Brazil, the River Plate, and the Falkland Islands / With the Cape Horn route to Australia. Including notices of Lisbon, Madeira, the Canaries, and Cape Verde.

by William Hadfield

INTRODUCTION.

Cursory Retrospect of South American Discoveries.—Their difficulties then, how to be estimated at present.—Their interest to this age as compared with ancient conquests.—Cruelties of the early invaders.—Retributive visitations.—Columbus and his cotemporaries.—Cortez and the conquest of Mexico.—Subsequent position of the country.—Santa Anna, his antecedents and prospects.—Pizarro in Peru, and his Lieutenant, Almagro, in Chili.—Condition of those Republics since and now: their past gold and present guano.—Modern commanders in those countries.—Predominance of the Irish element in the fray.—The O’Learys and O’Higginses in the Andes.—San Martin and his aid-de-camp, O’Brien, and his auxiliary, M’Cabe.—The Portuguese discoverers.—Magellan and his Straits, and Peacock’s steaming to the Pacific three hundred years afterwards.—Cabra, and Brazil.—De Gama and the Cape, and Camoens’ celebration of the achievement.—Enrichment of the Iberian Peninsula from these causes—Subsequent impoverishment of mother countries and colonies.—Exceptional position of Brazil in this respect, and reason thereof.—Different results in North America, and why.—Imperfect knowledge in Europe of South America.—Works thereon.—Characteristics of the several authorities: Prescott, Southey, Koster, Gardner, Humboldt, Dr. Dundas, Woodbine Parish, M’Cann, Edwards, Maury, and others.—Want of information still on Paraguay and the region of the Amazon.—Object of this Volume to supply that void.—Aim of the Author not Political, but Commercial.

Nearly four centuries have rolled past since the great discoveries of Columbus and his followers led to the establishment of Spanish and Portuguese dominion over the vast continent of South America, and were succeeded somewhat later by the still more important settlement of the Anglo-Saxon race on the northern portion of the New World.[3] These events, marvellous in themselves and in their accessories, and momentous from the way in which they have affected the destinies of the human race, present a study singularly and enduringly interesting, differing so strongly as they do from the characteristics of ancient history. The latter are necessarily contemplated by the reader as types and symbols of the past, on which he has only the privilege of reflecting; whilst in the former case, in perusing the story of these comparatively modern discoveries of hitherto unknown continents, he feels himself almost a sharer in the adventures of those extraordinary men by whose deeds his own present destiny is so essentially influenced. He cannot desire to be a Lycurgus or a Phocion, a Cæsar or a Cato; but it is no tax on the imagination, no repulse to the feeling, to picture himself a Columbus in embryo, and his soul and being is wrapt up in the narrative of that great voyager. The English are proverbially a nautical people, nursed and cradled in the lap of that ocean with whose element their earliest sympathies are enlisted and identified. In these days it is a light matter indeed, with the facilities of progression abounding on all sides, and the great ministrant of celerity, steam, at our command in every form, to ramble from one extremity of the earth to the other; but the slightest retrospection suffices to demonstrate how very different a state of things prevailed at the close of the fifteenth century. The mere existence of a western continent was a phantasy of dream-land, when the mysteries of that mighty waste of waters which separated the then known world from all beyond, was shrouded in obscurity as unfathomable as its deepest depths; when only frail barks and mariners who dreaded to lose sight of the land could be found to attempt the seemingly-desperate fate of exploring an unknown sea in search of what at best existed but in the imagination of those who were regarded as visionaries, and whose presumptuous rashness the very winds themselves seemed to rebuke by blowing with unprecedented constancy in the one direction, as if to proclaim the impossibility of return.[4] Taking these circumstances into our consideration, a most thrilling interest is attached to this recital that will endure to the latest posterity; and school-boys for generations to come will ponder over the amazing achievements of these wondrous knights-errant of the main with the same eager curiosity as the grown men of to-day.

On the other hand, it must be as readily conceded that there is something painfully oppressive in the records of ancient history, with its never-ending conflict between nations for the aggrandisement of a few ambitious monarchs or republican leaders, in which the destruction of cities, towns, and countries, as well as of the lives of their inhabitants, is the theme perpetually dwelt upon, as if the annihilation of his kind were the only achievement entitling man to the admiration of humanity. War in all its horrors, and the military extirpation of our species, is the delight of the classic chroniclers, whether in poetry or prose; and its accompaniments of battles, sieges, pillage, murder, and atrocities such as nature revolts at, are depicted with a species of barbaric satisfaction, calculated (as it no doubt often did) to evoke the vengeance of the Deity against enormities perpetrated in the mere wantonness of licentious ferocity, and too frequently lacking the miserable palliative of provocation. Infinitely is it to be deplored that this sanguinary animus was carried, in a large degree, by the Spaniards and Portuguese, but probably still more by the Dutch (with whom, however, we are not now concerned), into their conquests in the New World; but it brought with it its own retributive punishment; and finally, under Providence, became the most potent instrument that caused war to be looked upon as an enormous evil, and a curse upon any country unrighteously practising it.

To the discovery of the New World we may fairly trace the benign effects of that wholesome correction of a most pernicious estimate of human merit. This, gradually softening the minds of men, instilled the principle of commercial intercourse amongst nations; demonstrating how much more conducive to true greatness and human happiness is the cultivation of amicable relations than even the most successful aggression and devastation, and the acquisition of wealth by iniquitous appliances.

It was in the year 1492 that Columbus landed on one of the West India islands. (See ante, page 8.) Subsequently, what is now termed the Spanish Main was crossed in rapid succession by various Peninsular adventurers, one and all of whom were distinguished by bravery the most exalted and selfishness the most abased, each attribute being inflamed by a fanaticism that sought to honour God and appease His anger towards their iniquities, by incredible offences in the name of religion against the unoffending aborigines. Preëminent, perhaps, among these bold bad captains, on the score of political prescience, military skill, and administrative civil ability, as well as from the magnitude of his acquisitions, was Hernan Cortez, who, in 1521, conquered the table land of Mexico, its coasts being discovered some three years before.[5] The immensity and enormity of his massacres, and the perfidy that distinguished them—the ingenuity of his multitudinous outrages upon the Emperor Montezuma and scores of thousands of his subjects—have rendered his name indelibly detestable, though there were many traits of true heroism about him, beyond what their biographers have been able to preserve of his invading cotemporary destroyers on the same scene. As was the case, too, with so many of them, his fruit in the end proved but bitterness and ashes; for though the vast enrichment of the revenues of Spain, through his means, extorted from an ungrateful sovereign a marquisate, and the grant of a portion of the territories he had conquered, he died at home, the object of courtly suspicion and distrust; stung to death by mortification, that all his achievements had been productive of coldness and neglect; where he had most expected to meet with eulogium and honour, he found, like Columbus, (says the eloquent historian of his conquests) that it was possible to deserve too greatly.[6]

Passing next to him before whose golden sun the star of Cortez waned, we find that the ruthless valour and iron perseverance of Pizarro subjugated Peru[7] in 1531; while one of his followers, who most resembled him in the cruelty of his life, as he did in the untimeliness of his death (caused by a quarrel with his old master about the spoil), after the seeming consummation of his ambition—Diego Almagro—having committed horrors till then almost unheard of, over-ran Chili[8] in 1535. He exterminated the family of Atahualpa, the last of the Incas, in a mode which only the most hardened familiars of the Inquisition, in the mother country, could read of without emotion; and to this day the records of such revolting transactions constitute probably the foulest blot on the Columbian escutcheon of the country of Du Guesclin and the Cid. But the sins of these men may be said to have been avenged by heaven in the noon of their iniquities. Pizarro, having defeated Almagro at Cuzco, and put many of his officers to death, in cold blood, had his old comrade strangled and then beheaded in Lima, where the despot himself was assassinated by young Almagro, who, in his turn, being defeated in battle, also at Cuzco, by Vaca de Castro, was likewise put to death by decapitation.

Passing next to the Portuguese discoveries, that of Brazil was effected by Alvarez de Cabral, he having landed, by accident, through stress of weather, at Porto Seguro, on the 24th of April, 1500, calling the country Santa Cruz (Holy Cross) in gratitude for his delivery from shipwreck; but the appellation was afterwards altered to that which it at present bears, signifying redwood, the well-known substance familiar to us as Brazil wood; yet it was the subsequent exploration of this coast, some four years afterwards, that enabled Amerigo Vespucci to eternise his own name as the accepted discoverer of the continent itself.

Another instance of the vagaries and mutations of geographical nomenclature, in this region of the world, occurs in connection with the great achievement that next solicits our notice, viz., the doubling of the Cape, and consequent opening-up of an oceanic highway to India. This was second in importance only to the discovery of the New World itself, and, indeed, well nigh placed Portugal on a par with Spain in honorary maritime status. Vasco de Gama, whose exploits inspired the muse of Camoens in the Lusiad,[10] which noble poem is in a great measure only a rythmetical narrative of the perils of the navigator, ‘made the Cape’ November 20th, 1497; and, with the expressiveness of all the earlier mariners, named it the ‘Cape of Tempests,’[11] and it was afterwards known as the ‘Lion of the Sea,’ and the ‘Head of Africa.’ These designations were different indeed to that it has long rejoiced in—the ‘Cape of Good Hope’—so called by John the Second of Portugal, who drew a favourable augury of future discoveries thence, because of his adventurous subject, Diaz, having reached the extremity of Africa, at that point, though in doing so, he perished there in 1500, having divided with Gama the honour of being its original discoverer, and supposed by some to have preceded him by nearly ten years. Previous, however, to this latter occurrence, even if we accept the earliest date claimed for Diaz, mankind was amazed by reports of the circumnavigation of the globe—a feat, which, like those already named, has been a fruitful source of controversy as to the just recipient of the meed of priority. Sebastian de Elcano is, perhaps, the most generally accepted by foreign writers. Goralva and Alvalradi, both Spaniards, performed the task—astounding, indeed, when we think of the fragile craft employed, and the unknown courses ventured upon—in one and the same year, 1537, without concert with each other. Mendana, another Spaniard, repeated it in 1567—preceding our own immortal sovereign of the seas, Drake, by ten years. But long anterior to all these, was the Portuguese Magellan, who, in 1519, being in the service of Spain, determined the sphericity of the earth by keeping a westerly course through the straits bearing his name, across the Pacific, and returning to the spot he set out from, or rather the ship did, for he was killed at the Philippines, on his passage back, the whole voyage occupying three years and twenty-nine days.[12] These, and a series of marvels, only subordinate in wonder because inferior in importance, kept the western world in unflagging excitement for a long succession of years, during which Europe tingled with the tidings of vast countries being discovered, assailed, and captured, by mere handfuls of obscure fortune-hunters, and yielding up such exhaustless treasures as rendered the Spanish and Portuguese peninsula, for a prolonged season, the richest kingdoms in the world—the veritable ‘envy and admiration of surrounding nations.’ To all this we may add that momentum given to commerce and navigation which has gone rolling on, until fleets of all nations cover the seas; and, so far as we are aware at present, not an island now unknown, of any importance, remains to reward the search of him[13] who has been last commissioned to find one if he can, even in the comparatively little frequented Polynesian group, for the penal purposes of England.

