ACROSS UNKNOWN

SOUTH AMERICA

BY

A. HENRY SAVAGE-LANDOR

WITH 2 MAPS, 8 COLOURED PLATES, AND 260 ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR

IN TWO VOLUMES

HODDER AND STOUGHTON

LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO

The Author.

Printed in 1913
Copyright in the United States of America
by A. Henry Savage-Landor

THIS WORK IS DEDICATED

to

THE PEOPLE

of the

GREAT BRAZILIAN REPUBLIC

CONTENTS

VOL. I

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

VOL. I

The Mouth of the Putamayo River.

CONTENTS

VOL. II

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

VOL. II

Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney Ltd., London and Aylesbury.

[i]

ACROSS UNKNOWN

SOUTH AMERICA

BY

A. HENRY SAVAGE-LANDOR

WITH 2 MAPS, 8 COLOURED PLATES, AND 260 ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL. I

HODDER AND STOUGHTON

LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO

The Author.

[ii]

Printed in 1913
Copyright in the United States of America
by A. Henry Savage-Landor

[iii]

THIS WORK IS DEDICATED

to

THE PEOPLE

of the

GREAT BRAZILIAN REPUBLIC

[iv]

[v]

PREFACE

South America is, to my mind, “the Coming
Continent”—the Continent of the future. Everybody knows
the wealth of the Argentine, Peru, Chile, and Bolivia;
but the interior of Brazil, the largest and richest
country of all, not unlike forbidden Tibet, was perhaps
better known a century or two ago than now. Few
people realize that Brazil is larger than the United
States of North America, Germany, Portugal, and a
few other countries taken together. The interior is
practically a terra incognita—although the ancient
Jesuits and, at a later date, escaped slaves and native
rubber collectors have perhaps found their way inland
to a considerable distance.

When I started on the transcontinental journey I
did not take Europeans with me. It is not easy to
find men who can stand the strain of so long a journey.
I was also not surprised, although I was disappointed,
not to be able to obtain suitable officers in Brazil to
go part of the journey with me, so that I might be
relieved of a portion of the tedious scientific work of
the expedition, especially taking and computing daily
astronomical observations, to which much time has
to be devoted. All the work of all kinds eventually
fell upon my shoulders, and after departing I found[vi]
myself filling the posts of surveyor, hydrographer,
cartographer, geologist, meteorologist, anthropologist,
botanist, doctor, veterinary surgeon, painter, photographer,
boat-builder, guide, navigator, etc. The muleteers
who accompanied me—only six, all counted—were
of little help to me—perhaps the reverse. So
that, considering all the adventures and misfortunes we
had, I am sure the reader, after perusing this book,
will wonder that we got back at all, and will be indulgent
enough to give me a little credit for saving, through
innumerable disasters—and perhaps not altogether by
mere luck—all my photographs (800 of them), all my
note-books, all my scientific observations, as well as
all the vocabularies I made of the various Indian
languages of tribes found on my way. Also for bringing
all my men out alive.

Here are, briefly, a few results of the expedition:—

(a) First of all it has proved that, far from South
America’s being an impenetrable continent—as was
believed—it is possible for any experienced traveller
to cross Brazil in any direction, if he could obtain
suitable followers.

(b) It has proved that the “millions of savage
Indians” supposed to be swarming all over the interior
of Brazil do not exist at all. All the pure Indians of
Central Brazil taken together may number a few
hundreds, or including half-castes (negroes and Portuguese),
a few thousands. As for the wild beasts and
snakes, no one ever need fear being troubled by them.
They are more afraid of you than you of them, you can
take my word for it. So that the terror which has
so far prevented people penetrating the interior has no[vii]
reasonable ground, and this book ought to be the means
of making European people some day swarm to develop
that marvellous land now absolutely uninhabited.

(c) Meteorological observations were recorded daily
right across Brazil.

(d) Altitude observations, forming a complete chain
and including all minor undulations, were registered
across the entire South American continent from the
Atlantic coast at Rio de Janeiro as far as Callao on the
Pacific coast. The observations were taken with a
hypsometer and several excellent aneroids. These
show that many of the elevations marked on the
existing maps of Brazil are inaccurate, the error amounting
sometimes to several hundred feet.

