We were to breakfast at the gardens, but as the weather is now hot, we resolved first to walk round them. They are laid out in convenient squares, the alleys being planted on either side with a very quick-growing nut tree, brought from Bencoolen originally, now naturalised here. The nut is as good as the filbert, and larger than the walnut, and yields abundance of oil; the leaf is about the size, and not unlike the shape, of that of the sycamore. The timber also is useful. The quick growth of this tree is unexampled among timber trees, and its height and beauty distinguish it from all others. The hedges between the compartments are of a shrub which I should have taken for myrtle, but that the leaves though firm are not fragrant. This garden was destined by the King for the cultivation of the oriental spices and fruits, and above all, of the tea plant, which he obtained, together with several families accustomed to its culture, from China. Nothing can be more thriving than the whole of the plants. The cinnamon, camphor, nutmeg, and clove, grow as well as in their native soil. The bread-fruit produces its fruit in perfection, and such of the oriental fruits as have been brought here ripen as well as in India. I particularly remarked the jumbo malacca, from India, and the longona (Euphoria Longona), a dark kind of lechee from China. I was disappointed to find no collection of the indigenous plants. However, so much has been done as to give reasonable hopes of farther improvement, when the political state of the country shall be quiet enough to permit attention to these things.
The stream that waters the garden flows through a lovely valley, where the royal powder-mills are situated; but being fearful of too much exertion for Langford we put off visiting them to another day, and returned to the garden gate to breakfast. His Majesty John VI. built a small house there, with three or four rooms, to accommodate the royal party, when they visited the gardens. Our breakfast was prepared in the veranda of that house, from whence we had a charming view of the lake, with the mountains and woods,—the ocean, with three little islands that lie off the lake; and in the fore-ground a small chapel[79] and village, at the extremity of a little smooth green plain.
After waiting with our agreeable and well-informed friends till the sea-breeze set in, we returned part of the way along the lake, and then ascended to the parsonage of Nossa Senhora da Cabeça, where we were joined by several other persons who had come to dine there with us. The Padre Manoel Gomez received us very kindly, and our pic-nic was spread in the ample veranda of his parsonage. Behind the veranda three small rooms served for sleeping-room, kitchen, and pantry. Half a dozen small cottages in the field behind contain the healthy-looking negroes who are employed in his coffee-grounds, and a swarm of children of every shade, between black and white. On a little eminence in the midst of these stands the chapel of Our Lady, which is the parish church of a large district. It is exceedingly small; but serves as the place where the sacraments are administered, and the licences granted for marriages, burials, and christenings. The owners of estates have generally private chapels, where daily mass is performed for the benefit of their own people; so that the parish church is only applied to on the above-mentioned occasions. About a stone's throw behind the chapel, a clear rivulet runs rapidly down the mountain, leaping from rock to rock, in a thousand little cascades, and forming, here and there, delightful baths. Nor is it without its inhabitants, which increase the simple luxuries of the Padre's table. He tells me the crawfish in his stream are better than any in the neighbourhood; the water itself is pure, light, and delicate.
At length all our friends had assembled, and we returned to the veranda to dine. To judge by the materials of the feast, so blended were the productions of every climate that we could scarcely have pronounced in what part of the world we were, had not the profusion of ananas and plantains, compared with the small quantity of apples and peaches, reminded us of it. As is usual on such occasions, the oldest inhabitants of Brazil praised most what came from afar; while we all gave the preference to the productions of the country.
I was soon drawn away from the table by the beauty of the prospect, which I endeavoured to sketch. The coffee plantations are the only cultivated grounds hereabouts; and they are so thickly set with orange trees, lemons, and other tall shrubs, that they form in appearance rather a variety in the woods, than that mixture of cultivated with wild ground, which might be looked for so near a large city, where we expect to see the labour of man encroaching in some degree on the wild beauties of nature. But here vegetation is so luxuriant, that even the pruned and grafted tree springs up like the native of the forest.
As every body was determined to be pleased, we all felt sorry when it was time to separate; but Burns has made all the reflections one can make on breaking up a pleasant party—
"Pleasures are like poppies spread,—
You seize the flower, the bloom is shed;
Or like the snow-falls in the river,—
A moment white, then lost for ever;
Or like the rainbow's fleeting form,
Evanishing amid the storm;
Or like the borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place.
No man can tether time or tide:
The hour approaches,—we must ride."
And so we did.—We walked down to the foot of the hill, and each took his or her several conveyance; Colonel and Mrs. Cunningham their comfortable English chariot, Mr. and Miss Hayne their pretty curricle, and I my Rio caleche or sege,—a commodious but ugly carriage, very heavy, but well enough adapted to the rough roads between the garden and the town. The gentlemen all rode, and most of us carried home something. Fruit and flowers attracted some; Langford got a number of diamond beetles, and a magnificent butterfly, and I a most inadequate sketch of the scene from the Padre's house.
