SANTOS, SÃO PAULO, BRAZIL--RICHARD'S SECOND CONSULATE.
"My native land's the land of Palms,
The Sabiá sings there.
In this drear land no song-birds' notes
With our sweet birds compare.
"More radiant stars bestrew our skies,
More flowers bedeck our fields,
A fuller life teems in our woods,
More love our Home-life yields.
"My wakeful thoughts--alone--at night
Full of sweet memories are,
Of mine own land,--the land of Palms,
Where sings the Sabiá.
"My land has sweetest fruits and flowers,
Such sweets I find not here.
Alone--at night--in wakeful hours
More pleasures find I there,
Mine own dear land,--the land of Palms,
Where sings the Sabiá.
"God, in His mercy, grant I may
To that dear land return,
Ere the sweet flowers and fruits decay,
Which here, alas! I mourn;
That once again, before I die,
I may the Palm-Trees see,
And hear again the Sabiá
Sing its sweet melody."
----DANIEL FOX (_translated from the Brazilian
of the poet Antonio Gonçalves Dias_).
During this stay at home we had represented to Lord Russell how
miserable our lives were, being always separated by the climate of
Fernando Po, and he very kindly transferred us to Santos, in the
Brazils, where I _could_ go. So Richard agreed that I should go out
with him to Portugal for a trip; that he should go on to Rio de
Janeiro; that I should return to London to wind up our affairs, and
then join him at Santos; and we set sail in May. I now began to learn
Portuguese. We had very bad weather, and on the fourth day we arrived
at Lisbon, and went to the Braganza Hotel.
[Sidenote: _We explore Portugal._]
Here was a totally new experience for me. Our bedroom was a large
white-washed place; there were three holes in the wall, one at the
bedside bristling with horns, and these were cockroaches some three
inches long. The drawing-room was gorgeous with yellow satin, and the
magnificent yellow curtains were sprinkled with these crawling things;
the consequence was that I used to stand on a chair and scream. This
annoyed Richard very much. "A nice sort of traveller and companion
_you are_ going to make," he said. "I suppose you think you look very
pretty and interesting, standing on that chair and howling at those
innocent creatures." This hurt me so much that, without descending
from the chair, I stopped screaming and, made a meditation, like St.
Simon Stylites on his pillar, and it was, "that if I was going to live
in a country always in contact with these and worse things, though I
had a perfect horror of anything black and crawling, it would never
do to go on like that." So I got down, fetched a basin of water and a
slipper, and in two hours, by the watch, I had knocked ninety-seven
of them into it. It cured me. From that day I had no more fear of
vermin and reptiles, which is just as well in a country where nature
is over-luxuriant. A little while after we changed our rooms, we
were succeeded by the late Lord and Lady Lytton, and, to my infinite
delight, I heard the same screams coming from the same rooms a little
while after. "There!" I said in triumph, "you see, I am not the _only_
woman who does not like cockroaches."
Here he insisted on taking me to a bull-fight, because he said I ought
to see everything _once_. But there is a great difference between a
Spanish and a Portuguese bull-fight. In Portugal the bull's horns are
knobbed; he does not gore horses nor dogs--he tosses men softly, and
if I do not mind that, it is because the men go in for it willingly,
are paid for it, and are bred to it as a profession from father to son
for endless generations. The only torment the bull has to endure is the
darts thrown into the fat part of his neck. If he fights well, they are
taken out afterwards and his wounds dressed with oil, and he is turned
out loose to fight another day. If he won't fight, he is killed for
beef; so you get all the science and the play without the disgusting
cruelty. At first I crouched down with my hands over my face, but I
gradually peeped through first one finger and then another, until I saw
the whole of it; but it awed me so much that I was almost afraid to
come out of our box, for fear we should meet a bull on the stairs.
We then went to Cintra, and to Mafra. Richard found an old mosque in
Cintra, and we saw Mr. Cooke's beautiful house.[1] For people who have
not been to Lisbon, I may say that Belem Church is, I think, quite the
most beautiful thing in the world. It is one of the noted dreams in
marble. From Lisbon we went on to Corregado, to Serçal and Caldas, to
see Alcobaço, where there is a most beautiful monastery. In the days
of rebellion and persecution, the days of Don Miguel, somewhere in the
early thirties, the monks had to clear out, and my father took one
of them, whose name was Antonio Barboza de Lima, to be our tutor and
chaplain, when we were children (and he is now buried at Mortlake);
so Richard and I took an extra interest in the details. We then went
to Batalha, where there is another beautiful monastery, to Pombal, to
Leiria, and to Coimbra. This seat of learning is one of the prettiest,
dirtiest, and slowest places imaginable, and we soon made our way to
Oporto, and went to Braga to see the Whit-Sunday _fête_, from thence
to Malozinhos. This northern part of Portugal is ever so much more
beautiful than Lisbon. The more you get into Douro, and the nearer you
are to Spain, the larger and handsomer become the people.
However, our time was short, and, after a delightful two months'
Portuguese exploration, we had to get back to Lisbon, where we saw
another bull-fight, and Richard embarked for Brazil. I promised him
to go back by the very next steamer that sailed. As I used to keep
my word _very literally_, a few hours after his departure, a very
tiny steamer came in, much worse than the West African boats; but I
thought myself obliged to go, and we started at 9.20 in the evening,
in spite of north-easterly gales, and had a bad time of it in the
Bay of Biscay, she being only 428 tons. The route was from London to
Lisbon, Gibraltar, Mazagan, Mogador, Canary Islands, coast of Spain,
Morocco, and Portugal. On board, besides myself, having made the
same mistake, was Dona Maria Rita Tenorio y Moscoso, who afterwards
married the Portuguese Minister in London, Count Lavradio. We were in
a tremendous fog off Beachy Head, went aground somewhere near Erith
in the fog, and were very glad to land on the eighth day, having
roughed it prodigiously. I note nothing important except some very
interesting experiments at Mr. William Crookes's, both chemically and
spiritualistically.
[Sidenote: _I rejoin him at Rio de Janeiro._]
By end of August, _i.e._ in a month, my work was accomplished, and I
may as well now say, that whenever we were going to leave England for
any length of time, he used mostly to like to start _at once_ in light
marching order, go forward and prospect the place, and leave me behind
to settle up our affairs, pay and pack, bringing up the heavy baggage
in the rear. It saved time, as double work got done in the space; so,
having completed all, I embarked from Southampton in one of the Royal
mails. Heavy squalls and thunder and lightning began next day, and at
Lisbon the thermometer was 80° in the cabin. We passed Santa Cruz,
off Teneriffe, having a good view of the Peak. We got to St. Vincent
in ten days, quite the most wretched hole in the world--only barren
rocks, and the heat was like a dead wall. We had very charming people
on board, mostly all foreigners, except Mr. and Mrs. Wodehouse, and Mr.
Conyngham. Neptune came on board on the night of the 24th, we crossed
the Line on the 25th, and the ceremonies of "crossing the Line" were
gone through, the tubbing and shaving, the greasy pole and running in
sacks, and a hair was drawn across the field-glasses, through which you
were requested to look at the "Line." The perhaps most striking thing
to a new-comer going out, is losing the Great Bear and the Northern
Star, and all that one is accustomed to, and exchanging them for the
Southern Cross and others.
We arrived at Pernambuco on the 27th, and there I found all the letters
that I had written to my husband since we parted, accumulated in the
post-office, consequently I did not know what he would think had become
of me. Here we had a very rough sea and boiling surf. I passed the
evening miserably, thinking about the letters; though everything was
looking very beautiful, and the band was playing tunes and everybody
waltzing, I sat by the wheel and had a good "boo-hoo" in the moonlight.
On the 30th we reached Bahía, and went ashore and lunched with Mrs.
