Your Most Faithful Majesty”³³. It is also worth highlighting the statement contained in another document attached to a case file from 1780, Most Catholic King of Spain.”.[/box] It is also worth highlighting the statement contained in another document attached to a case file from 1780, which reads: “Carlos Julião who is said to be the son of  João Baptista, a native of Turin, who declared that he had come to this Kingdom in the year one thousand seven hundred and sixty-three”. From both of the passages quoted, it can be deduced that Carlos Julião moved to Portugal at the age of 23, in what appears to have been a career choice to enter the service of the  Portuguese Crown. His arrival and the immediate start of his career in the Portuguese army in the rank of officer (as we shall have the opportunity to confirm later) raise another fundamental question for understanding the biography of  Julião: namely, that his training may well have taken place whilst he was still in Italy³⁵. The same document from February 1781 – which could almost be considered a curriculum vitae – provides us with another important clue regarding the formative years of Julião, particularly in the passage where the first lieutenant states that the Sup.te ‘consistently practised and applied’ the art of modelling, making drawings, and casting  casts, make drawings, and sketches at the Royal Academy of Turin”. Everything therefore suggests that Julião arrived in Portugal after completing his military training, which took place in his  hometown, possibly at the Reale Accademia di Savoia (or in Turin), founded in 1679 by the regent  Giovanna Battista (1644–1724), widow of Duke Carlo Emmanuele II  (1634–1675)³⁶. The book Turin, 1564–1680 by Martha Pollak (1991) is particularly relevant for understanding the  strongly military culture that developed in this city, as the location chosen by the House of Savoy to establish its capital from 1560 onwards. According to the author, during the 16th and  17th centuries, Turin – which, until the 16th century, still retained its original form as a Roman castrum& – would see its urban layout and architectural character successively transformed to turn it into a capital city, an expression of the power of the ducal court in power. And the central concern of this court, according to Pollak, was none other than the maintenance of the newly acquired independence of its  state, made possible through a series of diplomatic agreements concluded with other European royal houses. This certain  political fragility was further exacerbated by the geographical location of the duchy, situated right at the foot of the Alps. This location meant that Piedmont was regarded by the other Italian states  as an important defensive stronghold, as it would be the first target for any invaders of the Italian peninsula. Furthermore, it was situated amongst the territories controlled by the greatest military powers of the period, France and  Spain (then occupying Lombardy). And, in a series of successive episodes, Piedmont was invaded in turn by one and then the other. According to the thesis of Pollak (1991:18), these factors contributed to the development amongst the  Savoy of a state of “constant vigilance”, which was decisive in the formation of a genuine “military culture” in the Turin environment. This culture was expressed not only in the appearance of its buildings and fortifications, but also in the elaborate symbolism  evoked in the festivals and ceremonies organised by the ducal court. The formation of “the richest princely collection of military books in Italy”³⁷  (Pollak, 1991:156), comprising the principal works of the 16th and 17th centuries, not only by  Italian authors, but also by French and Flemish authors, as well as representative collections of  maps, treatises and manuscripts are also significant aspects of the interest shown by the  Dukes of Savoy’s interest in military matters. This environment, so heavily shaped by concerns regarding the defence and fortification of towns, the improvement of  artillery weapons, the organisation of urban space  for the movement of troops and military equipment, is said to have ensured that Julião received  sophisticated military training, which would afford him remarkable versatility in various fields of operation, as we shall see later on.

2. Early Career in the Army

Nor should we overlook the fact that Julião  moved to Portugal at a time of profound restructuring of the Portuguese army, a fact that warrants some consideration. The  second half of the 18th century corresponds to a period of modernisation and reorganisation& of the army as an institution in Portugal, whilst also revealing the emergence of the military as a social class in that country. It is Boxer who reminds us of the utter unpopularity and lack of prestige that military service had enjoyed until then amongst the Portuguese, notoriously due to the fact that the Crownwas a ‘bad employer’, paying ‘poorly, late, or never’ (2002:310–325). Another factor contributing to the poor reputation of military service was the system of  conscription carried out by the “recruitment parties”, which travelled through the interior  of the country, practically dragging young men fit for service into the army by force. According to Marques (1981), even up to the  Pombaline period, practices still persisted within the army that meant its organisation mirrored a stratification characteristic of  Portuguese society. Broadly speaking, the high nobility, by tradition and  hereditary succession, held the command posts, whilst the rest of the  officer corps came from a small provincial aristocracy, which could count on the favour of some ‘great man’. The ranks were made up of adventurers and outcasts who offered their services as  volunteers, or soldiers who had managed to climb a little higher in the  hierarchy by capitalising on the success of a particular campaign. The ineffectiveness of the army& nbsp;had already been felt to some extent at the time of the earthquake that devastated Lisbon in November 1755  (Marques 1981:30), when the  officers were unable to contain the chaos that rapidly spread throughout the city. But the process that triggered the necessary professionalisation of the  military forces in Portugal was the War of the Family Pact, or Fantastic War, as the part of the Seven Years’ War (1756–1763) that took place on Portuguese territory between& May and November 1762. The conflict arose from the refusal of King José I to accede to the Family Pact of the Bourbons of France, Spain, Naples and Parma against  England and Prussia. Once the ultimatum had been disregarded, requiring  Portugal close its ports to English ships, the country was invaded by Franco-Spanish troops across the Trás-os-Montes border, on  5 May 1762. By that time, the Portuguese army  had for some time been reduced to half its strength, “all poorly armed  and less disciplined” (Cordeiro 1895:191). In 1761, the  troops had not been paid for a year and a half, and the soldiers frequently resorted to begging and  violence (Marques 1981:31). Faced with the alarming number of desertions, a number of  emergency measures were successfully implemented by the administration of the then Count of Oeiras  with a view to increasing troop numbers, such as, for example, the payment of overdue pay. By September 1762, the army would swell from eighteen to sixty thousand men. However, as had often been the case in  past, in the face of the conflict, it was still necessary to resort to foreign aid  to bolster the military ranks and arm them adequately for the confrontation with the invaders. King  King George III of England sent to Portugal a force of  eight thousand men, accompanied by several senior officers, who were to be assigned to command posts within the  Portuguese army. Also recommended by the British, the figure who would go on to play a leading role in the process of modernisation of the  military forces in Portugal, the Count of Schaumburg-Lippe (1724–1777) ³⁸, whom King José I would appoint Field Marshal  and commander-in-chief of the Portuguese–British army on 10 July 1762.