I will not dwell on the different results that have attended different courses of action with reference to the conquered territories of North and South America; nor attempt to trace the decline of one power at the expense of another. Spain and Portugal, unfortunately for themselves, dealt with their gifts on purely selfish principles; and the consequence of such a system was, not only the loss of the greater part of their colonies, but an almost total estrangement between the parent and child, never afterwards thoroughly healed. We attempted the same game in North America, and the giant-like progress of the United States has followed; only that, wiser in our generation, more forgiving, and actuated by true commercial principles, we have cultivated, to the utmost extent, relations of amity and good-will with the new power, and both countries are largely gainers thereby, and will continue to be so while the same feelings of mutual concession and respect actuate both.

Whilst, therefore, North America has made such astonishing progress, and completely outstrips the Old World in rapidity of thought and execution, carrying her commerce and people to the limits of the habitable globe, the states to the southward have had many severe ordeals to go through—arising, in the first place, from the cause just mentioned, viz., that the mother countries considered their colonies as mere appanages, and prevented communication, in some cases even intercourse, with other nations. Secondly, from the disseverment of the link which united them to Europe, having an entirely new phase to pass through, new forms of government to establish, and fresh relations to cultivate; whilst another immediate effect of the revolution was to drive away most of the wealthy inhabitants who, being Spanish and Portuguese citizens, were not a little vain of their superiority in that respect to their colonial-born brethren. This fruitful source of dissent and violence in nearly all the disturbances by which the several states were torn is by no means wholly obliterated to this day, any more than in some of the transmarine possessions of Great Britain, in either hemisphere. Then came intestine divisions among the American-born colonists themselves, raging between the upstart leaders of mushroom parties, whose very names it taxed the memory of men at the time to remember; and, as a matter of course, there followed all the thousand drawbacks resulting from a state of anarchic confusion. Hence, as is obvious must have been the case under such circumstances, material progress has been slow, and political progress for a long time almost imperceptible, if not frequently retrogressive, if one may use a phrase so seemingly contradictory. Moreover, until of late years very little was known of the internal resources of South America, with the exception of the Brazils—a country to which a variety of circumstances conspired to impart an impetus along the groove of civilization and consequent advancement. Paramount amongst those aids was undoubtedly the establishment there, in 1806, of the old Portuguese monarchy, consequent upon the European troubles of the house of Braganza. The inappreciable advantage of this regular form of government, arising out of local monarchic institutions, that country has retained, though under a new sovereign and with a liberalized system of administration, ever since, with every guarantee for continuously rapid but enduring improvement. Still, even Brazil was, to Europeans, comparatively speaking, an unknown region, to which, in incongruous confusion, attached associations of the soft and the savage, of barbarism and luxury, of the majestic and the feeble, in the minds of all nearly whose reading about her was not corrected by personal familiarity with the country itself. But ignorance so arising is being happily fast dissipated; and it shall not be the author’s fault if its departure be not further expedited on some points to which it still adheres.

Both the Spaniards and Portuguese possess works of rare merit, far exceeding in magnitude and minuteness any we can boast of, illustrating the achievements of their early navigators, and the rise and progress of their former colonial possessions. But few of these works have been rendered familiar to the British public, and are very imperfectly known, even to those writers who profess to treat of the same or similar subjects. Of course we except Prescott, the appreciation of whose invaluable volumes on the Conquest of Peru, the Conquest of Mexico, and the History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, is testified by the exhaustion of six large and expensive editions, and one cheaper edition, in this country, besides the incorporation of the fruits of his extraordinary research in a thousand publications that have since been issued on either side of the Atlantic. Previously, however, to Prescott, and in nearly as large a degree, in respect to the territory described, were we indebted to Southey, for his History of Brazil;[14] to Koster for valuable details of his travels in the northern provinces of the same empire; and to Gardner, for a most elaborate research into its botanical treasures, as also a graphic description of the interior of the empire, which he traversed from north to south.[15] The hygiene of the same region has been thoroughly investigated, and its rationale expounded with consummate ability and simplicity of style, by my learned and accomplished fellow-townsman, Dr. Dundas, than whom no man was more competent for the task; and I rejoice to see that, though the subject is necessarily of a very circumscribed range, comparatively speaking, and one not very likely to command public attention, its treatment was so masterly, that nearly all the professional journals in the kingdom received it as an important contribution to medical literature.[16] Its perusal, however, may be also recommended to the general reader as containing notices of Brazilian life and manners and scenery nowhere else to be met with, and which the peculiar facilities enjoyed by the author enabled him to describe with a life-like minuteness whose truthfulness at once stamps its accuracy both on the stranger at a distance and on the most experienced Brazilian resident or native. In speaking thus, I am merely echoing well-recognized facts; my opinion, which would of course be utterly valueless in a medical sense, being in no degree warped by the personal obligation Dr. Dundas has placed me under from the circumstance of his having kindly consented to enrich this volume with a special chapter on a theme analogous to that which his ‘Sketches’ are devoted to.

It is, however, the now patriarchal, or, as he calls himself, ‘Antediluvian’ Humboldt, who has showered upon European understanding the light of scientific knowledge concerning the vast South American continent, and his inimitable descriptions of the country and its natural resources have scarcely been appreciated amongst us as they deserve. It is only when confronted with the great fact, so long regarded as the sentimental aspiration of utopiaists, that South America is actually becoming an additional field for our industry and enterprise—when its magnificent fluvial highways are about being traversed by an endless succession of steamers, and its plains by railways—that we really discover how infinitesimal is our knowledge of those resources or capabilities to whose development these means can alone effectually conduce. As a medium of forming an estimate of the material position, as well as of the natural features of the countries described by him, Humboldt cannot be too highly commended, as the author, of all others, whose flowing narrative, profundity of reflection, and copiousness of illustration—commensurate with the greatness of the subject itself—will amply repay all ordinary curiosity; apart from that superabounding erudition and scientific affluence which pervade the whole works of the great living father of historical philosophers, though singularly freed, like the treatises of our own Herschel, from technicalities that repel the uninitiated. As relates to the Rio Plata and its immense tributaries, we have had, in the course of the preceding year, Sir W. Parish’s elaborate and excellent volume,[17] whose only, though it is undoubtedly a great drawback, is, that having been written obviously from inspiration of Rosas, and through the sources that personage opened to him for the purpose at Buenos Ayres, events are recorded in a light entirely in conformity with the views of the Dictator, whose whole past policy is upheld, and his intended plans prospectively eulogised in a manner to which subsequent events, and the judgment pronounced upon them, furnish a significant commentary. In harmony with Rosas’s principle of representing Buenos Ayres as virtually constituting the whole Argentine Confederation, and himself as the exponent of public opinion and the embodiment of actual power therein, Sir Woodbine almost altogether ignores the existence of Monte Video, and scarcely alludes to such a state as the Banda Oriental. Hence, as regards the latter province and its capital, and all pertaining to them, Sir Woodbine’s book is a blank, or something worse—a deficiency which it is one of the objects of the present volume, in some degree, to supply. Of the condition of some of the interior provinces, likewise, Sir Woodbine, being obliged to take his information, not only at second hand, but through a channel in which every thing was conductive to the one end, that of exalting Rosas, or depreciating his opponents, gives us particulars not merely inaccurate, but leading to conclusions the very reverse of what a true state of the case would warrant. On this head, especially as regards by far the most important of all the interior states—Paraguay—it is hoped that the present volume will be found to contain much new and reliable information. For this, the writer is mainly indebted to notes of observations made on the route to, and during a residence in, Assumption, by parties personally cognizant of the late most successful and important mission sent out by Lord Malmesbury, whose prescience, in foreseeing the right moment—and in selecting the right agent, Sir C. Hotham, for urging negociations towards that object—the author had the satisfaction of hearing emphatically panegyrized in all commercial circles—whether native, British, or foreign—in the course of his late visit to South America.

Lastly, Mr. M’Cann,[18] whose previous work on the Plate had evinced great knowledge of the subject, has recorded his later experience of some of the Riverine provinces in a very agreeable and instructive work, partly formed on the model of Sir F. Bond Head’s fascinating Rough Rides on the Pampas, and embracing a review of mercantile matters and prospects in those countries. Written with that knowledge of trade which only a mercantile man can be expected to possess, its spirit is so dispassionate as to be quite unique in a critic, on topics which would seem to impart their partizan atmosphere to all who endeavour to detail their position to those at a distance. Neither must I, by any means, omit to mention the labours of another of my townsmen, Mr. Thomas Baines, who, with that mastery of detail and facility of statistic exposition which seem to be an heir-loom in the family of the late estimable member for Leeds, placed in a very lucid light, some years ago, a subject to which it was difficult at the time to draw general attention, and a popular elucidation of which could only be expected from a pen so qualified.

But of all portions of South America, there is one perhaps concerning which our knowledge is most imperfect, and with which it is most essential that it should be extended, because of the rapid extension of both native and European enterprise in that quarter. We especially allude to that district of the vast region watered by the Amazon of which Pará (city) may be considered the entrepot. Fortunately, two very admirable volumes have recently been directed to supplying our deficiency on this head.[19] The obligations due to these sources will be found amply acknowledged in the chapter devoted to a consideration of the subject. Our own text is enriched with matter drawn from original authorities, long resident on the spot, and in every way calculated to supply trustworthy intelligence. From these the reader will draw his own deductions, as our informants, not encumbering their data with disquisition, have left their facts to speak for themselves.

Notwithstanding the number of publications enumerated as being lately issued upon South America, and not taking into account others published in the United States, still there is a field of immense extent, as yet comparatively unexplored and hidden, which requires to be opened up to view, in order to enable us to form a sufficiently accurate judgment of the character and capabilities of such countries as Brazil and the republics bordering on the river Plate and its affluents. The main design, therefore, towards this end on the part of the writer in revisiting the scenes of his early youth, is to endeavour to present some fresh sources of information; partly derived from his own actual observation, and partly from the experience of others, who, possessing the best opportunities, have converted them to the best use in furtherance of the purpose now sought to be attained—viz., the elimination of what shall serve for a compact but comprehensive precis of the general condition of the countries named in the title page, and particularly their commercial status and prospective indications of a mercantile complexion. To refresh the memory on such analogous subjects as may prove interesting in connection with these matters, there is appended what it is hoped will prove a mass of desirable information, in the shape of a collection of notes, bringing down incidents to the latest practicable period antecedent to publication. In order to interfere as little as possible with the current of the narrative, in which it has been deemed expedient to convey the accompanying observations, the writer intends offering his memoranda in the shape of a record of his voyage, taking in all points touched upon as they naturally arose in connection with it; and incidentally referring to those authors who have exhibited the greatest acquaintance with the topics embraced.

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CHAPTER I.
OUTWARD BOUND.—LIVERPOOL TO LISBON.

