RIO JENEIRO.
Rio Jeneiro, in English, the River January—probably so called from the month in which it was discovered—embraces the varied prospect of a bay incomparable in scenery, a smooth harbor, variegated with many pleasant little islands, which secure and embellish it; the shores on every side teeming in luxuriant vegetation, and where nature, dressed always in the robe of spring—gay as in her prime—sports in all her youthful vigor and beauty. On first beholding this coast, the mind of a stranger is struck with wonder and pleasure—he beholds mountains piled on mountains, of every shape and posture—some bending their enormous heads, as if to awe the lesser hills below, or rising in majestic pomp far above the highest range of clouds, which float and curl, like misty veils, around them. The city, St. Sebastian, is surrounded with a range of these high mountains, which rise at a short distance in the interior, and enclose it as in a semicircle. This barrier prevents the circulation of the pure mountain breezes, and occasions a pale and sickly appearance in the sallow complexions of the inhabitants; the streets, too, which appear like lanes to an European, are narrow, and the houses lofty, which gives them, at first, a wild and gloomy appearance. The buildings are mostly of brick or stone, and plastered; but the eye of the pedestrian is soon diverted from them, and arrested by the endless change in the faces, dresses and complexions of the passing swarms that press about him, and throng this populous, transatlantic city.
Here may be seen at one view, the well-fed priest pushing his fat body along, and the half starved slave who touches his cap to him, though he is sweating under the weight of a puncheon, which he assists in bearing along. The bold free negro, with his cocked hat, and the stiff, proud courtier, with his ribbands and stars; the thievish soldier off duty, watching a group of sailors over their pot of wine, at the chop house; and the strapping female slave, who cries ‘aick!’ and sells water, the weight of which, in the balanced vessel on her head, would crack any skull of less solidity than her own; the naval captain in his full dress, brushing by a noisy pack of young black children, with no dress at all; the begging friar from the convent, who fills his wallet with provisions, and never knew a different mode of living; the statesman in black, who kisses on his knees at the palace door, the one hand of the prince, while he is eating an apple, a favorite fruit, with the other; the royal guard of grenadiers, whose antique lengthy coats, make them appear like men of other days; the droves of blacks, whose skeleton shapes bespeak them wretches just released from yonder slave ship—these may be seen at once.
But where, oh, where, is lovely woman? To the face of whom, from the face of naught for tedious months, but boisterous waves and frowning clouds, the seamen with most pleasure turns. But here he turns in vain, for none are seen. The sounds too, which stun him, are as varied as the objects around. The ceaseless clang of a hundred bells, ringing too, rapid as for life and death; the song and chorus of the laboring slaves, at the quay; guns firing, rockets mounting, drums beating, chains clanking, and rocks blowing, would lead a stranger to suppose that they made all this clamor to drive away ennui, and disperse evil spirits.
The queen’s garden, at the extremity of the city, appears to merit most attention. It is very spacious, and is bounded on one side by the bay, against the wall of which the surf beats and roars, in great contrast with the scenery within. The walks are very neat, and some charmingly shaded from the sun, cool and solitary. But it is in the country only, outside the town, that the naturalist and admirer of untrammelled nature, may enjoy her richest banquet, for here she spreads her boards with boundless variety. The air, though at first rather too warm, is generally refreshed by the pure breeze of the mountains, and every thing appears bright and beautiful; the mind in the delightful region, unwittingly glows in unison with the cheerful prospect, and insensibly imbibes the serenity and the grandeur of the surrounding landscapes.
On a Sunday afternoon, I took an excursion up the bay; on landing, I pursued the course of the beach, and was charmed with the stillness and the cheerfulness of the scenery around me. Here the sweet scented lemon tree, the orange, and the lime, extending even to the touch of the wave, afforded a delightful retreat from the blaze of a tropical sun.
The beautiful and nimble lizards, which I had thought repulsive reptiles, were playing about among the stones of the beach. The velocity of their motions, their sudden change of attitude, and their elegant and symmetrical forms—with their little green eyes, pointed noses, taper tails and spotted bodies, afforded a deal of amusement. We then bent our way into the interior. Here we travelled along at the foot of an immense hill, whose sloping sides were covered, as far as the eye could reach, with thick woods of oranges and other tropical fruits.
