Читать книгу Brazil, the River Plate, and the Falkland Islands - Hadfield William - Страница 4

Table of Contents

The Argentina on her maiden voyage.—Capacity and capability of the river boat at sea.—From the Mersey to the Tagus in four days.—Lisbon and its Laureats, Vathek and Childe Harold.—Lord Carnarvon on Mafra and its marble halls.—Monasticism and Monarchy.—Aspect and Attributes of the Lusitanian Capital and its Vicinage.—Portuguese Millers and the Grinding process among the Grain Growers.—A ‘bold peasantry, their country’s pride,’ the same everywhere.—Native memorabilia of the earthquake, and Anglo reminiscence thereof.—Anatomical offerings extraordinary.—The hic jacet of Tom Jones, and eke of Roderick Random.—Memento Mori, with admonitions to the Living.—Portuguese peculiarities.—Personal and political economy.—Fiscal fatuities.—Market-place notabilia.—Lisbon society.—Clubs and Cookery.—Tea and Turn-out.—Friars, Females, Fashions, and so forth, Operatic and Terpsichoratic.—Lusitanian fidalgos, or Portuguese Peers in Parliament.—Portugal the Paradise of Protectionists and Poverty.—Free-trade the only corrective of such calamities.—Court Circulars, Conventions, and Commanders.—Few books about Portugal, and necessity for more.—Hints from the newest, including the Oliveira Prize Essay.—A man’s house something like a castle in Lisbon, at the cost of a cottage ornée.—Diplomatic and Consular Memoranda.

ARGENTINA—OUTWARD BOUND.

On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone,

And winds are rude in Biscay’s sleepless bay.

Three days are sped, but with the fourth, anon,

New shores descried make every bosom gay;

And Cintra’s mountain greets them on their way,

And Tagus, dashing onward to the deep,

His fabled golden tribute bent to pay;

And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap,

And steer ’twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap.

Childe Harold.

Innumerable as are the craft of every calibre and formation,—sail, steam, and screw,[20]—by which this favourite and familiar route is traversed, seldom had the voyager seen in its course a vessel of dimensions similar to those of the Argentina, paddle-wheel, in which I had embarked, constructed at Birkenhead by Mr. John Laird, to run between Monte Video and Buenos Ayres. She is, (or rather was, for alack, she is now a thing of the past,) 185 feet long by 21 feet beam, and with very fine, hollow lines; her engines of 120-horse power, by Fawcett, Preston, and Co. Intended for river work, and of a light draught of water, it was hardly to be expected that in ocean steaming, when compelled to carry coals, provisions, and all the bulky and ponderous requirements of a long voyage, the same results could be obtained as in the comparatively tranquil waters of inland navigation; but under all the disadvantages of being so laden, and having to make way against a strong head-wind and heavy sea, our average speed to Cape Finisterre was nearly 12 knots. Subsequently, we had a more favourable wind, and canvas assisted us a little, until we made the Berlings, (bold islets standing out some half-dozen miles from the land, with a light-house upon them,) getting to our moorings in the Tagus, before dark, on the evening of the fourth day after quitting the Mersey.

It is impossible to conceive an easier navigation than that to Lisbon; when once across the Bay of Biscay and round Cape Finisterre, you make direct for the Berlings, and other high rocks more to seaward, called the ‘Estellas’ and ‘Farilhoes de Velha.’ There is plenty of spare room for any vessel to pass inside the Berlings, thus saving some distance; and from Cape Corvoeiro the coast tends inwards to the mouth of the Tagus,[21] presenting a succession of scenery, so novel and attractive, as at once to satisfy the spectator that the poetry of Byron and the poetic prose of Beckford,[22] have failed to exaggerate its beauties. Conspicuous among the latter, though it is the handiwork of man availing himself of nature in her picturesquest mood, stands out the height-crowning, marble-built Mafra, termed the Escurial of Portugal, from its immensity, magnificence, and the diversity of its contents, consisting of a palace, a convent, and most superb church, whose six organs were pronounced by Byron to be the most beautiful he ever beheld in point of decoration, and was told that their tones corresponded to their splendour. The town of Mafra itself is a small place, 18 miles N.W. of Lisbon, containing about 3,000 inhabitants, and owes what importance it possesses to the celebrated regal and ecclesiastical edifice, constructed in its vicinity by John V., in pursuance of a vow that he would select the poorest locality in the kingdom; and, finding twelve Franciscan friars living in one hut here, he gave the preference to Mafra—a partiality which its position, if not its preëminent poverty, abundantly justifies.[23]

BELEM CASTLE, LISBON.