The Argentina on her maiden voyage.—Capacity and capability of the river boat at sea.—From the Mersey to the Tagus in four days.—Lisbon and its Laureats, Vathek and Childe Harold.—Lord Carnarvon on Mafra and its marble halls.—Monasticism and Monarchy.—Aspect and Attributes of the Lusitanian Capital and its Vicinage.—Portuguese Millers and the Grinding process among the Grain Growers.—A ‘bold peasantry, their country’s pride,’ the same everywhere.—Native memorabilia of the earthquake, and Anglo reminiscence thereof.—Anatomical offerings extraordinary.—The hic jacet of Tom Jones, and eke of Roderick Random.—Memento Mori, with admonitions to the Living.—Portuguese peculiarities.—Personal and political economy.—Fiscal fatuities.—Market-place notabilia.—Lisbon society.—Clubs and Cookery.—Tea and Turn-out.—Friars, Females, Fashions, and so forth, Operatic and Terpsichoratic.—Lusitanian fidalgos, or Portuguese Peers in Parliament.—Portugal the Paradise of Protectionists and Poverty.—Free-trade the only corrective of such calamities.—Court Circulars, Conventions, and Commanders.—Few books about Portugal, and necessity for more.—Hints from the newest, including the Oliveira Prize Essay.—A man’s house something like a castle in Lisbon, at the cost of a cottage ornée.—Diplomatic and Consular Memoranda.

ARGENTINA—OUTWARD BOUND.

On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone,

And winds are rude in Biscay’s sleepless bay.

Three days are sped, but with the fourth, anon,

New shores descried make every bosom gay;

And Cintra’s mountain greets them on their way,

And Tagus, dashing onward to the deep,

His fabled golden tribute bent to pay;

And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap,

And steer ’twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap.

Childe Harold.

Innumerable as are the craft of every calibre and formation,—sail, steam, and screw,[20]—by which this favourite and familiar route is traversed, seldom had the voyager seen in its course a vessel of dimensions similar to those of the Argentina, paddle-wheel, in which I had embarked, constructed at Birkenhead by Mr. John Laird, to run between Monte Video and Buenos Ayres. She is, (or rather was, for alack, she is now a thing of the past,) 185 feet long by 21 feet beam, and with very fine, hollow lines; her engines of 120-horse power, by Fawcett, Preston, and Co. Intended for river work, and of a light draught of water, it was hardly to be expected that in ocean steaming, when compelled to carry coals, provisions, and all the bulky and ponderous requirements of a long voyage, the same results could be obtained as in the comparatively tranquil waters of inland navigation; but under all the disadvantages of being so laden, and having to make way against a strong head-wind and heavy sea, our average speed to Cape Finisterre was nearly 12 knots. Subsequently, we had a more favourable wind, and canvas assisted us a little, until we made the Berlings, (bold islets standing out some half-dozen miles from the land, with a light-house upon them,) getting to our moorings in the Tagus, before dark, on the evening of the fourth day after quitting the Mersey.

It is impossible to conceive an easier navigation than that to Lisbon; when once across the Bay of Biscay and round Cape Finisterre, you make direct for the Berlings, and other high rocks more to seaward, called the ‘Estellas’ and ‘Farilhoes de Velha.’ There is plenty of spare room for any vessel to pass inside the Berlings, thus saving some distance; and from Cape Corvoeiro the coast tends inwards to the mouth of the Tagus,[21] presenting a succession of scenery, so novel and attractive, as at once to satisfy the spectator that the poetry of Byron and the poetic prose of Beckford,[22] have failed to exaggerate its beauties. Conspicuous among the latter, though it is the handiwork of man availing himself of nature in her picturesquest mood, stands out the height-crowning, marble-built Mafra, termed the Escurial of Portugal, from its immensity, magnificence, and the diversity of its contents, consisting of a palace, a convent, and most superb church, whose six organs were pronounced by Byron to be the most beautiful he ever beheld in point of decoration, and was told that their tones corresponded to their splendour. The town of Mafra itself is a small place, 18 miles N.W. of Lisbon, containing about 3,000 inhabitants, and owes what importance it possesses to the celebrated regal and ecclesiastical edifice, constructed in its vicinity by John V., in pursuance of a vow that he would select the poorest locality in the kingdom; and, finding twelve Franciscan friars living in one hut here, he gave the preference to Mafra—a partiality which its position, if not its preëminent poverty, abundantly justifies.[23]

BELEM CASTLE, LISBON.

A cluster of shoals, called the bar, forms a semicircle at the mouth of the Tagus, but is seldom an obstacle to vessels entering, for there is generally abundance of water on it to float even the largest vessels, the least depth in the north channel, at low water, being 4 fathoms, and in the south, 6. The only time that any difficulty is encountered, is when the freshes, after heavy rains up the country, add their strength to that of the ebbing tide, which then runs out at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour, and encounters a gale from seaward, for this causes the water to break right across, and vessels must await the turn of the tide to get in; but in other respects the approach appears very easy, scarcely any captain who has been there before requiring the services of a pilot. After the intricacies and dangers of our own (the St. George’s) Channel navigation, with the miles of sandbank that have to be threaded in approaching Liverpool, such an entrance as that to Lisbon calls but for small skill indeed in seamanship; and almost the veriest tyro in boxing the compass might enact the part of Palinurus.

Passing up the Tagus there are numerous forts, palaces, and other imposing buildings, or at least what appeared to be such in the dim twilight that prevailed during our advance towards the Lusitanian capital. The most commanding object (whereof presently) among these is Belem Castle, near which we were visited by the health officers, and allowed to proceed to our moorings off Lisbon, or rather to those of the Royal Mail Company, which had been kindly lent until such time as our own are laid down. The rule at the Custom-house, in respect to vessels, is for the masters to enter them and declare whether their cargoes are destined to be landed in Lisbon or not; if this be doubtful, which was not our case, they ask to be put in franquia, that is, for leave to remain eight days in port until the point is decided. On obtaining this they proceed a little way up the river for the appointed period. From Belem to that part of the river which is opposite to the centre of the city, a distance of about four miles, the Tagus is some one and a half wide, and displays on its northern bank, mingled with the dark foliage of the orange and other trees, successive clusters of dwellings and churches, including the palaces of the Ajúda and of Necessidades, in which latter the court is generally held, and from it mostly are dated the royal decrees.

With but few exceptions, these buildings are white, which gives the city, at first sight, a much cleaner appearance than is presented on a nearer view. On the south side, which is hilly, but few buildings, unless we include a small fishing village near the mouth of the river, are visible, until the small town of Almada, opposite to the city, is reached, containing 4,000 inhabitants, and in whose vicinity is the gold mine of Adissa, which has been worked now for some years. A peculiar characteristic of the neighbourhood of Lisbon are the little mills with sails, gyrating away on every eminence, sometimes half a dozen within a few yards of each other, and they whisk round so merrily, as to be quite a pleasant feature in the landscape. It might be the land, par excellence, of Jolly Millers; for the floury sons of the Tagus seem to belong to the same race as their jovial brothers of the Dee, whose philosophic indifference to the opinion of the world has been made alike musical and memorable by Mr. Braham. That the Portuguese should be sprightly, however, is extremely surprising, seeing that they are ground into dust, almost as literally as their own grain, or at least, the growers thereof; for one who knows them well, writing during a visit as late as last year, (1853), says:—

They are a people much resembling in heartiness and good will our own Irish brethren: they are also most apt to learn, and, like the much calumniated sons of Erin, can work, and will work when they are properly encouraged and remunerated. They toil under a burning sun, half-naked and bare-headed, or in the winter under drenching rains and piercing cold, with naught else to protect them from the weather than a straw thatch, or cloak; and without other aliment at times than a lump of Indian-maize bread, and a mess of humble pottage, or, at others, the same bread, and a raw onion, with water from the brook as their only drink. Couve gallego (cow cabbage,) from their own little garden, a spoonful of oil from their own olive-tree, a handful of salt gathered from the rocks on the sea-shore, with crumbled Indian-corn bread, baked in their own oven, (which, as is still the case in Canada, is built outside every tenement,) form a stir-about, on which the labourer contentedly makes his principal or even-tide meal, after the toils of the day are over. Occasionally, he may indulge in a morsel of bacalhao (salt cod-fish), or a rancid sardine: but where the family is numerous, from year’s end to year’s end, they know not the taste of animal food.

There are but few wharves alongside of which vessels can take in and discharge their cargoes, so they lie at anchor in the stream, and those operations are performed by means of lighters. There are, nevertheless, some handsome quays, with convenient landing-places, of which those at the fish-market and the Caes Sodré are the most frequented; at the former, the scene being highly animated, particularly in the season for sardinhas, or sardines, which constitute a considerable proportion of the food of the lower orders. The handsomest quay is that which forms one side of Blackhorse Square (Terreiro do Paço), so called from the statue of Joseph the First on horseback in the centre; the other sides consisting of public buildings, viz.: the Public Library, the Offices of the Ministers of State, the Custom-house, and, at the eastern extremity, the Exchange, being chiefly of marble, as, indeed, nearly all the principal edifices are. It makes a splendid promenade, where crowds of well-dressed persons may be seen, on the sultry summer evenings, walking, or seated on the stone benches, enjoying the cool air from the river, until a late hour. From this square, five parallel and level streets, in which are the best shops, lead to the Roçio—a large, open space surrounded by buildings, and appropriated to reviews, processions, &c., and where, on its northern side, at one time existed the odious Prison of the Inquisition, adjoining the Palace of the same name, now no longer occupied, though sometimes visited on festive occasions by royalty. Just beyond are the public gardens, well laid out, and stocked with flowers and shrubs, that bespeak the luxuriance and brilliancy of the Lusitanian arboretum.

PRACA DO COMMERCIO, LISBON.

All this portion of the city is more regularly built than the remainder, and is situated just over the very spot that felt the effects of the terrible earthquake, traces of which are now and then met with, in the shape of patches of old pavement, in digging for the foundations of houses, &c.; though there are no traces of the successful storming of the city by the French, under Junot, in 1807, nor of its equally successful resistance of a similar attempt a couple of years afterwards. In the vicinity of the Hospital of St. José are the ruins of a church, in which, embedded in the earth, were to be seen, some years since, if not now, skeletons, in various attitudes, of persons who formed the congregation at the time the catastrophe took place, which was, as the reader will recollect, when the greater number of the citizens were assembled at mass in the churches on All-Saints’ Day, November 1st, in the ever-memorable year 1755—a circumstance that will probably account for the enormous number of 30,000 lives being lost; for, although 6,000 private dwellings were destroyed, the fatality could hardly have been so great but for the multitudes being assembled in the mode mentioned. The celebration of the festival, too, was otherwise the occasion of prodigious mischief; for, owing to the immense number of tapers in the churches, the curtains, drapery, and other combustible materials, caught fire, and a devastating conflagration swept the doomed city from end to end, carrying off what the convulsion had not already prostrated in ruin. Indirectly, however, the commemoration of the festival was productive of some good—at least to our countrymen in Lisbon; for, in order to avoid exciting religious prejudice during a fête so solemn in the Papal calendar, they had nearly all retired to their country houses, and but ten who remained in the city were killed, a fact which renders, if possible, more magnanimous the grant by the British parliament of £100,000 to the relief of the suffering Portuguese, immediately the dismal tidings arrived; news of like events, but not on such a scale, continuing to be received for a long time after, from various portions of the New World. As in the case of our own dear delightful ante-diluvian Chester, the older quarters of Lisbon city generally interest a stranger most, from their very irregularity; the streets being narrow, steep, and destitute of trottoirs, and the houses very lofty, ranging in height from five to as many as eleven stories, in each of which dwells a separate family, all using one staircase in common. Notwithstanding the seeming peril from this cause, in the event of another earthquake, the danger of the walls falling is considerably lessened by their being built with a strong framework of timber, dovetailed together, before the addition of brick or stone.

