Crippled, yes, but only physically...

WHEN IT ALL HAPPENED... 

OH, HOW MANY POUNDS OF GOLD...

Oh, how many pounds of gold
       Have left our tired land...
       Oh, how everything’s so far away
       Oh,  how Providence speaks 
       In the name of the unfortunate...(2)

The first shipments of gold from Brazil begin arriving in Lisbon in the early 1700s.  It’s the type of wealth that can be felt.

Each society has a way of showing off its riches.  The poor, the craftsmen and the farmworkers are aware of the dreams that may come true if they have a chance at a better life.  The sailors who come into town tell stories about the land where the gold is coming from.

The new buildings reflect the country’s wealth.  In Mafra, there’s an enormous convent under construction, a project which will be a real school for many artists.  Some of  them will eventually leave for other shores taking with them the knowledge and practices obtained in Mafra.  

Manuel Francisco Lisboa leaves Odivelas, a small town in Portugal, in search of a better life.  His brother, António Francisco Pombal, has already gone to Brazil and is now awaiting his arrival.  Surely, it will be much easier to move up from a position of mere artisan to that of master craftsman in a place that is growing so rapidly and where jobs are so plentiful.

Gold mining activities in Ouro Preto, which had begun in 1698, are now in full swing.  And they will not come to a halt for a good many years.  Then, in 1728, there is the discovery of diamonds.  Of course, not everything  extracted from the soil is sent to Portugal – after all, the locals are nobody’s fools...

Now the name of the place has to be changed.  It is no longer Ouro Preto (literally, Black Gold).  As of 1711, it will be known as Vila Rica (Wealthy Town).  It’s a good place for Manuel Francisco to settle in.

He manages to obtain a carpenter’s permit in 1724.  It’s one of the best, since it covers a number of professions, including that of blueprint draftsman.  By 1730, he already holds the position of construction foreman.  He works on such buildings as Casa da Câmara (City Hall), the Cadeia de Vila Rica  (the local prison), as well as the main chapel of Castas Altas Church.

By now he has gained a certain amount of local prestige.  He has his own workshop, with a number of employees and a few slaves.  Among these, there is a girl named Isabel, of African origin, who will bear him a son.  The date of the child’s birth is uncertain, as is the date of his christening, which is not surprising considering that the newborn was a bastard child, a “mullato.”  Nevertheless, he is accepted by his father who gives him his own last name:  António Francisco Lisboa. 

In 1736, Manuel Francisco marries Antónia Maria, from Funchal, in the Madeira Islands.  They have 4 sons; one of them becomes a priest.  As to António Francisco, he grows up as any other child in his circumstances.  At an early age, he learns that he must fend for himself, since he has no rights of inheritance.  He spends his time in his father’s workshop, learning everything he can about what’s done there – drawing, architectural planning, ornamentation projects.  He seems to have a special attraction for sculpture and woodcarving.  It’s an occupation that might come in handy someday.  He also meets João Gomes Batista who had studied drawing and metal engraving in Lisbon and is now working at the Vila Rica Foundry.

WHO WILL BE LIFTED AND PURIFIED?

          Who will fall, 
          Consumed by sin, 
          Who will be lifted and purified? (2)

The influence of the Inquisition is still quite strong in 18^th century Brazil.  All new arrivals from Portugal are very much aware of its presence – and so everyone makes sure he displays his rosary beads in public...

The number of priests in Vila Rica doesn’t stop growing – there are about 80 of them by 1750.  After all, there is a need to keep strict control over the regions of greater affluence, since there is always the possibility of profiting from the other fellow’s wealth.  Generous contributors can be redeemed from most any abuse or crime or sin.  Everything, or almost everything, can be forgiven in exchange for gifts to the Almighty.  The Church is the center of the world.

A good number of congregations and brotherhoods have sprung up to look out for the interests of their members and offer them protection.  But even in these organizations there’s a selection process.  In most of them only white men are allowed. And that means pure white, without a trace of Jew, Moor or mullato.  For those excluded, there is the Arquiconfraria dos Mínimos do Cordão de S. Francisco, a brotherhood that will, nevertheless, be persecuted for the simple fact that it admits “dark-complected people” among its members.

These are the organizations that issue permits for the exercise of an occupation or profession.

In spite of his background, António Francisco Lisboa manages to obtain a “carpenter’s permit.”  It was worthwhile to have worked in his father’s shop.  Now he can do a number of jobs – he’ll never be short of work. 

António’s skills will be revealed through important commissions by two of the brotherhoods of Vila Rica.  The first is the project for the church of the the Third Order of Mount Carmel awarded to his father, Manuel Francisco;  the second, identical to the first, is granted by the Third Order of St. Francis to António himself.

Both projects are well received and, in the Church of St. Francis, both in the walls and in the pulpit, there is the clear imprint of an original artist at work.  A long sequence of projects will follow.