A cluster of shoals, called the bar, forms a semicircle at the mouth of the Tagus, but is seldom an obstacle to vessels entering, for there is generally abundance of water on it to float even the largest vessels, the least depth in the north channel, at low water, being 4 fathoms, and in the south, 6. The only time that any difficulty is encountered, is when the freshes, after heavy rains up the country, add their strength to that of the ebbing tide, which then runs out at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour, and encounters a gale from seaward, for this causes the water to break right across, and vessels must await the turn of the tide to get in; but in other respects the approach appears very easy, scarcely any captain who has been there before requiring the services of a pilot. After the intricacies and dangers of our own (the St. George’s) Channel navigation, with the miles of sandbank that have to be threaded in approaching Liverpool, such an entrance as that to Lisbon calls but for small skill indeed in seamanship; and almost the veriest tyro in boxing the compass might enact the part of Palinurus.

Passing up the Tagus there are numerous forts, palaces, and other imposing buildings, or at least what appeared to be such in the dim twilight that prevailed during our advance towards the Lusitanian capital. The most commanding object (whereof presently) among these is Belem Castle, near which we were visited by the health officers, and allowed to proceed to our moorings off Lisbon, or rather to those of the Royal Mail Company, which had been kindly lent until such time as our own are laid down. The rule at the Custom-house, in respect to vessels, is for the masters to enter them and declare whether their cargoes are destined to be landed in Lisbon or not; if this be doubtful, which was not our case, they ask to be put in franquia, that is, for leave to remain eight days in port until the point is decided. On obtaining this they proceed a little way up the river for the appointed period. From Belem to that part of the river which is opposite to the centre of the city, a distance of about four miles, the Tagus is some one and a half wide, and displays on its northern bank, mingled with the dark foliage of the orange and other trees, successive clusters of dwellings and churches, including the palaces of the Ajúda and of Necessidades, in which latter the court is generally held, and from it mostly are dated the royal decrees.

With but few exceptions, these buildings are white, which gives the city, at first sight, a much cleaner appearance than is presented on a nearer view. On the south side, which is hilly, but few buildings, unless we include a small fishing village near the mouth of the river, are visible, until the small town of Almada, opposite to the city, is reached, containing 4,000 inhabitants, and in whose vicinity is the gold mine of Adissa, which has been worked now for some years. A peculiar characteristic of the neighbourhood of Lisbon are the little mills with sails, gyrating away on every eminence, sometimes half a dozen within a few yards of each other, and they whisk round so merrily, as to be quite a pleasant feature in the landscape. It might be the land, par excellence, of Jolly Millers; for the floury sons of the Tagus seem to belong to the same race as their jovial brothers of the Dee, whose philosophic indifference to the opinion of the world has been made alike musical and memorable by Mr. Braham. That the Portuguese should be sprightly, however, is extremely surprising, seeing that they are ground into dust, almost as literally as their own grain, or at least, the growers thereof; for one who knows them well, writing during a visit as late as last year, (1853), says:—

They are a people much resembling in heartiness and good will our own Irish brethren: they are also most apt to learn, and, like the much calumniated sons of Erin, can work, and will work when they are properly encouraged and remunerated. They toil under a burning sun, half-naked and bare-headed, or in the winter under drenching rains and piercing cold, with naught else to protect them from the weather than a straw thatch, or cloak; and without other aliment at times than a lump of Indian-maize bread, and a mess of humble pottage, or, at others, the same bread, and a raw onion, with water from the brook as their only drink. Couve gallego (cow cabbage,) from their own little garden, a spoonful of oil from their own olive-tree, a handful of salt gathered from the rocks on the sea-shore, with crumbled Indian-corn bread, baked in their own oven, (which, as is still the case in Canada, is built outside every tenement,) form a stir-about, on which the labourer contentedly makes his principal or even-tide meal, after the toils of the day are over. Occasionally, he may indulge in a morsel of bacalhao (salt cod-fish), or a rancid sardine: but where the family is numerous, from year’s end to year’s end, they know not the taste of animal food.