Some of the churches are very handsome, although the absence of steeples will perhaps cause them to be hardly so regarded by the majority of Englishmen; and, moreover, many are in an unfinished state, for want of funds. The one that probably astonishes unsophisticated Saxons most, is the Patriarchal Church, from the circumstance of the pillars which support the roof being covered with wax models of heads, arms, legs, &c.—the naif native offerings of individuals, desirous of testifying their gratitude to the Virgin, for her cures of complaints affecting those corporeal adjuncts. In the church of St. Roque is a small chapel, containing imitations, in mosaic, of several pictures of the Italian masters. These, with the splendid decorations, consisting of lapis lazuli columns, candelabra in the precious metals, &c., are credibly estimated to have cost upwards of one million sterling. This vast expense, of course, could only have been in Portugal’s most palmy days, when the genius of Albuquerque threw open the portals of the East, and showered ‘barbaric pearl and gold’ upon his noble king, Emanuel, rightly indeed called the ‘Fortunate,’ and deserving so to be, as worthily inheriting the throne of Alphonso the Victorious (son of the heroic Henry of Burgundy) who routed five Saracen monarchs at Ourique, and freed his country from the Moors. The British cemetery[24] (Os aciprestes), surrounding a neat chapel, is well worth a visit, including, in its attractions, a monument to Fielding, who there lies buried. Few of our countrymen, who have the opportunity, ever fail to make a pilgrimage to the spot where rests all that is mortal of him who drew Partridge and Blifil, Squire Western and Sophia, Parson Adams and Tom Jones—his tomb being as eagerly sought as is that of his brother humourist, Smollett, at Leghorn. Strange that two of the most essentially English of all our writers should have died and been entombed so far from their native land, whose literature their genius has so long enriched, and will for ever continue to do so.

Besides the public buildings already mentioned, there are several well-managed hospitals, an arsenal, academies for instruction in the naval, military, and other sciences; the Castle of St. George, used as a prison more than as a place of defence: museums; a noble national library, of 30,000 volumes, formed from those of the convents suppressed in 1835; and, lastly, the aqueduct of Alcantara, with thirty-six arches, a splendid structure, north of the city, supplying the greater part of the inhabitants with water, and so solid, that it withstood the shock of earthquake, which laid nearly all else in ruins. The central arch is of sufficient dimensions to allow of a three-decker, under full sail, passing through, were there water to float her.

The population of Lisbon is between 250,000 and 300,000, having increased rapidly of late years, though sadly thinned during Don Miguel’s usurpation, owing to the wholesale murders which were then committed, the numbers obliged to serve in the army, and killed, and also the emigration so many hundreds, nay thousands, were compelled to have recourse to, in order to escape from his cruelties, and those of his satellites. The remembrance of these atrocities, however, would seem insufficient to deprive him of some partizans in the country yet, if we may judge by the intrigues in his favour that have supervened on the death of the queen.

CINTRA, NEAR LISBON.

A first visit to Portugal cannot fail to revive—in the minds of Englishmen—‘memories of the past,’ full of ‘sweet and bitter fancies,’ as being alike the spot where England, by her diplomatic fatuity, earned an immortality of ridicule, and, by her valour, an eternity of praise, thanks to the Great Duke and his troops, so many of whom fell in defence of those liberties, which, if what survives here be a fair specimen, were certainly hardly worth the cost of preservation;[25] for, even at this distance of time, how many families can recal the bereavements they sustained in that glorious struggle. Moreover, Portugal possesses a deep interest from the great deeds of its early navigators, already slightly adverted to. None who sympathize with the noble qualities the mention of these heroic names conjures up can fail to deplore that the spirit of Vasco de Gama, Cabral, Camoens,[26] and many others, has not descended to succeeding generations, rendering the land their genius and patriotism had adorned what it might yet be made under an enlightened government, viz., one of the most prosperous countries in Europe. That it is not so, even after the mismanagement it has endured, and is enduring now, nearly as bad as ever, is a matter of never-ending wonderment to those who know its means and appliances for advancement in the scale of nations. As regards myself, desire for personal authentication on the spot of what I had known from others, imparted an additional zest to my visit, from long acquaintance with the Brazils, even in the time of the grandfather of the late Queen, when the present splendid South American empire was a struggling colony of the now enfeebled and decaying parent kingdom. Hence I was prepared to look with a favourable eye on all that came under my notice in the capital of Portugal—a disposition enhanced by the first glance I had an opportunity of bestowing upon it; for, seen from the river on a bright sunny morning, Lisbon’s strikingly picturesque aspect and position reminded me strongly both of Bahia and Rio Janeiro, a portion of the city being built, like them, on low ground; hills, covered in every direction with handsome structures of variegated colours, chiefly white, rising like an amphitheatre behind; whilst the red-tiled roofs, green verandahs, and other fanciful decorations, lend to the whole a very foreign, almost tropical, but extremely pleasing appearance.

Unfortunately, the parallel between the capital of Portugal and the metropolis of her flourishing transatlantic offspring further holds good, as, on landing, much of the pleasing illusion vanishes:

For whoso entereth within this town,

That, sheening far, celestial seems to be,

Disconsolate will wander up and down,

’Mid many things unsightly to strange ee;

For hut and palace show like filthily;

The dingy denizens are rear’d in dirt;

No personage of high or mean degree

Doth care for cleanness of surtout or shirt,

Though shent with Egypt’s plague, unkempt, unwash’d, unhurt.

Nor are you greatly disposed to make allowances for the cause of your topographical disenchantment, as you find yourself a mere object of fiscal surveillance—obliged to be set ashore at the Custom-house, like a biped bale of merchandise, and have your hat or umbrella scanned as if they ought to be subjected to duty, like everything else, animate and inanimate, that approaches these most absurdly protected waters. Very soon, however, mere chagrin at such petty personal annoyances deepens into gloom, as you observe the mournful absence of that incessant activity you expect to meet with in so large and important a place. The fatal spell of lethargy and exclusiveness seems to be laid upon everything and everybody:—the very carriages and public conveyances (at least a large portion) are redolent of the past century, and all idea of locomotion is put to flight at the sight of them; and just the same is the case with the owners. Torpidity pervades the whole population, from the infant in arms, who is too lazy to laugh, to the cripple on crutches, who is too sluggish to grumble. An exception to this rule, however, is the market-place, where fruit, vegetables, the sardines already spoken of, and other odd articles, are brought for sale. The motley groups, with their baskets or little stalls, sheltered by umbrellas of all sizes and colours, are like so many fancy-fair Chinese, whom Portuguese a good deal resemble in bodily configuration, as well as in other attributes equally little spiritualised, however Celestial. The kaleidoscopic tableau going on here is a relief to the monotony of other places of resort, and so vividly impresses the stranger that he fancies the performers in the scene must be foreigners, and not ‘natives and to the manner born.’ The theatrical air of the whole thing is not a little heightened, in his opinion, on finding that no sooner has the clock told one, than, like one o’clock, they all have to pack up their wares and depart till next day, in preparation for the business whereof the market is thoroughly cleaned and put in order. This regulation might be advantageously adopted in regions where the mention of the word Portuguese, especially in connection with cleanliness, immediately superinduces a spasmodic agitation in the hearer’s nose, if indeed he can keep his countenance at all.

But Portuguese society, as I happen to know very well, from long and varied experience, is extremely agreeable in many places; and certainly the natives of the old country are exceedingly hospitable to strangers. There are several clubs, at the balls of one of which, the Foreign Assembly-rooms, all the rank and fashion of the capital are to be seen, to the number of several hundreds. I had the gratification of being introduced at the Lisbon Club. The house had been formerly, like so many similar institutions in London, a nobleman’s palace. Although not on so grand a scale, it possesses superior accommodation to most places of the kind amongst us; and if the Portuguese keep no Soyer, Francatelli, or Ude, with a batterie de cuisine corresponding in magnitude and diversity to the celebrity of these professors of the finest art—that of giving a good dinner—they have a social party of an evening,[27] when a piquant and substantial tea is provided for those who wish to sacrifice to the ‘Chinese nymph of tears, Bohea.’ The original taste of the Portuguese, who were the first to introduce the beverage to Europe, long before Mr. Pepys drank his ‘cup of China drink,’ [1661,] still survives, as well as the taste for coffee, the berry of Mocha being a favourite among the offspring of the victims of the Arabs. Chocolate, also, is a very popular beverage, and is consumed in considerable quantities at breakfast and supper, the two principal meals among the majority of Portuguese. The upper classes dress like those of other European capitals, but the lower order of females still retain the cloak and hood peculiar to this part of the Peninsula. There is not, however, so much difference now between the costume of the population and that of other cities, as the cowls, sandals, and rope belts of the friars, are no longer to be seen; for, as is well known, all the religious orders (not those of nuns) were suppressed in 1835. There is a strong partiality for gaudy colours and trinkets; but that is passing away.

Though, generally speaking, the female population of Portugal are not of very prepossessing appearance, especially the humbler classes, whose naturally swarthy complexion is embrowned by exposure to the sun, there are few capitals in Europe where more perfect specimens of beauty are to be seen than in Lisbon: and what enhances the effect their somewhat unexpected presence produces is, that they are almost invariably blondes, therein differing from most of their Iberian sisterhood on the other side of the Douro, especially those of Cadiz, of whom the noble lord, already quoted, says that they are the Lancashire Witches of Spain. But the other noble lord, whom we have also quoted—and we certainly can corroborate all he says, from our individual experience in Brazil, of the classes he speaks of—observes: ‘If I could divest myself of every national partiality, and suppose myself an inhabitant of the other hemisphere, and were asked in what country society had attained its most polished form, I should say in Portugal. This perfection of manner is, perhaps, most appreciated by an Englishman: Portuguese politeness is delightful, because it is by no means purely artificial, but flows, in a great measure, from a national kindness of feeling. The restless feeling, so often perceptible in English society, hardly exists in Portugal; there is little prepared wit in Portuguese society, and no one talks for the mere purpose of producing an effect, but simply because his natural taste leads him to take an active part in conversation. Dandyism is unknown among their men, and coquetry, so common among Spanish women, is little in vogue among the fair Portuguese. They do not possess, to the same extent, the hasty passions and romantic feelings of their beautiful neighbours; but they are softer, more tractable, and equally affectionate. Even when they err, the aberrations of a married Portuguese never spring from fashion or caprice, seldom from vanity, and, however culpable, are always the result of real preference. Certainly, with some exceptions, the women are not highly educated; they feel little interest, on general subjects, and, consequently, have little general conversation. A stranger may, at first, draw an unfavourable inference as to their natural powers, because he has few subjects in common with them; but, when once received into their circles, and acquainted with their friends, he becomes delighted with their liveliness, wit, and ready perception of character.’ I quote this passage, believing from all I heard and observed in Lisbon, that it is an accurate summary of the Portuguese character there; that it is nearly equally applicable, in a great degree, to Portuguese society in Madeira; and, knowing that it is so, in respect to Portuguese society in Brazil.

The places of amusement consist of five theatres, including the opera-house, where, as the London and Parisian dilettanti well know, many excellent singers make their début: the getting up the scenery, &c., are inferior to few establishments of the kind anywhere, and the prices are very moderate. It is called San Carlos, and it is scarcely inferior in any respect, either in its architectural extent or the liberality of its appointments, to its more famous Neapolitan namesake. Madame Castellan—herself, I believe, a fellow-countrywoman of Inez de Castro, whose portrait she greatly resembles—has been the principal lyric artiste during the past season. There is also a building for bull-fights, which, though perhaps as much a national sport as in Spain, is not pursued with the same passionate ardour, nor with the same skill, as is displayed by professors of the tauro-machiac art in the sister country.