Baines, and visited Mr. Charles Williams. The women wanted to sell me
small black babies in the market for two shillings. We sailed the same
day, and had heavy weather. I rose at five, just before we went into
the harbour at Rio. It is about the most glorious sight that a human
being can behold, at sunrise and at sunset, the mountains being of most
fantastic shapes, and the colours that of an opal. Richard said it
beats all the scenery he had ever seen in his life--even the Bosphorus.
He came on board at half-past eight in the morning, and we had a joyful
meeting, and I handed him all the letters which, by some strange
mischance, had accumulated at Pernambuco during our month's separation.
We stayed at the Estrangeiros Hotel, where there was quiet, fresh air,
beautiful scenery, and several disadvantages, including cockroaches
and mosquitoes. We enjoyed a great deal of hospitality, both Naval
and Diplomatic, and had several excursions and picnics. All nations
have a "Flagship" and other ships in the harbour; there is a great deal
of gaiety and _esprit de corps_ amongst the Diplomatic and Consular
service. Amongst others here was Mr. Gerald Perry, our Minister, Sir
Edward and Lady Thornton, Chevalier Bunsen, the son of the great
Bunsen, with whom we used to have learned discussions very often in
the evening on "Geist" and other scientific subjects, and German
metaphysics generally. Mrs. Elliot, the wife of Admiral Elliot, the
Admiral of the Station, was a very kind friend to me, on this my first
_début_ into this kind of life. We had our first dinner-party at our
hotel, and after all the formal people had gone, Richard and the
young ones proposed a moonlight walk. We went down to the Botanical
Gardens, and tried to get in, but the gates were locked--tall iron
gates--and nothing would do but that, as we could not get in, we should
scramble over them. It was quite contrary to law, but we had a nice
walk about the gardens. There was either no watch-dog, or the guard
being unaccustomed to such daring, was not on the look-out; but there
were too many snakes about, and particularly the coral snake, of which
nobody has any idea in England, because its colours fade as soon as it
is put in spirits; so we all came back and climbed over the gate again,
and got back without any danger.
But we had come out of hot rooms, and it was dewy and damp, so next day
I had my first fever. It consisted of sickness and vomiting, colic,
dizziness, faintness, shivering, heat and cold, delirium, thirst,
disgust of food. The treatment was calomel, castor oil, hot baths,
blankets, emetics, ice, starvation, and thirty grains of quinine. It
did not last long, but my being delirious alarmed Richard very much,
and he mesmerized me.
In Rio one generally takes a native steamer, which is not very
comfortable, to go to Santos, one hundred and twenty miles south of
Rio. As soon as I was able to move, Captain Napier took us on board
H.M.S. _Triton_ for Santos. It was very rough. The captain had given
up his quarters to me; the stern ports were not closed, and at night a
tremendous sea came in, and swept our cots. It continued very squally,
and we anchored at Ilha Grande; next day the men practised gunnery and
small-arms, and Captain Napier made me practise with a revolver. It
was fifty-eight miles from Rio to Ilha Grande, a pretty mountainous
island, which surrounds a lovely bay, with a few huts on it. We then
proceeded seventy-eight miles further to St. Sebastian, which is a
grand copy of the Straits of Messina (Scylla and Charybdis), and spoils
your after-view of what people who have seen nothing bigger, think
so wonderful. You steam through an arm of the sea, appearing like a
gigantic river, surrounded by mountains (whose verdure casts a green
shade upon the water), dotted with houses, small towns, and gardens.
The chief town is St. Sebastian, which is very populous. The water is
calm; there is a delicious sea-breeze. When Richard went ashore they
saluted him with the usual number of guns, and Brazilian local "swells"
came off to visit us.
SANTOS, BRAZIL, HIS SECOND CONSULATE.
[Sidenote: _Arrival at Santos and São Paulo._]
We awoke next morning, the 9th of October, 1865, off the Large. About
eleven we were at the mouth, whence one steams about nine miles up
a serpentine river, and at one o'clock anchored opposite Santos. We
saluted, and the Consular corps came off to see us. We stayed on board
that night, and we left the ship at half-past seven next day, loitering
about Santos.
Santos was only a mangrove swamp, and in most respects exactly like
the West Coast of Africa, the road slushy and deep. Tree-ferns,
African mangrove, brown water full of tannin, patches of green light
and green dark, in rare clearings here and there houses and fields
near town, much water, and good rice. The sand runs up to the mangrove
jungle; there is good fishing, and deer in the forests. The heavy sea
sometimes washes into the gardens, spoils the flowers, and throws up
whale-bones in all directions. At the time of our arrival, the railway
from Santos to São Paulo, about eighty miles into the interior, was
only just beginning, and a large staff of Englishmen were engaged upon
it. Mr. J. J. Aubertin, now, since his freedom, poet, author, and
traveller, was then superintendent of it. Richard had been here, and
inspected the place before my arrival, although he had met me at Rio,
and he had arranged, as there were _two_ places _equally requiring the
presence of a Consul_ (São Paulo on the top of the Serra, and Santos
on the coast), that we should live at both places, riding up and down
as occasion required, thus keeping our health; and Mr. Glennie, the
Vice-Consul--who had gone to Santos as a boy, had been there over forty
years, had married there, was perfectly devoted to it, and the only
hardship he would have known would have been to live out of it--could
remain there. His one ambition of life was to be Consul of Santos, and
when we left, some years after, and his nomination was just going out
to him, he died--as Richard used to say, "so like Provy."
We therefore, that same day, went in trollies to Mugis, where we
lunched. Richard and Captain Napier had started on foot, and soon
after Mr. Aubertin and thirteen others joined us. We were twenty-one
people. Dr. and Mrs. Hood lived at the foot of the Serra, and they
gave us a big tea-dinner. Mrs. Hood, the widow, with her now large
grown-up family, strange to say, is now my near neighbour in Mortlake.
Next day, what with mules, walking, riding, and occasional trollies,
we got at the top of the Serra. There was a huge chasm over which the
rail would have to pass on a bridge, with an almost bottomless drop.
There were only planks across it; but, as I was on in front, supposing
that was what we had got to cross, I walked right across it, about some
two hundred yards. When I got to the other side, I turned round to
speak, but nobody answered me, and facing round I saw the whole company
standing on the other side, not daring to breathe, and my husband
looking ghastly; so I turned round and was going to walk back again,
when they motioned me off by signs, and all began to file round another
way on _terra firma_. It was fortunate that I had such a good head, and
did not know my danger.
The train line up the Serra is a very steep incline, one in nine, and
is managed by a chain with a stationary engine at the top, a train
being hooked on at each end of the rope. On one side was a mountain
wall, and the other side a bottomless abyss, but the whole thing was
quite beautiful through virgin forest. At this time it was not far
advanced enough, and we rode up on mules. At the top a locomotive was
kept to take us into São Paulo, which reminded us of Bergamo, in Italy,
where we all dined at the little French inn. The next day we took a
trip to what was then the end of the line, twelve miles beyond São
Paulo, but at this time these trips were part mules, part trollies,
part walking ones. We came back to dinner; there were speeches, and
we wished the "Tritons" good-bye. Richard went down with them to set
up his Consulate, and I remained to look for a house, and set up our
_first real home_. After twelve or thirteen days, I went down to
Santos by the diligence, by bad roads, but with a lovely panorama. The
diligence takes one as far as Cubatao, where a little steamer plies for
a couple of hours, first up a fine stream, between banks of tangled
magnificence in the vegetation line, then an arm of the sea, or rather
lagoons. The journey occupies seven carriage and two boat hours.
The worst of Santos, besides the steaming heat enclosed within and at
the bottom of the hills, arising from the mangrove swamps, was the
sand-flies and the mosquitoes. Richard was quite impervious to all
other vermin, but the sand-flies used to make him come out all over
bumps. For the rest, he used to say that he liked to have me near
him--it was just like having "catch 'em alive" for flies, as everything
came and bit me, and I was not fit to be seen, and spared him.