(e) A complete survey was made of new country
between the Araguaya river and the Madeira, including
a careful survey of the Arinos river and the river
Arinos-Juruena, one of the most powerful tributaries of
the Amazon. In the small map, reproduced from the
best existing maps, at the end of the first volume,
several high mountain ranges, quite as high as the
Andes, may be noticed extending from north to south
between the rivers Madeira, Tapajoz, Xingu, Araguaya
and Tocantins. Those high ranges are merely the
work of imaginative cartographers, who have drawn
them to make the map look pretty. They do not
exist. I have left them in order to draw the attention
of the reader to them. The position of the Arinos-Juruena
is from 1 to 1½ degrees farther west than it
is there drawn, and should be where I have marked the
red line of my route.

(f) Everything that was of interest pictorially,[viii]
geologically, botanically, or anthropologically was photographed
or sketched. Astronomical observations were
constantly taken to determine the positions of our
camps and places of importance.

Botanical and geological collections were made,
but unfortunately had to be abandoned.

(g) During the journey the head waters of the
following important rivers were visited: The Rio
Vermelho, Rio Claro, Rio Araguaya, Rio Barreiros,
Rio das Mortes, Rio S. Lourenço, the Cuyaba river,
the Xingu, the Paranatinga, the Paraguay river
(Paraná), the Rio Arinos, the Secundury.

(h) The entire course of the river Tapajoz was
studied, and also the entire course of the Amazon from
its mouth almost to its birthplace in the Andes.

(i) Useful vocabularies were drawn up of the
following Indian languages: Bororo, Apiacar, Mundurucu,
Campas or Antis.

(k) The expedition has furthermore shown that it
is possible with poor material in the way of followers
to accomplish work of unusual difficulty.

(l) That it is possible for people in a normal condition
of health to go at least sixteen days without
food while doing hard work.

(m) That it is possible to cross an entire continent—for
one entire year—in the company of dangerous and
lazy criminals without any weapon for protection—not
even a penknife—and to bring forth from such poor
material remarkable qualities of endurance, courage, and
almost superhuman energy.

(n) Last, but not least, on that expedition I was
able to collect further evidence that a theory I had long[ix]
held as to the present shape of the earth was correct.
I had never believed in the well-known theory that
a continent, now submerged, once existed between
America, Europe and Africa—in other words, where
the Atlantic Ocean is now. That theory has found
many followers. In support of it one is told that such
islands as Madeira, the Canaries, the Azores, are the
topmost peaks of a now partly submerged range of
mountains which once stood upon that vanished continent.
It is also a common belief that Northern Africa
underwent the contrary process, and was pushed up
from under the sea. That is why—it is said—the
Sahara Desert, which was formerly, without doubt,
an ocean bed, is now dry and above water.

One has only to look at any map of the entire world
to see what really happened to the earth in days long
gone by. Let me first of all tell you that there never
existed a continent between Africa and South America.
In fact, I doubt whether there is as much as a square
mile between those two continents more submerged
to-day than it was thousands upon thousands of years
ago.

Here is what really happened. The earth at one
period changed its shape—when, is merely guesswork,
and is of no consequence here—and the crust of the
earth—not the core, mind you—split into two great
gaps from Pole to Pole, with a number of other minor
fissures. In other words, the earth opened just like
the skin of an over-heated baked apple. The African
and American continents, as well as Australasia, with
New Guinea, the Celebes Islands, the Philippine Archipelago
and China, which before that event formed part[x]
of one immense continent, thus became divided, leaving
North and South America isolated, between the two
great Oceans—the Atlantic and the Pacific—which
were then, and only then, formed.