I also attended a sitting of the two Chambers, which appeared to be conducted with great decorum, but, at the same time, without that listlessness or buzzy-fussiness which pervades our own Senate when a bore or a nobody happens to be on his legs. The accommodation for members is at least as good as ours. To be sure, it could not possibly be much worse, if we may judge from those most qualified to form an opinion—the members themselves; for, what with the perpetual complaints about pestilent smells, hot blasts, freezing draughts, blinding light, and sightless darkness, one would imagine that the British Senate-house was constructed to serve as a ‘frightful example’ of deleterious architecture. The wonder is, that any M.P. has the face to approach a life-insurance office, at the beginning of a session, without being prepared with a ‘doubly hazardous’ premium on his ‘policy,’ knowing that he is going to talk, or listen to the talk, of politics for some six months; and, certainly, the looks of many of our law-makers can be consolatory to none but coffin-makers and residuary legatees. Not so with the Portuguese Conscript Fathers, nearly all of whom seemed as hale as new moidores out of the mint, both as to stamina, complexion, and sensibility. The enormous building where they meet (the old convent of San Bento) contains all the needful official and red-tape-ical departments. In the Upper Chamber, the Patriarch occupied the chair, in habiliments not unlike those of the Bishop of Oxford, when enrobed in his costume of Chancellor of the Order of the Garter; and it was curious to see an epitome of our own admixture of the ecclesiastical with the temporal system of legislation, in the House of Lords, carried out in this Portuguese conjunction of spiritual with lay law-makers.

In vain you look in the Tagus for that forest of shipping which should fringe the watery highway to, and ought to constitute the leading feature in, so fine a port—the capital of a country the once nautical genius of whose people is expressed in the only poem in any language that makes adventures on the deep its theme. A few stray vessels here and there, with river and fishing boats, and those singular latine sails, that so strike the stranger,[28] some steamers and Government vessels, were all that could now be seen on the bosom of the river, so famed amongst the ancients for its golden attributes, not because of its auriferous sands,[29] but because of the affluent tide of its teeming commerce—that port whence, in after ages, though now ages long ago, went forth those expeditions which brought much of Asia into comparative contiguity with Europe, and discovered, and long held so much of, the finest portion of the New World. For a wonder, not a ‘speck of power’ of that nation, whose commerce rose as Lusitania’s fell, not an English man-of-war, ubiquitous in every water, and very often present, and too long at a time, in most unnecessary numbers, in these waters in particular, was to be seen, though Admiral Corry’s squadron, containing many of the finest and latest built men-of-war in our navy, including the ‘Duke of Wellington,’ and now with Napier in the Baltic, has since been there. Their absence, however gratifying to financial economists and advocates of non-intervention in politics, helped to complete the triste and dreary air of the empty mart and shipless bay. The cause of this poverty of trade must be obvious to all, even to enlightened Portuguese. The Government, blind to all experience elsewhere, deaf to the supplications of common sense and even self-interest, draw a kind of cordon round the little trade they still possess, and encumber it with such a net-work of preposterous restrictions, as actually to squeeze the life-blood out of it, or, rather, altogether arrest its circulation, which is the same thing in the end, as regards the vitality of commerce. The evil extends to every ramification of industrial pursuit; and one half of the population live upon a system that seems to have been invented to exclude, instead of encouraging business to come to their shores. Hence, it need hardly be said, that smuggling is the most profitable trade going; and a large and rapidly increasing business in that line is carried on, along the frontier in particular.

If Colonel Sibthorpe, Mr. Newdegate, and the remainder of that Spartan band of fifty-nine, who followed the phantom of Protection into the lobby of the House of Commons a couple of years ago, finding that the sun of England has indeed for ever set, as they so often anticipated, desire to bask in the beams of unmitigated monopoly, by all means let them hie hither forthwith; and they will behold one realm, at least, that carries out their views to the utmost possible extent. By way of apparently bolstering up native industry, Portugal fosters a few stray manufacturing establishments, and farms out monopolies of certain articles (tobacco and soap for instance) to parties who, in the rigorous exercise of their privileges, put another and most effectual drag-chain on the march of commerce. The fruits of such policy are but too apparent; for even the neighbouring state of Spain, so long the synonyme of every fiscal fatuity, but now awaking to a true sense of what it owes to her glorious maritime associations, and to her present and perspective well-being, is taking away a large portion of Portuguese traffic, by judiciously reducing her tariff, promoting railway enterprise, and gradually adopting those liberal views, without whose practical recognition now every country must lapse into almost primeval barbarism. Undoubtedly an extenuation of the imbecility of Portugal is her complete dependence and reliance on her colonies so long, for while she enjoyed a monopoly of them she flourished at their expense. Now things are reversed, and Portugal cannot bring herself to adopt the only remedy, free-trade and unrestricted commerce, in its largest and fullest extent. These would soon fill her ports with shipping, raise rents, augment revenue, and place her in a position worthy of the countrymen of Cabral, and of the prestige which he and so many of his cotemporaries and followers so long secured her. That she has an aptitude for commerce is well known; for, though it was long deemed degrading, and even criminal, in high caste Portuguese, to meddle in commercial matters, or to intermarry or associate with those who did, there is scarcely any ’Change in the world at the present day that does not number a Lisbon or Oporto merchant among its ablest members.

A stay of two days is a short time to enable a stranger to appreciate fully the merits of a large place like Lisbon; but the defects in her national fiscal system as here manifested, at the very fountain head of the intelligence and influence of the empire, and its mischievous tendency in retarding prosperity, are unmistakeable. The handwriting on the wall requires no interpreter; it points out approaching decay, unless Portugal alters her system before it is too late, and determines to go with the stream of events and the destinies of the world. The real hope for the country still points in the direction of Brazil; not only because of the peculiar weight of example in that quarter, where prosperity has progressively and unvaryingly followed every step in the path of commercial and political enlightenment—every assimilation to the existing English system of mercantile polity—but from the circumstance of the affluence of Brazil healthily reacting upon, and wakening up the energies of the old country to join pari passu in the march with her vigorous progeny. In a trading, especially in a passenger-trading sense, the connection between the two is still important, and is every day becoming more so, through Anglo-Brazilian enterprise, (of which the Liverpool Company I have the honour to belong to affords the most prominent instance yet), and is likely to be vastly improved by the establishment of direct steam navigation, chiefly carried on by native and South American capital. The principal promoter of this is Mr. Moser, well known for enterprise of a like kind in the navigation of the Minho, from which river to the Guadiana a screw steamer now plies.

Most of the bourgeoisie of Brazil were either born in Portugal or are descendants of Portuguese. Shop-keeping is a business these Peninsulars fully understand, especially those from Oporto; particularly in everything pertaining to trinkets, articles of jewellery, and goldsmith’s-work, the Portuguese being therein cunning workmen, though for the most part, regarded as indifferent carpenters, shoemakers, and the like, at least by British employers. After realizing money abroad, they naturally find their way to Portugal; where, if even for a season, they enjoy themselves as only children of the South or of the tropics can when they have the means; or spend the remainder of their days where their fathers lived and died before them. They will soon have the invaluable advantage of the steamers of no less than three companies calling at Lisbon, including the ‘Luso-Brazileira,’ which is also composed of Portuguese and Brazilian shareholders. These, let us hope, will prove the immediate harbingers of that good time which can alone be brought about by the multiplication of such instruments of a national good; for it must be obvious to every one who knows Portugal, or the Portuguese abroad, that what is wanted is abundance of communication by steam, both by sea and land, railways, and free-trade, or some approximation to it. With these she may resume her position amongst the nations, and share with her oldest ally, England, the benefits arising from a mutually advantageous intercourse.

Respecting the Royal Family, during my stay at Lisbon, when there was, of course, every apparent prospect of a long, if not a very tranquil and happy reign for the late Queen, I learnt that they kept themselves as retired and quiet as their exalted station would permit, appearing little in public, but understood to be busy in those plots and intrigues, suspicion of which on the part both of the people and the upper classes, deprived her Majesty of much of that popularity which her many excellent qualities were calculated personally to secure her. What may be the course that her husband, the Regent, will pursue, or that may be pursued by her son when he attains his legal majority in 1858, it is of course impossible to foresee. His young Majesty is now in the course of making a tour through Europe, chiefly with a view, it is said, of finding a partner for his throne; and rumour points to one of the house of Coburg to which his father belongs, viz., a daughter of the King of the Belgians. This alliance, though otherwise eligible in itself, is deemed by some politicians likely to aggravate the troubles of the country, by making it a hot-bed of extraneous intrigue, in addition to the domestic Miguelite plottings that appear chronic in Portugal.

There are, as already mentioned, several royal palaces, but few of them completely finished, or ever likely to be so, owing to the limited state of the civil list and the reluctance of the Cortes to grant supplies for such purposes. The Palace of Ajúda is a truly regal building, whose external magnificence at least, fills every one with regret that it should so far resemble so many others, of vast pretensions and undoubted beauty, as to remain incompleted, and in consequence, unoccupied. Visitors to the Court are generally located in a pretty marine palace, with a terrace and garden facing the river, at Belem, the town of which name contains about 5,000 inhabitants. In its vicinage is the burial-place of many of the earlier Portuguese monarchs; it possesses also, in addition to the castle and custom-house already mentioned, and a singular-looking fortress, some other public institutions of note, including a high-school, a convent, and the largest iron-foundry in Portugal, together with a noble church, built to commemorate the memorable departure of Vasco de Gama on his great voyage, as so beautifully alluded to by the national poet.

It may not be superfluous to caution the young or casual reader not to confound this town with one somewhat similarly pronounced, Baylen, in Spain—a spot that sounds in French ears pretty much as Cintra does in ours. And for much the same reason—the blundering incapacity of those charged with the conduct of the transactions that took place, almost simultaneously, in the same year, and within a month of each other; except that the former, having had priority of occurrence, rendered the latter more inexcusable. It was in July, 1808, that 14,000 French, commanded by Dupont and Wedel, being defeated by 25,000 Spaniards under Pena and Compigny, Dupont’s entire division of 8,000 men laid down their arms—the beginning of the French disasters in Spain, as lending courage to the whole native population to pursue that system of resistance which in the end, aided and directed by British valour and science, rendered nugatory all the efforts of the invader permanently to subdue the country. Of Belem, the recent military celebrity is not great, the two chief incidents in its history being its capture by the French, the year before the occurrence just named; and, secondly, its capture under the troops of Don Pedro, in 1833. What lends its real historic, or at least archæologic interest to the place, is its propinquity to the remains of some of the finest Moorish architecture in the world, the Alhambra itself scarcely excepted; and these alone ought to suffice to render a trip fashionable among our ennuyéd tourists, to whom almost all the remainder of Europe is nearly as well known as the beach at Brighton or the Westmoreland lakes. Notwithstanding the charm to British ears of the words Busaco, Vimiera, Badajos, Braga, Torres Vedras, and the Douro, Portugal is a terrâ incognita to the pic-nicish and Pickwickian tribe, and altogether exempt from the remonstrance of the blazé bard—

And is there then no earthly place,

Where we can rest, in dream Elysian,

Without some curst, round English face,

Popping up near, to break the vision?