The fact is, I had fresh English blood, and it was rather a treat to
them. The nicest thing was to drive out to the Barra. Captain Richard
Hare, R.N., then came in, and we made a large party to stay there. The
Barra was our fashionable bathing-place; the sea rolled right in to the
strip of sand between it and the mangrove swamps, on the edge of which
were (at that time) a few huts, with windows and doors opening on to
the sand. In some there were no windows; they only closed by a wooden
shutter.
After staying there for some time with Richard, I went up to São Paulo
again, because I was getting feverish; it was wet and windy, and it
took me eleven hours and a half. On going up, I engaged a very curious
little fellow in our service, who deserves a few lines. Chico was
thirty-five years of age; he was about four feet high, but perfectly
well proportioned, as black as a coal, brimming full of intelligence,
and could put his hand to anything. He had just been emancipated.
He remained with us the whole time we were in Brazil, and became my
right-hand man--more of him anon.
At last I found an old convent, No. 72, Rua do Carmo, which opened on
the street in its front, and ran a long way back behind on an eminence,
which commanded a view of almost boundless horizon into the country,
and was exceedingly healthy. I immediately took it, cleaned it, painted
and whitewashed it, and furnished it, and engaged slaves, paying their
masters so much, and so much to them, as if they were free men. They
were all Catholics, and I made a little chapel for them.
The slaves in Brazil, as a rule, formed, as it were, part of the
family, and in ninety-five houses out of a hundred they were kindly
treated and happy, but the remaining five out of the hundred were
brutal; but, however, in _all_ cases, the poor creatures were told,
or, if not told, were allowed to believe, that they had no souls, and
nothing to look forward to. I, on the contrary, taught them, and had
regular lecture and catechism for them, that not only had they souls,
but that, although they were condemned by class and colour and custom
to be slaves upon earth, just as it was in the Bible, that once dead,
they, and we, would stand equal before God. The priest used to come
to my little Oratory, where I had the Bishop's leave to have Mass and
the Sacraments, and we all received Communion together. They were very
happy, the house went upon oiled wheels, and I never had occasion to
dismiss a servant the whole time I was there. The differences were
chiefly amongst themselves. Richard having settled his Consulate
at Santos, and I having prepared our home in São Paulo, he came up
and joined me, and for the first time since our marriage we were
absolutely settled in a home of our own.
[Sidenote: _Life in Brazil._]
Up the country in Brazil, people always get one or two things in their
first few years. You either break out all over boils, so that you
cannot put a pin's point between them, and if you have a weak place,
they come there in clusters, and you can neither sit nor stand, kneel
or lie, and you are an object of misery for some months; but if you
have strength, and can pull through it, you bloom out with stronger
health than ever after that. This happened to me. I had to be slung up.
A friend gave me a barrel of porter, and it was alternately "faint" and
a "glass of porter," which revived me for a few minutes, and then more
faint and more porter, _ad infinitum_. By the time the barrel of porter
was finished, I was convalescent, and when any new ones attempted to
break out, a friend gave me two things to try--and I tell it for the
sake of those who may follow me; it was to draw a ring of caustic round
one, and a ring of laudanum round the other. The caustic ones did
not answer, but the ring of laudanum made them disappear, and I got
splendid health, which lasted at least seventeen years. Now, people who
do not get the boils are bound to get one or more of the complicated
diseases of the country, and that is just what happened to Richard. We
had no doctors up there, that I am aware of.
On the 17th of January, 1866, we had an awful storm, worse than
any known for twenty-five years; there was an awful blackness, the
lightning was red, the wind drove in the windows, the hail was jagged
pieces of ice one inch in diameter, sharp and long, and made round
holes like a bullet, there was a network of flashes, rain from all
quarters--a regular cyclone. It drove through the room fronting north,
which was like a ship's cabin in a gale. We saw the cathedral struck,
the cross knocked off, tiles blown away; the hotel room was like a
shower-bath, with a continuous stream of rain. Several houses were
struck, some of the doors split, and the streets quite flooded; people
were frightened, and lighted candles, and brought out the Madonna.
There were sharp rattlings like earthquake; it blew a clock against
the walls away; the people all met as after a revolution in Paris. The
windows were everywhere broken, and the water looked black. It was
quite local, and did not touch the shipping. In the town four were
killed and five wounded. The next day was very hot.
Santos is six thousand miles away from Europe, and we only got letters
once a month.
Richard's study was the most important feature in the house. It was a
long room, running out on an eminence forty feet long, with a good
terrace at the end of it, on which we had a telescope, and every
convenience for astronomy and observations; and perhaps the other most
striking part of the house was a large room, which occupied the whole
centre of the house, and opened on the stairs. This was dining-room,
receiving-room, and everything. Directly below that was a similar
place, that was more like stables than room. It was my refuge for the
needy and homeless after dark; they were fed and housed, and turned out
in early morning.
On the 27th of July he notes in his journal: "Dream that a bad tooth
fell out, followed by five or six big drops of blood; noted the day,
and found that my poor friend Steinhaüser had died of heart disease
quite suddenly in Switzerland that day." On the 14th of August, 1866,
the first through-train went from Santos to Jundiahy. There was a
_fête_ in consequence, and the company had the bad taste only to omit
the Consul and his wife from the invitations to all the English. On the
22nd of August Richard went to stop with the priests of the seminary
(Capuchins), which he often did, in their _chacara_, or country-house,
where he studied astronomy with Fray João, and metaphysics, physics,
and algebra, with Père Germain. Here he was engaged in writing "Vikram
and the Vampire," and he got a concession for the lead mines of
Iporanga, in São Paulo. On the 21st of December we went down to Rio for
our Christmas, which we spent at Petropolis. On the 12th of November
some one put a stone on the railway to throw the train off, and on the
19th it was said that a part of the rails was pulled up.
In Santos and São Paulo we remained from 1865 to 1869, and I may say
that his career here was equally active and useful, both on the coast
and in the interior. We thoroughly explored our own province, São
Paulo, which is larger than France. (I do not bore you with two pages
of Brazilian names of places, because very few would know where they
were, unless they had lived there and had worked in wild places, which
is not likely.) We spent a good time at the gold mines and diamond
diggings of Minas Gerães. He canoed down the river of San Francisco,
fifteen hundred miles. He went to the Argentine Republic of the
Páta-Paranà; he went to Paraguay for the purpose of reporting the state
of the Paraguayan War to the Foreign Office. He crossed the Pampas and
the Andes to Chili and Peru, amongst the dangerous Indians, whilst on
sick leave for an illness which brought him almost to death's door. He
visited the Pacific coast to inspect the scenes of the earthquake at
Arica, returning by the Straits of Magellan, Buenos Ayres, and Rio de
Janeiro.
Letters from Richard to _Fraser's Magazine_ appeared in three numbers,
headed, "From London to Rio de Janeiro." He likewise wrote three
books--"The Highlands of Brazil," 2 vols., which I edited and brought
out in 1869; "Vikram and the Vampire," one vol. of Hindú tales brought
out in 1870; "Paraguay," 1 vol., brought out in 1870. He interested
himself immensely in the coffee and cotton produce, Mr. Aubertin being
at that time the "father of cotton" in Brazil, but his chief interest
lay in the mining and mineral productions of the country. As I have
said, he obtained the concession for the lead mines of Iporanga, and
Sir Edward Thornton was very angry with him--took it in the sense
of Consuls trading, and reported him home. Fortunately, we had the
large mind of Lord Stanley (Lord Derby) at the head of the Foreign
Office, and he, knowing how caged and misplaced Richard was at such
a Consulate, thought he might at least be allowed that little bit of
amusement, and sent back a despatch that he did not think that being
interested in mineral production could be exactly classed under the
head of trading.