Aware of the inferiority of his  troops, Lippe restricted his operations to a war of position, preventing advances by the enemy army. The war proceeded without any significant battle being fought, and on 1 December the armistice was signed. In& February 1763, the peace treaty was ratified in Paris. Despite the end of hostilities, it was clear that Portugal lacked the capacity to defend the  integrity of its territory without resorting to foreign aid, and in particular that of  England. As Marques states, within the logic of the Pombaline project of government, the process of  modernisation of the State would necessarily have to take into account the restructuring of its  army. “The army was to be brought into line with the despotic nature of power, (…) in short, be the guarantor of state authority by asserting itself over society as a whole” (Marques 1981:48). It is precisely in this context that the Count of Lippe is invited by Minister Carvalho e Melo to remain in Portugal  and carry out all the necessary reforms to provide the country with an army capable of confronting potential enemies. To this end, Lippe extended his stay in Portugal until September 1764, later returning for another period between September 1767 and March 1768, 1767 and March  1768, when he returned permanently to  Germany. However, even from a distance, the  Count continued to be a leading figure for the Portuguese: he frequently sent instructions&  and advice on military matters to the officers, many of whom maintained  correspondence with him, drafted documents, and was always the first name to come to mind, particularly for King José I, when  Portugal faced any threat of a more serious nature. The main measures& nbsp;adopted by Lippe concerned, first and foremost, the organisation of the army itself. With regard to the  Artillery – which is of particular interest to us, as this is the branch in which Carlos Julião would serve – four regiments were organised: that of& Lisbon (or the Court), that of Lagos (or the Algarve), that of Extremoz (or the Alentejo) and that of Porto (or the North). Each of these regiments consisted of twelve companies, one of firefighters (or bombers), one of  miners, one of engineers and nine of artillerymen³⁹ (Cordeiro 1895) . With regard to discipline and the training of  troops—a major concern for Lippe—the Count presented, as early as the beginning of& 1763, the Regulations for the Cavalry and Infantry which were to remain the benchmark for the Portuguese army until the& 19th century. Lippe also provided the Portuguese military forces with their first plan for  uniforms, including those for the army  and navy, dating from the year 1764, a scheme which was extended to overseas possessions. It was only from this year onwards that the appearance and manner of wearing the uniforms began to be strictly regulated. The cut would be the same for all arms and the units would be distinguished by the shapes and colours of the& collars, lapels, stripes, trims,  braids, buttons, etc. It was not until 1806 that the custom was established in  Portugal that the custom of dressing the entire army in identical uniforms was established (Rodrigues 1999:13) . Other important initiatives by the Count included the promotion of education  and the practice of artillery and military engineering, the specification of reading lists and curriculafor each branch of the armed forces, the identification of foreign military books that should be translated  into Portuguese, as well as the works most suitable for “exercises in military meditation” (Marques 1981:50). According to  Marques, the reforms undertaken by Lippe& ensured that Portugal established a modern army, both in terms of its structure and the militaristic values that came to guide the conduct of the troops, as well as  obedience,  respect for the chain of command and the  sense of honour with regard to   service to the nation. Taken together, these factors led military officers towards a new type of hierarchical relationship, which ceased to be  social in nature and became functional. The duties associated with ranks no longer concerned the granting of privileges, but came to depend on professional criteria such as seniority and the proper fulfilment of functional duties. This took place, as one might expect, not without resistance from those still attached to the old ways. It is possible that Julião  was aware of the reforms undertaken by the Count of Lippe in the  Portuguese military forces and that this seemed tempting enough for him to move to Portugal? It is, without a doubt, a possibility. Given that the presence of foreigners in the Portuguese army was so significant, perhaps the young man saw this as a chance to achieve greater professional& than he could have achieved whilst serving in his own country. However, this is merely a hypothesis, which cannot be verified at the present stage of research. In any case, Lisbon was still being rebuilt following the destruction caused by the 1755 earthquake, and many foreigners& made their way there in search of professional opportunities. The fact is that Julião’s  career& nbsp;in the Portuguese army began right in the midst of this process, in October 1763, when he was commissioned as  second lieutenant⁴⁰ in the fire brigade of the  Lagos Artillery Regiment, which had been reorganised just a few months earlier to replace the former Artillery and Naval Regiment of the Kingdom of the Algarve⁴². Command of the new regiment was in the hands of Colonel Cristiano Frederico de Weinholtz  (1732–1789), son of Frederico Jacob de Weinholtz (1700–1752), a military officer& of German origin who had achieved considerable prestige in the service of the Portuguese Crown. The first promotion of  Julião was to come swiftly, just a few months later, although the rank was not confirmed until 1768. This is, in fact, the first of several instances of confusion surrounding the patents of our officer. In an undated document – though dated after  1765, Carlos Julião is referred to as first lieutenant& of the fire brigade of the Lagos Artillery Regiment. However, it is stated that “he has no& rank in this post to which he was appointed on 1 February 1764 by  Lieutenant-Colonel Diogo Ferrier, approved by the Field Marshal”. Furthermore, “he used to receive double the pay which he no longer receives as he has neither title nor order issued to the  Treasurer-General for this payment”⁴⁴. In fact, the lack of commission would only be rectified on  24 March 1768, when it was issued in “consideration of his merits and other factors relating to the person of Carlos Julião  (…) and the services he has rendered to me, whilst finding himself without the commission to which he is entitled in accordance with My Royal Orders”. It is also worth noting that, since June 1764, the Lagos Regiment, to which Carlos Julião was attached, had been transferred to the Feitoria Barracks in Oeiras, where our officer would take up residence. Given that his next promotion would not take place until thirteen years after his second letter of appointment, it is worth pausing to investigate what his activities& during that period. Julião’s Individual File, held at the AHM, mentions several “landings” in which he is said to have taken part, among which “the Mazagão Expedition” is said to have been “of particular note”, on which occasion “he went to rescue the inhabitants of the said garrison whilst under enemy fire, and at obvious risk to his own life”. Once again, it will be necessary to refer to the AHU document already cited to better clarify the nature of this expedition. In that document, Julião states that he “carried out a coastal patrol with Captain of the Navy  Bernardo Remires for one year, the campaign of which concluded with the **transport of residents from the settlement of Marzagão [sic]”. Mazagão had been founded by the  Portuguese in 1513 as a trading post on the coast of what is now Morocco, as part of the phase of Portuguese maritime expansion towards the Maghreb. Its fortress, built from 1541 onwards to a design by the  Italian Benedetto da Ravenna, was one of the most impregnable structures built by the Portuguese, which probably explains why Mazagão was the last Portuguese stronghold& on the western coast of Africa to fall, as early as the second half of the 18th century. At that time, the city, in the words of  António Dias Farinha, “was languishing in an intermittent struggle with the Moors”, until, in 1769, it succumbed to the siege by Sultan Sidi Mohamede ben Abdala. Given the city’s already limited  importance of the city within the Portuguese colonial system, it was decided to evacuate it; to this end, a truce was negotiated. According to Farinha, “a strong fleet was dispatched to Mazagão, tasked with bringing all the residents, the military garrison  and all the property that could be loaded on board’, after which the fortress was mined. Its inhabitants and garrisons were first transported to Lisbon and, shortly afterwards, to the newly -founded town of Nova Mazagão, deep in the Brazilian Amazon, in what is now the state of Amapá. If Julião was involved, as he claims, in transporting the residents of Mazagão, it is certain that the ship on which he served as coastguard formed part of the “strong armed force” assembled for the evacuation of the city ordered by King José I in 1769. As a result of this expedition and the “contagious company ” to which he was subjected, the officer states that he contracted a “malignant illness as a result of which he returned home with no hope of survival, and during the course of this protracted and dangerous illness he spent a great deal of his fortune” 49. There is yet another passage in the aforementioned 1781 document from the AHU which will be of great use to us, not only to bring to light activities in which Julião was involved and which are not mentioned in his& Individual File, but also to highlight the versatility and the scope of his  military training. In it, the officer states that his training at the Turin academy provided reason for the Superintendent to create the model of the  Fortaleza do Bugio, which he had the honour of presenting to the Most Serene Prince; and of being commissioned to produce the small-scale model of the& Equestrian Statue, by Francisco Xavier de Mendonça, who, due to his almost sudden death, never got round to completing& nbsp;on a large scale. A piece of artillery with its proportional repairs, cast by his own hand, was presented to Marshal Count of Lippe at the Aula de São Julião da Barra. And the portrait in stone  of the same Count of Lippe, which the Superintendent presented into the hands of  King José, of glorious memory. In light of all these facts, it would be advisable to analyse the tasks one by one. Let us begin with the “Bugio Fortress”. The model to which Julião refers is probably a scale model of the Fortaleza de São Lourenço da Cabeça Seca, or of the Bugio, which is situated in the middle of the Tagus estuary, opposite the Fort of São Julião da Barra, near Oeiras. It was built during the reign of King João IV (1604–1656, king from 1640), with a design inspired by Castel Sant’Angelo in Rome, which, in turn, went on to serve as a model for the construction of the  Fort of São Marcelo, or Fort do Mar, in Salvador. We know that the 1755 earthquake destroyed the Bugio lighthouse, the reconstruction of which was ordered by the secretary  Sebastião José de Carvalho e Melo three years later. Julião was possibly commissioned to produce a  scale model to mark the rebuilding of the lighthouse, which would not be completed until 1775. But what exactly is this ‘small-scale model of the Equestrian Statue’? According to Julião, this model  of this statue was commissioned by Francisco Xavier de Mendonça Furtado (1700–1769), brother of the future Count of Oeiras and  Marquis of Pombal, who served as Governor-General of the Captaincy of Grão-Pará and Maranhão& from its creation in 1751 until 1759. Isabel Mendonça (2003:6) reminds us that, on the occasion of Mendonça Furtado’s return to the Kingdom, the  councillors of Belém do Pará asked him to find, in Portugal, a  qualified artist to create a statue of King José I to be placed in the  square on the edge of the new Governors’ Palace, a building whose construction was just beginning according to a design by the Bolognese architect Antonio José Landi  (1713–1791). The works, however, did not proceed as quickly as planned, and the Palace was not completed until 1772. Shortly before that, in 1769, the city councillors once again approached Mendonça Furtado, reiterating their request for assistance in the creation of a statue of the king& nbsp;for Belém. On that occasion, a design for the plinth for the sculpture was even sent to Portugal, also featuring a drawing by Landi, which received an unfavourable opinion from  Reinaldo Manuel dos Santos (1731–1791), the architect responsible for public works. It is not known to whom the& sculpture intended for Belém was commissioned, but it is certain that the death of Mendonça Furtado halted the project’s progress, “thus preventing the pioneering idea of a ‘royal square’, centred on the first church in Belém, from being realised”, as stated by  a3246> the pioneering idea of a ‘royal square’, centred on the first royal statue in Portuguese art, from being realised” (Mendonça 2003:6). It is curious that Julião was involved in this process, having created a  scale model – perhaps made of wax or even cast in bronze – of a sculpture of King José I& intended to occupy the centre of a square designed by Landi in Pará. In addition to scale models of fortresses and models of sculptures,& Julião includes amongst his skills the casting of artillery pieces, a skill he is said to have demonstrated to the Count of Lippe himself  at the Aula de São Julião da Barra. It is worth noting that the Fort of São Julião da Barra was where the Court Artillery Regiment was stationed a3262> had been stationed since its creation in 1762. In the same charter that ordered the formation of the Regiment, “a class was established in which lessons were to be taught and  practical exercises three days a week, consisting of an hour and a half in the morning and an hour in the afternoon” (Cordeiro 1895:262). Either Julião was involved in these ‘practical exercises’, or he was merely trying to impress Lippe, given the chronic shortage of foundry workers in Portugal, as noted by Cordeiro (1895:207) . It remains to mention his professed skill as a sculptor, demonstrated by the creation of a portrait in stone of the Count of Lippe, presented to King  King José. Undoubtedly, we are entering here a field that goes beyond the technical qualifications specific to military training, bringing Julião closer to forms of  artistic nature. It is curious, in any case, that the officer makes such rare references to his skill in drawing, a fact which is nonetheless noted by Captain José Sanches de Brito& nbsp;(?–1797), when he praises the honourable conduct of Julião, who, in his opinion, embodies “all the precise arts  in a perfect military man, namely drawing, fortification, metal casting  and the artillery craftsmanship”. It is also Brito who, in the same document, emphasises that Julião was “assigned to a Palla de Guerra to teach artillery duties on board the ships”, which also establishes him as a skilled officer in  teaching naval artillery⁵³.