’Mid northern lakes, ’mid southern vines,

Unholy cits we’re doom’d to meet;

Nor highest Alps nor Apennines

Are sacred from Threadneedle Street!

If up the Simplon’s path we wind,

Fancying we leave this world behind,

Such pleasant sounds salute one’s ear

As—‘Baddish news from ’Change, my dear.’

But how can it be wondered that Portugal should be a yet untrodden Eden to the tourist, seeing that it is the only country, or tract of country, in Europe, or on the confines thereof, from Odessa to Iceland, that Murray hasn’t hand-booked? The ‘Anak of Booksellers,’ who has ‘done’ the Pyramids and the Pyrenees, Styria and Finland, Whitechapel and Wallachia, the Dnieper and the Nile, has left Portugal undone; for it cannot be called doing it, in the Albemarle-street sense of the term, to devote to it a few small pages of large type, and call them ‘Hints.’ Nevertheless, far below the Murrayan standard as that is, still it will be useful, as being likely to incite travellers thitherward;[30] and then the great publisher will, doubtless, provide for their use some Head capable of turning out a sizeable and seasonable octavo of reading as delightful as Borrow and as instructive as Ford has done for the scarcely more romantic region the other side of the Guadiana. Meanwhile, calling attention to that one[31] of the ‘Hints’ which tells how others may be taken, as to the London means of getting there, in addition to those still better Liverpool means furnished by our South American Steam Company, it is well to apprise the reader, desirous of the latest and best information about Portugal, that it will be found in the extremely agreeable and attractive volume[32] which owes its origin to the munificence and patriotism of the accomplished member for Pontefract, Mr. Oliveira, who, sprung of the ancient Lusitanian stock himself, and numbering among his ancestors the Pombals, de Castros, Tojals, and Thomars, has laboured assiduously, and most successfully, in disseminating among the most intelligent and influential minds of either country a correct knowledge of what conduces to the commercial prosperity of both. Towards this end nothing can be more effectual than a careful study of the admirable essay alluded to below, and from which some few of the foregoing facts are taken. Indeed, we would fain hope that, at least some of the excellent arguments it addresses to the Portuguese government have already produced a good effect; for, in the speech to the Cortes by the Regent, in January last, there is great promise not only of railway encouragement, but regulations we have spoken of being relinquished, such as the monopoly on salt, and even that on tobacco is likely soon to be abandoned. Improvements of a similar kind are to be extended to Madeira.

In concluding this brief chapter, which is, unfortunately, necessarily much more brief than the subject warrants, we have only to add, that should its perusal, or that of the several works already enumerated, induce readers to visit Lisbon in search of pleasure, and more especially those in search of health, the important item of house-rent will be found almost fabulously moderate compared with any other capital in Europe, and, I should imagine, in the world. A perfect palace, in the literal meaning of the term, may be had for £100 a year, containing suites of rooms in which a coach and four might be turned. Provisions and all the produce of the country are exceedingly cheap, but all imported articles are equally dear, because of the absurd protective system already spoken of, which permits and encourages native manufacturers to make the worst articles at the highest price, thus of course entailing the most limited consumption, and restricts purchases of all commodities that can possibly be dispensed with. Amongst hotels, the Braganza, built on an eminence overlooking the Tagus, stands preëminent, and is part of the Braganza family estate. The bill of fare is attractive, and charges moderate, regret being felt that travellers by sea cannot go at once to such comfortable quarters, instead of to the vile Lazarette, to which they are now consigned en route from England or Brazil!

ADJUDA PALACE, RESIDENCE OF THE ROYAL FAMILY OF PORTUGAL, NEAR LISBON.

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CHAPTER II.
LISBON TO MADEIRA.

Two more days’ pleasant Paddling on the Ocean.—Approach to Madeira.—Charming aspect of the Island.—Unique boats and benevolent boatmen.—Pastoral progression in bucolic barouches extraordinary.—Personal appearance of the inhabitants.—Atmospheric attractions of Madeira, and absence of all natural annoyances.—The Vine-Blight and its consequences, present and prospective, on the people at home and the consumption of their wine abroad.—Funchal, and its urban and suburban et ceteras.—Romance and reality of the History of the Island, ‘Once Upon a Time.’—Importance of English residents to the place.—Cost of living, and what you get for your money.—Royal and illustrious visitors.—Mercantile matters, and consular cordiality.—Grave Reflections in the British Burial Ground.

THE LAUREL TREE, MADEIRA.

Note to the Illustration.—Views of Funchal, of the English Burial-place, and other objects in Madeira, are so familiar, that in preference to any of them, there is here given, as being much less hacknied, one representing a small fort or outwork, called Loureiro, or the Laurel Tree, on the coast to the east of Funchal, being the first of the series copied from the portfolio of the gentleman to whom our volume is so much indebted for such privilege.

Oh! had we some bright little isle of our own,

In a blue summer ocean, far off and alone,

Where a leaf never dies in the still blooming bowers,

And the bee banquets on through a whole year of flowers;

Where simply to feel that we breathe, that we live,

Is worth the best joy that life elsewhere can give.

The glow of the sunshine, the balm of the air,

Would steal to our hearts, and make all summer there.

Our life should resemble a long day of light,

And our death come on, holy and calm as the night.—Moore.

Ocean sailing, perhaps, does not present anything more delightful than the trip from Lisbon to this island in fine or moderate weather. We soon bade adieu to the Tagus, with its merry-going windmills, and its palaces and churches, the bold dome of the Coraçao de Jesus being the last visible in the horizon as we steamed away; and, on the second morning at daylight, made the Island of Porto Santo, which looks bleak and dreary enough, but has the repute of having some verdant spots upon it; and a small harbour called by the same name. Madeira, some 35 miles distant, was in sight a-head, its mountains peeping out of the clouds; and a couple of hours brought us up to the south side, along which we steamed. The hills were covered with innumerable cottages, and huts built amongst the vine plantations, which rise in ridges, nearly from the water’s edge to the height of 2,000 feet; the best vine growths, no doubt, being found at about half that elevation. It is needless to say that the coup d’œil so presented is as charming as it is singular. Immediately after passing Brazen Head, the Bay of Funchal opened before us, and a more beautiful sight cannot well be conceived, the hills towering to a considerable altitude, dotted a long way up with pretty-looking villas and well cultivated gardens, until, reaching the town, these become merged in its compact mass. Funchal, which contains a population of some 20,000 inhabitants, bears the usual Portuguese characteristics of white or fancifully-coloured houses, many being lofty, with look-outs to the sea, forts, churches, &c. The Loo Rock, commanding the entrance of the bay, is very remarkable, being quite separated from the main land, which it there protects from the roll of the sea. Here we found lying in the roads, amongst other vessels, two American men-of-war, just come over from the African station to refresh, as well as the Severn steamer, coaling on her way from the Brazils to Lisbon and England. This opportunity enabled us to send home dispatches forthwith. An assemblage of those peculiarly strong-built boats, with double keels to protect them from being stove in by the tremendous swell that sets in-shore so frequently, soon came to us with offers of service, chiefly in the shape of miscellaneous matters for sale; and we found ourselves amongst a pushing, energetic race, anxious to trade and make money, with an earnestness that was quite refreshing. Many spoke tolerably good English, and showed evident signs of being accustomed to deal with our countrymen. Landing on the beach is sometimes a formidable operation here; but the boats, as we have said, are well adapted for all emergencies incident to the operation, whether performed by those in robust health, or, as is too frequently the case, by invalids, in almost the last stage preceding dissolution. The boatmen are very active and obliging on such occasions, and considerate to a degree that would be perfectly incredible to a Thames wherry-man at Gravesend. We were immediately beset by a crowd of applicants for favours in one shape or another, amongst whom were not a few beggars, although I believe they are prohibited from soliciting alms, and a very good institution exists for the helpless and houseless. Some of our passengers, with the precipitancy of English in all such matters the moment a foreign shore is reached, proceeded to test the vehicular conveniences of the island, by a drive in one of those extraordinary bovine sledges drawn by two bullocks, and which travel up the hills at a pace sufficiently surprising, considering the apparently sluggish conformation of the steeds.

I took a ramble over the town, and made sundry diplomatic calls; afterwards proceeding [aloft, as may be literally said,] to enjoy the hospitality of Mr. Blandy, who occupies a charming country seat about a mile up the hill, where there is a splendid view of the town and bay, as well as of the towering mountains above. One of the sleighs or sledges, just mentioned, carried us along a succession of steep hills very quickly, a mode of conveyance which, notwithstanding its primeval fashion, appears to be of recent date here. This char rustique of the mountains resembles, as nearly as possible, one of our turn-abouts at a fair, with two seats opposite to each other; but the most curious uses to which this odd contrivance is put, is in coursing down-hill by express train, as they call it. Two persons seat themselves side-by-side in the sledge, and an equal number of boys, holding a strap attached to it, commence running down the steep declivities at a pace that must be felt to be understood; but an idea of it may be formed by those who remember the Vauxhall illustration of centrifugal force, some years ago, when an unhappy monkey was placed in a carriage and shot down an inclined plain, at the bottom whereof was a huge wheel, over and around which the traveller and his vehicle were propelled, and brought to a stand-still after attaining a level on the other side. The Madeira roads are paved with sharp stones set very close together; so the machine glides downwards without meeting with any resistance, and, in ten minutes, descends a distance that takes half an hour or more to mount on horseback. It was the most curious sensation I ever felt; and, though assured of its safety, one cannot make the experiment for the first time without thoughts of an upset running in one’s head, contact between which and the stones would not have been very agreeable. Mountainous countries are doubtless favourable to the promotion of personal activity; and certainly the way in which the natives go up and down the steep paths here, with burthens on their backs, especially in such a climate, is something remarkable.

It is no wonder that the English are fond of Madeira, but a very great wonder that far larger numbers do not resort thither, to pass the winter months, with the numerous facilities of steam navigation now presented to them. The climate, the total change of people and scenery, the teeming vegetation, yielding the produce both of Europe and the tropics, the picturesque disposal of the houses on the very ridges of the hills, with every regard to comfort and even luxury, all combine to render this a kind of earthly paradise, to which the seeming rhapsody at the head of our chapter is really only literally applicable. Here indeed nature showers down her choicest bounties: no fogs, miasmas, or even hurtful dews; atmosphere almost always translucent and bright; the thermometer in winter scarcely ever falling below 60 degrees; and where, during the hot summer months, a cool and comfortable retreat, of almost any temperature, may be found up the mountains. Lastly, there are no poisonous reptiles, merely a brown lizard, harmless to everything save the vines; frogs are quite a recent importation; and so far as I could learn, there are none of that numerous tribe of annoying insects which infest the tropical regions, only the familiar household flea, that makes himself at home everywhere.