There are but few wharves alongside of which vessels can take in and discharge their cargoes, so they lie at anchor in the stream, and those operations are performed by means of lighters. There are, nevertheless, some handsome quays, with convenient landing-places, of which those at the fish-market and the Caes Sodré are the most frequented; at the former, the scene being highly animated, particularly in the season for sardinhas, or sardines, which constitute a considerable proportion of the food of the lower orders. The handsomest quay is that which forms one side of Blackhorse Square (Terreiro do Paço), so called from the statue of Joseph the First on horseback in the centre; the other sides consisting of public buildings, viz.: the Public Library, the Offices of the Ministers of State, the Custom-house, and, at the eastern extremity, the Exchange, being chiefly of marble, as, indeed, nearly all the principal edifices are. It makes a splendid promenade, where crowds of well-dressed persons may be seen, on the sultry summer evenings, walking, or seated on the stone benches, enjoying the cool air from the river, until a late hour. From this square, five parallel and level streets, in which are the best shops, lead to the Roçio—a large, open space surrounded by buildings, and appropriated to reviews, processions, &c., and where, on its northern side, at one time existed the odious Prison of the Inquisition, adjoining the Palace of the same name, now no longer occupied, though sometimes visited on festive occasions by royalty. Just beyond are the public gardens, well laid out, and stocked with flowers and shrubs, that bespeak the luxuriance and brilliancy of the Lusitanian arboretum.

PRACA DO COMMERCIO, LISBON.

All this portion of the city is more regularly built than the remainder, and is situated just over the very spot that felt the effects of the terrible earthquake, traces of which are now and then met with, in the shape of patches of old pavement, in digging for the foundations of houses, &c.; though there are no traces of the successful storming of the city by the French, under Junot, in 1807, nor of its equally successful resistance of a similar attempt a couple of years afterwards. In the vicinity of the Hospital of St. José are the ruins of a church, in which, embedded in the earth, were to be seen, some years since, if not now, skeletons, in various attitudes, of persons who formed the congregation at the time the catastrophe took place, which was, as the reader will recollect, when the greater number of the citizens were assembled at mass in the churches on All-Saints’ Day, November 1st, in the ever-memorable year 1755—a circumstance that will probably account for the enormous number of 30,000 lives being lost; for, although 6,000 private dwellings were destroyed, the fatality could hardly have been so great but for the multitudes being assembled in the mode mentioned. The celebration of the festival, too, was otherwise the occasion of prodigious mischief; for, owing to the immense number of tapers in the churches, the curtains, drapery, and other combustible materials, caught fire, and a devastating conflagration swept the doomed city from end to end, carrying off what the convulsion had not already prostrated in ruin. Indirectly, however, the commemoration of the festival was productive of some good—at least to our countrymen in Lisbon; for, in order to avoid exciting religious prejudice during a fête so solemn in the Papal calendar, they had nearly all retired to their country houses, and but ten who remained in the city were killed, a fact which renders, if possible, more magnanimous the grant by the British parliament of £100,000 to the relief of the suffering Portuguese, immediately the dismal tidings arrived; news of like events, but not on such a scale, continuing to be received for a long time after, from various portions of the New World. As in the case of our own dear delightful ante-diluvian Chester, the older quarters of Lisbon city generally interest a stranger most, from their very irregularity; the streets being narrow, steep, and destitute of trottoirs, and the houses very lofty, ranging in height from five to as many as eleven stories, in each of which dwells a separate family, all using one staircase in common. Notwithstanding the seeming peril from this cause, in the event of another earthquake, the danger of the walls falling is considerably lessened by their being built with a strong framework of timber, dovetailed together, before the addition of brick or stone.

Some of the churches are very handsome, although the absence of steeples will perhaps cause them to be hardly so regarded by the majority of Englishmen; and, moreover, many are in an unfinished state, for want of funds. The one that probably astonishes unsophisticated Saxons most, is the Patriarchal Church, from the circumstance of the pillars which support the roof being covered with wax models of heads, arms, legs, &c.—the naif native offerings of individuals, desirous of testifying their gratitude to the Virgin, for her cures of complaints affecting those corporeal adjuncts. In the church of St. Roque is a small chapel, containing imitations, in mosaic, of several pictures of the Italian masters. These, with the splendid decorations, consisting of lapis lazuli columns, candelabra in the precious metals, &c., are credibly estimated to have cost upwards of one million sterling. This vast expense, of course, could only have been in Portugal’s most palmy days, when the genius of Albuquerque threw open the portals of the East, and showered ‘barbaric pearl and gold’ upon his noble king, Emanuel, rightly indeed called the ‘Fortunate,’ and deserving so to be, as worthily inheriting the throne of Alphonso the Victorious (son of the heroic Henry of Burgundy) who routed five Saracen monarchs at Ourique, and freed his country from the Moors. The British cemetery[24] (Os aciprestes), surrounding a neat chapel, is well worth a visit, including, in its attractions, a monument to Fielding, who there lies buried. Few of our countrymen, who have the opportunity, ever fail to make a pilgrimage to the spot where rests all that is mortal of him who drew Partridge and Blifil, Squire Western and Sophia, Parson Adams and Tom Jones—his tomb being as eagerly sought as is that of his brother humourist, Smollett, at Leghorn. Strange that two of the most essentially English of all our writers should have died and been entombed so far from their native land, whose literature their genius has so long enriched, and will for ever continue to do so.