Baroque art, so popular in 17^th century Europe, is only now beginning to make its presence felt in Brazil, especially through the activities of the new arrivals from Portugal.  But in the tropics it takes on certain characteristics that make it different from European Baroque, particularly in Minas Gerais, where there is so much gold.

António Francisco’s work has its own style, in the architectural plans as well as in the carvings and sculpture.  It is the reflection of an entire region, an image shaped by the hands of an artist. The building façades are enriched, the walls are lined with carvings. It comes close to the rococo style, with a touch of Minas Gerais. 

Manuel Francisco Lisboa dies in 1767.  Two years later his son has his hands full.  The commissions keep coming in.  The brotherhoods compete among themselves for his services – he can now afford to do just what he likes most – to sculpt.  Mostly, he uses soapstone.  He carves pulpits, religious figures, doors.  He is now making good money and he knows just what to do with it...

He is not attractive to women for marriage purposes – he’s short, fat and mullato.  But he has a son.  Little is known about the boy’s mother, except that her name is Narcisa and that she keeps taking António Francisco to court.  This, in spite of the fact that he acknowledges the son as his and names him after his own father. 

He finds time for everything, for work and for play.  He likes a good night out on the town; he enjoys life.   Perhaps he will come to pay for sowing his wild oats.  He doesn’t miss a chance to have some fun, as when he makes a figure of St. George, which, in fact, is the image of the assistant to the governor who had commissioned the statue.  As a result, the people of Vila Rica had a good laugh, as expressed in a popular ditty:

          “That St. George over there,
          Looking so saintly and tall,
          Is Colonel Zé Romão
          And not St. George at all.”

TO SUFFER SO MUCH AND STILL HAVE NOTHING...

Aleijadinho adapts himself to his illness.

          Dear Lord, how is it possible
          To suffer so much and still have nothing! (2)  

In 1777, António Francisco Lisboa begins to feel the first symptoms of his illness.  What is he suffering from?  Nobody seems to know for sure...but he knows it’s serious.  There are several possibilities:  scurvy, syphilis, a viral infection that is going around...They all appear to have a common source: the wild life he leads.  Some people say it is all due to his drinking cardina, a beverage made of tropical leaves, to improve his artistic skills.

Whatever the reason, the fact is that, from 1777 on, he is no longer able to move about without assistance.  This is clearly indicated in one of the receipts for payments made by the Brotherhood of Our Lady of  Mercy and Pardons: it includes an amount paid to negro carriers who transported him from site to site so he could supervise the projects in progress.  His illness will get worse as time goes by – slowly, painfully, as if he were destined for martyrdom.

In spite of it all, António Lisboa is well accepted by the community.  He has a body of work;  he’s well respected.  And he is not the type to expose himself.

As his condition deteriorates, he sees his body become increasingly deformed – first, his feet; later, his hands.  There are moments when he can’t bear the pain.  His despair is so great that he cuts off some of his fingers.  But worse things are yet to come: the tools of his trade, his hands, are also becoming deformed.

His ugliness has a companion now – his physical deformity.  There are those who find it hideous and António is aware of that.  He well remembers the day when a slave he had just bought tried to commit suicide upon seeing his new master.  However, he and the slave will later become good friends. 

António Lisboa decides not to make his presence unwelcome.  He avoids going outside during the day.  If he must do so, he does it at dawn.  And he wears clothes that cover his shoulders and a hat that hides his head and face so people can’t see his sores.  He welcomes the absence of on-lookers as he works.  Any comments of praise are sometimes answered in a rude fashion.  It’s the doings of a disease that really hurts inside.

But he has good moments lived in the company of his slaves – Januário, Agostinho and Maurício.  The latter two will learn António’s art while giving him support in his illness.  Their master pays them;  they are his employees, not his slaves.  Januário, in particular, becomes his means of transportation.

In the year António falls ill, his only known son gets married.  Little is known about the son, but António’s daughter-in-law will be heard from later.

Here is a man whose looks have not been graced by nature, who fights his illness by working, who projects religious devotion through his work and who, very slowly, is becoming disfigured and crippled...He’s a figure deserving of  pity, as people are beginning to say.  It’s the voice of Portuguese sentimentality coming to the surface – it’s compassion. Nobody calls him António Lisboa anymore. Now, he is known as the Aleijadinho  (pronounced: a lay zha DEE’ nyo).  His real name will be generally forgotten.  That’s the price paid for the compassion received.  But it’s also the birth of a legend.

António Lisboa is not a man to take advantage of this pity.  He continues to work and adapts himself to his condition.  Some of his fingers are already gone, his legs have become useless.  He gets about on a donkey when he has to travel far  or rides on Januário’s back to cover short distances.  His appearances in public become rarer and he manages to continue working with the help of his assistants.  The tools are tied to his hands and he works in spite of great pain. In the meantime, his merits as an artist are receiving increased recognition, as indicated by the resolution of the Third Order of Sabará, dated November 25, 1781:

“The best way to assure the perfect execution of the work, and without any modifications to the plans, is to contract the master and  the more capable workers.  For this reason, the Most Reverend High Commissioner and the members of the committee have unanimously decided that only Master António Francisco Lisboa and his workers can perform this mission to our complete satisfaction...”