December 27th.—Since the jaunt to the botanical gardens, some of our invalids have been gaining ground: others who were well have become invalids, and I have done nothing but ride about or talk with them, and look at the beautiful views of the neighbourhood, and get a little better acquainted with the inhabitants; of whom the most amusing, so far as I have yet seen, are certainly the negroes, who carry about the fruit and vegetables for sale. The midshipmen have made friends with some of them. One of them has become quite a friend in the house; and after he has sold his master's fruit, earns a small gratuity for himself, by his tales, his dances, and his songs. His tribe, it seems, was at war with a neighbouring king, and he went out to fight when quite a boy, was taken prisoner, and sold. This is probably the story of many: but our friend tells it with action and emphasis, and shows his wounds, and dances his war dance, and shouts his wild song, till the savage slave becomes almost a sublime object. I have been for an hour to-night at a very different scene, a ball given by Mr. B——, a respectable English merchant. The Portuguese and Brazilian ladies are decidedly superior in appearance to those of Bahia; they look of higher caste: perhaps the residence of the court for so many years has polished them. I cannot say the men partake of the advantage; but I cannot yet speak Portuguese well enough to dare to pronounce what either men or women really are. As to the English, what can I say? They are very like all one sees at home, in their rank of life; and the ladies, very good persons doubtless, would require Miss Austin's pen to make them interesting. However, as they appear to make no pretensions to any thing but what they are, to me they are good-humoured, hospitable, and therefore pleasing.
Monday, 31st Dec. 1822.—I went to town for the first time; our road lay through the suburb of the Catete for about half a mile. Some handsome houses are situated on either hand, and the spaces between are filled with shops, and small houses inhabited by the families of the shopkeepers in town. We then came to the hill called the Gloria, from the name of the church dedicated to N.S. da Gloria, on the eminence immediately overlooking the sea. The hill is green, and wooded and studded with country-houses. It is nearly insulated; and the road passes between it and another still higher, just where a most copious stream issues from an aqueduct (built, I think, by the Conde de Lavradio), and brings health and refreshment to this part of the town from the neighbouring mountains. Farther on, after passing the beach of the Gloria, we turned to the left, and entered the new part of that town through the arches of the great aqueduct built in 1718 by the viceroy Albuquerque. This supplies four copious fountains. The largest is the Carioca[80], near the convent of Sant Antonio; it has twelve mouths, and is most picturesque in itself: it is constantly surrounded by slaves, with their water-barrels, and by animals drinking. Just beyond are troughs of granite, where a crowd of washerwomen are constantly employed; and over against these, benches are placed, on which there are constantly seated new negroes for sale. The fountain of the Marecas is opposite to the public gardens, and near the new barracks; and, besides the spouts for water for the inhabitants, there are two troughs always full for the animals. The third is a very handsome one, in the palace square; and the fourth, called the Mouro, I did not see. The aqueduct is of brick, and is supported on two ranges of arches across the valley between two of the five hills of the city. The public buildings at Rio have nothing very remarkable about them. Even the churches present no architectural beauty, and owe the good effect they have in the general view to their size and situation. There are seven parish churches, and numerous chapels dependent on each. The first and eldest parish is that of St. Sebastian; the church dedicated to whom is the royal chapel, the only one I saw to-day. It is handsome within, richly gilt, and the pictures on the ceiling are far from contemptible; but I cannot praise that of the altar-piece, where Our Lady is covering with her cloak the Queen Dona Maria, and all the royal family, on their arrival in Brazil. The choir is served in a manner that would not disgrace Italy. I attended at vespers, and have seldom been more gratified with the music of the evening service. This the chapel owes to the residence of the royal family, whose passion and talent for music are hereditary. Adjoining to this chapel is the church and convent of the Carmelites, which forms part of the palace; and within which is the royal library of 70,000 volumes, where on all days, except holidays, the public are admitted to study from nine till one o'clock in the forenoon, and from four o'clock till sunset. This part of the palace occupies one side of a handsome square: the palace itself fills up another; a third has private houses, built uniformly with the palace, besides the fish-market; and the fourth is open to the sea. The water-edge is faced with a handsome granite pier and steps, the blocks of which are bolted with copper. In the centre of the pier there is a fountain, supplied from the aqueduct of Albuquerque; and altogether the appearance of the palace square is extremely handsome. We went thence into a street behind it, and saw the front of the senate-house, which is connected with the palace, and the cemetery of the Carmelite church, which is a prettier thing than church-yards usually are. In the centre of a small quadrangle there is a cross, and by it a young cypress tree: all around there are flowers, and sweet herbs, and porcelain vases, containing roses and aloes placed on little pedestals and on a broad low wall that surrounds the square. I looked at first in vain for graves; at length I observed on these low walls, and on the higher ones in the outer circle, indications of arches, each being numbered. These are the places for the dead, who are walled up there with quick-lime; and, at a certain period, the bones and ashes are removed to make room for others. At the time of removal, if the dead has a friend who wishes it, the remains are collected in urns or other receptacles, and placed in a building appropriated for them, or where the friend pleases; otherwise they go to the common receptacle, and perish totally by the addition of more quick-lime. This is, I doubt not, the wholesomest way of disposing of the dead; and, even to the sense, is better than the horrid burials at Bahia, where they must infect the air. But there seems to me so little feeling in thus getting rid at once of the remains of that which has once been dear to us, that I went away in disgust.