Besides the public buildings already mentioned, there are several well-managed hospitals, an arsenal, academies for instruction in the naval, military, and other sciences; the Castle of St. George, used as a prison more than as a place of defence: museums; a noble national library, of 30,000 volumes, formed from those of the convents suppressed in 1835; and, lastly, the aqueduct of Alcantara, with thirty-six arches, a splendid structure, north of the city, supplying the greater part of the inhabitants with water, and so solid, that it withstood the shock of earthquake, which laid nearly all else in ruins. The central arch is of sufficient dimensions to allow of a three-decker, under full sail, passing through, were there water to float her.

The population of Lisbon is between 250,000 and 300,000, having increased rapidly of late years, though sadly thinned during Don Miguel’s usurpation, owing to the wholesale murders which were then committed, the numbers obliged to serve in the army, and killed, and also the emigration so many hundreds, nay thousands, were compelled to have recourse to, in order to escape from his cruelties, and those of his satellites. The remembrance of these atrocities, however, would seem insufficient to deprive him of some partizans in the country yet, if we may judge by the intrigues in his favour that have supervened on the death of the queen.

CINTRA, NEAR LISBON.

A first visit to Portugal cannot fail to revive—in the minds of Englishmen—‘memories of the past,’ full of ‘sweet and bitter fancies,’ as being alike the spot where England, by her diplomatic fatuity, earned an immortality of ridicule, and, by her valour, an eternity of praise, thanks to the Great Duke and his troops, so many of whom fell in defence of those liberties, which, if what survives here be a fair specimen, were certainly hardly worth the cost of preservation;[25] for, even at this distance of time, how many families can recal the bereavements they sustained in that glorious struggle. Moreover, Portugal possesses a deep interest from the great deeds of its early navigators, already slightly adverted to. None who sympathize with the noble qualities the mention of these heroic names conjures up can fail to deplore that the spirit of Vasco de Gama, Cabral, Camoens,[26] and many others, has not descended to succeeding generations, rendering the land their genius and patriotism had adorned what it might yet be made under an enlightened government, viz., one of the most prosperous countries in Europe. That it is not so, even after the mismanagement it has endured, and is enduring now, nearly as bad as ever, is a matter of never-ending wonderment to those who know its means and appliances for advancement in the scale of nations. As regards myself, desire for personal authentication on the spot of what I had known from others, imparted an additional zest to my visit, from long acquaintance with the Brazils, even in the time of the grandfather of the late Queen, when the present splendid South American empire was a struggling colony of the now enfeebled and decaying parent kingdom. Hence I was prepared to look with a favourable eye on all that came under my notice in the capital of Portugal—a disposition enhanced by the first glance I had an opportunity of bestowing upon it; for, seen from the river on a bright sunny morning, Lisbon’s strikingly picturesque aspect and position reminded me strongly both of Bahia and Rio Janeiro, a portion of the city being built, like them, on low ground; hills, covered in every direction with handsome structures of variegated colours, chiefly white, rising like an amphitheatre behind; whilst the red-tiled roofs, green verandahs, and other fanciful decorations, lend to the whole a very foreign, almost tropical, but extremely pleasing appearance.

Unfortunately, the parallel between the capital of Portugal and the metropolis of her flourishing transatlantic offspring further holds good, as, on landing, much of the pleasing illusion vanishes:

For whoso entereth within this town,

That, sheening far, celestial seems to be,

Disconsolate will wander up and down,

’Mid many things unsightly to strange ee;

For hut and palace show like filthily;

The dingy denizens are rear’d in dirt;

No personage of high or mean degree

Doth care for cleanness of surtout or shirt,

Though shent with Egypt’s plague, unkempt, unwash’d, unhurt.