But António Lisboa is not about to limit his activities and goals.  A bigger project awaits him.

DEATH IS BETTER THAN MISFORTUNE...

          Death is better than misfortune...
          Better than an opaque future,
          And between life and death,
          A mere jump – from the land of gold
          To the great heaven, pure and obscure. (2)

Feliciano Mendes had arrived in Brazil in the mid-1700s from Matosinhos, near the city of Oporto, in Portugal.  Like many new arrivals, he wandered around looking for riches.  Like so many others who had left northern Portugal, he took his religious devotion with him.  He had left behind in his hometown a pretty church – Our Lord, the Good Jesus of Matosinhos, with its chapels containing the Stations of the Cross.

At the same time, there’s an importante sanctuary being built in Braga, in the province of Minho, dedicated to Jesus. Great pilgrimages are already beginning in Portugal...

One day, Feliciano Mendes climbs up to the top of Maranhão Hill, near Congonhas do Campo.  There, at the top, man is so much closer to God.  He decides to build a church on that spot dedicated to Our Lord, the Good Jesus of Matosinhos.  When he dies, in 1761, the church is almost complete.  The religious services become widely known and the pilgrims keep coming, leaving their alms and contributions, money that should be put to good use.  So, the brotherhood decides to build an important sanctuary with a churchyard and its own small chapels to house the Stations of the Cross.  And it will be built by a great artist.

In 1796, António Lisboa signs a contract for the statues for the sanctuary.  There will be about 60 of them. He’ll not be able to sculpt them all but, at least, he’ll be able to supervise the work.  He will need a lot of workers.  It’s better to set up a shop at Congonhas.  For many of the workers, this will be a true school since, after all, they’re working with a master.  The project will last several years.

In front of the church there will be a churchyard to be named the Square of the Prophets (there will be twelve).  António Francisco takes on the reponsibility of sculpting these figures.  They will not be static. Rather, they will be arranged around the square as if they are participating in an assembly.  The words will spring forth from them;  they are the great orators.  António Francisco infuses them with expression, with gestures, with forms and specific characteristics.  Their feet are big (which some have interpreted as a synonym for strength).  Their hands show the bones underneath the skin and there’s a strange-looking thumb, deformed, one might say. According to many, this is a reflection of his illness, especially as one looks at a prophet and sees it as António’s self-portrait.

In addition to the prophets, Aleijadinho works on the Chapels of the Stations of the Cross. There, he expresses the suffering of Chist. At this time, António also suffers with the death of Agostinho Angola, who was far more than a slave – he was a true friend.

His Last Supper,  in polychromed cedar wood, is imbued of such realism that some passers-by will greet the figures as if they were real people.

He exalted the faith and he showed his merits as an artist, but when he leaves Congonhas do Campo he knows that his condition and his suffering have become worse.  Nevertheless, he goes to Sabará, in Minas Gerais, to work on the main altar at the Church of the Third Order.  But by now, as the accountants comment on the expenses for the work performed, they call him “Aleijadinho.” He is no longer António Francisco.  They forget the master crafsman and pay attention only to the money.

In 1810, he is still working on the carvings of Vila Rica Church (Ouro Preto), but this time the contract is awarded to Justino, his former assistant.  Now it’s the teacher who works for the pupil.  Aleijadinho’s movements from place to place have become so difficult and painful that he makes his home closer  to the work site. This will probably be his last job...and, to make matters worse, a poorly paid one.

One evening, Justino decides to visit his family in another town.  It will not be a short visit.  But Justino says nothing to Aleijadinho – simply leaves him to fend for himself, even though he can no longer manage to live alone.  He is finally taken in by his daughter-in-law, Joana Araújo Correia.  She’s a midwife – someone who helps people as they arrive in the world will also know how to help them when they depart.

For two years now, António Lisboa has not been able to get out of bed, much less work.  His eyesight is gone.  He talks to himself a lot – about the good times, about the times that were not so good.  And, above all, he talks about Justino who betrayed him and never returned to settle accounts.  These are things that cannot be forgiven when done by someone to whom so much was given. For António, there remain his faith and the boards he uses for a bed.

Joana will never leave him.  But her dedication is not enough to alleviate his suffering. 

António Francisco Lisboa dies on November 18, 1814, and is buried in the Church of  Our Lady of the Conception, in Ouro Preto.  He leaves nothing to his relatives, but he leaves a great deal to the world.

(1) (Translator’s Note) The nickname “Aleijadinho” has generally been translated literally as “The Little Cripple.” This may be somewhat misleading since, in the Portuguese language, the diminutive “...inho” (little) is often used to indicate affection, endearment, or sympathy, rather than simply suggest or describe mere size. Thus, António Francisco would probably still be called “Aleijadinho,” even if he had been 6 feet tall.

(2)   (2)  Verses taken from Romanceiro da Inconfidência, by Cecília Meireles.