This article appeared
in Volume 18: No. 3 of the Orient
Express magazine.
Leopoldina lives on
HRH Princess Michael of Kent follows in the footsteps of Archduchess
Maria Leopoldina of Austria, and discovers the profound effect this
spirited young woman had upon the trade and culture of Brazil.
In 1808, Napoleon Bonaparte invaded Portugal, and the country’s
king, queen and entire court moved to their colony of Brazil. For
three centuries Portugal had kept Brazil culturally and economically
isolated from the rest of the civilized world. This influential exodus
from the mother country opened Brazil’s doors to trade. Towns
and cities developed; manufacturing, previously forbidden, was now
permitted. A royal press was founded; a royal library established;
and in Rio de Janeiro, imposing public buildings were erected.
Some eight years later, Dom João VI succeeded to the crown
of his Portuguese mother, and determined to form an alliance with
Austria by arranging a marriage between his heir and a daughter of
the Austrian Emperor. The prize he sought to gain was the hand of
the Archduchess Maria Leopoldina Josepha Carolina, sister of Napoleon’s
Empress Marie Louise, for Dom Pedro de Alcantara, heir to the throne
of Portugal and her colonies.
Handsome, bold, clever and intelligent, he had had an absurd upbringing—his
education had been totally neglected, and his companions were the
servants and hangers-on of the palace. Napoleon was his hero, and
to marry the sister of the Empress of the French appealed to his
romantic imagination. Nor did the portrait of Leopoldina displease—typically
(and sadly), it flattered the original to a point beyond recognition.
In fact, Leopoldina was the antithesis of the kind of woman Dom
Pedro admired. Short and a little stout, she scorned cosmetics and
regarded beauty as an unnecessary vanity. And yet, though plain,
Leopoldina was not without fine qualities. Kind, intelligent, with
expressive blue eyes, she had a tiny nose and an enchanting smile.
Nor did she lack courage and vigorously pursued all sports. The Archduchess
spoke fluent English, French, Spanish, Italian, Hungarian and Czech
and had thoroughly learnt Europe’s history since the age of
eight.
Following defeat by Napoleon, Austria had become a relatively poor
country, so when the crown of the Braganzas was offered to the Archduchess
Leopoldina, it was not Portugal which held the attraction, but Brazil,
the richest country in natural resources on the face of the earth.
The Portuguese ambassador produced a portrait of his prince surrounded
by huge Brazilian diamonds for the Archduchess, who was enchanted
by the former—the court was impressed by the latter. In his
quest to woo Leopoldina on behalf of his master, the ambassador spread
Portugal’s colonial largesse wherever it was deemed necessary—solid
gold tableware at his banquets, gifts of South American diamonds,
sapphires, aquamarines and pearls.
Leopoldina’s engagement to a prince of Saxony was promptly
broken off and the Portuguese prince instated in his place. As for
the Archduchess, she was excited by the prospect of an entirely different
life in a new continent. And nothing could have been more different
than Brazil.
As Leopoldina’s entourage set off for Rio, they were joined
by the King of Bavaria’s scientists—among them, the famed
zoologist von Spix and the botanist von Martius. Their brief was
to explore the Brazilian kingdom and to study the flora, fauna and
minerals, as well as the culture of the native inhabitants. Sixty-six
years later, von Martius completed his monumental Flora Brasiliensis,
describing in 40 folio volumes (containing 3,000 engravings), 20,000
Brazilian species.
Added to Leopoldina’s varied and brilliant retinue (which
included stewards, chamberlains, assorted aristocrats, guardsmen,
a grand almoner, a chaplain, a doctor and four philologically expert
ladies-in-waiting), there was a librarian, a zoologist, an imperial
hunter, a royal gardener, an entomologist, a mineralogist, a working
miner, three drawing teachers and several artists specialising in
drawing plants. After an uneventful voyage lasting 86 days, the ships
reached Rio de Janeiro in 1817.
The country Leopoldina’s flotilla reached had slumbered for
three centuries in relative isolation. Those ethnic elements already
found there had blended in an extraordinary fashion. Masters and
slaves had combined with mulattos, Asians, Moors and Africans to
produce a distinctly oriental effect on the population and its culture.
Bright colours dominated everything, from the houses and palanquins,
to the women’s shawls and the men’s ponchos. Inside the
churches all was red and scarlet. Furniture—even if made of
rosewood—was painted red or white. More than anything else,
these colours gave Brazil its oriental look. Portugal’s colony,
having absorbed all these elements, appeared most exotic to European
eyes.
As a result of Leopoldina’s marriage, Brazil opened her doors
again to Europeans and gave entry to a newly industrialised, commercial
and mechanised middle-class invasion. The newcomers brought with
them their drab, urban blacks and greys—black frock coats,
black boots, black top hats, black carriages—the colours of
civilisation that swamped the rustic oriental and African colours
of the local working man. Brazilians soon thought it elegant to imitate
slavishy their European “betters” and adopted fashions
designed for a cold European climate.
However, lack of culture was not the greatest hardship for Europeans—especially
the blond, blue-eyed, fair-skinned type such as Leopoldina. Their
problem was the climate. Natives were immune to yellow fever, but
it attacked Europeans remorselessly.