Amongst other things, Richard discovered something remarkable. On one
of our Expeditions we were stopping at a shanty close to a river, and
seeing something glistening, he walked up the bed of the river, which
was not deep, and scooped up some of the sand and put it in a jar. On
washing it we found that it looked very like rubies. We sent it home
to Mr. Crookes, F.R.S., the great chemical savant, and he wrote back,
"If you get any more, bigger than this, throw up the Consulate and
stick to the rubies." Now, Richard told me that this was only the dust
washed down, and that the great stones must lie further up the head of
the river. The shanty belonged to an old woman with a right for a good
stretch up the river, and she would have joyfully sold it for £50. When
I implored Richard almost on my knees to buy it, he would not, saying
it would be quite wrong to defraud that poor woman out of her place,
when she did not know that rubies were there; that if she _did_ know,
she would ask him an exorbitant sum; and, what was more, that no one
could live there for three days without getting Brazilian fever, so
that we should end by being like the dog in the fable, with the bit of
cheese and the shadow in the water, and drop the reality for a shadow.
Life in Brazil, if in Rio, was very gay; life at São Paulo was very
like a farmhouse life, with cordiality and sociability with the other
farmhouses, and some of the good Brazilian society was very charming.
The Brazilians are to the Portuguese what the Americans are to us.
The Portuguese is heavy; the Brazilian is light, active, nervous,
_spirituel_. Their parties are much enlivened by music and dance.
They have several native dances, which are danced at the balls--one
especial one, which is called the _carangueijo_, which is very active,
very amusing, and very significant. The gentlemen and ladies dance it
as furiously as the common people, as the Hungarians do the _czardas_.
The Music consists of the _modinha_, which answers to our ballad, and
is generally mournful; the _lundú_, which is mostly comic, and almost
always in the minor key; and the _recitativo_, which consists of
playing a flowing melodious accompaniment, and in a voice pitched and
attuned to that, reciting a story of love or war or anything, often
improvised at the moment. The negroes have their balls in the Plaza,
or Square, and they will dance furiously for three consecutive days
and nights to the same tune. It is amusing to watch for about an hour
out of a window. The negro girls come out _décolletée_ in pink or blue
cotton--those are the swells--the others dress like natives.
What is so beautiful is Nature, the luxuriance of vegetable and animal
life. Everything is so large--the palms, the cacti, and all the things
which here are treasured as plants and bushes, are there fine trees.
I have seen arums of which one leaf would be six feet long and five
broad, behind which a big man could easily hide himself. The virgin
forests are unspeakably beautiful, with their wild tangle of creeper
and parasite. Orchids, of which (during the rage that lasted in England
for them) one single one would have sold for £60, here grow wild--one
only had to go out with a knife and grub them up from the trees or
rocks; we sent boxes home to our friends. The fir of the country
is the araucaria; the gum copaiba is eighty feet high. Flights of
gaudy-coloured parrots and all sorts of beautiful coloured birds are
on the trees; butterflies, some of which measure ten inches from one
wing-tip to the other, when spread, float about the air like large
sheets of paper--scarlet, peacock blue, emerald green, cream, white--in
fact, every colour; and coming in and out of your room, are little
humming-birds the size of a large bee, looking like an emerald or a
ruby flitting about, and if you have the sense not to offer to touch
them, and put a little wet sugar in a saucer, they will stay there for
days; but if you try to catch them, they break their hearts and die.
The tints of Brazil are always the tints of the opal in fine weather.
The heat is awful, like the damp heat of a conservatory; I flourished
in it.
_En revanche_, Brazil has no history save three hundred years, which
relates its discovery and its gradual transfer from Indian natives to
the first Portuguese settlers. The Jesuits erected all the buildings
on the best sites, made roads, and cultivated; but the Indians are not
exterminated--they are only driven inwards--and about ten days from our
home our nearest Indians were the Botacudos. You may see them in the
Crystal Palace with their under-lip distended by a bit of wood. The
nearest to us were friendly ones, and they would come down to São Paulo
on rare occasions. They walk in Indian file, and when they passed our
house, or any other friendly house, they threw their arms out towards
the house--as if the whole file were pulled by a string--till they had
gone by it; and that is their mode of friendly salute. When the railway
was opened, they came down out of curiosity to see it. They looked upon
the engine as a sort of malignant beetle, but at last they got less
frightened, and all clambered upon it; but when it was time to start,
and the driver gave the preliminary whistle, they sprang off like mad,
and ran for their lives, nor could they be persuaded to mount again.
Another drawback was the reptiles and vermin. There is a large mosquito
that fastens its prongs into your hand. I have seen a man let it
suck, and then cut half its tail off, and it has gone on sucking
and the blood running through--the mosquito being not in the least
aware of its loss. Then there is a little grey, almost invisible,
mosquito that makes no noise. In Trieste they call them _papataci_
(papa-hold-your-tongue). There is the jigger, that gets into your
flesh, generally under your toe-nail or under the sole of your foot,
and the first time you are aware that there is anything the matter is
by your limping, and you then discover that there is a something about
the size of a pea in your foot. You send for a negress, who picks at
your foot for a few minutes with a common pin--they won't use a needle
or any other instrument, because if they did the bag would break,
and the eggs would get into your blood--and presently, with a little
hurting, she triumphantly holds it up at the end of the pin, puts on
a soothing ointment, and you are all right at once. A man thought he
should like to take a jigger home to show an English doctor, but it was
six weeks from home, and his foot was cut off before he got there.
Another nuisance is the _carapato_. It is everywhere, but chiefly
inhabits the coffee plantations. There are three sorts, which only vary
in size and colour. It is a cross between a tick and a small crab; the
biggest would be the size of a little finger-nail. If you ride through
a coffee plantation you come out covered with them. I have more than
once taken off my riding habit and found my jacket nailed to the skin
from the outside; to pull them is to tear your flesh and produce a
festering wound. You have to get into a hot bath, in which you put one
or two bottles of _cachaça_, the spirit of the country, and that clears
off most of them; and if any obstinate ones remain, you have to light a
cigarette, and apply the hot end to their tails till they wriggle their
own head and shoulders out from under your skin. Cockroaches you don't
count, but you must always look in your sleeves, and dress, and boots,
for large horned beetles or spiders or other horrors.
Poor W. H. Bates (the naturalist of the Royal Geographical Society),
who was a great friend of ours, was laughed at because he spoke of
spiders as big as a toy-terrier; but it is perfectly true--there _are_
such spiders, though they are not seen in towns, only out in the
forest, and they are the size of a good-sized crab. The body is hairy,
and when they are angry they kick up and throw their hairs on you,
which are poisonous. I was going to hit one, and a native drew me back
and made me run away, for, he said, "it can spring at you, and it is
instantaneous death." Richard and I did not go so far as to believe
this, unless your blood is in a very bad state, but we did believe in
its making people ill for several days. A priest was once going to say
Mass, and he took his vestment down from the wall where it was hung
up, and put it on, when he suddenly felt something hard in the centre
of his back. He called to the servers and asked them to remove his
vestment gently, without touching his back, telling them there was
something inside. They did so, and it was one of these big spiders;
when it was removed he fainted.
The people eat a large black ant, an inch and a half long. They bite
off the fat body, which has to them a pleasant acid, and throw the
head and legs away. Another use they make of them is to dress them up
like dolls and sell them. The _copim_, or white ants, build nests like
milestones. The people here believe in a sort of house-that-Jack-built
as regards animal feeding. They believe that toads eat ants, that
snakes eat toads, that owls eat snakes, also the geese, and that is why
they are cheap.
Snakes are everywhere--in your garden, in your basement, in
your rafters; and there is every description of them, from the
boa-constrictor in the wilder parts, to the smallest. It is a common
thing to hear the rattlesnake in the grass, and to scamper quickly.