3. Departure for the Indian states

Still with regard to the “landings” mentioned in your  Individual File, it is stated that Julião is also said to have travelled to “Brazil, India and China”, although the dates of these journeys are not mentioned in this document. Once again, we turn to the documentation contained in other archives, in order to clarify the nature of the missions undertaken by  Julião to Portuguese overseas territories. Let us begin by highlighting a letter from  Colonel Weinholtz addressed to the Count of Lippe and dated Faro, 21 May 1777. In it, the colonel of the Lagos Artillery Regiment reports that Mon ancien Régiment was divided  in the year 1774 into large detachments, the first of which embarked on the King’s ships, whilst the last, comprising  five companies, proceeded, by order of His Majesty, to this country, where, together with other  similar detachments drawn from other artillery regiments, formed, under the command of Mr Ferrier, a new Artillery Regiment was formed. ⁵⁵ 

 Artillery. It is reasonable to assume that much of Julião’s work during his time in the East took place there in some form. For any other duties in which Julião may have been involved in India, it is necessary to refer once again to his Personal File. It mentions a journey made by the officer to Macao, “where he went at the suggestion of  Martinho de Mello⁵⁸, Secretary of State, to draw up a map of the entire district belonging to Your Royal Highness, which he carried out with the utmost precision, and delivered to the said Minister”. In 1773, as noted by Tenreiro (2007), Melo e Castro appears to have taken a particular interest in  Macau, even going so far as to propose a plan for the city’s reform. This is probably why he requested that a plan of the site be drawn up. The order was given to the Governor of India, who must have passed it on to the military authorities in Goa, who were responsible for appointing Carlos Julião to the task. This is what Captain José Sanches de Brito suggests, when he writes that Julião “was sent from that port to draw up the plan of the city of  Macao, was sent to that port by the Governor and Captain-General of India, whose instructions he carried out with satisfaction and honour”. However, this survey, which the officer claims to have carried out accurately and to have delivered to the minister, has not been located in the archives consulted in Portugal. In fact, identifying this type of document is rather difficult, as the drawings are often unsigned or undated and have been separated from the correspondence to which they would logically have been attached, in accordance with the organisational structure of Portuguese archives. By way of example, we reproduce here a plan of Macao which bears no indication of authorship and is undated, but which is certainly contemporary with the work carried out by Carlos Julião. [Figure 66]

We know that Julião would not return to Lisbon until July 1780. Given that the  Elevation and façade, analysed in the previous chapter, bears the date  May 1779, it seems quite reasonable to assume that the ship   Nossa Senhora da Madre de Deus, on which the officer served, must have anchored in Salvador on its return from Asia. Indeed, it is worth remembering, as pointed out by Boxer (2002: 234), that the Portuguese Crown always sought to prevent, and even prohibit, ships on the  India Route from calling at Brazil. Contributing to this ban were the large number of desertions caused by these stopovers, as well as the establishment of a thriving illegal trade in Eastern goods in exchange for gold and Brazilian tobacco. However, by the mid- 18th century, under various pretexts – ranging from the need for repairs or a lack of provisions to adverse weather conditions – stopping off in Brazil, and most frequently in  Salvador, became standard practice and was even ratified by the Portuguese government. If we consider that the journey from Salvador to  Lisbon took around two and a half to three months, and given that Julião arrived in Portugal in  July 1780, it is easy to assume that the ship left Brazil around April of that year. As for the date of arrival in the country, however, we can only speculate for the time being. Given that the voyage took between six and eight months, ships leaving Goa for Lisbon sought to set sail at the end of  December, in an attempt to avoid reaching the latitude of the Cape of Good Hope at the height of winter, when navigation is severely hampered by storms in the region. If this rule was indeed followed in the case of the ship Madre de Deus, the travellers must have landed in Brazil in March or  April 1779. This confirms that Julião remained in the country for at least about a year. Similarly, we can only speculate as to the places he may have visited whilst in Brazilian territory. It is possible to deduce from his body of work that he stayed in Salvador (Elevation and façade), as well as in Rio de Janeiro and the Diamantino district of  Serro do Frio, in Minas Gerais (Stickers of white and black people, from the FBN). Furthermore, in correspondence exchanged between the Governor of Pernambuco, D. Tomás José de Melo, and the Secretary Martinho de Melo e Castro, dated  19 December 1788, we find a reference to the name Julião. In the letter, the governor emphasises the need to reorganise the regiments of Olinda and Recife, whilst also complaining about the decline of the artillery corps. According to him, the solution would be to bring to Pernambuco an officer with the rank of captain, “for which post I recall a very capable man, namely  Carlos Julião, Captain of one of the senior companies of the Court Artillery Regiment”. This reference might suggest that Julião had also been in Pernambuco, where he would have met the governor. However, we know that D. Tomás José de Melo took office as governor of the captaincy in December 1787, remaining in the post for eleven years. By this time, our officer was already back in Lisbon, where it is most likely that the two met. Significant events took place in Portugal whilst Julião was serving in  India, some of which would have an impact on the course of his career in the army. In 1776, for example, an order was issued for the incorporation of all members of the former  Lagos Artillery Regiment (of which Julião was a member) into the Court Artillery Regiment was ordered. Furthermore, the death of King José I in February 1777 would bring “the pious” Queen Maria I to the throne, leading to the removal of the hitherto all-powerful minister, the Marquess of Pombal, and marking the beginning of the period known as the “Viradeira”. As regards the army, the Viradeira represented a certain setback in relation to the process of military professionalisation that had been set in motion during the Pombaline period. The army would see the return to command posts of the former aristocrats, whilst a certain atmosphere of animosity towards  foreigners who served as officers.

