Brazil and La Plata: The personal record of a cruise

by C. S. Stewart

Mr. Wells has been bereft of a wife and child, and is left alone; but has borne his afflictions with the resignation of a Christian. It was pleasing to discover, that though so long a resident of a place “wholly given to idolatry,” and cut off from all the public means of grace, he maintains the regular worship of God, morning and evening, with his household of African servants.

The quietude and comforts of such an establishment are a great luxury after the weariness of long confinement on shipboard; and I feel that the visit at Desterro will constitute quite an episode in the tedium of our cruise. The town itself presents every where a pleasing mingling of city and country, giving to the whole a village-like simplicity. The walks, in every direction, are varied and beautifully rural; and whatever Desterro may be as a permanent residence, it is certainly delightful for a sojourn of a few days.

Yesterday afternoon my attention was attracted by the sounds of music in the Matriz, or mother church, at the head of the square; and walking over, I discovered it to be that of a funeral service in a mass for the dead. A beautiful catafalque, with richly festooned draperies of pink satin and gold and silver tissue, occupied the centre of the nave. Upon this, in a straight coffin of pink velvet, trimmed with gold lace—so formed as when thrown open to expose the entire figure—upon a satin mattress lay the corpse of a little girl of three years, most tastefully and expensively arrayed in what may be concisely described as a full ball-dress of pink and blue gauze, with edgings of gold and silver fringe over a white satin robe: the whole being wreathed with garlands of exquisitely finished artificial flowers. The feet were in silk stockings and satin shoes, and the head crowned with fresh roses. Death had evidently done his work quickly and gently. There was no emaciation; no traces of suffering; the face was full and perfect in its contour; and the limbs round and symmetrical. A placid and smiling expression, in place of the ghastly look of death, led to the impression of its being only a deep and quiet sleep that we gazed on—an illusion strengthened by the delicate tinge of rouge that had been given to the cheeks and lips.

On all former occasions, when I have seen the corpse of a child thus decked out—according to the usage here—I have felt as if it were a mockery of death and the grave, thus to mingle the tinsel and vanities of the world with the sad lesson they teach. But now, however incongruous with the solemnity of such an occasion these fanciful adornments may seem to us, there was nothing repulsive in the spectacle presented. Indeed, I found myself insensibly impressed with the extreme beauty of the child, and the exquisite taste and artistic effect of the drapery in which she was laid out. Ingeniously constructed wings of gauze are often appended to the other adornments of an infant corpse, emblematic of the truth that,

“With soul enlarged to angel’s size,”

the spirit has taken its flight to a station of blessedness near the throne of the Redeemer. All persons of wealth and position in society, are thus, in Brazil, borne to the grave in full dress—the soldier in his uniform, the judge in his robes, the bishop in his mitre, and the monk in his cowl.

On this occasion, the officiating priest with the bearers of the crucifix and censers, and other attendants, stood in the midst of the blaze of wax lights by which the bier was encircled; while the walls of the church were lined by hundreds of gentlemen of the first respectability, in full black, and each supporting a candle of wax of the length and size of an ordinary walking-stick. The child was of the family of Andrada; a name pre-eminent in the Province and Empire for patriotism, scientific attainment, and political distinction.

Towards evening I took a long walk with Mr. Wells. The suburbs in every direction are full of rural imagery and picturesque beauty. The rising grounds command extensive views of undulating land, of water and of mountains; and the roads and lanes are so walled in by luxuriant hedges of the flowering mimosa, running rose, orange-tree, and coffee bush, as to embower one, even within a stone’s throw of the town, as if in the heart of the country. The flowers of the mimosa hanging in thick pendants, cover the hedges with a mass of whiteness, more entire and more beautiful than that of the hawthorne, while those of the running rose, clustering closely like the multiflora, make the roadside they border one bed of bloom. There is too a repose and tranquillity in the evenings, and a delicacy in the tintings of the colors at sunset, that make a stroll at that time of the day peculiarly delightful.

After a circuit of two miles by an inland route, we approached the town again by a suburb which constitutes the west end, both in the topography and the fashion of the place; and exhibits a succession of pleasant residences surrounded by tastefully arranged flower-gardens. Just as we were passing the grounds of one of the most attractive of these, a vehicle, the first I have seen, except a Roman ox-cart, since I have been here, overtook us and drove through an iron gateway into a court, beyond which appeared long vistas of gravelled walks and embowering shade. The carriage was a caleche, or old-fashioned chaise, of rather rude construction, painted pea-green, with orange-colored wheels and shafts. It was drawn by a single horse guided by a postilion, and contained a very stout gray-headed gentleman of sixty, who entirely filled up a seat designed for the accommodation of two. It was no less a personage than Lieut. Gen. Bento Manuel, the highest military officer of the southern section of the Empire, recently from Rio Grande, where he was long chief in command, and where he did efficient service for the government during great political agitation and threatened revolution. He is so stout as to be readily excused from walking or riding, and possesses, with a single exception, the only wheeled carriage in the Island of St. Catherine’s.

The ringing of a cracked bell at the Matriz, and the gathering of the population in that direction on the evening of the 21st, led me to it again as a point of observation. It was the beginning of a Novena, or daily service, of nine days’ continuance, in commemoration of the descent of the Holy Ghost—the following Sabbath being Whit-Sunday. This celebration is universal in city and country; and is distinguished by an observance, the origin and specific meaning of which I have been unable to trace, that of the choice and induction into office for a year, of a lad under the blasphemous title of Emperor of the Holy Ghost. He presides in mock majesty at the festival, and is regarded with special honor at all others during his continuance in office. The selection is usually from a family of wealth, as the expenses attendant upon the honor involve an outlay amounting at Rio and other chief places to five hundred, a thousand, and fifteen hundred dollars. This is appropriated to the furnishing of dress, music, lights, and refreshments during the celebration. The empire over which he sways the sceptre comprises the apartments of the church, in which the gifts brought to him by the people in the name of the Holy Ghost are deposited, and an enclosure adjoining, where auctions are held for the disposal of these to the highest bidder. On this occasion, two rooms opening from the church were gayly fitted up, one—a side-chapel with altar and crucifix—as a throne-room for the Emperor, and the other for the temporary deposit of the gifts. In front of these, and communicating directly with them, a large auction-room was erected, screened by canvas over head, and furnished with benches for the accommodation of spectators and purchasers. The gifts are brought gratuitously by the people, and the proceeds of the sales go to the treasury of the brotherhood of the Holy Ghost for purposes of charity.