Nor are you greatly disposed to make allowances for the cause of your topographical disenchantment, as you find yourself a mere object of fiscal surveillance—obliged to be set ashore at the Custom-house, like a biped bale of merchandise, and have your hat or umbrella scanned as if they ought to be subjected to duty, like everything else, animate and inanimate, that approaches these most absurdly protected waters. Very soon, however, mere chagrin at such petty personal annoyances deepens into gloom, as you observe the mournful absence of that incessant activity you expect to meet with in so large and important a place. The fatal spell of lethargy and exclusiveness seems to be laid upon everything and everybody:—the very carriages and public conveyances (at least a large portion) are redolent of the past century, and all idea of locomotion is put to flight at the sight of them; and just the same is the case with the owners. Torpidity pervades the whole population, from the infant in arms, who is too lazy to laugh, to the cripple on crutches, who is too sluggish to grumble. An exception to this rule, however, is the market-place, where fruit, vegetables, the sardines already spoken of, and other odd articles, are brought for sale. The motley groups, with their baskets or little stalls, sheltered by umbrellas of all sizes and colours, are like so many fancy-fair Chinese, whom Portuguese a good deal resemble in bodily configuration, as well as in other attributes equally little spiritualised, however Celestial. The kaleidoscopic tableau going on here is a relief to the monotony of other places of resort, and so vividly impresses the stranger that he fancies the performers in the scene must be foreigners, and not ‘natives and to the manner born.’ The theatrical air of the whole thing is not a little heightened, in his opinion, on finding that no sooner has the clock told one, than, like one o’clock, they all have to pack up their wares and depart till next day, in preparation for the business whereof the market is thoroughly cleaned and put in order. This regulation might be advantageously adopted in regions where the mention of the word Portuguese, especially in connection with cleanliness, immediately superinduces a spasmodic agitation in the hearer’s nose, if indeed he can keep his countenance at all.

But Portuguese society, as I happen to know very well, from long and varied experience, is extremely agreeable in many places; and certainly the natives of the old country are exceedingly hospitable to strangers. There are several clubs, at the balls of one of which, the Foreign Assembly-rooms, all the rank and fashion of the capital are to be seen, to the number of several hundreds. I had the gratification of being introduced at the Lisbon Club. The house had been formerly, like so many similar institutions in London, a nobleman’s palace. Although not on so grand a scale, it possesses superior accommodation to most places of the kind amongst us; and if the Portuguese keep no Soyer, Francatelli, or Ude, with a batterie de cuisine corresponding in magnitude and diversity to the celebrity of these professors of the finest art—that of giving a good dinner—they have a social party of an evening,[27] when a piquant and substantial tea is provided for those who wish to sacrifice to the ‘Chinese nymph of tears, Bohea.’ The original taste of the Portuguese, who were the first to introduce the beverage to Europe, long before Mr. Pepys drank his ‘cup of China drink,’ [1661,] still survives, as well as the taste for coffee, the berry of Mocha being a favourite among the offspring of the victims of the Arabs. Chocolate, also, is a very popular beverage, and is consumed in considerable quantities at breakfast and supper, the two principal meals among the majority of Portuguese. The upper classes dress like those of other European capitals, but the lower order of females still retain the cloak and hood peculiar to this part of the Peninsula. There is not, however, so much difference now between the costume of the population and that of other cities, as the cowls, sandals, and rope belts of the friars, are no longer to be seen; for, as is well known, all the religious orders (not those of nuns) were suppressed in 1835. There is a strong partiality for gaudy colours and trinkets; but that is passing away.