Those who kill them cut out the rattle and give it you for good luck. I
have one now. At night, when you walk out you go with a lantern at the
end of a stick, for the snake called _jararaquassú_ lies curled up at
night on the road, looking exactly like a heap of dust, and you would
certainly put your foot on it; it bites your ankle, and they say that
you live about ten minutes.
These things, which sound so wonderful in England, become so common to
us who live and travel in Brazil, out of towns and off beaten tracks,
that we get quite accustomed to them, as everyday parts of our lives,
as you do to showers in April and dying flies in September; so that I
should not know now that they had ever happened if I had not written
them down at the time. No one who means to write, should ever trust to
memory, because scene after scene fades like a dissolving view and is
never caught again, whilst others rise to replace them.
The storms were another thing to be somewhat dreaded. For our three
summer months, which are December, January, and February (whilst the
Thames is frozen over in London), we, maybe, have 115° in the shade,
and you see a semicircle of clouds beating up. As our house was on a
kind of promontory running out, not to sea, but to grassy plain, we
used to have to make "all taut" as if we were on board a ship, because
when it did come it was like a cyclone, lasting two or three hours, and
then clearing off, leaving everything bright and beautiful, the earth
and air barely refreshed; but while it lasted the thunder and lightning
were close to you. I have frequently thought that if there was one more
clap my head would split--it deafened one. The windows were generally
broken, there were balls of fire flying through the air--blue, red,
yellow; and on one occasion, on a pitch-black night, perceiving a light
from an opposite angle in my husband's room, I thought the house was
on fire. The door was locked for the night. I ran down the corridor,
unlocked the door, and, going in, found that the lightning had broken
a window and had set on fire one of my husband's large rolling atlases
on canvas, which hung from the walls. I ran back and called him, and
it made him very uncomfortable. He thought that one of these lightning
balls of fire must have done it, but there was no aerolite or anything
to show. There was no fireplace in the room, not even a box of matches.
At nine p.m. on the 20th of October, a meteor fell with a loud sound,
and lit up the City of São Paulo. Martinico Prado and some others were
standing near it, and he fell insensible. It fell on the hill near São
Bemte; blue flame was seen in our house at the same moment. It was
intensely cold, but bright, beautiful weather.
We bought horses--one that had something of the mustang in it, called
Hawa, which always carried me, and Penha, a smaller one from Campos for
Richard. When we drove, it was in an American buckboard, seat for two,
with huge wheels, and a little place to hold a box, with a pair of wild
mules that used to pull one's arm off. When Richard did not ride with
me, Chico used to take the second horse.
Chico and I never had but one quarrel, and I will give it as an
illustration. When I first arrived, Richard used always to laugh at
me, because I was so miserable at the way the cruel people treat the
blacks--just in the same way that I, and so many others, feel about
the treatment of animals--and he kept saying, "Oh, wait a bit, till
you have lived with negroes a little; you philanthropic people always
have to give in." Well, about six weeks after I got Chico, I heard a
tremendous noise, and shrieks of agony proceeding from the kitchen, and
rushing in the direction I found Chico roasting my favourite cat at the
fire. I made one spring at his wool, and brought him to the ground.
Richard, who had also rushed out at the noise, saw me, and clapped his
hands, saying, "Brava! brava! I knew it would happen, but I did not
think it would be quite so soon." I could only blubber out, "Oh, Jemmy,
the little beast has roasted my cat." He then punished him himself, and
Chico was a good boy evermore. In begging for forgiveness, he told us
that their fathers and mothers always instructed them, that when Christ
was thirsty, if He asked a little dog for water, the dog would go and
fetch it for Him, but if He asked a cat for water, that it gave Him
something in a cup, which I cannot mention in polite society; and that
all the little negroes were taught to be cruel to cats, and that he
_had_ done atrocious things to cats, but he would never do so any more.
A very amusing thing was that this little monkey used to imitate his
master in everything. If Richard bought a suit of clothes, he used
immediately to take it to the tailor and get it exactly copied in
small, and his evening suit especially. To go to a ball he was the
_exact_ copy of his master--white shirt, white tie, little dress suit,
little _gibus_, and all. We used to make him come and show himself
to us when he was dressed, to amuse us. Then, unlike his master, he
started a toilette-table with mirror, perfumes, and scents, and his
pillow was all edged with deep lace. Each of the best families had one
of these intelligent negroes; they used to give supper-parties, and
then stand up and make speeches, just like us. Mr. Aubertin's used to
talk about the railway shares, and the value of cotton, and the coffee
produce; another, belonging to a reverend gentleman, used to stand up
and speak of the "benighted state of the souls of the black man and
the brother;" but our Chico used to declaim on "the Negro's place in
Nature," as he had heard Richard do in his lectures, and talk of the
progress that they had made from the original ape (Darwinism), and how
they might eventually hope to rise into a white man.
Portuguese studies got on very well, and the more I knew of it, the
more I enjoyed myself; but it made me quite forget the Spanish I
had learnt during my stay at Teneriffe, and whilst Richard occupied
Fernando Po. Richard had always known Portuguese from his Goanese
_Padre_ in India. You cannot speak Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian at
the same time; they are so alike, and yet so different. Portuguese
is the most Latin, and the most difficult of the lot, and has much
more literature to reward you with than Spanish; but Spanish is the
grandest and the most beautiful, albeit with less literature. Still
it once happened to me to be in company with a priest, an Italian,
and a Spaniard, and we agreed to talk for an hour in each of the four
languages. The priest took Latin, the Italian and the Spaniard each
their own, and I Portuguese, and we could understand and answer each
other, but we could not speak the other three languages. Italians come
out to Brazil and can only speak Italian, not a word of Portuguese;
they then come to a crisis, when they can speak neither; they then
convalesce in Portuguese, speak it perfectly and remain with it--they
forget their Italian. I speak of colonists.
We had two very charming picnic-places. One was the Tropic of
Capricorn, just five miles from São Paulo; your insurances suffer
all the difference, whether you are on this side or that. A boy who
was about to pass his examination for the army, who supported a poor
widow mother, and consequently was extremely anxious about passing,
and with no interest, was destined to be plucked; so the arrogant and
ignorant examiner asked the timid, humble boy, "How far is it from the
city of São Paulo to the tropical line of Capricorn." The boy, radiant
answered, "Between four and five miles, sir." "Go down, sir, you are
plucked; it is twenty miles." It was the last question. The boy grew
red and white, and turned despairingly to go; suddenly he remembered
his mother, turned round, and said nervously, "Please, sir, of course
you ought to know better than me, but I lived there five years, sir,
and I had to walk it twice a week, to go home from school to mother's
house on the Line, from Saturday to Monday." Chorus of laughter at the
examiner, and the poor boy passed. (I have already quoted this in my
"A.E.I.") Another charming place to picnic, in the mountains, was Nossa
Senhora do O.
We occasionally had big dinners, when all the English of Santos and
São Paulo assembled to do honour to some railway swell going home. We
had for a time some fortnightly balls, at a good-sized hall at the
corner of the Plaza, called the Concordia, and we had one curious case
of sporadic yellow fever from there. Mrs. Ralston, the young wife of
a very nice man (indeed a charming couple), came out of the ball-room
with me at five o'clock one morning. I had only to run across fifty
yards to my house; they had about twenty minutes to walk home, and
she was well wrapped up with shawls. She suddenly drooped her head
on her husband's shoulder, saying she felt very queer, and he had to
support her home. Almost directly he had laid her on her own bed, she
turned round and said, "Oh, is this death?" and died. Next morning, my
maid ran in and without any preface said, "Mrs. Ralston's dead." "Oh,
nonsense," I said; "I saw her seven hours ago;" and, thinking perhaps
it was possible she might be ill, and require some woman-neighbour,
I hastily threw on my things, and ran down to her house. The street
door opened on to the principal sitting-room, and was unlocked, and to
my horror the house was deserted and still, and something was lying
covered up on the sofa. I drew back the sheet, and there was my young
friend, dead. I knelt down and said a few prayers, and then, feeling
rather faint, I stooped to kiss her forehead before covering her up
again. The husband and child and servants had all been removed to
another house; as I stooped to kiss her a dreadful effluvia knocked
me back again, and I perceived that she was covered with large black
spots. I fled and ran home again, and told Richard. He looked very
grave, and rang the bell, and ordered the horses to the door. He
fetched me a large glass of brandy, and made me drink it, with some
bread. He said, "It does not matter; I have got to have a long ride
to-day on business, and you have got to go with me." We rode about ten
miles at a great pace, till I was in a good perspiration. When I got
back he gave me a teaspoonful of Warburg drops. He kept me employed all
day, and at night he took me to the little theatre, and then he told me
that he had done that to save my life, without which I probably should
have caught it, if I had not perspired, and partly from sympathy.
