The English Burial Ground.
From the asylum, I crossed the street to the great hospital of the Misericordia. It is a fine building, and has plenty of room; but it is not in so good a state as might be wished: there are usually four hundred patients, and the number of deaths very great; but I could not learn the exact proportion. The medical department is in great want of reform. The insane ward interested me most of all: it is on the ground floor, very cold and damp; and most of those placed in it die speedily of consumptive complaints. I found here a contradiction to the vulgar opinion, that hydrophobia is not known in Brazil. A poor negro had been bitten by a mad dog a month ago; he did not seem very ill till yesterday morning, when he was sent here. He was at the grate of his cell as we passed him, in a deplorable state: knowing the gentleman who was with me, he had hoped he would release him from confinement; this of course could not be: he expired a few hours after we saw him. The burial-ground of the Misericordia is so much too small as to be exceedingly disgusting, and, I should imagine, unwholesome for the neighbourhood. I had long wished to do what I have done to-day. I think the more persons that show an interest in such establishments the better: it fixes attention upon them; and that of itself must do good. Yet my courage had hitherto failed, and I owe the excursion of this morning to accident rather than design.
I rode this evening to the protestant burial-ground, at the Praya de Gamboa. I think it one of the loveliest spots I ever beheld, commanding beautiful views every way. It slopes gradually towards the road along the shore: at the highest point there is a pretty building, consisting of three chambers; one serves as a place of meeting or waiting for the clergyman occasionally; one as a repository for the mournful furniture of the grave; and the largest, which is between the other two, is generally occupied by the body of the dead for the few hours, it may be a day and a night, which can in this climate elapse between death and burial: in front of this are the various stones, and urns, and vain memorials we raise to relieve our own sorrow; and between these and the road, some magnificent trees. Three sides of this field are fenced by rock or wood. Even Crabbe's fanciful and delicate Jane might have thought without pain of sleeping here.[128] In my illness I had often felt sorry that I had not seen this ground. I am satisfied now; and if my still lingering weakness should lay me here, the very, very few who may come to see where their friend lies will feel no disgust at the prison-house.
30th.—I called at a very agreeable Brazilian lady's house to-day; and saw, for the first time in my life, a regular Brazilian bas-blue in the person of Dona Maria Clara: she reads a good deal, especially philosophy and politics; she is a tolerable botanist, and draws flowers exceedingly well; besides, she is what I think it is Miss Edgeworth calls "a fetcher and carrier of bays,"—a useful member of society, who, without harming herself or others, circulates the necessary literary news, and would be invaluable where new authors want puffing, and new poems should have the pretty passages pointed out for the advantage of literary misses. Here, alas! such kindly offices are confined to comparing the rival passages in the Correiro and the Sentinella, or advocating the cause of the editor of the Sylpho or the Tamoyo. But, in sober earnest, I was delighted to find such a lady. Without arrogating much more than is due to the sex, it may claim some small influence over the occupations and amusements of home; and the woman who brings books instead of cards or private scandal into the domestic circle, is likely to promote a more general cultivation, and a more refined taste, in the society to which she belongs.
October 1st, 1823.—The court and city are in a state of rejoicing. Lord Cochrane has secured Maranham for the Emperor. Once more I break in on my own rule, and copy part of his letter to me:—
"Maranham, August 12th, 1823.
"My dear Madam,
"You would receive a few lines from me, dated from off Bahia, and also from the latitude of Pernambuco, saying briefly what we were about then. And now I have to add, that we followed the Portuguese squadron to the fifth degree of north latitude, and until only thirteen sail remained together out of seventy of their convoy; and then, judging it better for the interests of His Imperial Majesty, I hauled the wind for Maranham; and I have the pleasure to tell you, that my plan of adding it to the empire has had complete success. I ran in with this ship abreast of their forts; and having sent a notice of blockade, and intimated that the squadron of Bahia and Imperial forces were off the bar, the Portuguese flag was hauled down, and every thing went on without bloodshed, just as you could wish. We have found here a Portuguese brig of war, a schooner, and eight gun-boats; also sixteen merchant vessels, and a good deal of property belonging to Portuguese resident in Lisbon, deposited in the custom-house. The brig of war late the Infante Don Miguel, now the Maranham, is gone down with Grenfell to summon Para, where there is a beautiful newly-launched fifty-gun frigate, which I have no doubt but he has got before now. Thus, my dear Madam, on my return I shall have the pleasure to acquaint His Imperial Majesty, that between the extremities of his empire there exists no enemy either on shore or afloat. This will probably be within the sixth month from our sailing from Rio, and at this moment is actually the case."