And old ocean her dead shall restore!
RIO JENEIRO.
Rio Jeneiro, in English, the River January—probably so called from the month in which it was discovered—embraces the varied prospect of a bay incomparable in scenery, a smooth harbor, variegated with many pleasant little islands, which secure and embellish it; the shores on every side teeming in luxuriant vegetation, and where nature, dressed always in the robe of spring—gay as in her prime—sports in all her youthful vigor and beauty. On first beholding this coast, the mind of a stranger is struck with wonder and pleasure—he beholds mountains piled on mountains, of every shape and posture—some bending their enormous heads, as if to awe the lesser hills below, or rising in majestic pomp far above the highest range of clouds, which float and curl, like misty veils, around them. The city, St. Sebastian, is surrounded with a range of these high mountains, which rise at a short distance in the interior, and enclose it as in a semicircle. This barrier prevents the circulation of the pure mountain breezes, and occasions a pale and sickly appearance in the sallow complexions of the inhabitants; the streets, too, which appear like lanes to an European, are narrow, and the houses lofty, which gives them, at first, a wild and gloomy appearance. The buildings are mostly of brick or stone, and plastered; but the eye of the pedestrian is soon diverted from them, and arrested by the endless change in the faces, dresses and complexions of the passing swarms that press about him, and throng this populous, transatlantic city.
Here may be seen at one view, the well-fed priest pushing his fat body along, and the half starved slave who touches his cap to him, though he is sweating under the weight of a puncheon, which he assists in bearing along. The bold free negro, with his cocked hat, and the stiff, proud courtier, with his ribbands and stars; the thievish soldier off duty, watching a group of sailors over their pot of wine, at the chop house; and the strapping female slave, who cries ‘aick!’ and sells water, the weight of which, in the balanced vessel on her head, would crack any skull of less solidity than her own; the naval captain in his full dress, brushing by a noisy pack of young black children, with no dress at all; the begging friar from the convent, who fills his wallet with provisions, and never knew a different mode of living; the statesman in black, who kisses on his knees at the palace door, the one hand of the prince, while he is eating an apple, a favorite fruit, with the other; the royal guard of grenadiers, whose antique lengthy coats, make them appear like men of other days; the droves of blacks, whose skeleton shapes bespeak them wretches just released from yonder slave ship—these may be seen at once.
But where, oh, where, is lovely woman? To the face of whom, from the face of naught for tedious months, but boisterous waves and frowning clouds, the seamen with most pleasure turns. But here he turns in vain, for none are seen. The sounds too, which stun him, are as varied as the objects around. The ceaseless clang of a hundred bells, ringing too, rapid as for life and death; the song and chorus of the laboring slaves, at the quay; guns firing, rockets mounting, drums beating, chains clanking, and rocks blowing, would lead a stranger to suppose that they made all this clamor to drive away ennui, and disperse evil spirits.
The queen’s garden, at the extremity of the city, appears to merit most attention. It is very spacious, and is bounded on one side by the bay, against the wall of which the surf beats and roars, in great contrast with the scenery within. The walks are very neat, and some charmingly shaded from the sun, cool and solitary. But it is in the country only, outside the town, that the naturalist and admirer of untrammelled nature, may enjoy her richest banquet, for here she spreads her boards with boundless variety. The air, though at first rather too warm, is generally refreshed by the pure breeze of the mountains, and every thing appears bright and beautiful; the mind in the delightful region, unwittingly glows in unison with the cheerful prospect, and insensibly imbibes the serenity and the grandeur of the surrounding landscapes.
On a Sunday afternoon, I took an excursion up the bay; on landing, I pursued the course of the beach, and was charmed with the stillness and the cheerfulness of the scenery around me. Here the sweet scented lemon tree, the orange, and the lime, extending even to the touch of the wave, afforded a delightful retreat from the blaze of a tropical sun.
The beautiful and nimble lizards, which I had thought repulsive reptiles, were playing about among the stones of the beach. The velocity of their motions, their sudden change of attitude, and their elegant and symmetrical forms—with their little green eyes, pointed noses, taper tails and spotted bodies, afforded a deal of amusement. We then bent our way into the interior. Here we travelled along at the foot of an immense hill, whose sloping sides were covered, as far as the eye could reach, with thick woods of oranges and other tropical fruits.
In a little time we fell in with a party of merry making blacks, of both sexes, who were indulging, in all its glory, the jubilee of a Fandango. This is a sort of African dance of the negroes, of which they are excessively fond; it is performed by numerous evolutions, in which they sometimes join hands and form a circle, in the centre of which, are the indefatigable and sweating musicians, who, with their huge calabashes, kettle drums and reed pipes, labor to make all the noise—if not the most musical—they possibly can. The dancers, more especially the women, are most fantastically arrayed, having on the head a cap or turban, ornamented with beads, ribbons and small looking glasses; a short, gay dress, a string of beads—negro fine—around their necks, and the wrists and ankles encircled by a string of castanos, a nut shell, the rattle of which, in the dance, keeps time to the music. No one can behold, with unruffled face, or with any degree of gravity, the negro Fandango. The ridiculous dresses, the expressive, though awkward pantomimic motions and gestures, the contortion of features, and the horrid music, present a strange and lively picture.