4. The return to Portugal and the quest for recognition

It is clear that a long period of service in the overseas territories entitled those involved to claim benefits in the form of favours and   promotions from the Crown, and there is no reason not to believe that Julião relied on this practice, which dated back to the time of the Discoveries, in the hope of receiving the rewards he felt he deserved. Indeed, since his return to Lisbon, he had been Discoveries, in the hope of receiving the rewards he believed he deserved. Indeed, since his return to Lisbon in 1780, our officer began a series of  correspondence in which he requests favours as payment for services rendered. Firstly, he claims the rank of captain that had been promised to him and which, according to him, had not been granted solely because he was absent from Court. As is quite clear from the following passage, Julião felt he had been passed over, for, were it not for the voyage for which he had been appointed on the Nossa Senhora da Madre de Deus, the  Deputy would have been Chief Fire Officer in the promotion that took place in his regiment in the year  1776, in which, as he was on distant duty, he was passed over. It is certain that the same General McLean⁶² gave his word of honour to  Colonel Dalemcour⁶³ that, as soon as the Superintendent  returned from India, he would appoint him Fire Chief, as evidenced by the statement from Dalemcour himself.

It was therefore in the certainty of his promotion to captain—which was to take place as soon as the voyage to Asia was over—that Julião signed the drawing of the  Elevation and façade, the prospectus for Salvador, as “Captain of Miners of the Court Artillery Regiment” (emphasis added). It should be noted that, according to the document from  AHU, officers returning from service in India were to be incorporated into the Court Artillery Regiment in whatever posts were vacant. Therefore, in our view, appointment to command a company of miners cannot be regarded as a choice made by the officer, nor does it imply any kind of specialisation or expertise⁶⁵.  Julião had, as we have seen, a solid background as an  artillery, for which it was necessary to acquire knowledge in the field of the manufacture of weapons of war – the production of gunpowder  for projectiles, bombs and mines; the best alloys for casting bronze parts for cannons and other instruments of war; as well as a mastery of mathematics and physics to be able to mathematics and physics to be able to calculate the trajectory of a projectile, which influences the design of defence systems and fortifications. However, it seems somewhat excessive to us to regard him as an ‘engineer, specialist in metallurgy, mineralogy and chemistry’ (Lara 2007:242). It is clear that, as artillery was the army’s most ‘scientific’ branch, there was a close relationship between the work of an artillery officer and that of a military engineer, as highlighted by  Lyra Tavares, reflecting what he calls the “artillery–engineering binomial” (Tavares, 1965). The origins of military engineering, as a corps, lie in the companies of artificers and miners within the artillery regiments. However, there is no documentation to prove that Julião served as a military engineer during his career. Even the inspections of fortifications to which he was later assigned, as we shall see, concerned the assessment of the condition of the artillery and ammunition, rather than the physical condition of the structures. The rank of captain, which Julião so eagerly sought, would only be confirmed in July 1781, when he took command of the miners’ company. However, his desire to be rewarded for his seventeen years of service to the army led him, shortly after his return to Lisbon in September 1780, to apply for the  Habit of the Order of Christ with the corresponding pension, as payment for services rendered overseas. He claimed that his services had not been properly remunerated. Although the document leaves no doubt as to the validity of the services rendered by Julião, the favour was not granted to him. Years later, in 1789, Julião gave up his claim to the benefit of the Habit of the Order of Christ, accepting only a pension. The decision was taken after he realised the “reluctance” of the competent authority to grant him the pardon, and he preferred to comply with the “royal will”. He attached to his application a declaration of renunciation of the allowance, which was formalised by the notary of the city of Oeiras, Manoel Freire de Faria. On this occasion, an effective pension of 65,000 réis was granted, based on his service as second lieutenant and first lieutenant. The waiver of this benefit was then formalised. In December 1790, Julião again applied for royal recognition, this time requesting the  Habit of the Order of Saint Benedict of Avis and an equivalent stipend, again with the option to renounce them. The “reluctance” of Queen Maria I does not seem to have been so strong on this occasion, since in January 1791 she was granted the letter of investiture for the Habit of the  Order of Avis, with an effective stipend of 45,000 réis and the option to waive part of it, 33,000 réis, which he waived in favour of  Dona Ana Apolónia de Vilhena Abreu Soares. In March, the charter was signed for Julião to be invested as  Knight of the Order, accompanied by a letter of investiture, a charter of profession and a letter of discharge. Before proceeding, it is worth quoting Fernanda Olival, who reminds us “just how much liberality, the act of giving, was regarded, in  political culture of the Ancien Régime, as a virtue proper to kings” (2001:15), and how much the survival and longevity of the Portuguese monarchy (as well as others) depended on this ability to repay the  political, administrative and military services rendered on their behalf with  honours, benefits and privileges. Since 1551, the Portuguese Crown had permanently incorporated, by papal bull, control of the  Masteries of the three military orders of the kingdom – those of Christ, St James and St Benedict of Avis – descendants of the medieval orders of chivalry linked to St Benedict of Avis St Benedict of Avis – descendants of the medieval orders of chivalry linked to the Crusades to the  Holy Land and the battles to reconquer the Iberian Peninsula from the Moors. By the 16th century, the Moors no longer posed such a significant threat, at least not on Portuguese soil. Instead, the aim was to confront them on their own soil, in North Africa, whilst extending Portugal’s power ever further across the newly conquered territories. The conferral of honours was henceforth directly linked either to the defence of the African garrisons or to periods of service to the Crown in the States of India. For Africa, however, a shorter period of service was required (around three years), as opportunities for enrichment there were almost non-existent. This was in contrast to the situation in India, where not only was the required period of service longer, but the achievements justifying the granting of the favour had to be particularly remarkable. In fact, no honour or commendation  could be attained except as a reward for services rendered to the Crown, a notion that had been firmly rooted in Portuguese society since the late 16th century. Another papal bull, dated 1570, went on to restrict the granting of favours and  commends from the three Portuguese military orders to applicants who could prove “purity of blood” (no Jewish or Moorish ancestry), as well as “cleansing of offices”, since those granted the privileges could not be the children of such individuals. Moorish ancestry), as well as “purity of trade”, since those awarded the honours could not be the children or grandchildren of mechanical engineers. Consequently, from the perspective of his social status, a knight of the Order was – and was regarded as such until the 18th century  – first and foremost, an honoured servant of the king, to which was added the requirement that he be “of pure blood and with sufficient wealth not to soil his hands with labour” (Olival 2001:56). This situation persisted until 1773, when the distinctions between New Christians and Old Christians were definitively abolished in  Portugal. Of the three military orders, that of Christ was by far the most sought-after and the most prestigious. According to Olival, “it sometimes happened that a commendation or habit was requested without specifying the order. However, the insignia of Christ was accepted with greater satisfaction” (2001:8). It is therefore no surprise that Julião had applied for it on his first attempt. However, a letter of law dated 19 June 1789 issued by Queen Queen Mary I, brought about a major reform of the regulations governing the orders. It was established, from that time onwards, that military service would be rewarded exclusively with the Order of Avis, whilst the  Order of Santiago would be used to honour magistrates, whilst the Insignia of Christ  for political offices and for senior civilian posts and military posts. The military orders thus came to be seen less as a grant of privileges than as a recognition of professional distinction. There is no doubt that Julião saw, in this reform promoted by the Queen, his chance of decoration. Almost nothing is known about the activities of Carlos Julião during the fifteen years he served in the  Court Artillery Regiment, but a clue is once again provided by the records of the AHM. His Personal File mentions that he was tasked by the Field Marshal, Duke of Lafões⁷³, “to .inspect all the artillery of the fortifications in the Province of Extremadura, of which he provided a detailed report, setting out accounts in the greatest  detailed regarding the condition of the artillery and munitions of war  held in them, a task which was certainly carried out between 1791 and 1795.