It is easy, by looking intelligently at a map, to
reconstruct the former shape of the world. You will
notice that the most western portion of Africa fits
exactly into the gap between North and South America,
while the entire African coast between Dahomey and
the Cape Colony fits in perfectly in all its indentations
and projections into the coast line of South America.
The shores of Western Europe in those days were
joined to North America, and find to-day their almost
parallel and well-fitting coast line on the east coast of
the United States and Canada. On the opposite side
of the world, the western side of South America, the
same conditions can be noticed, although the division
of the two continents (America and Asia) is there much
wider. Fragments were formed, leaving innumerable
islands scattered in the Pacific Ocean, half-way between
the actual continents of Asia, Australia and America.
A mere glance is sufficient to see how well Australia
fits in along the Chilian and Peruvian coast, the great
island of New Guinea along part of Peru and Ecuador,
and the west coast of the Central American Isthmus.
The Philippine Islands lay probably in those days
alongside of Guatemala, while California bordered on
Japan.

Such immense rivers as the Amazon, and its portentous
tributaries flowing from south to north, were
also formed perhaps at that time, great fissures caused
by the sudden splitting and cooling of the earth’s[xi]
crust becoming the river beds. So perhaps was formed
the giant cañon of Colorado and the immense fissures
in the earth’s crust that occur in Central Asia, in
Central Africa, and, as we shall see, on the central
plateau of Brazil.

Undoubtedly the Antarctic continent was once
joined to South America, Australia and Africa. During
the last Antarctic expeditions it has been shown that
the same geological formation exists in South America
as in the Antarctic plateau. On perusing this book,
the reader will be struck by the wonderful resemblance
between the Indians of South America, the Malay
races of Asia, and the tribes of Polynesia. I maintain
that they not only resemble each other, but are actually
the same people in different stages of development,
and naturally influenced to a certain extent by climatic
and other local conditions. Those people did not come
there, as has been supposed, by marching up the entire
Asiatic coast, crossing over the Behring Straits and
then down the American coast, nor by means of any
other migration. No, indeed; it is not they who have
moved, but it is the country under them which has
shifted and separated them, leaving members of the
same race thousands of miles apart.

I was able to notice among the Indians of Central
Brazil many words of Malay origin, others closely
resembling words of languages current among tribes of
the Philippine Islands. The anthropometric measurements
which I took of South American Indians corresponded
almost exactly with those of natives of the
Sulu Archipelago and the island of Mindanao.

I hope some day to use the wealth of material I[xii]
have collected among innumerable tribes on the Asiatic
coast, on the islands of the Pacific Ocean, in South
America and in Africa, in making a comparative study
of those peoples. It should prove interesting enough.
I have no space here to go deeply into the subject, as
this is merely a book descriptive of South America. I
may add that the most ardent supporter of the above
theory is the celebrated explorer and scientist, Colonel
Marchand, of Fashoda fame—a man who has studied
and understands the mysteries of this world better
than any man living.

My sincere thanks are due to the following gentlemen
for much politeness shown me in connection with the
expedition: To Mr. Gustave Babin, the famous writer
of Paris; to Mr. Manoel Bomfin (ex-deputy of Brazil),
to Senador Alcindo Guanabara, for the keen interest
taken in the expedition and for proposing to Congress
after my return that a grant of £4,000 should be given
to me as a reward for the work done. I herewith also
express my gratitude to the Brazilian Government for
paying me that sum, which came in usefully to defray
part of the expenses of the expedition. To H.E. Dr.
Pedro de Toledo, Minister of Agriculture, for the
intelligent desire shown to help as much as he could
in the venture, and for kindly giving me the free use
of all the telegraphs in Brazil, including the Amazon
Cable, and other important privileges; to Dr. José
Carlos Rodriguez for hospitality and much valuable
advice; to Dr. Paolo de Frontin, Conseilheiro Antonio
Prado, Dr. José Pereira Rebonças and Mr. Mockill
and their respective Companies for the many privileges
granted me upon the various railways of which they[xiii]
were the Presidents; to Colonel R. E. Brazil and
Commandante Macedo for their kind hospitality to
me while navigating the lower Tapajoz river; to Dr.
A. B. Leguia, President of the Peruvian Republic;
to the British Ministers at Petropolis, Lima, La Paz,
and Buenos Ayres, and the British Consuls of Rio de
Janeiro, Pará, Manaos, Iquitos, Antofogasta, Valparaiso;
finally to the British and American Residents at all
those places for much exquisite hospitality offered me.

