I never spend half an hour any where with more pleasure and profit than with the ex-minister's family. His lady is of Irish parentage, an O'Leary, a most amiable and kind woman, and truly appreciating the worth and talent of her husband; and all the nephews and other relations I meet there appear superior in education and understanding to the generality of persons I see. But it is Jose Bonifacio himself who attracts and interests me most. He is a small man, with a thin lively countenance; and his manner and conversation at once impress the beholder with the idea of that restless activity of mind which
"O'er-informs its tenement of clay,"
and is but too likely to wear out the body that contains it. The first time I saw him in private was after he ceased to be minister, his occupations before that time leaving him little leisure for private society. I was curious to see the retreat of a public man. I found him surrounded by young people and children, some of whom he took on his knee and caressed; and I could easily see that he was very popular among the small people. To me, as a stranger, he was most ceremoniously yet kindly polite, and conversed on all subjects and of all countries. He has visited most of those of Europe.
His library is well stored with books in all languages. The collection on chemistry and on mining is particularly extensive, and rich in Swedish and German authors. These, indeed, are subjects peculiarly interesting to Brazil, and have naturally been of first-rate interest to him. But his delight is classical literature; and he is himself a poet of no mean order. Perhaps my knowledge of Portuguese does not entitle me to judge particularly on the vehicle or language of his poetry; but if lofty thoughts, new and beautiful combinations, keen sensibility, and a love of beauty and of nature, be essential to poetry, the poems he read to me to-day have them all. There is one in particular, on the Creation of Woman, glowing as the sun under which it was written, and as pure as his light. Perhaps it derived some of its merit from his manner of reading it, which, though not what is called fine reading, is full of character and intelligence.
To-day, Jose Bonifacio gave me a translation from Meleager, which seems to me very beautiful. It was written at Lisbon in 1816, and two or three copies printed by one of his friends, and the last of these is now mine.[125]
Let no one say, 'that he is too miserable for any comfort to reach him. I am alone, and a widow, and in a foreign land; my health weak, my nerves irritable, and having neither wealth nor rank; forced to receive obligations painful and discordant with my former habits and prejudices, and often meeting with impertinence from those who take advantage of my solitary situation: but I am nevertheless sure that I have more half-hours, I dare not say hours, of true enjoyment, and fewer days of real misery, than half of those whom the world accounts happy. And I thank God, who gave me the temper to feel grief exquisitely, that he at the same time gave me an equal capacity for joy. And it is a joy to find minds that can understand and communicate with our own; to meet occasionally with persons of similar habits of thinking, and who, when the business of life rests a while, seek recreation in the same pursuits. This delight I do oftener enjoy than I could have hoped, so far from cultivated Europe. One or two of my friends are, indeed, like costly jewels, not to be worn every day; but there are several of sterling metal that even here disarm the ills of this "working-day world" of half their sting.
Sept. 26th, 1823.—A marriage in high life engages many of the talkers of Rio. A fidalgo, an officer distinguished under Beresford, Don Francisco——, whose other name I have forgotten, is fortunate enough to have obtained one of the loveliest grand-daughters of the Baroness de Campos, Maria de Loreto; whose extraordinary likeness to our own Princess Charlotte of Wales is such, that I am sure no English person can have seen her without being struck with it. Here, no unmarried women are allowed to be present at a marriage; but the ceremony is performed in the presence of the nearest relations, being married, on both sides. The mother of the bride sends notice to court, if she be of rank to do so, afterwards to other ladies, according to their degree, of the marriage of her daughter. The bride then goes to court; after which the ladies visit her, and proceed to congratulate the other members of the family. It is said this match is one in which the lawful lord of such things, i.e. Master Cupid, has had more to do than he is usually allowed to have in Brazil, even since it was independent; and truly a handsomer couple will not often be seen. I am glad of it. Surely free choice on such an important subject is as much to be desired as on any other. On this occasion,
"The god of love, who stood to spy them,
The god of love, who must be nigh them,
Pleased and tickled at the sight,
Sneezed aloud; and at his right
The little loves that waited by,
Bow'd and bless'd the augury;"
as my favourite Cowley says; and I hope we shall have more such free matches in our free Brazil, where, hitherto, the course of true love is apt not to run smooth, that is, if my informants on the subject are in the right. Seriously, perhaps there has not hitherto been refinement enough for the delicate metaphysical love of Europe; which, because it is more rational, more noble, than all others, is less easily turned aside into other channels. Grandison or Clarissa could not have been written here; but I think ere long we may look for the polish and prudent morals of Belinda.
Sept. 29th.—I went to the orphan asylum, which is also the foundling hospital. The orphan boys are apprenticed at a proper age. The girls have a portion of 200 milrees; which, though little, assists in their establishment, and is often eked out from other funds. The house is exceedingly clean, and so are the beds for the foundling children, only three of whom are now in-door nurslings, the rest being placed out in the country. Till lately they have died in a proportion frightful compared with their numbers.[126] Within little more than nine years, 10,000 children have been received: these were placed out at nurse, and many were never accounted for. Not perhaps that they all died, because the temptation of retaining a mulatto child as a slave, would most likely secure care of its life; but the white ones had not even this chance of safety. Besides, the wages paid for the nursing of each was formerly so little, that the poor creatures who received them could hardly have afforded them the means of subsistence. A partial amendment has taken place, and still greater improvements are about to be made. There is a great want of medical treatment. Many of the foundlings are placed in the wheel[127], full of disease, fever, or more often a dreadful species of itch called sarna, and which is often fatal to them. Nay, dead children are also brought, that they may be decently interred.