5. Arsenal Real do Exército

In the year 1795, Julião received his first commission as a senior officer, that of  sergeant-major, now posted to the Royal Army Arsenal. It was here that the remainder of his military career would unfold. When Julião was transferred to the Army Arsenal, it was one of the largest manufacturing facilities in Portugal, employing more than  a thousand employees spread across 25 different workshops. It was here that the entire process of manufacturing military equipment (weapons and ammunition) to supply the army  and the navy, as well as the logistics of their storage and distribution to the military forces of the Kingdom and overseas. Its workshops also produced all the components of the uniforms worn by officers serving at court and in the colonies, as well as other items, such as surgical instruments. The Arsenal also housed an important centre for artistic training, the School of Drawing, Engraving and Metalwork, and two of the most representative works of Portuguese art from the end of the Old Regime were crafted in its workshops: the equestrian statue of King José I and the  silver service presented by Regent King João to the Duke of Wellington in 1814. In the last quarter of the 18th century, the Arsenal comprised a complex of three buildings: the so-called Fundições de Baixo, de Cima and de Santa Clara. The Lower Foundry operated in the building now occupied by the Lisbon Military Museum, which replaced the former  artillery depots destroyed by the 1755 earthquake. The Upper Foundry had been established in buildings adjacent to the church of Santa Engrácia, now the  National Pantheon, which were adapted in the early 1760s to house the manufacture of cannons. In the 1770s, the complex was expanded to include the  Santa Clara Foundry, built on the ruins of the former convent of the Poor Clares dating from the 13th century, one of Lisbon’s most important convent buildings, which had been completely destroyed by the earthquake. This is where the arms factories were concentrated, as well as housing for officers. The organisation of the Arsenal, as well as the substantial increase in its activity during this period, must be understood in the context of the reforms carried out in the Portuguese armed forces by the  Count of Lippe, who was responsible for renaming the former Tenência to  Royal Army Arsenal. Bartolomeu da Costa (1731–1801) also played a key role in the leadership of the institution, a position he held from  1762 until his death. A career military officer and engineer, Costa distinguished himself as the most notable artillery founder in Portugal, being responsible for standardising the  calibres of the guns and constructing specialised furnaces for the manufacturing process. In 1774, he was promoted to brigadier and appointed General Intendant of Foundries in recognition of his services in the casting of the& equestrian statue of King José I. To understand Julião’s activities at the Arsenal, it is necessary to consult his Personal File. A report signed by Bartolomeu da Costa, dated 31 March 1800, is addressed to the Minister of War and highlights Julião’s duties. The document states that Julião was appointed by His Royal Highness  to assist the Regiment of French Emigrant Artillery, requisitioning from the Arsenal the necessary supplies& nbsp;for the repair of this regiment’s train of vehicles and the armaments of the British Auxiliary Fleet. The report commends the officer for his dedication and diligence in all his duties. In 1800, at the age of 60, Julião began the process of  apply for a further promotion to the rank of lieutenant-colonel. His appointment, justified by length of service and the work carried out on the Inventory of the Royal Arsenal, was granted on  14 November 1802, although the letter patent was not issued until November 1804. At the time of this application, Julião drafted a document, currently attached to his Personal File, preserved at the AHM  (Military Historical Archive). In this text, he lists his main achievements in the Portuguese army, albeit without specific dates. This document has been used as a basis by authors such as Cunha (1960),  Lara (2002 and 2007) and Tenreiro (2007 and 2008) to compile biographies of Julião. In the year 1801, Carlos Julião appears as translator of a work published by  Tipografia do Arco do Cego, entitled Experiments and observations on bronze alloys, intended for use in the casting of artillery pieces, by Carlos Antonio Napion, lieutenant -colonel in the Court Artillery. The translation, carried out by Julião, is credited as: “Carlos Julião, sergeant-major serving at the Royal Arsenal. Lisbon: Typographia Chalcographica, Typoplastica et Litteraria do Arco do Cego. Anno MDCCCI.” By  Higher Order. Its author, the officer  Carlo Antonio Galeani Napione, was also a native of   Turin and had arrived in Portugal the previous year, at the invitation of the Secretary of the Navy and Overseas Territories, D. Rodrigo de Sousa Coutinho (1755–1812)⁸⁰.