One thing I always regret in writing, is that I could recite so many
amusing and interesting things that would immensely please a very large
portion of English people; but England is so very queer, and I am
become convinced it is not the same England that I used to know, that
I do not like to venture them. They are not in the least risky, only
amusing and adventurous, but being very honest and straightforward,
would be sure to tread upon somebody's corns; blame or sneers would be
sure to crop up from some quarter or another, and make me regret it.
Richard was very fond of quoting the following lines to me over our
writing:--
"They eat and drink and scheme and plod;
They go to church on Sunday,
And many are afraid of God,
And more of Mrs. Grundy."
We had one very curious character at São Paulo. It was the Marchesa de
Santos. She was a beauty and a favourite in the time of the present
Emperor's father, and led a very brilliant and stormy life. She got
finally banished by his Empress (they say) to Santos, with a pension
for life, and she lived in a small house a few doors from me. I
used to see a great deal of her. She was quite _grande dame_, most
sympathetic, most entertaining, full of stories of Rio and the Court,
and the Imperial people, and the doings of that time. She had been
obliged to adopt up-country habits, and the last time I saw her, she
received me _en intime_ in her own kitchen, where she sat on the floor,
smoking, not a cigarette, but a pipe. She had beautiful black eyes,
full of sympathy, and intelligence, and knowledge. She was a great bit
of interest to me in that out-of-the-way place.
The Seminary was the most palatial building in that part, and was just
beyond the town. It was inhabited by Capuchins, French and Italians
from Savoy and Piédmont. One of the monks was a tall, magnificent, and
very powerful man, an ex-cavalry officer, Count Somebody, whose name I
forget, then Fray G----.
Before he arrived, there was a bully in the town, rather of a
free-thinking class, so he used to go and swagger up and down before
the Seminary and call out, "Come out, you miserable petticoated monks!
come out and have a free fight! For God or the devil!" When Fray G----
arrived, he heard of this, and it so happened he had had an English
friend, when he was with his regiment, who had taught him the use of
his fists. He found that his brother monks were dreadfully distressed
at this unseemly challenge, so he said, "The next time he comes, don't
open the gate, but let the porter call me." So the next time the bully
appeared, it was so arranged that the gate was opened by Fray G----
(the usual crowd had collected in the road to see the fun), who looked
at him laughingly and said, "Surely, brother, we will fight you for God
or the devil, if you please. Let us get well into the open, and the
public will see fair play." So saying, the friar tucked up his sleeves
and gown, and told his adversary to "come on," which he did, and he was
immediately knocked into a cocked hat. "Come, get up," said the friar.
"No lying there and whimpering; the devil won't win that way." The man
stood three rounds, at the end of which he whimpered and holloaed for
mercy, and amidst the jeers and bravos of a large crowd, the "village
cock" retired, a mass of jelly and pulp, to his own dunghill, and was
never seen more within half a mile of the Seminary. Richard rejoiced
in it, and used to say, "What is that bull-priest doing in that
_galère_?" Richard used to stay a great deal with them, for they were
the best-educated men in the province, and knew everything. He said he
could always learn something from them.
During the time of the Paraguayan War provisions were very scarce.
If muleteers came down to the town, they and their mules were seized
for the war. They tried sending their women down with the mules, but
then the mules and provisions were seized; the consequence was that
the towns were more or less in a state of famine. Chico and I used to
sally forth, with paniers and ropes to our saddles, and forage about,
and I found that by riding about ten miles out, I came to large flocks
of geese and other poultry, and I also ascertained that as the geese
were supposed to feed upon snakes, nobody ate them; they were chiefly
kept for ornament, and so were cheap. So the first day I came back with
both our horses laden with geese, and as I passed through the town the
squawking was immense; and most of the Grundy, respectable English
tried to avoid me, which made me take an especial pleasure in riding
up to them and inquiring after their wives and families, and entering
into a conversation, which I, perhaps, should not have otherwise done.
When I got up to our house, Richard, hearing the noise, came out on to
the balcony, and seeing what was the matter, he threw back his head
and laughed, and shook his fist, and he said, "Oh, you delightful
blackguard, how like you!" I turned the geese into our poultry-yard and
fed them well, and from that, I issued forth to all the country round
about, twice a week, and brought in various stocks of other provisions.
Mr. Aubertin, who was the Head of the railway, and whose _chacara_
was about a quarter of an hour from us, had opportunities of getting
up drinks and having a very tidy cellar, so I used to send down a
neighbourly note--"Dear Mr. Aubertin, bring up the drink--I have got
the food; dinner seven o'clock." Thus we contrived between us, to feed
very well during the whole of the war, while provisions were scarce.
Once we managed to give a ball; it was very amusing, and it was kept
up till sunrise. We had a delightful American there, who was very
witty, and used to keep us all alive, though in after years, for some
unknown reason, he blew his brains out. I still recall some of his _bon
mots_. I once asked him whether he did not think that a gentleman of
our acquaintance was very conceited this morning. "Conceited, ma'am?"
he said. "Why, God Almighty's waistcoat would not fit him." On another
occasion, there was a rather pronounced flirtation going on, and I
asked him if he did not think it would be a case. "A case, ma'am? Why,
she nestles up to him like a chicken to a hot brick." He was constantly
saying these things that one never forgot.
I think I may say in our own favour, that in this, as well as in all
our subsequent Consulates, we never allowed any scandal to be told to
us, or uncharitable talk, and we always forbid discussions on religion
and politics, which served us in good stead in all our career. Indeed,
in this particular place, there _was_ a little bit of scandal, and we
had seventeen calls on one Monday morning, but every one went away
without daring to deliver themselves of their intended tale. "What is
the meaning of this?" said Richard to me. I said, "It means that there
is some scandal afloat, and nobody dares tell it to us." But a few days
afterwards we saw it in the papers. One day a gentleman called upon
us, and a few minutes later a lady came, of whom he was rather fond.
After a while the lady got up and went down the street, and about five
minutes after the jealous husband arrived on the scene, and saw the
gentleman sitting there--his supposed rival. Without saying "How do you
do?" he turned on me and said, "Have you seen my wife?" "Yes," I said;
"I saw her go down the street a few minutes ago." The lover had turned
very pale. Richard looked hard at me over the top of his newspaper,
and the man had hardly got down the stairs in pursuit of his wife,
when my Irish maid poked her face through the door and said. "Well,
after that, ye'd swear a hole through a tin p-hot." Now, what on earth
would have been the use of making a row and a scandal, and setting on
the husband to ill-treat his wife? He did not say, "Has my wife been
here?"--he said, "Have you seen her?" Rousseau says, "Mensonge plein
d'honnêteté, de fidelité, de generosité, tandis que la verité n'eut été
qu'une perfidie;" and without some feeling of this kind--not a lie,
but a harmless throwing one's self into the breach to save another's
reputation, not one's own, nor from base fear--the milk of human
kindness would turn into cream of tartar.