Though, generally speaking, the female population of Portugal are not of very prepossessing appearance, especially the humbler classes, whose naturally swarthy complexion is embrowned by exposure to the sun, there are few capitals in Europe where more perfect specimens of beauty are to be seen than in Lisbon: and what enhances the effect their somewhat unexpected presence produces is, that they are almost invariably blondes, therein differing from most of their Iberian sisterhood on the other side of the Douro, especially those of Cadiz, of whom the noble lord, already quoted, says that they are the Lancashire Witches of Spain. But the other noble lord, whom we have also quoted—and we certainly can corroborate all he says, from our individual experience in Brazil, of the classes he speaks of—observes: ‘If I could divest myself of every national partiality, and suppose myself an inhabitant of the other hemisphere, and were asked in what country society had attained its most polished form, I should say in Portugal. This perfection of manner is, perhaps, most appreciated by an Englishman: Portuguese politeness is delightful, because it is by no means purely artificial, but flows, in a great measure, from a national kindness of feeling. The restless feeling, so often perceptible in English society, hardly exists in Portugal; there is little prepared wit in Portuguese society, and no one talks for the mere purpose of producing an effect, but simply because his natural taste leads him to take an active part in conversation. Dandyism is unknown among their men, and coquetry, so common among Spanish women, is little in vogue among the fair Portuguese. They do not possess, to the same extent, the hasty passions and romantic feelings of their beautiful neighbours; but they are softer, more tractable, and equally affectionate. Even when they err, the aberrations of a married Portuguese never spring from fashion or caprice, seldom from vanity, and, however culpable, are always the result of real preference. Certainly, with some exceptions, the women are not highly educated; they feel little interest, on general subjects, and, consequently, have little general conversation. A stranger may, at first, draw an unfavourable inference as to their natural powers, because he has few subjects in common with them; but, when once received into their circles, and acquainted with their friends, he becomes delighted with their liveliness, wit, and ready perception of character.’ I quote this passage, believing from all I heard and observed in Lisbon, that it is an accurate summary of the Portuguese character there; that it is nearly equally applicable, in a great degree, to Portuguese society in Madeira; and, knowing that it is so, in respect to Portuguese society in Brazil.

The places of amusement consist of five theatres, including the opera-house, where, as the London and Parisian dilettanti well know, many excellent singers make their début: the getting up the scenery, &c., are inferior to few establishments of the kind anywhere, and the prices are very moderate. It is called San Carlos, and it is scarcely inferior in any respect, either in its architectural extent or the liberality of its appointments, to its more famous Neapolitan namesake. Madame Castellan—herself, I believe, a fellow-countrywoman of Inez de Castro, whose portrait she greatly resembles—has been the principal lyric artiste during the past season. There is also a building for bull-fights, which, though perhaps as much a national sport as in Spain, is not pursued with the same passionate ardour, nor with the same skill, as is displayed by professors of the tauro-machiac art in the sister country.

I also attended a sitting of the two Chambers, which appeared to be conducted with great decorum, but, at the same time, without that listlessness or buzzy-fussiness which pervades our own Senate when a bore or a nobody happens to be on his legs. The accommodation for members is at least as good as ours. To be sure, it could not possibly be much worse, if we may judge from those most qualified to form an opinion—the members themselves; for, what with the perpetual complaints about pestilent smells, hot blasts, freezing draughts, blinding light, and sightless darkness, one would imagine that the British Senate-house was constructed to serve as a ‘frightful example’ of deleterious architecture. The wonder is, that any M.P. has the face to approach a life-insurance office, at the beginning of a session, without being prepared with a ‘doubly hazardous’ premium on his ‘policy,’ knowing that he is going to talk, or listen to the talk, of politics for some six months; and, certainly, the looks of many of our law-makers can be consolatory to none but coffin-makers and residuary legatees. Not so with the Portuguese Conscript Fathers, nearly all of whom seemed as hale as new moidores out of the mint, both as to stamina, complexion, and sensibility. The enormous building where they meet (the old convent of San Bento) contains all the needful official and red-tape-ical departments. In the Upper Chamber, the Patriarch occupied the chair, in habiliments not unlike those of the Bishop of Oxford, when enrobed in his costume of Chancellor of the Order of the Garter; and it was curious to see an epitome of our own admixture of the ecclesiastical with the temporal system of legislation, in the House of Lords, carried out in this Portuguese conjunction of spiritual with lay law-makers.