In a little time we fell in with a party of merry making blacks, of both sexes, who were indulging, in all its glory, the jubilee of a Fandango. This is a sort of African dance of the negroes, of which they are excessively fond; it is performed by numerous evolutions, in which they sometimes join hands and form a circle, in the centre of which, are the indefatigable and sweating musicians, who, with their huge calabashes, kettle drums and reed pipes, labor to make all the noise—if not the most musical—they possibly can. The dancers, more especially the women, are most fantastically arrayed, having on the head a cap or turban, ornamented with beads, ribbons and small looking glasses; a short, gay dress, a string of beads—negro fine—around their necks, and the wrists and ankles encircled by a string of castanos, a nut shell, the rattle of which, in the dance, keeps time to the music. No one can behold, with unruffled face, or with any degree of gravity, the negro Fandango. The ridiculous dresses, the expressive, though awkward pantomimic motions and gestures, the contortion of features, and the horrid music, present a strange and lively picture.
Proceeding a little further, we came in sight of a noble palace, which had been lately built, and which was surrounded by an extensive stone wall, having the grand gate-way, or entrance, arched, and bearing the arms of Portugal and John VI. On arriving at the palace, we found it was built of stone, surrounded by another solid wall. At a short distance, on the right, buildings of brick were erecting for spacious barracks. The situation was commanding and beautiful, and we little expected to enjoy, in a solitary country ramble, where the silence was only interrupted by the singing of birds, the view of so noble an edifice.
On returning, we fell in with a number of female slaves, who were busily employed in washing. They stood in a large square basin of water, at least three feet deep, and were jabbering and rubbing, with their trays on the banks. The country appeared well watered, and the soil very productive.
In the city, the water is supplied by several public fountains, which are built of stone, in a pyramidical form, from the sides of which, through four spouts, the water is forced out in spattering streams. The principal one is at the head of the palace steps, near the square. The slaves, who get water from this source, to sell about the city, make a great clamor in their contentions about first getting their vessels under the stream.
Notwithstanding the vast crowds which throng the streets, not a woman is to be seen. Although I was at one time on shore daily, for three weeks, I could see no other females than the slaves.—They sometimes, however, take a ramble in the evening, but are so enveloped in cloaks that entirely conceal their form, that a stranger would pass them, and think them men. They may be seen, also, at the gratings of the upper windows on some days of parade and processions, and on Sundays may be seen leaving their palanquins to enter the church; but otherwise are confined, by tyrant custom, to their lone apartments. How different is their fate from that of the perambulators of Broadway and Cornhill! The population, including slaves, probably amounts to eighty thousand. Though there are guard houses for soldiers in many sections, murders are very frequent; so common, indeed, that the dead body of the unfortunate victim, weltering in blood, is passed by in the street, with, perhaps, the exclamation of ‘poor fellow!’ but other wise unheeded and without concern.
There are many foreign merchants who reside here and in the vicinity, several of whom have their families with them; but the state of society must prevent the enjoyment of all social intercourse, and deprive them of those pleasures so necessary to the happiness of domestic life.
Fruits of many kinds, such as oranges, lemons, limes, plantains, bananas, cocoa nuts, &c., are very cheap and plenty. Sugar, rice and tobacco, they raise and export in great quantities; but should some of our chewers of the latter article witness the nauseous method of its manufacture and packing, by the dirty blacks, they would, I think, as I have seen others, eject the quid in disgust. The beef is bad and lean, the cattle being driven before they are killed, a great distance from the interior.
Multitudes of the slaves gain a profit to their owners, by the conveyance of passengers in their canoes, to and from the shipping and the landing places. Their strife for employment is violent and clamorous; but it sometimes happens, if their price of fare—which must be paid on the passage—is not agreed to, the black rogue will dexterously capsize his canoe, tow it quickly to the shore, and leave you to be picked up by the first passing skiff that may take that trouble.
The king’s barge is very splendid. His majesty sometimes takes an excursion round the harbor, attended by his suite, and is rowed by eighty men, having twenty oars on a side, and two men to each. A band of music precedes him, and the numerous barges which follow, all handsomely decorated, form a magnificent spectacle.
On Sundays and other holidays, the church processions are extraordinary. On a Sunday afternoon, soon after my first arrival in Rio Jeneiro, I witnessed a grand example of the above fetes. The streets were thronged with a gaping multitude, who were eager to pay their devotion to the rites of mother church. First in advance appeared a guard of soldiers, marching to slow music; these were followed by a number of citizens, dressed in black, each bearing a long, lighted, wax taper; then came a small guard of soldiers, followed by four beautiful females, dressed in light muslin, having wings of gauze, extended by wires, and crowned with a wreath of flowers, holding in their hands emblems of a harp; and immediately following, under a superb canopy, upheld by eight soldiers, appeared the grand object of all this ceremony, the reverend and holy Father of the church, to whom, as he moved along in mighty pomp and solemn show, the crowd on each side spontaneously dropped and bowed the knee. Another file of soldiers and citizens next came up, followed by the underlings of the church—some of various shades of color, even to sooty black, but who were, notwithstanding, arrayed in clerical robes—brought up the rear of this gorgeous pageant.