Special thanks are due to Mr. Regis de Oliveira,
ex-Brazilian Minister in London, for valuable credentials
given me before my departure which paved the
way to the hearty reception I received everywhere
in Brazil.

A. Henry Savage-Landor.

Savoy Hotel, London.

  September 1913.

[xiv]

[xv]

CONTENTS

VOL. I

[xix]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

VOL. I

[1]

CHAPTER I

“More than three months to reach the spot?” asked
the cinematograph man in amazement. “Then perhaps
Monsieur is on a journey to Mars or the moon!
There is no spot on earth that takes so long to reach.”
(Hearty laughter at his own wit.)

That exclamation, and wise words that follow, came
from the assistant of one of the largest firms of cinematograph
appliances in Paris, where I had called in
order to purchase a moving picture apparatus and
10,000 metres of film to be used on my forthcoming
journey across the South American continent.

The shop assistant had very honestly warned me
that if the films were to be used in a damp, tropical
climate, they must be exposed and developed within
three months of their manufacture. After that time
they would become so perforated and fogged as to
be quite useless. I had remarked that it would take
me more than three months to reach the spot where
I should begin to take cinematograph pictures.

“Will Monsieur please tell where is the spot where
he would be likely to use the films?” continued the
assistant, still overcome with surprise.

[2]
“In the heart of Brazil.”

“In the heart of Brazil … in the very heart of
Brazil?… Oh, mon Dieu! mon Dieu!” (More
laughter and a look of compassion at me.) “Mais
nous avons une de nos maisons tout à fait près de là!”
(Why, indeed, we have one of our factories quite close
to there.)

It was then my turn for hearty laughter and the
look of compassion.

“Pray,” I inquired, “tell me more exactly. Where
is your factory close to the heart of Brazil?”

“It is quite, quite close. It is in Montreal, Canada…. You
will send your films there … two or three
days’ journey…. It will take us a week to develop
them … two or three days for their return journey.
In a fortnight you will have them back again.”

Quite close, indeed: only a distance of some 65°
of latitude—or some 7170 kilometres as the crow flies—with
no direct communication by land or water!

That was the Frenchman’s knowledge of geography;
but I find that the average Englishman, unless he is
directly interested in those countries, knows little
better, and perhaps even less. Time after time I have
been asked in London if Brazil were not a province
of Mexico, and whether it is not through Brazil that
the Americans are cutting the Panama Canal! There
are many who have a vague idea that Brazil is a German
colony; others, more patriotic, who claim it as an
English possession. Many of those who have looked
at the map of the world are under the impression that
Spanish is spoken in Brazil, and are surprised when
you tell them that Portuguese happens to be the local[3]
language. Others, more enlightened in their geography
by that great play Charley’s Aunt, imagine it a great
forest of nut trees. Others, more enlightened still,
believe it to be a land where you are constantly walking
in avenues adorned with wonderful orchids, with a
sky overhead swarming with birds of beautiful plumage.
I have been asked in all seriousness whether I found
the Andes quite flat—great prairies (the person had
heard of the Argentine pampas and got mixed up)—or
whether “it” was merely a large lagoon!

I could quote dozens more of these extreme cases
of ignorance, but of one thing I am certain, and that
is, that there are few people in the British Isles who
realize the actual size of the great Brazilian Republic.

Brazil is 8,524,778 square kilometres—with the
territory of the Acre newly acquired from Bolivia,
8,715,778 sq. kil. in extent; that is to say, it covers
an area larger than the United States of North America,
Germany, Portugal, Greece and Montenegro taken
together.

Some of the States of the Republic are larger
than some of the largest countries in Europe: such
as the State of the Amazonas with 1,894,724 sq. kil.;
the State of Matto Grosso with 1,378,784 sq. kil.; the
State of Pará with an area of 1,149,712 sq. kil.; the
State of Goyaz with 747,311 sq. kil.; the State of
Minas Geraes with 574,855 sq. kil.; the Acre territory,
191,000 sq. kil.

There are fewer people still who seriously appreciate
the great importance of that beautiful country—with no
exception the richest, the most wonderful in the world;
to my mind undoubtedly the continent of the future.