Unfortunately, the dependence of the population and the staple of Madeira has been its vines, whose produce this year, as well as last, has totally failed, from some cause almost as inscrutable, or at least as incurable, and in its consequences nearly as calamitous, on a small scale, as the potato rot in isles nearer home. I could not have believed without seeing it:—in every direction the grapes were withered up like parched peas, and, in many cases, the trees themselves dying. Such an extraordinary visitation has, I believe, never been known here before. It partakes very much of the same virulent character as the diseases that at times affect the cereal world, and something of the kind was experienced with terrible severity in the Canaries in 1704. Two years’ failure of a vintage, in an island like Madeira, would be almost annihilation, if it were not for its other boundless vegetable resources; and, as in the case of the destruction of the Irish root, it is augured that much good may arise to the people from the increased stimulus to industry so occasioned, and their being induced not to place too great a dependence on any one product. Still, it is a melancholy sight to behold the support of a whole people struck down by such an inconceivable blight. Every means have been tried to arrest its progress, but without success; and, should it continue its ravages, Madeira wine bids fare to become greatly increased in value a few years hence, when, as a matter of course, it will be more in vogue and sought after, than has been the case for a long time back.[33]

The streets of Funchal are narrow, but clean, and intersected by streams of water, brought also into nearly every large dwelling. Their silence, owing to the absence of vehicles, strikes the European stranger as extraordinary; especially at night, when he seems to be placed in a city of marionettes, as it were; and, from the presence of the palanquin, bearing fair occupants about, quite an oriental tinge is imparted to the aspect of the whole urban scene. Speaking of that, a note on the physical attributes of the Madeirans; and we cannot do better than quote the authority of a gentleman[33]—perhaps we should say a lady, as it is doubtless her impressions in letter-press that are reflected on this point[34]—who is the latest authority on what may be called the agremens of the island.

There are aqueducts made to bring the water from the mountain side, and several deep gullies or ravines run through the town and empty themselves into the sea. These cavities being crossed by bridges, the sides have been built up at a considerable expense, and are covered with verdure, tropical and European, producing a most picturesque effect. They are also most beneficial in a sanitary sense, being in fact main arteries for circulating pure fresh air, as well as for carrying off the impurities.

Excepting epidemics, Madeira, both town and country, must naturally be the healthiest place in the world, for the reasons already stated. The population of the island is estimated at upwards of 100,000, or, at least was so till lately; but there is a good deal of emigration going on, and owing to the late distress it is likely to increase materially, both to Demerara and the Brazils, where the natives prove to be most valuable labourers.

The history of Madeira, or at least its political history, is of no great importance. Like Brazil, it is named after its wood, and so is its capital, Funchal, from a species of fern abounding in still greater profusion than the magnificent timber. A romantic interest belongs to its early annals, as it was discovered, it is said, by Mr. Macham, an English gentleman, or mariner, who fled from England for an illicit amour. He was driven here by a storm, and his mistress, a French lady, dying, he made a canoe, and carried the news of his discovery to Pedro, King of Arragon, which occasioned the report that the island was discovered by a Portuguese, A.D. 1345. But it is maintained that the Portuguese did not visit the place until 1419, nor did they colonise it until 1431.[35] It was taken possession of by the British in July, 1801; and again, by Admiral Hood and General (afterwards Viscount) Beresford, Dec. 24, 1807, and retained in trust for the royal family of Portugal, which had just then emigrated to the Brazils. It was subsequently restored to the Portuguese crown.

The residence of Englishmen here, is of course highly advantageous to the place, and they are welcomed, as they deserve to be, by a poor but industrious, and by no means abject or cringing, people. On the contrary, the population of all classes are remarkable for their frank and ingenuous bearing. Living[36] is reasonable; and it is to be hoped that thousands, instead of hundreds, of our countrymen, will ere long find their way here. The visits of our late estimable Queen Adelaide, of the Dowager Empress of Brazils, and others of eminent station and corresponding means, are dwelt upon with gratitude, as they not only caused a considerable circulation of money, but did much good personally. In no part of the world can the bounties of nature, or the precious gift of health be so richly enjoyed, or in a manner so agreeable to Europeans, as here. The island has some little commerce with different places, but administered in a manner that renders all we said about Lisbon restrictions, monopolies, and mercantile impediments, applicable in an aggravated degree, if that be possible; and, of course, until things mend there, no improvement can be looked for here. The trading portion of the community seem to be very social and friendly amongst themselves, although not mixing a great deal with the English, or rather, the English maintain their constitutional isolation from the natives, but with a rigidity which time is rapidly mitigating. The character for British hospitality is fittingly maintained by Mr. George Stoddard, our Consul, who occupies the palatial residence of a Portuguese noble, and dispenses the duties of his office in a manner that may well reconcile the strictest economist at home to the most inadequate stipend of £300 a year attached to it; for the obligations are often irksome, if not very onerous; and not a few of them arising out of melancholy occurrences, to whose frequency the tombstones and monuments in the English burial-ground bear such significant testimony. This Anglo Père la Chaise of the Western Atlantic is one of the first objects visited—and, alas! often the last, by the survivors of those whom

The verdant rising and the flowery hill,

The vale enamell’d, and the crystal rill,

The ocean rolling, and the shelly shore,

Beautiful objects, shall delight no more.

Now the lax’d sinews of the weaken’d eye

In watery damp and dim suffusion lie.

Bidding adieu, however, to these melancholy matters, we again resume our course.

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CHAPTER III.
MADEIRA TO CAPE VERDS, WITH A GLANCE AT THE CANARIES.

Oceanic Sailing again.—Halcyon weather, and modern steaming to the Fortunatæ Insulæ of the Ancients.—A stave on the saffron-coloured singing birds.—Touching Teneriffe, and Miltonic parallel to the Arch-Enemy.—Approach to Porto Grande, and what we found there, especially its extensive accommodation for steamers.—Deficiency of water the one draw-back.—Something concerning Ethiopic Serenaders under the Line.—Promethean Promontary extraordinary.—A memento of mortality midway in the world.—Portuguese rewards honourably earned by an Englishman.—Utility of Consuls in such places.—First acquaintance with an earthquake.—Verd Grapes soured by a paternal government.—Interchange of news between the Outward and the Homeward bound.—A good propelling turn towards a brother of the screw.

HOTEL, FORMERLY CONVENT, TENERIFFE.

Or other worlds they seem’d, or Happy Isles,

Like those Hesperian gardens famed of old,

Fortunate fields, and groves, and flowery vales,

Thrice happy isles.—Paradise Lost, Book iii.

This track is, generally speaking, about the most pleasant in the Atlantic Ocean; fine sunny weather and fresh north-east trade winds, which blow with tolerable regularity nearly the whole year round, rendering it very easy sailing indeed, and proportionably agreeable to passengers, who may be supposed by this time to have attained their sea-legs. In our case the wind was, unfortunately too light to be of much use, as a vessel going from ten to eleven knots, under steam, must have a very strong breeze to get a-head of such speed and assist the machinery, as well as obtain another knot or two. We pass the Canaries (or Fortunate Isles, as they were called,) to windward, having in view the far-famed Peak of Teneriffe, upheaving high its giant bulk 12,182 feet, and keeping our course direct for St. Vincent. The Canaries are naturally associated with our earliest school-boy notions, as the original home of the charming little universal household songster,[37] to whom they have given their name, but here called thistle-finch, and having for its companions the blackbird, linnet, and others of the same tuneful and now Saxonized family. The real Canary of these islands, however, the Fringilla Canaria of Linnæus, and which still abounds here, is not of the saffron or yellow colour it attains in Europe; but is, in its wild state, the colour of our common field or grey linnet, the yellow hue being the result of repeated crossings in its artificial state amongst us. The Canaries are amongst several other islands that were known to the ancients, but not discovered by modern Europe until the middle of the fifteenth century, when, after a brave resistance from the natives, the Spaniards conquered and have since retained them.

Though not exactly in the route of the Argentina, nor intended to be touched at by any of the company’s vessels, still being comparatively so near the Canaries, and especially of that particular one whereof mention is made by the great English bard, in verse as majestic as the phenomenon he speaks of:

On the other side, Satan, alarmed,

Collecting all his might, dilated stood,

Like Teneriff or Atlas, unremoved:

His stature reach’d the sky, and on his crest

Sat horror plumed.—Paradise Lost, Book iv.

we must present a souvenir of our proximity to so celebrated a vicinage; and we cannot do so in a more graceful or welcome form than the sketch prefixed to this chapter.

The Cape Verds consist of seven principal islands, and were tolerably populous, but of late years have been subjected to a continuous emigration to South America and the West Indies, where, like the hardy mountaineers from Madeira, they are found most useful in tilling the soil, and in other laborious occupations; thus demonstrating the fallacy of the old notion, that laziness is the predominant element in the Spanish and Portuguese idiosyncrasy. What appears to be a present disadvantage, in regard to this human flight from the Verds, may prove beneficial hereafter, when the Ilheos (as they are called) return to their homes, possessed of a little money wherewith to improve their social and moral condition. The islands produce wine, barilla, large quantities of orchilla weed, and cochineal, the cultivation of which is rapidly forming a more and more considerable item of export. Steam navigation will ere long bring them into much closer commercial contact with the world, and enhance the appreciation of their products and natural advantages. The climate is fine, though subject to occasional high temperature and frequent droughts. Despite the name Verds, suggestive of Arcadian animation, nothing can be more desolate than the appearance of the islands, as approached from the sea; bold, high rocks, against which the surge breaks violently, with mountains towering in the clouds, are general characteristics, to which those of the island of St. Vincent offer no exception. On our arrival the weather was thick, with drizzling rain, as we made Porto Grande; and only cleared up in time to enable us to see Bird Island, a most remarkable sugar-loaf rock, standing right in the entrance of the bay, after passing which we reached the anchorage ground in a few minutes. A more convenient little harbour can hardly be imagined, being nearly surrounded with hills (or mountains as they may be called), which protect it from all winds save the westward, where Bird Island stands as a huge beacon, most admirably adapted for a light-house, and on which it is to be hoped one will soon be placed. There is deep water close to the shore on most sides of the bay, that where the town is built being the shallowest; and here some wooden jetties are run out, having very extensive coal and patent fuel depôts close at hand, where these combustibles are put into iron lighters, and sent off to the vessels. So beautifully clear is the water in the bay that you can see the bottom at a depth of from twenty to thirty feet, literally alive with fish of all kinds, but for which the people seem to care very little, either for home consumption or export, though there is no doubt that, in the latter direction, a large business might be done with profitable results.

Porto Grande must become a most important coaling station, situated as it is midway between Europe and South America, and close to the African coast. Several important steam companies have already adopted it, viz., the Royal Mail (Brazil), the General Screw, the Australian, as also the South American, and General Steam Navigation Company, whilst occasional steamers are, likewise, glad to touch at it. At the period of which I am writing, the Great Britain was the last that coaled here, on her way to Australia. In order to meet this increased demand, a proportionate degree of activity and exertion is observable on shore; and a large number of iron lighters, carrying from 15 to 40 tons each, are now in constant requisition, loaded, and ready to be taken alongside the steamers the instant they cast anchor. Unfortunately, there is a very poor supply of water, the want of it having been the occasion of frequent emigration in the history of the islands; but it is understood to be attainable at a slight expense; and a small outlay conjointly made by the steam companies might not only procure a plentiful provision of this all-necessary element, but also other conveniences, essential to the comfort of passengers. There is no doubt that, as the place progresses, supplies of meat, fruit, and vegetables, will be forwarded thither from the neighbouring islands, which are so productive that there is a considerable export of corn; and the cattle are numerous. Until lately, fowls were only a penny a piece; and turtles abound. Hitherto there has been no regular marketable demand for such things; but one, and a large one too, is henceforth established, from the causes assigned, and will doubtless be regularly and economically supplied. The labourers here are chiefly free blacks and Kroomen, from the coast of Africa, most of whom speak English, and chatter away at a great rate, as they work in gangs, with a kind of boatswain over them, who uses a whistle to direct their toil—the movements of all the race of Ham to the days of Uncle Tom, being seemingly susceptible of regulation to musical noise of some sort or other; whether the ‘concord of sweet sounds,’ or what would appear to be such to more refined ears, does not greatly matter.

