RIO DE JANEIRO, IN THE LAND OF LURE 



185 



brought from Spain to the cathedral in 

 Santo Domingo. 



the; city founded in 1565 



The first name which stamps itself di- 

 rectly on the history of Rio de Janeiro is 

 that of Estacio de Sa, who founded the 

 city in 1565, although earlier explorers 

 cast anchor in the bay, known to the 

 native Tamoyo Indians as Guanabara- — ■ 

 "arm of the ocean." 



Historians disagree as to who first en- 

 tered this marvelously beautiful land- 

 locked haven, Nature's masterpiece in 

 harbors, where gigantic sentinel rocks 

 stand guard at the narrows and mist- 

 crowned mountains of surpassing gran- 

 deur dip their jungle-clad feet in the 

 sea. Perhaps Amerigo Vespucci was 

 here in 1502; Goncalo Coelho, Chief 

 of the Portuguese Navy, may have ar- 

 rived the same year. Some credit Joao 

 Dias de Soles with having discovered the 

 harbor in 151 5. Certain at least we are 

 that Fernando de Magalhaes, whom we 

 call Magellan, spent a fortnight here in 

 1 5 19, on his way round the world, nam- 

 ing the bay Santa Luzia. 



Next came Martim Affonso de Souza 

 in 1 53 1, on his way south to found Sao* 

 Vicente, near the present site of Santos. 

 He thought the bay the mouth of a great 

 river and called it Rio de Janeiro, River 

 of January. Today the Brazilians of the 

 capital call themselves Fluminense, or 

 river folk. 



THE FIRST PROTESTANT SERVICE IN THE 

 NEW WORED HEED NEAR RIO DE JANEIRO 



In 1555 an adventurous Frenchman, 

 Nicolas Durand de Villegaignon, Knight 

 of Malta, arrived with a band of Hugue- 

 nots, and on an island near the entrance 

 to the bay, still called Villegaignon, was 

 held the first Protestant service in the 

 New World, sixty-five years before the 

 Pilgrim Fathers landed at Plymouth Rock. 



It was with the intention of expelling 

 for all time these French colonists that 



* The word "Sao," corresponding with the 

 Spanish "San," means "Saint." The Portu- 

 guese language, which has been called "the eld- 

 est child of Latin," is more masculine and less 

 musical than the Castilian. It is rich in y'.y 

 and h's. "The Portuguese," once said my fel- 

 low-trailer, "have picked up all the h's the 

 Cockney English have dropped." 



Mem de Sa, Portuguese Governor at 

 Bahia, sent his nephew, Estacio de Sa, 

 with a body of soldiers to found a settle- 

 ment on Guanabara Bay. 



We can picture that primitive village — 

 a crude chapel, a few thatched huts on 

 the little peninsula which lies at the base 

 of the great rock known as Pao d'As- 

 sucar, or Sugar Loaf. One shore of the 

 peninsula faces the sea ; the other looks 

 out on the bay. The village was called 

 Sao Sebastiao in honor of the Portuguese 

 king, a name that clung to the city well 

 into the nineteenth century. From it 

 Estacio de Sa went forth in 1567 for a 

 final and victorious battle with the French 

 and their Indian allies, but in the strug- 

 gle he was mortally wounded. 



There is an impressive painting depict- 

 ing the death of de Sa. They had 

 brought him back to the village on the 

 beach, and there, in the shadow of those 

 mighty mountains he had grown to love, 

 which were one day to look down on a 

 great, glittering city, Rio's founder died 

 and was laid to rest in the humble chapel. 



HISTORIC CHURCH DOOMED 



The settlement was then moved up the 

 bay to the summit of a hill called Morro 

 de Castello, or Castle Hill. Here, in 

 the church of Sao Sebastiao, Rio's oldest 

 edifice, begun in 1567, completed in 1583, 

 and thrice since remodeled, I stood by the 

 tomb of Estacio de Sa. It is marked by 

 a rough stone slab laid in the floor before 

 the altar — stone hewn from the granite 

 hills which encircle the city. In quaint 

 old Portuguese I read : 



"Here lies Estacio de Sa, Captain and 

 Conqueror of this land and city. This 

 site was built by the order of Salvador 

 Correa de Sa, his cousin, second Captain 

 and Governor, with his arms. This chapel 

 was completed in the year 1583." 



The bearded Capuchin monk who 

 showed me about nodded his head in the 

 affirmative when I asked if he thought 

 the hill would be leveled in time for the 

 ever-growing city. 



"I fear they will eventually tear down 

 the old church," he said sadly, "and move 

 de Sa's tomb to the cathedral." 



"Regular Apaches live on Castle Hill," 

 an American physician told me. "They 

 are a law unto themselves, obey no sani- 