I do not think that a list of the aboriginal tribes of Brazil at the
time of its discovery (one hundred discovered by Cabral in 1500) would
amuse my readers, or fit in with my subject, but they were mostly
destroyed or driven inwards in three hundred and sixty-seven years.
There is an intervening race called the Caboclas; they are the progeny
of the Indians and Portuguese settlers. They are a very handsome race,
much addicted to superstition and fortune-telling, and the only thing
I can remember was learning from them to tell fortunes by the cards,
which I afterwards perfected amongst the Mogháribehs in Syria; but it
is a practice which, though it interested my husband enormously, and I
constantly told them for him, I have long since given up as wicked. For
those who tell them ill, it is foolery; for those who tell them well,
it is better let alone.
I am not going to give a description of Brazil, because by so doing I
should take away from the subject of the book, which is solely Richard
Burton, and if I mention incidents, or myself, it is only because I
or they are woven up with his life, and cannot well be separated from
it, each one showing how he behaved, or what he did or thought on any
particular occasion.
The 14th of February was the opening day of the railway, as far as
Jundiahy, and this time we were invited and had a very gay time.
Here, in São Paulo, Richard worked hard at Camoens, and we both worked
together at our translations--"Iraçema, or Honey-lips," and "Manuel
de Moraes, the Convert," and the "Uruguay," all from great Brazilian
authors; but we found, although we printed the two first, that they
were not well received in England, because they were translations, and
I could write a page or two upon the amount of literature and education
we lose by boycotting that of other countries.
In spring of 1867 there was fighting in the streets for a couple of
nights, about the election time.
The staple food of the people of the country, which takes the place
of what the potato would be to the Irish, is a savoury mess of small
brown beans, called _fejão;_ a very coarse flour, called _farinha_,
which looks like a dish of shaved horse-radish, is usually sprinkled
over the beans, and then it is called a _fejoada_. It is delicious,
and I should have been quite content to, and often did, dine on it.
Another favourite dish is a scone of _milho_, the full-grown Indian
corn, made hot and buttered. The only way to eat it, is to take it up
in your two hands and gnaw it up and down like a bone, which is rather
disagreeable, because it covers you with butter. A pepper-pot is also
a usual thing, and is kept up _à perpétuité;_ it comes on the table in
its native earthenware pot, and everybody takes a little bit at the end
to digest dinner, in lieu of cheese. Of course Europeans have their own
dishes besides.
The greatest difficulty that I found was, that I was obliged to have
five relays of every meal. First of all, Richard and I sat down, and
our guests, if we had any; after we left the table, succeeded my Irish
maid, who had become Donna Maria, and an Irish brother that she had
imported, who was very like the "Mulligan" in "Perkinses' ball," and
for whom I was fortunate enough to get a good berth on the railway at
£200 a year, through the kindness of Mr. Daniel Fox and Mr. Aubertin,
and he rose to £600 in course of time, traded, but unfortunately died
after some years. After these the food was removed to some other room,
where the German servants dined, because they would not sit down with
the blacks. When they had finished the emancipated slaves sat down,
who would not sit down with the slaves; these being too near their own
kind, they obliged them to stand or to sit on the floor in the corners,
where they gave them the leavings. But do not let anybody imagine that
the slaves suffered, because when they had been about three months with
me, from having had a little rice at their old masters', they would
sometimes clamour for ducks and chickens, not being content with the
good meat and bread and everything else that they got in plenty.
[Sidenote: _Life at Rio._]
At Rio we met with a very funny and interesting man--a certain Dr.
Gunning, with a kind good wife. They lived in a pretty cottage
somewhere along the rail up in the forests, and we went to spend a
day or two with them. He was a tall gaunt Scotchman, with a good deal
of character, and some very curious ideas. He used to do what some
people did with horses in Trieste. He used to buy up diseased and
useless negroes, treat them well, feed them up, cure them, and then
make them work for him; so he got their labour in return for his outlay
and his kindness and trouble, and he left in his desk their papers of
manumission. Unfortunately, one day in a soft moment he told them so,
so the next night they shot him; but as his skull was a good hard one
it only gave him a wound, and after that he went on some different tack
with them.
He had a curious way of treating snake-bites, of which many thousands
die during the year. He told us this himself. He said, "When I am
called to attend a negro for a snake-bite, I cauterize the wound, and
tie a ligature, and then I give him an awful thrashing, and," he said,
"that counteracts the torpor or sleep, produces perspiration, and
stimulates the action of the heart; and then I give him spirits or milk
in large quantities." However, we all liked him very much. One of the
nicest things at Rio was the bathing in the sea. We used to go out of a
little gate at the bottom of the garden, and walk along the beach till
we came to some circular rocks which acted as bathing-machines, where
we could undress, get into the sea and bathe, and come back. In my time
there were no bathing-machines in Brazil, only sometimes it was very
rough and very deep, and one had to be on the look-out. One day I put
my maid to sit upon my clothes, and thought I would swim out to a log
of wood, lying apparently about a hundred yards off, when to my horror
I saw it move. I swam back for my life, where I found my maid in deadly
terror; and, looking, we saw it was a shark, and a good big one too.
One thing that made staying at Rio so very pleasant was the great
kindness of the Emperor and Empress to us. The Emperor delighted in
scientific men, and the Empress liked good Catholics, so that we were
frequently sent for--Richard alone to the Emperor, and I alone to the
Empress, or both together. Richard gave two lectures at which all the
Imperial family attended. The Imperial family consisted of the Emperor
and Empress, the Imperial Princess Isabel, heir to the throne, her
husband the Count d'Eu, and the Duke and Duchess de Saxe. These last,
however, were less known, less cordial, and less popular in Rio. I
can remember on one occasion, when we were sent for to an audience,
at which were present the Emperor and Empress, the Princess Isabel
and her husband, her Majesty's little dog came in and sat on the rug
in the centre of the circle, and sat up begging. They all burst out
laughing very heartily. The Emperor was a tall, handsome, fair man,
with blue eyes, and brimful of kindness and learning. The Empress was
not handsome, but she was the kindest and best of Empresses--very
devout, dressed very plainly, but was most imperial in her manners
and carriage. The Princess also had the manner of her rank, and was
soft and sweet. The Princess Isabel used to give balls every Monday
fortnight during the season, to which all persons entitled to go to
Court were invited. One night, at one of Princess Isabel's balls, the
Emperor walked up to Richard and said, "How is it, Captain Burton,
that you are not dancing?" "I never dance, your Majesty--that is, not
often; but the last time I did so, it was with the King of Dahomè, to
the music of cutting off heads--in pantomime, of course." The Emperor
laughed, and he said, "The best of it was, Sir, that the authorities
at home were in an awful rage with me, as her Majesty's Commissioner,
for dancing with him; but I should like to have seen _them_ refuse his
dusky Majesty, when, at a single moment of impatience or irritability,
he had only got to give a sign, to have fifty spears run into one, or
to be instantly impaled."
It was very pretty to see the Princess and her husband go down to the
door, the street door, and receive and kiss the hands of the Emperor
and Empress. They circulated freely amongst us, and talked to us. The
Empress would draw her chair over to me or to any other lady that she
had a fancy to talk to, and sit down and chat as affably as any other
great lady without ever abating one little bit of her Imperial dignity.
I remember one night Richard and I were giving a large dinner to nearly
all the Diplomatic corps at the hotel, after the reception at the
palace. At the latter there was a room for the Ministers to wait in,
and a room for the Consuls. We were, of course, put into the Consular
room. Presently a messenger came and took us into the Ministers' room.