In vain you look in the Tagus for that forest of shipping which should fringe the watery highway to, and ought to constitute the leading feature in, so fine a port—the capital of a country the once nautical genius of whose people is expressed in the only poem in any language that makes adventures on the deep its theme. A few stray vessels here and there, with river and fishing boats, and those singular latine sails, that so strike the stranger,[28] some steamers and Government vessels, were all that could now be seen on the bosom of the river, so famed amongst the ancients for its golden attributes, not because of its auriferous sands,[29] but because of the affluent tide of its teeming commerce—that port whence, in after ages, though now ages long ago, went forth those expeditions which brought much of Asia into comparative contiguity with Europe, and discovered, and long held so much of, the finest portion of the New World. For a wonder, not a ‘speck of power’ of that nation, whose commerce rose as Lusitania’s fell, not an English man-of-war, ubiquitous in every water, and very often present, and too long at a time, in most unnecessary numbers, in these waters in particular, was to be seen, though Admiral Corry’s squadron, containing many of the finest and latest built men-of-war in our navy, including the ‘Duke of Wellington,’ and now with Napier in the Baltic, has since been there. Their absence, however gratifying to financial economists and advocates of non-intervention in politics, helped to complete the triste and dreary air of the empty mart and shipless bay. The cause of this poverty of trade must be obvious to all, even to enlightened Portuguese. The Government, blind to all experience elsewhere, deaf to the supplications of common sense and even self-interest, draw a kind of cordon round the little trade they still possess, and encumber it with such a net-work of preposterous restrictions, as actually to squeeze the life-blood out of it, or, rather, altogether arrest its circulation, which is the same thing in the end, as regards the vitality of commerce. The evil extends to every ramification of industrial pursuit; and one half of the population live upon a system that seems to have been invented to exclude, instead of encouraging business to come to their shores. Hence, it need hardly be said, that smuggling is the most profitable trade going; and a large and rapidly increasing business in that line is carried on, along the frontier in particular.

If Colonel Sibthorpe, Mr. Newdegate, and the remainder of that Spartan band of fifty-nine, who followed the phantom of Protection into the lobby of the House of Commons a couple of years ago, finding that the sun of England has indeed for ever set, as they so often anticipated, desire to bask in the beams of unmitigated monopoly, by all means let them hie hither forthwith; and they will behold one realm, at least, that carries out their views to the utmost possible extent. By way of apparently bolstering up native industry, Portugal fosters a few stray manufacturing establishments, and farms out monopolies of certain articles (tobacco and soap for instance) to parties who, in the rigorous exercise of their privileges, put another and most effectual drag-chain on the march of commerce. The fruits of such policy are but too apparent; for even the neighbouring state of Spain, so long the synonyme of every fiscal fatuity, but now awaking to a true sense of what it owes to her glorious maritime associations, and to her present and perspective well-being, is taking away a large portion of Portuguese traffic, by judiciously reducing her tariff, promoting railway enterprise, and gradually adopting those liberal views, without whose practical recognition now every country must lapse into almost primeval barbarism. Undoubtedly an extenuation of the imbecility of Portugal is her complete dependence and reliance on her colonies so long, for while she enjoyed a monopoly of them she flourished at their expense. Now things are reversed, and Portugal cannot bring herself to adopt the only remedy, free-trade and unrestricted commerce, in its largest and fullest extent. These would soon fill her ports with shipping, raise rents, augment revenue, and place her in a position worthy of the countrymen of Cabral, and of the prestige which he and so many of his cotemporaries and followers so long secured her. That she has an aptitude for commerce is well known; for, though it was long deemed degrading, and even criminal, in high caste Portuguese, to meddle in commercial matters, or to intermarry or associate with those who did, there is scarcely any ’Change in the world at the present day that does not number a Lisbon or Oporto merchant among its ablest members.

A stay of two days is a short time to enable a stranger to appreciate fully the merits of a large place like Lisbon; but the defects in her national fiscal system as here manifested, at the very fountain head of the intelligence and influence of the empire, and its mischievous tendency in retarding prosperity, are unmistakeable. The handwriting on the wall requires no interpreter; it points out approaching decay, unless Portugal alters her system before it is too late, and determines to go with the stream of events and the destinies of the world. The real hope for the country still points in the direction of Brazil; not only because of the peculiar weight of example in that quarter, where prosperity has progressively and unvaryingly followed every step in the path of commercial and political enlightenment—every assimilation to the existing English system of mercantile polity—but from the circumstance of the affluence of Brazil healthily reacting upon, and wakening up the energies of the old country to join pari passu in the march with her vigorous progeny. In a trading, especially in a passenger-trading sense, the connection between the two is still important, and is every day becoming more so, through Anglo-Brazilian enterprise, (of which the Liverpool Company I have the honour to belong to affords the most prominent instance yet), and is likely to be vastly improved by the establishment of direct steam navigation, chiefly carried on by native and South American capital. The principal promoter of this is Mr. Moser, well known for enterprise of a like kind in the navigation of the Minho, from which river to the Guadiana a screw steamer now plies.