But for want of vegetation in its neighbourhood, a more picturesque little bay than Porto Grande can hardly be conceived. Towering a short distance above the town, is a kind of table mountain, some 2,500 feet high; and at the opposite side, forming the south-west entrance, is another very lofty one, remarkable as representing the colossal profile of a man lying on his back, à la Prometheus. He has his visage towards heaven, wherein there are generally soaring vultures enough to devour him up were he a trifle less tender than volcanic granite. The features are perfect, even to the eyebrows; and a very handsome profile it makes, though it does not appear that any tropical Æschylus has yet converted the material to the humblest legendary, much less epic, purpose. On the shore ground, forming the right side of the bay, looking towards the town, there is a neat little monument, erected to the lamented lady of Colonel Cole, who died here on her way home from India. The spot where she lies is, from its quietude and seclusion, most meet for such a resting-place, there being a small, conical hill behind, with a cottage or two near, and a sprinkling of vegetation on the low ground between, serving to ‘keep her memory green’ in the mind of many an ocean voyager in his halt at this half-way house between the younger and the elder world.

This little town was thrown back sadly by the epidemic which afflicted it in 1850 and decimated the population. During its continuance Mr. Miller, one of the few English residents, did so much in assisting the inhabitants, as to elicit from the late Queen of Portugal the honour of a knighthood, in one of the first orders in her dominions. It requires no small degree of patience and philanthropy to aid the development of a place like this, labouring, as it does, under such great natural difficulties, and where everything has to be brought from a distance, there not being a tree or a blade of grass to be seen—nothing but dry, arid sand, or a burnt-up kind of soil. Undoubtedly, the heat is very great at times; and there are about three months of blowing, rainy weather, which is the only period when vessels might be subjected to inconvenience whilst coaling, as the southerly winds drive up a good deal of sea into the bay. There is an English Consul resident here, Mr. Rendall, who has done much to assist in bringing these islands into notice, and into comparative civilization; and, by so doing, has many times over reimbursed this country in the cost of his stipend of £400 a year, saying nothing of the services he has performed to shipping, in the ordinary discharge of his duties.

Cape Verds are a very numerous family of islands, called after a cape on the African coast (originally named Cabo Verde, or Green Cape, by the Portuguese) to which they lie contiguous, though at a considerable distance from each other in some cases. All are of volcanic formation—one, that of Fogo, or Fuego, once very celebrated as being visible, especially in the night time, at an immense distance at sea. The islands generally do not possess any very attractive points, being unlike Madeira and the Canaries in this respect, as well as in extent of population, that of the latter being four or five times more numerous than the others—say about 200,000 in one, 40,000 in the other case, though some statements make the inhabitants of the Verds considerably more. The islands are occasionally subject to shocks of earthquakes; and there was rather a strong one at Porto Grande the night before we left, supposed on board our vessel to be thunder, from the noise it made, though we were not aware until next day that a shock had been felt on shore. The chief product is salt, a valuable article for vessels trading to South America, though it is here manufactured by the somewhat primitive process of letting the sea-water into the lowlands, where the sun evaporates it. Though Porto Grande, in St. Vincent, is the great place for shipping, and as such almost the only place of interest for passengers in transit, Ribeira Grande, in St. Jago, the principal island, and most southerly of the group, is the chief town, though it is at Porto Playa, (often touched at by ships on the Indian voyage), that the Governor General resides, particularly in the dry season. The island second in importance, in point of size, is St. Nicholas, where are some small manufactories, in the shape of cotton-stuffs, leather, stockings, and other matters. The orchilla weed, however, is the great object of governmental interest, and its monopoly is said to yield some £60,000 per annum; the same wise policy that grasps at that interdicting the manufacture of wine, though grapes grow in profusion, and are of excellent quality for the production of a very acceptable beverage.

Before leaving Porto Grande we had the satisfaction of seeing the General Screw Company’s fine vessel, the Lady Jocelyn, arrive on the day she was due from India and the Cape of Good Hope, on her way to Southampton, with mails, and upwards of one hundred passengers. I went on board to give them the latest news from England, which was of course very acceptable, and the columns of the leading journals were eagerly devoured. In exchange I received the ‘Cape News,’ which did not contain anything very particular, all being quiet there, our old perturbed friend, Sandilli, and his ebonized insurrectionists of the hills having apparently subsided into lilies-of-the-valley of peace and philanthropy. The fine steamers belonging to the General Screw line appeared destined to convey a large portion of passengers between England and India, in preference to the overland route; and, certainly, when one could make the passage in about sixty days, direct, without change of conveyance, and with such splendid accommodation and such conveniences as these vessels afford, it was only natural that they should fill well; and a more comfortable, happy-looking group of passengers I never saw in any vessel.

But, alack for the worthlessness of such moralizings and anticipations as these. This enterprising company have been obliged to abandon their Indian contract, owing to their coaling expenses being out of all proportion to the small sum they received for conveying the mails. The Cape of Good Hope contract, too, will most likely be given up, to the great detriment of that important colony, and at the rate we are progressing, steam communication to Australia does not promise to require the coaling facilities of St. Vincent; still we are of opinion that this island must increase in importance, and that whenever coal freights revert to a moderate scale, steamers will gather there to and from the Southern Ocean.

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CHAPTER IV.
CAPE ST. VINCENT TO PERNAMBUCO.—A WORD ON THE CLIMATE OF THE BRAZILS.

Progress from Porto Grande to Pernambuco.—Steam triumphs against adverse wind.—Further Superiority of Screw over Sail.—The Argentina in a South-Wester.—Apropos of Malaria, and something sanitary about Brazil.—The yellow fever: whence it comes, and what has become of it?—Quarrels about Quarantine.—Brazil in advance of the old country in these matters.

Leaving Porto Grande, we shaped our rapid course southwards, to the Brazils, across the wide expanse of ocean lying between the two continents, and in all which prodigious waste of waters there is no port of call nearer than St. Helena, latitude, 15 deg. 55 min. S., long., 5. 44 E., unless we except the turtle-famed Island of Ascension, 800 miles N.E. of the Bonapartean place of exile, which itself is 1,200 miles from the coast of Lower Guinea. The trade winds vary a good deal in their extension towards the line, and in these latitudes commence the difficulties of a sailing ship, which has to deal with calms and variable winds, blowing from all points of the compass, until such time as it catches the south-east trade, and is carried onwards. Our course lay towards Pernambuco, a place I visited for the first time upwards of thirty years back, and where I have often been since, but never in a steamer; and only those who have experienced the difference between the two modes of propulsion, wind alone and steam, can fairly appreciate the value of the latter power. In former years, 40 to 50 days were considered an average passage to Pernambuco, lately reduced to about 30 to 35 by clipper-vessels, whilst a steamer will traverse the distance easily in 20 days, including stoppages to coal, and for any other requisite purpose. The consequence is, that numbers pass to and fro, who would never do so but for the facilities thus afforded, and which afford at the same time a further evidence of the trite truth, already frequently dwelt upon, and which will have to be still more frequently repeated, before we come to a close, that steam navigation becomes the great civilizer of the world, and brings distant nations so much nearer to our own shores.

Our run from St. Vincent to Brazil was a very hard one. Losing the trade-wind the day after that on which we left the island, it was replaced by an implacable south-wester, against which our little vessel steamed vigorously, and we could barely carry fore and aft canvas. When, after eight days’ tugging we arrived at Pernambuco, there was not an hour’s coal left, a consideration which naturally rendered all on board anxious for some short time before. We shaved close past the Island of Fernando de Noronha, showing a conical hill, very like a ship under canvas at a distance. It is a penal settlement of Brazil, and considered very healthy.

Before describing other ports of call on our way to the River Plate, let us just take a glance at the Empire of Brazil, which, from its geographical position, immense fertility and internal resources, is second only in importance to the great Empire of the West—the United States of North America. And, first, in regard to that primal consideration, health, as affected by the climate—a subject on which many years’ experience in my own person, and an attentive observation of the health of various classes of Europeans in the tropics enable me to speak with as much weight as should probably attach to the opinion of the majority of non-medical men on a medical topic; and some remarks on that head in the chapter on Pernambuco will probably be found not altogether unworthy of the attention even of the faculty.

Notwithstanding its well-known heat, in common with all other countries within the tropics, and especially a country so large a portion of which is directly beneath the equator, until within the last few years Brazil has been proverbially one of the healthiest climates in the world, and European residents could indulge almost with impunity in the pleasures and luxuries of tropical life. Unfortunately yellow fever has changed all this, and rendered the vital statistics of the harbours and cities of the empire mournful catalogues of suffering and disaster, threatening serious injury to its national prosperity, if the scourge does not soon finally depart from its shores. This, it is devoutly hoped may be the case, and fortunately seems to be so at present, as far as can be augured from the reports now continued for a considerable time. During over thirty years’ acquaintance with, and frequent residence in the country, I never experienced or heard of any existing epidemic worthy of the name, or such as could not be readily accounted for; but the aspect of things, at the period of my last arrival, had sadly indeed changed, and the dread pestilence in its ravages seemed to spare neither the hardy European mariner, the native resident, the blacks, nor indeed any class of persons brought within its influence. How or from whence this mysterious visitation had arisen it was impossible to say. Some maintain that it was brought from the coast of Africa, and is a kind of retributive punishment for the iniquitous traffic in human flesh carried on so extensively in the Brazils, until lately, that the government have shown themselves determined to put it down. But those who argue in this fashion forget that the same doctrine would apply in a thousand instances at home and abroad; that the exceptions are unfortunately more numerous than the rule which would be thus set up by human presumption for the admeasurement of the justice of Omniscience; and that it is always imprudent, to say the least of it, to attempt to interpret the causes of such dispensations of Providence by our own notions of human requirement. Others deny the fever to be either epidemic or contagious, affirming that it must be induced by some peculiar atmosphere, generated, no one knows how, on the sea coast; and it certainly is curious enough that vessels have had the sickness on board, whilst coming down the coast, before even touching at a Brazilian port. Whatever be the true cause of this affliction, it ought to teach the Brazilians a lesson not to abuse the bounties of Providence, which they enjoy in almost unexampled profusion, or neglect those means of sanitary protection which are needful even in the healthiest portions of Europe. No doubt much is required to be done in this way, and not in trying to enforce stupid quarantine regulations, which only add to suffering without arresting the arm of the devastator. Indeed, the Brazilian government has shown great good sense in eschewing the absurd formalities in question, therein again exhibiting an immense superiority of intelligence over the mother country; for at Lisbon all the antiquated and superannuated encumbrances and ceremonials are rigorously exacted, though there be not even the shadow of a pretext for enforcing them; for although a ship’s bill of health may be perfectly clean, and although the ports she last sailed from may have been long known to be uninfected, still the circumstance of their having been once tainted is sufficient warrant for the Portuguese procrastinators in exacting any amount of detention that may be agreeable to their caprice, whether the vessel be sail or steamer.

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