Unhappy foreigners contracted not only syphilis but also malaria,
liver ailments and bubonic plague.
As Leopoldina’s flotilla sailed into Rio’s harbour,
she was thinking of none of these hardships. She was arriving in
another continent, and a country that was to be her new home, meeting
a people over whom she would one day reign. For some time she had
been able to see Rio’s great Sugar Loaf mountain, before her
ships sailed into the huge amphitheatre of a harbour which many contemporary
travellers described as the most beautiful in the world.
The luxuriance of the vegetation astonished her. Well-wooded mountains
formed the backdrop, and the green banks rising out of the sea were
studded with white houses, chapels, churches and forts. When the
ships neared land the Austrians and Germans noted “an ambrosial
perfume” coming from the shore, and as they dropped anchor,
cannon boomed and a brass band played.
From then on, Leopoldina’s life should have been idyllic.
Dom Pedro, she noticed, was far more handsome than his portrait as
he leapt aboard ship to claim his bride. Plain, dumpy Leopoldina
fell hopelessly in love.
Leopoldina’s marriage brought her not only happiness, but
trade and culture to Brazil, raising the intellectual and cultural
tone of the court, and giving it a much needed touch of refinement.
But Rio was hot, noisy and damp. During the ebb tide, the marshy
flats on the seaside gave off not an “ambrosial perfume” but
an intolerable stench. Swarms of mosquitoes were just one of the
many irritations of nature. Giving birth to seven children in as
many years took its toll on the young empress and Leopoldina succumbed,
as did so many of her fair-complexioned countrymen, to the extremes
of the climate and living conditions. She died aged only 29.
My own arrival in Brazil many years later was somewhat different
from Leopoldina’s, but nonetheless, in her honour. In 1982
my husband and I set out for Rio de Janeiro and saw the famous Sugar
Loaf mountain from the air, not the sea. On another summit, we could
see the huge, white statue of Christ with arms outstretched in welcome.
The mountain is covered with a great forest of tropical trees which
appears to be virgin and natural.
Not so. I learnt that at the time of Leopoldina’s arrival,
the area around Rio had been cleared for growing coffee, and that
the Sugar Loaf mountain had been completely stripped of native vegetation.
It was Leopoldina who conceived the idea, subsequently carried out
by her son Dom Pedro II, to re-create the forest and plant it only
with trees indigenous to Brazil. Today, this forest of tijuca, in
the middle of teeming Rio, is a most remarkable sight.
We were met by Don Jãozinho de Braganza, young and dashingly
bearded, an adorable, charming descendent of Leopoldina. Our first
stop was to visit the beautiful house on the quay in Rio where she
was greeted on her arrival, which is now a rather rundown building
dealing with customs and immigration. And yet, despite its sad condition,
it was still possible to imagine how it had been.
We arrived by taxi and had not found time to change our money. My
husband pulled out a wad of US dollars to pay the driver and immediately
I felt the laser burn of a dozen pairs of hungry eyes. Lesson number
one in Rio de Janeiro—do not flash cash. The driver yelled
at us to get back in and drove off, tyres squealing and burning rubber.
Next day we were more circumspect, dressed down and took photos wearing
basic khaki and cotton.
There is relatively little of Leopoldina left in Rio so we visited
Petrópolis, a town built by her son and where the former imperial
family still have a palace. It is lived in by Don Pedro de Braganza,
the Pretender to the throne, who met us followed (on foot) by his
parrot. Leopoldina had never actually been to Petrópolis,
but her legacy as an ardent botanist lives on there. The garden behind
the palace is full of unusual plants—they say some change colour
when encountering cigarette smoke, others shrivel at the touch of
a finger. To my eyes they were simply beautiful, lush and exotic.
Don Pedro took us down a long avenue of Imperial Palm trees, incredibly
tall and with totally smooth bark. These are not native to Brazil
and were first imported from Mauritius by Leopoldina’s father-in-law,
Dom João VI. Thereafter it became a status symbol to have
an avenue of Imperial Palms leading to the grand houses on estates
in Brazil.
In the Museum of Petrópolis we found a huge, black, fat and
friendly steam engine. On the side she proudly wore her name: Leopoldina.
In fact, to this day there is a railroad between Rio de Janeiro and
Minas Gerais named after the Empress. As well as countless towns
named Leopoldina, there are also a number called “Imperatiz” in
her honour.
Perhaps the token of homage she would have appreciated most is the
famous Samba School in Rio named “Imperatriz Leopoldinaza”.
Reluctantly, I refused their invitation to join them for some lessons…
Brazil’s monarchy lasted from 1822 until 1889 when Leopoldina’s
grandson, old and weak, decided, in order to avoid bloodshed, not
to resist the coming coup. He had no sons and although his eldest
daughter, Isabel, was nominated three times to act as regent, the
nobility did not want a female head of state following Dom Pedro
II’s
death. With his abdication and subsequent exile, the Brazilian monarchy
came to an end.
To this day Leopoldina is revered for her goodness of character.
Her kindness and charity made her loved by the people, contributing
greatly to the popularity of her husband, Dom Pedro, first Emperor
of Brazil.
--
Adapted from Crowned in a Far Country (Weidenfeld & Nicolson
Ltd) by HRH Princess Michael of Kent.
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