Most of the bourgeoisie of Brazil were either born in Portugal or are descendants of Portuguese. Shop-keeping is a business these Peninsulars fully understand, especially those from Oporto; particularly in everything pertaining to trinkets, articles of jewellery, and goldsmith’s-work, the Portuguese being therein cunning workmen, though for the most part, regarded as indifferent carpenters, shoemakers, and the like, at least by British employers. After realizing money abroad, they naturally find their way to Portugal; where, if even for a season, they enjoy themselves as only children of the South or of the tropics can when they have the means; or spend the remainder of their days where their fathers lived and died before them. They will soon have the invaluable advantage of the steamers of no less than three companies calling at Lisbon, including the ‘Luso-Brazileira,’ which is also composed of Portuguese and Brazilian shareholders. These, let us hope, will prove the immediate harbingers of that good time which can alone be brought about by the multiplication of such instruments of a national good; for it must be obvious to every one who knows Portugal, or the Portuguese abroad, that what is wanted is abundance of communication by steam, both by sea and land, railways, and free-trade, or some approximation to it. With these she may resume her position amongst the nations, and share with her oldest ally, England, the benefits arising from a mutually advantageous intercourse.

Respecting the Royal Family, during my stay at Lisbon, when there was, of course, every apparent prospect of a long, if not a very tranquil and happy reign for the late Queen, I learnt that they kept themselves as retired and quiet as their exalted station would permit, appearing little in public, but understood to be busy in those plots and intrigues, suspicion of which on the part both of the people and the upper classes, deprived her Majesty of much of that popularity which her many excellent qualities were calculated personally to secure her. What may be the course that her husband, the Regent, will pursue, or that may be pursued by her son when he attains his legal majority in 1858, it is of course impossible to foresee. His young Majesty is now in the course of making a tour through Europe, chiefly with a view, it is said, of finding a partner for his throne; and rumour points to one of the house of Coburg to which his father belongs, viz., a daughter of the King of the Belgians. This alliance, though otherwise eligible in itself, is deemed by some politicians likely to aggravate the troubles of the country, by making it a hot-bed of extraneous intrigue, in addition to the domestic Miguelite plottings that appear chronic in Portugal.

There are, as already mentioned, several royal palaces, but few of them completely finished, or ever likely to be so, owing to the limited state of the civil list and the reluctance of the Cortes to grant supplies for such purposes. The Palace of Ajúda is a truly regal building, whose external magnificence at least, fills every one with regret that it should so far resemble so many others, of vast pretensions and undoubted beauty, as to remain incompleted, and in consequence, unoccupied. Visitors to the Court are generally located in a pretty marine palace, with a terrace and garden facing the river, at Belem, the town of which name contains about 5,000 inhabitants. In its vicinage is the burial-place of many of the earlier Portuguese monarchs; it possesses also, in addition to the castle and custom-house already mentioned, and a singular-looking fortress, some other public institutions of note, including a high-school, a convent, and the largest iron-foundry in Portugal, together with a noble church, built to commemorate the memorable departure of Vasco de Gama on his great voyage, as so beautifully alluded to by the national poet.

It may not be superfluous to caution the young or casual reader not to confound this town with one somewhat similarly pronounced, Baylen, in Spain—a spot that sounds in French ears pretty much as Cintra does in ours. And for much the same reason—the blundering incapacity of those charged with the conduct of the transactions that took place, almost simultaneously, in the same year, and within a month of each other; except that the former, having had priority of occurrence, rendered the latter more inexcusable. It was in July, 1808, that 14,000 French, commanded by Dupont and Wedel, being defeated by 25,000 Spaniards under Pena and Compigny, Dupont’s entire division of 8,000 men laid down their arms—the beginning of the French disasters in Spain, as lending courage to the whole native population to pursue that system of resistance which in the end, aided and directed by British valour and science, rendered nugatory all the efforts of the invader permanently to subdue the country. Of Belem, the recent military celebrity is not great, the two chief incidents in its history being its capture by the French, the year before the occurrence just named; and, secondly, its capture under the troops of Don Pedro, in 1833. What lends its real historic, or at least archæologic interest to the place, is its propinquity to the remains of some of the finest Moorish architecture in the world, the Alhambra itself scarcely excepted; and these alone ought to suffice to render a trip fashionable among our ennuyéd tourists, to whom almost all the remainder of Europe is nearly as well known as the beach at Brighton or the Westmoreland lakes. Notwithstanding the charm to British ears of the words Busaco, Vimiera, Badajos, Braga, Torres Vedras, and the Douro, Portugal is a terrâ incognita to the pic-nicish and Pickwickian tribe, and altogether exempt from the remonstrance of the blazé bard—