Rio from the Gloria Hill.
The city of Rio is more like an European city than either Bahia or Pernambuco; the houses are three or four stories high, with projecting roofs, and tolerably handsome. The streets are narrow, few being wider than that of the Corso at Rome, to which one or two bear a resemblance in their general air, and especially on days of festivals, when the windows and balconies are decorated with crimson, yellow, or green damask hangings. There are two very handsome squares, besides that of the palace. One, formerly the Roça, is now that of the Constituçaõ, to which the theatre, some handsome barracks and fine houses, behind which the hills and mountains tower up on two sides, give a very noble appearance. The other, the Campo de Santa Anna, is exceedingly extensive[81], but unfinished. Two of the principal streets run across it, from the sea-side to the extremity of the new town, nearly a league, and new and wide streets are stretching out in every direction. But I was too tired with going about in the heat of the day to do more than take a cursory view of these things, and could not even persuade myself to look at the new fountain which is supplied by a new aqueduct.
There is in the city an air of bustle and activity quite agreeable to our European eyes; yet the Portuguese all take their siesta after dinner. The negroes, whether free blacks or slaves, look cheerful and happy at their labour. There is such a demand for them, that they find full employment, and of course good pay, and remind one here as little as possible of their sad condition, unless, indeed, one passes the street of the Vallongo; then the slave-trade comes in all its horrors before one's eyes. On either hand are magazines of new slaves, called here peices; and there the wretched creatures are subject to all the miseries of a new negro's life, scanty diet, brutal examination, and the lash.
Tuesday, January 1st, 1823.—I went to pay a second visit to an illustrious exile, Count Hogendorp, one of the Emperor Napoleon's generals: my first had been accidental. One morning last week, riding with two of our young midshipmen, we came to a pleasant-looking cottage, high on the side of the Corcovado, and at the door we saw a very striking figure, to whom I instantly apologized for intruding on his grounds, saying that we were strangers, and had come there accidentally. He instantly, with a manner that showed him to be no common person, welcomed us; asked our names, and on being told them, said he had heard of us; and, but for his infirmities, would have called on us. He insisted on our dismounting, as a shower was coming on, and taking shelter with him. By this time I perceived it was Count Hogendorp, and asked him if I had guessed rightly. He answered, yes; and added a few words, signifying that his master's servants, even in exile, carried that with them which distinguished them from other men.
The Count is the wreck of a once handsome man: he has not lost his martial air: he is tall, but not too thin; his grey eyes sparkle with intelligence, and his pure and forcible language is still conveyed in a clear well-toned voice, though a little the worse for age. He ushered us into a spacious veranda, where he passes most of the day, and which is furnished with sofas, chairs, and tables: he then ordered his servant to bring breakfast; we had coffee, milk, and fresh butter, all the produce of his own farm; and, as we sat, we saw the showers passing by and under us across the valley, which leads the eye to the bay below. The General entered frankly into conversation, and during breakfast, and while the shower lasted, spoke almost incessantly of his imperial master. Early in life the Count had entered the army, a soldier of fortune, under Frederick of Prussia. On his return to his native country, Holland, he was employed by the States, successively, as governor of the eastern part of Java, and as envoy to one of the German courts. During his residence in Java, he had visited many of the English settlements on the main land of India, and had learned English, which he spoke well.
From Count Hoggendorps Cottage.