  Carlos Antonio Napione was the brother of Count Gian Francesco Galeani Napione (1748–1830), a renowned historian of the Savoy court. Destined for a military career, he began his training as a cadet in the Corpo Reale d’Artiglieria in 1771. An outstanding student, he soon became an instructor in practical exercises at the  Scuola di Artiglieria, excelling in his studies of mineralogy and metallurgical chemistry. In 1783, Napione became a full member of the Reale Accademia delle Scienze di Torino, upon its foundation. Between 1787 and 1790, Napione undertook an important  scientific research expedition alongside Major Francesco Azimonti (1757–1822), on the orders of King Vittorio Amedeo III  (1726–1796). The pair travelled through countries such as Austria, Germany, Hungary, Transylvania, Sweden, England and Scotland, gathering knowledge on  mineralogy and metallurgy which would strengthen the natural sciences in the Kingdom of Sardinia. On his return to Piedmont, Napione was promoted to captain and appointed a member of the Kingdom’s Consiglio delle Miniere. He took over the management of the Laboratorio Metalurgico and the Museo del Regio Arsenale di Torino, thereby cementing his reputation. In 1795, he was appointed Mines Inspector of the Kingdom of Sardinia (Burdet 1991). Two years later, Napione published the first Italian treatise on mineralogy, entitled Elementi di Mineralogia esposti a norma delle più recenti osservazioni e scoperte (Turin, 1797). In this work, he proposed a classification method based on “ complex characteristics”, utilising the physical properties of metals, such as colour, lustre, transparency, hardness and external configuration. This method represented the pinnacle of the descriptive phase of mineralogy, meeting the practical demands of the mining industry.  Napione maintained close ties with Dr. Rodrigo de Sousa Coutinho, the future Count of Linhares, who served as Portuguese Minister Plenipotentiary at the court of the House of Savoy. D. Rodrigo, in his correspondence, emphasised the importance of Napione’s collaboration to the progress of the Portuguese army (Burdet 1991). The opportunity for cooperation arose with the invasion of Piedmont by Napoleon Bonaparte (1769–1821) in 1798. Citing family and health reasons, Napione requested a leave of absence and, in 1800, moved to  Lisbon, where he was attached to the Court Artillery Regiment with the rank of lieutenant-colonel. On the initiative of Coutinho, Napione undertook a scientific expedition  through the provinces of Estremadura and Beira, accompanied by the Brazilian brothers José Bonifácio de Andrada e Silva  (1763–1838) and Martim Francisco Ribeiro de Andrada (1775–1844). This period would mark the scientific collaboration between Portugal and Napione, highlighting his contribution to the development of the sciences applied to the Portuguese army. In 1801, he became a corresponding member of the Royal Academy of Sciences of Lisbon  and was appointed Inspector of the Royal Army Arsenal, succeeding the legendary Bartolomeu da Costa, who had died that year. The following year, he also took over the management of the Barcarena Gunpowder Factory and the Alcântara Saltpetre Refining Factory. Promoted to brigadier in 1807, he accompanied the royal family’s relocation to Brazil. In Rio de Janeiro, Napione’s activities were no less remarkable. He was appointed a member of the War Council of  Prince Regent Dom João, as well as Inspector-General of Artillery. He founded the Royal Gunpowder Factory adjacent to the  Botanical Gardens, and was the first commander of the Royal Military Academy, where he held the chairs of mineralogy,  chemistry and physics. When he died in Brazil, he held the rank of lieutenant-general. The fact that Julião translated the work of a fellow countryman, a career officer  like himself and who was his superior in the same unit, is sufficient evidence  to suggest a connection with Napione, which, moreover, can also be confirmed by other documents in addition to the publication cited above. More importantly, this closeness highlights a particular interest on Julião’s part in the natural sciences, which, until then, had not been at all evident in his career. Indeed, we find a more explicit reference to this interest in  letter dated 1803 from the Governor of São Paulo, António José da Franca e Horta (1753–1823), to the  Viscount of Anadia, João Rodrigues de Sá e Melo (1755–1809), then Secretary of the Navy and Overseas Territories. In this letter, the governor states that  Having been shown by Sergeant-Major Carlos Julião da Fundição a collection of wood-cuts from the whole of  our Kingdom and America, including a unique piece from this Captaincy, he asked me  send those that were possible for me to provide, or all of them, so as to complete his collection. ⁸²  Furthermore, Burdet (1986) reproduces a comment by Napione on the collection of woods& nbsp;compiled by Carlos Julião: Colonel Julião, who has carried out a detailed study of woods, of which he possesses a rich collection, was kind enough to comply with my requests and shared with me some extremely interesting observations on a number of them. ⁸³  It is worth noting that Burdet (1991) himself points out the interest of the Accademia delle Scienze di Torino in the study of Brazilian woods& which Napione, a member of the institution since its foundation, conducted from Lisbon. In his biography of the scientist-officer, the author reproduces the  letter from a member of the Accademia dated 1806, which reads: ‘In a few days’ time I shall have in my hands the manuscript, a fine and original series of experiments on the strength, and hardness of timbers, particularly those from Brazil, by our Cav. Napione, who has also already given me permission to present an extract to this Academy. It has already been translated into French, and the Portuguese translation is being finalised; there are also various comparative tables⁸⁴. Carlos Julião’s dedication to the study of trees and timbers went beyond simply compiling a collection of samples. An example of this is the  manuscript he authored, dated 1801, which bears the lengthy title: “HISTORICAL DICTIONARY OF TREES AND SHRUBS, containing the names and synonyms of each one, drawn from the finest authors who have written on this subject: considerably augmented by many trees from Portugal’s conquests up to the present day that have not yet been described: With a concise account of their natural characteristics, trunks, branches, bark, leaves, flowers, fruits, balms, gums, resins, oils, and all that is most notable about them for the purpose of distinguishing them.  A WORK OF SUPREME INSTRUCTION – Owing to the knowledge it provides regarding the various types of timber, their strength, and their uses in the construction of architectural works, buildings, and all artefacts made from them for domestic economy and public utility. BY CARLOS VALENTIM JULIÃO – Knight of the Royal Military Order of St Benedict of Avis, appointed by His Royal Highness the Prince Regent; Major of Artillery on active duty at the Royal Army Arsenal; Member of the Military Inspectorate, &c. LISBON MDCCCI”.& nbsp;This manuscript highlights Julião’s commitment to cataloguing and studying botanical diversity, particularly that of  trees and shrubs of the Portuguese colonies, including detailed characteristics such as trunks, branches, bark, flowers, fruits and the various uses of the wood in domestic life and construction. The work demonstrates Julião’s ambition to systematise botanical and practical knowledge, contributing both to science and to the military and economic needs of the Kingdom of Portugal. Everything suggests that this was a publishing project: the sheets are all ruled,  numbered sequentially in the top right-hand corner, with each sheet divided into two columns of text. The entries for the headwords in the dictionary are set in different typefaces: block letters for the  Portuguese name; cursive for the French name; and again block letters, but in sepia ink, for the Latin or scientific version. Where there is no name in French or Latin, the name in Portuguese is repeated three times. Most of the entries are between five and fifteen lines long, although some, however, take up an entire column. Unfortunately, by the time we reach the letter C, the manuscript begins to become difficult to read, due to the bleeding of the ferrogallic ink. The volume has a leather binding  with traces of gilding on the cover, where the mark of an ancient coat of arms can be seen, certainly indicative of the previous owner. It is important to note that there are no illustrations in the manuscript. But let us see what kind of approach Julião presents to us in his  dictionary with regard to the species described. Taking two random examples:

• Acajaiba / Acajaiba / Acajaiba Tree native to  Brazil, a species of cashew known as St Dominic’s cedar. The  trunk is so thick that it is used to make canoes measuring 40 feet in length, with 6 feet in width. The wood is reddish, and there are also specimens with yellow and white markings; it takes a good polish and is slow to  rot; it is used to make furniture which imparts its gentle scent to clothes. The bark is brown and thick, the leaves small and dark green, the  fruit is heart-shaped, evergreen, and usually contains 4 very bitter nuts covered in thick skin.
• Baonilha / Vanille / Vanilla Shrub that climbs up  trees like ivy; its leaves are light green and pleasing to the eye, long, narrow and pointed. After seven years, it produces some pods containing tiny seeds, mixed with a sort of  dark, balsamic pulp that is very fragrant, which is the main ingredient of chocolate, to which it imparts remarkable properties. There are three varieties that differ in their trunk, or in their varying degree of ripeness. The first, known as Pompona or Bova, has a  very strong scent; the second, which is longer, has a delicious scent, and this variety is known as true vanilla; the third has little  smell, the best comes from Mexico or Peru, whilst that from  Hindustan is of a monstrous thickness and has the smell of plums. In the past, this ingredient was used to flavour tobacco, but smells are, like most things, subject to fashion.