This rather offended official etiquette, and _they_ said, "Oh, you
must not come here; you must go into the Consuls' room." "But," we
said, "we have just been fetched out of the Consuls' room and put in
here, so we do not know what to do." There was an immense long wait,
and several times a messenger came to let in somebody else, and we all
stood up in our places, expecting the Emperor. After a long time, when
everybody was getting very impatient, a messenger arrived, and said,
"This way." They all flocked to the door, and we hung back, thinking we
must not have audience with the Ministers. Then the messenger said,
"No, no! not for you, gentlemen, but Captain and Mrs. Burton." The poor
humble people were exalted; their Majesties had sent for us to their
private drawing-rooms, and gave us a long sitting-down audience. As we
were driving home, Richard said, "I am afraid all the other fellows
will be awfully angry;" and the fact of the matter is, that though we
waited dinner for a long time, there were a great many empty chairs
that night, which disappointed us sorely; but they were all right next
morning.
[Sidenote: _The Barra for contrast._]
Whenever we were sickly we used to go down to the Barra, near Santos,
which I described before as our fashionable watering-place, where
somebody generally lent us a hut. We used to sit in the water and
let it roll over us, and walk about without our shoes and stockings
(there was not a soul to see us). We took to making collections of
butterflies, reptiles, snakes, and ferns, of which there are some four
thousand specimens; the orchids we used to send home. I can recollect
on some occasions, being down there alone, and being asked to dinner
about a mile and a half along the sands from my hut, I used to put
my dress and my shoes and stockings up in a parcel, and mounting
barefooted, with waterproof on, ride the small pony lent to me;
sometimes I used to have to get down and lead him through the streams
that were rushing to the sea, to which he had a dislike; so we used to
wade through, and then I would get up and ride him on to the next one,
and when we reached the hospitable door I was conducted into a room to
put on my shoes and stockings and my dinner dress. However, we were not
_décolleté_, nor did we wear flowers or diamonds on that lonely coast.
Whenever we went down to Rio, it always meant a great deal of gaiety
with the Diplomats and the Squadron, and receptions at the palace. It
was especially gay in Sir Edward and Lady Thornton's reign, and I think
we all look back to that time as a happy and a very pleasant and lively
one.
One of the great charms of Rio, was our little club, numbering about
twenty-five intimates, all belonging either to the Diplomatic corps or
the Navy. We used to give each other some very nice dinner-parties,
and ours was by necessity at the hotel; we mostly dined together at
one house or the other every night. Then, besides the frequent palace
entertainments, was the Alcazar, where there was a charming French
troupe, of which the star was Mdlle. Aimée, and we used to have all
Offenbach's music and operas.
One time we went up to Robeio and to Ubá, the end of the railway,
and I was given a treat to go on the engine and drive it, with the
engine-driver by me.
[Sidenote: _To the Mines in Minas Gerães._]
On the 12th of June we started on a delightful Expedition. We sailed
in a steam launch across the Bay of Rio, which is like a beautiful
broad lake studded with islands and boulder rocks and bordered by
mountains. Two hours brings you to a rickety wharf, where a little
railway, running for eleven miles through a mangrove flat, lands you
at the foot of the mountains. Here a carriage waits for you, drawn by
four mules, and you commence a zigzag ascent for two hours up these
most regal mountains, and arrive at a table-land some distance from the
summit, where the small white settlement called Petropolis lies. It
is a German town with Swiss valleys, pretty views, rides, and drives.
The Cascadinha leads down a winding path, or a steep wooded mountain,
and as you reach its depths, facing you from opposite, comes the body
of water frothing and bounding over the boulders. From the top of the
Serra there is a lovely panorama of Rio and its bay, seen as from
an inverted arch of mountains. The little settlement of Petropolis
possesses a theatre, a Catholic church, the Emperor's palace, and two
small hotels; the Court of Ministers and the Diplomats have snuggeries
here, and form a pleasant society. The climate is fine and cold when it
does not rain, and the scattered houses are like Italian _cascine_.
Here we took coach, which is very much after the fashion of the old
diligence, and we drove to Juizdafora. These coaches are drawn by
perfectly wild mules; they stand straight on their hind legs. While
the passengers are getting in, the coachman is already mounted with
reins and whip, and two or three men hang on to each mule. When all is
ready the driver shouts "Larga!" The men fall back and the mules rush
on at full gallop, swaying the coach from side to side. After three
months, when the mules are trained and tamed down, they are pronounced
no longer fit for their work, and are sold for carriage-driving.[2]
My pleasant recollection of Juizdafora is of lying all day on the
grass under the orange trees, and picking about nine different species
overhead, just within reach of my arms. I have never tasted oranges
equal, before or since. We then started for Barbaçena, which terminated
the coach journey. After this there was no means of getting along
except on horseback. We had to discard our boxes and leave them under
the care of a trustworthy person, and to make up a pack that we could
carry behind us on our saddles, such as a change of linen, tooth-brush,
a cake of soap, and a comb. We then mounted and rode twenty miles to
Barrozo, a small village with a ranch. We rose at three next morning,
and rode twenty-four miles further, and so on, and so on, till we
reached San João d'El Rey, where we saw the Mines. We then went on to
S. José. Our next place was Cerandahy to Lagos Dourado; here we met a
party of English engineers.
On the 24th--a great feast, St. John Baptist--they were laying the
foundation for a new railway, and we enjoyed the fun very much. We
then, after breakfasting by a brook with the engineers, rode on to an
awful place called Camapuão. Here we found the stables better than
the house, and we slept by the side of the mules and horses. At one
of these shelters that we asked to sleep at, the accommodation was
fearful, but the reception was kind and cordial. There was not much
to eat. In the middle of the night I woke, and could hear loud hoarse
whisperings through the thin partition wall; it sounded like the man
and his wife disputing. At length I heard the man say distinctly,
"Don't bother me any more; it will be quite easy to kill them both,
and I mean to do it." My hair stood on an end, as the saying is, and I
softly got up and walked on tiptoe over to Richard, touched him, and
said in a whisper, "Hush! don't speak; I have something to tell you." I
told him exactly what I had heard. He said, "You will make less noise
than I; go softly to that table and take our weapons, hand me mine,
and creep into bed with yours. We will sit and watch the door. If it
opens, I'll let fly at the door; and if a second comes in, then _you_
fire." However, nothing came, though we lay awake till daylight, with
our pistols cocked. Next morning they brought us for our breakfast
a couple of nice roast chickens, and he said, "My wife and I had a
regular quarrel in the night; we had only these two hens, and _she_ did
not want to kill them, but we had nothing else, and I was determined
that you should have them both." So we said to him, "You shall not lose
anything by it." Nor did they, for we paid four times the value; but we
were glad when he went out of the room, that we might laugh.
Next day we rode on to Sassuhy, to Congonhas do Campo, about twenty-two
miles. We saw the church of Congonhas and the seven stations of the
Cross. We left at midday, and riding through a difficult country,
arrived at Teixeiros. Next day was a very hard day. We started at
half-past three in the morning; at half-past ten we breakfasted under
a tree by the river. We crossed different rivers about twelve times,
wading our horses through. We passed through virgin forests, and up
and down scarped rocky mountains till dark, and arrived at Corche
d'Agua, a miserable place, where there were no beds or food. We started
again before dawn, rode about twelve miles in the dark, passed two
villages, and about nine a.m. arrived at Morro Velho, our destination,
where we were most kindly received by Mr. and Mrs. Gordon and family
(Superintendent of all the Mines), and soon had bath and breakfast,
and our animals quartered in good stables under the care of the host's
English groom.
Here we stayed with our kind host for five and a half weeks, making
excursions, and seeing most interesting things concerning the Mines.
The Establishment consisted of the Superintendent and his family, Mr.
and Mrs. Gordon, two sons, and two daughters, and twenty-five officers
(English); under them, about three thousand negroes (slaves), who work
the mines. On Sunday we went to their church, saw their hospital and
the stables, which contained some sixty horses, and we saw an Indian
dance.
Here there was much of interest--the muster of the slaves, and pay-day
on Saturday. We saw baptisms, and marriages, and burials. We went to
see the quicksilver washed in the amalgamation house, and Mr. William
Crookes's amalgamation; but this last did not succeed.