The Diccionario de Julião warrants a few comments. The very choice of the dictionary format to organise the information echoes the structure of the  Encyclopédie by Diderot and d’Alembert, the great paradigm of the Enlightenment in the systematisation of knowledge. The fact that it is a “work of summa instructio”, as stated in the title, also aligns with the expectations and the  guiding principles of the Enlightenment in Portugal, as well as in the rest of Europe, regarding the dissemination of “useful knowledge”. In the  Prologue that introduces his work, Julião argues that “this description is not of any botanical system, nor of the medicinal virtues of plants”, a task that falls to the great scientists& nbsp;and not to a man such as himself, of “limited intellect”. Thus, the author  sheds, to a certain extent, the responsibility of, not being a scientist, venturing into the creation of a work that verges on scientific study. More importantly, in doing so, Julião emphasises the importance of practical knowledge, of experience which teaches one to recognise the usefulness& nbsp;and the appropriate use of the natural resources at one’s disposal. Of the  species included in the Diccionario, the trees are those to which the authordevotes the most attention to, stating that “Knowledge, and the combination of the strength and consistency of timbers for any construction, is certainly the most interesting point, and the main subject to which this treatise is directed”. Certainly, the determination of data on the strength of timbers could only be achieved through experiments, and, in fact, the author& refers in the Prologue to experiments of this kind carried out at the Arsenal. These may well be the same  experiments to which Napione devoted himself, as referred to by Burdet (1991). Carlos Julião goes on to reaffirm the  importance of timber in a wide variety of fields: in Navy shipyards, for the construction of “masts, yards, spars, keels, rudders and side planking. Monstrous structures take shape upon the waters, resembling floating villas more than ships”; in the Army’s shipyards, for the construction of  “machinery, contraptions, artillery repairs, various field wagons, gun stocks, and many items of equipment belonging to the artillery train and other instruments of war”; and in civil construction, for the manufacture of  “crossbeams, beams, planks, and boards”. He concludes by stating that “everything made of wood is put to good use: for when it is not suitable for building work, it serves as fuel, or for making charcoal, and even the ashes themselves in the barrels are put to good use”. It should not go unnoticed that the study of timber at that historical moment was consistent, as Pataca (2006:396) points out, with the new  concerns expressed by D. Rodrigo de Sousa Coutinho  upon taking up the post of Secretary of Maritime and Overseas Affairs in 1796. However, these  concerns were not really all that new. Ever since the tenure of Melo e Castro, his predecessor, the issue of rationalising timber exploitation had been under discussion. There was an awareness that the resources were finite, given that timber production in the Kingdom was already in short supply. Coutinho’s efforts were therefore stepped up to combat arson and indiscriminate felling, to regulate it and to promote the rational use of resources, indiscriminate felling, to regulate it and to promote the rational use of resources, with a view to making the best use of them. To this end, it issued guidelines to the entire ‘information network’ comprising  naturalists, governors and the intellectual elite of the colonies  so that the properties of local timbers could be scientifically described, and plans drawn up for optimising their use. In addition to encouraging the study of timber, which is essential for shipbuilding and for weapons manufacturing,& Coutinho also devoted himself to promoting research into saltpetre, the raw material for the manufacture of gunpowder. It is worth noting that the context in which Coutinho took over the Secretariat was quite different from that which existed during the tenure of  Melo e Castro. The likelihood of Portugal, or even Brazil, being invaded by Spain or by France were becoming more tangible by the day, which certainly contributed to the emphasis placed by the Secretary on the study of these materials. Julião’s efforts in compiling the Diccionario  must therefore be understood within this context. Nor should we overlook the fact that, having already translated the work of Napione for  Tipografia do Arco do Cego, the officer may well have hoped to see his own work published by the same publishing house. Let us recall the significance of the initiative to establish the Casa Literária do Arco do Cego  for the dissemination of scientific research in 18th-century Portugal. Although its existence was short-lived – it operated only between 1799 and 1801 –, the  Arco do Cego established a system of unprecedented publication in the history of the printed book in Portugal, as noted by Faria, serving as a centre for the dissemination of useful knowledge aimed at improving agricultural techniques, the modernisation of methods for exploiting natural resources, studies on Brazilian flora, the translation of scientific works into Portuguese, amongst many others. It formed part of a wider project of an Enlightenment nature, spearheaded by Sousa Coutinho, which aimed to implement reforms and rationalise the functioning of the State. In the editorial line promoted under the guidance of the botanist Friar José Mariano da Conceição Veloso (1742–1811), agricultural economics and natural history played a predominant role. In view of this, Julião may well have seen in this an opportunity to achieve “the glory of making myself worthy of recommendation to the most learned members of the Academy”, as he states in the Prologue to the Dictionary, and to have his scientific aptitude recognised. After all, the publication of his study on woods would take several years to materialise and would be only partial. Napione would have an article published posthumously in the newspaper  O Patriota, in Rio de Janeiro, an article by Carlos Julião, which appeared in the November–December 1814 issue& nbsp;under the title “Observations made by Colonel Carlos Julião on certain types of timber in Brazil”. The article follows the format of the  Diccionario, presenting the characteristics of 25 types of Brazilian timber. In July 1802, the name of Carlos Julião appears on a list of six officers consulted on the appropriateness of adopting new calibres for the  artillery of the Portuguese army to be used in the field. The other names involved in this consultation are: Field Marshal Quief de Ville, the  Major Jean-Philippe de Tardy, the Marshal Count of Vioménil, Lieutenant General Leonardo Aleixo, Knight of Chalupe, as well as Napione, referred to in the document as Charles Napion. The opinion that Julião presents on this occasion seems quite sensible. The officer advocated retaining the calibres already in use, arguing that the fact that they were smaller, rather than representing a disadvantage, actually made them easier to handle, which was advantageous given the rugged topography of Portuguese territory. He also points out that the gauge used by the Portuguese was the same as that of most other nations, including England – “our ally”, he writes – which would always be a facilitating factor in the event of an urgent request for assistance. Changing the calibre would, on the contrary, mean the scrapping of all existing military equipment, which would undoubtedly entail immense expense for the Portuguese state coffers. It is worth attempting to identify the other contributors, all of French origin. Jean-Philippe Tardy de la Brossy (1751–?) and  Léonard-Alexis, Count of Chalup de Fareyron (1738–?) were both officers in the Royal French Army who served in the  American War of Independence. Likewise, the Count of Vioménil,  Charles-Joseph-Hyacinthe du Houx (1734–1827), had fought in the United States and distinguished himself so greatly in the campaign that he was appointed Governor of Martinique in 1789. With the onset of the  Reign of Terror, he went on to serve in the army organised by Prince Louis V Joseph de Bourbon-Condé (1736–1818), one of several armies of French royalist émigrés, which joined forces with  Great Britain, Russia and Austria against Revolutionary France. As an émigré soldier, he was summoned to Portugal in 1801 by the future Count of Linhares to become one of the& commanders of the Portuguese army. Inviting a foreign officer to command the Portuguese military forces was not exactly a novelty. However, the measure taken by D. Rodrigo de Sousa Coutinho, as well as the concern regarding field artillery expressed in the request for opinions from various officers  suggest that Portugal was already living in a climate of war. In fact, since 1796 there had been fears of  invasion of the country. In that year, the Treaty of Santo Ildefonso had sealed an offensive and defensive alliance between  France and Spain, which suited Bonaparte’s expansionist and  anti-British policy of Bonaparte, which was further intensified after 18 Brumaire. The declaration of war issued by Spain against England definitively polarised the  Iberian Peninsula and forced the Portuguese to abandon their position of neutrality, which they had maintained with great zeal until then. Faced with this threat, Portugal, once again, turned to England for military aid. From 1797, George III sent auxiliary forces to Lisbon, which included not only  English and Irish officers, but also three regiments of French émigrés in the service of  Great Britain (Cordeiro 1895). It is precisely the arrangements concerning the necessary equipment for the repair of weapons and artillery of this foreign contingent  that Julião was engaged in at the Royal Arsenal, as mentioned in his Individual File cited above. Portugal would indeed be drawn into the  conflict in February 1801. In just eighteen days, the Spanish military forces& nbsp;captured all the main towns in the Upper Alentejo, leading to the downfall of the octogenarian  Duke of Lafões and forced the crown to consider new candidates for the command of the Portuguese army. The war, after all, was to be short-lived, as the peace treaty was to be signed in Madrid in September 1801. However, it would serve as a prelude to the Peninsular War, which broke out following the French invasion of Portugal in  1807. It is unnecessary, and indeed excessive, to revisit here the implications of the events that unfolded from that point onwards; it suffices to recall the event that would have the greatest consequences& nbsp;on the history of Portugal and its colonies, as well as on the career of Carlos Julião: the relocation of the royal family and its court to Brazil. Having embarked from the quay at Belém on that& 27 November 1807 was Brigadier Carlo Napione, who, as we have seen, was to play an important role in Rio de Janeiro. The brigadier therefore vacated the post of Inspector of the Royal Army Arsenal and of the  Barcarena Gunpowder Works and the Alcântara Saltpetre Refinery. By administrative order dated the same day, issued from the Junqueira Barracks, Julião was informed that “General Marques de Vagos orders that Your Honour should continue to act as Acting Inspector of the Royal Army Arsenal until further orders from the same gentleman”. It is worth noting that in  April 1805, the officer had been awarded the rank of colonel of artillery. However,  Colonel Julião did not entirely agree with the procedure adopted for his appointment as the replacement for Napione. Just a few days later, on 1 December, the  officer wrote a letter to D. Miguel Pereira Forjaz (1769–1827) requesting an official appointment  to the post of Inspector of the Arsenal, on the grounds that “His Excellency the General and Marquis of Vagos ordered that the aforementioned  Colonel Julião should take over the commissions of the Brigadier. It is stated in the said  Arsenal there is an authorised committee comprising Augusto Nome de S.A., (…) and this committee has merely been informed of the aforementioned  vacancy, and has made the appointment of the said Colonel. Both of these appointments  although they authorise him to carry out his duties at the Arsenal, nevertheless, as these appointments are a favour granted by His Royal Highness  A.R. which were here conferred by Decree, and since the said                                                                              &n A.R. which was here conferred by Decree, and should the said appointment& not having been made by this Supreme Government, as His Royal Highness is exclusively authorised to confer such honours, could give rise to some inconvenience in the promptness of the Service, therefore the undersigned Carlos Julião humbly and respectfully requests of this Supreme Government the appointment to the  Post of Inspector of the Foundries, Workshops and Laboratory of the Arsenal, and Director of the Royal Factory of Barcarena and the Refinery of Alcántara.” The  official appointment requested, however, would never materialise. It must be borne in mind that this was, above all, a period of near disintegration for the Portuguese army. The express instructions from Bonaparte following the entry of Junot (1771–1813) into  Lisbon were that the army  be immediately disarmed and the soldiers reorganised into columns which would march to  France and would be incorporated into the Imperial Army under the name of the Portuguese Legion. The situation only began to change following the armistice and the signing of the Convention of Sintra in August 1808. The re-establishment of the Regency Council in September  made it possible to begin taking steps towards the re-establishment of the army along the lines on which it had existed prior to the invasion. This is certainly why Julião’s correspondence whilst he was Inspector of the Arsenal – at least as far as we have been able to ascertain – refers only to the months from July to September 1808. In a series of documents, he seeks guidance from his superiors on how to manage the Arsenal’s activities in order to “restore it to its former state”, as well as reporting on its  organisation in tables such as: “List of Salaries paid to the Officers currently employed at the  Army Arsenal and the monthly wages owed to them”,  “List of Master Officers, and other personnel employed in the Workshops of the Royal Army Arsenal, and the total value of the same  Workshops”, “List of Artillery Officers employed at the Royal Army Arsenal”,  “Summary of Foremen, Assistant Foremen and Labourers, employed in the Workshops of the three Divisions, or Departments  of the Royal Army Arsenal” and “List of Master Craftsmen, Assistant Master Craftsmen and Workmen, employed in the Workshops of the  three Departments of the Royal Army Arsenal, together with the  summary of the works they have carried out, and which are currently in progress following the departure of the French”. Right at the end of the month of September, the tone of the correspondence changes. In two letters addressed to  Pereira Forjaz, Julião, signing only “Colonel” and no longer “Inspector Colonel”, expressly requests  release from the “unworkable duties of an inspector”. The reasons given in the first letter& are the issuance of an administrative order to the foreman of an Arsenal workshop which contravened an  his express order, as well as the appointment of craftsmen  to the workshops without him having been consulted, which would inevitably lead to “ absolute independence and insubordination” amongst his subordinates.& nbsp;In the second letter, the issue of the official appointment previously requested resurfaces. Julião  feels insulted, since “there are those who say publicly that I am no longer an Inspector because the six months during which I could only serve by appointment of the Royal Finance Board have come to an end”.& He justifies himself, arguing that the decree appointing him contained no specification regarding the validity of the post, and that if, in fact, the term had expired, it was the duty of the Board to reappoint him, or to appoint another officer to replace him. It even makes  accusations against the Deputy Mayor, stating that “out of a spirit of monopolisation, he intends to combine his post with that of Inspector, which he has succeeded in doing perfectly”. He concludes by reaffirming his proper conduct, since “I do not consider myself (…) appointed by the Royal Board, but rather by the His Excellency the General of the Army  (who, by virtue of the authority of his post could directly receive  Order from His Royal Highness at the time of his departure)  I therefore consider myself to be an Inspector until such time as the Supreme Court of the Regency sees fit to relieve me of my post, which I have been imploring for, and I beseech with such fervour.” The dismissal was granted to him, and Julião began to carry out his duties& as a colonel at the Santa Clara Headquarters. In the few documents found relating to this period, the  officer reports, on one occasion, the sinking of a boat laden with military equipment opposite the Convent of Madre de Deus. Shortly afterwards, he requested that an order be issued to the Arsenal for the manufacture of beds  for the wounded who had been transferred from São Julião da Barra to the  Santa Clara barracks. The fact that he is approaching 70 years of age, however, seems to make things more difficult for our officer. He requests, for example, the  the appointment of an assistant to handle the “various additional duties of the Quartermaster-General which I must carry out; I need someone to help me as I have no one”, something which “I am sorely lacking at the present time”. He also complains about the delay in payment of his remuneration, which hinders him in carrying out the  duties as artillery commander of one of the  Lisbon defence brigades, a role to which he had been appointed by Field Marshal Beresford (1768–1854) and which “Obligation& nbsp;the Superintendent to attend the drills of the various  Batteries of education, and repeatedly to the House of the Provincial General, and to the Brigadier in charge of defence, being unable to go on foot due to his advanced& age, and lacking the means to travel by any other means.” On 26 May 1811, Julião was  retired from the rank of army brigadier. The letter patent, signed by Prince Regent Dom João in Rio de Janeiro, was not confirmed until 19 January 1813. For Julião, however, this would be somewhat late. Just over a year earlier, Manuel Ribeiro de Araújo, former director of the  Porto Arsenal and his successor as Inspector of the Royal Arsenal, had sent a communiqué to  Pereira Forjaz, dated Lisbon, 19 November 1811. “In this  document, Araújo reported the death the previous night of the  artillery colonel Carlos Julião, an officer who had “always devoted his  talents as is well known; combining this quality with that of being an honourable and loyal vassal of His Majesty  A.R.  for these reasons his loss is felt  deeply                                                                                   H.R.; for these reasons, his loss is keenly felt.”

Frequently Asked Questions about Carlos Julião

Find out more: Sources and Collections on Carlos Julião

• Illuminated Sketches of Black and White Figures from the Customs of Rio de Janeiro and Serro do Frio — 1960 edition with a historical introduction and descriptive catalogue by Lygia da Fonseca Fernandes da Cunha, available in the Chamber of Deputies’ Digital Library.
• The Ricardo Brennand Institute, in Recife, which houses part of the collection of paintings attributed to Carlos Julião in Brazil.
• Património Cultural, I.P., the Portuguese body responsible for the protection of the archaeological and historical heritage referred to in this article.

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