[4]
Incalculable is the richness of Brazil in mineral
wealth. Magnificent yellow diamonds are to be found
in various regions, those of Minas Geraes and Matto
Grosso being famous for their purity and extraordinary
brilliancy; agates, moonstones, amethysts, emeralds,
sapphires, rubies, topazes, and all kinds of beautiful
rock crystals are plentiful. Gold exists in many regions
on the central plateau—but particularly in Minas
Geraes and Matto Grosso; and platinum in the States
of São Paulo, Minas Geraes, Sta. Catharina and Espirito
Santo; silver, mercury, lead, tin, salicylated and
natural copper are found in many places, as well as
graphite, iron, magnetic iron, oxide of copper, antimony,
argentiferous galena, malachite, manganese oxide, alum,
bituminous schist, anthracite, phosphate of lime,
sulphate of sodium, hæmatite, monazitic sands (the
latter in large quantities), nitrate of potassium, yellow,
rose-coloured, and opalescent quartz, sulphate of iron,
sulphate of magnesia, potash, kaolin. Coal and lignite
of poor quality have been discovered in some regions,
and also petroleum, but not in large quantities.

Rio de Janeiro, showing the beautiful Avenida Central.

Springs of thermal and mineral waters are numerous—particularly
those of which the waters are sulphurous
or ferruginous; others contain arsenic and magnesia.

Most beautiful marble of various colours is to be
found, and also enormous quantities of mica and
amianth; porphyry and porphyroid granite, carbonated
and hydroxided iron, argillaceous schist, mica
schist.

Even richer than the mineral wealth is the botanical
wealth, hitherto dormant, of Brazil. Valuable woods
occur in many Brazilian forests—although it must not[5]
for one moment be imagined that entire forests are
to be found composed of useful woods. Indeed this
is not the case. Most of the woods are absolutely
valueless. Still, when it is realized that the forests of
Brazil extend for several millions of square kilometres,
it is easy to conceive that there is plenty of room among
a majority of poor trees for some good ones. Most
Brazilian woods are interesting on account of their
high specific gravity. Few, very few, will float on
water. On the central plateau, for instance, I could
not find a single wood which floated—barring, under
special conditions, the burity palm (Mauritia vinifera
M.). Along the banks of the Amazon and in the
northern part of Brazil this is not quite the case.
Some Brazilian woods, such as the iron-tree (pao-ferro),
whose name fitly indicates its character, are of extraordinary
hardness. The Brazilian forest, although
not specially rich in woods for building and naval
purposes, is nevertheless most abundant in lactiferous,
oliferous, fibrous, medicinal, resinous, and industrial
plants—such for instance as can be used for tanning
purposes, etc. No country in the world is as rich as
Brazil in its natural growth of rubber trees; nor have
I ever seen anywhere else such beautiful and plentiful
palms: the piassava (Attalia fumifera M.), the assahy
(Euterpe oleracea L.), the burity (Mauritia vinifera M.),
the carnahuberia (Copernicia cerifera M.), the palmito
(Euterpe edulis M.), and many others. I shall give a
more detailed description of the most important of
these plants as we proceed on our journey and find
them in their habitat.

Where, perhaps, Brazil’s greatest richness lies is in[6]
its hundreds of thousands of square miles of wonderful
pasture lands—perfectly ideal, with plenty of excellent
water and a delicious climate—capable of some day fattening
enough cattle to supply half the world with meat.

All these wonderful riches are absolutely dormant;
more than that, absolutely wasted for lack of population,
for lack of roads, trails, railways, or navigation
of the rivers. The coast of Brazil is highly civilized,
and so, more or less, is the immediate neighbourhood
of large cities; but the moment you leave those
cities, or the narrow zone along the few hundred kilometres
of railways which now exist, you immediately
relapse into the Middle Ages. When you get beyond
the comparatively narrow belt of semi-civilization,
along the coast, Brazil is almost as unknown as Mars
or the moon. The people who know least the country
are, curiously enough, the Brazilians themselves.
Owing greatly to racial apathy, they care little for the
trouble of developing their beautiful land. They watch
with envy strangers taking gold, diamonds, platinum,
and precious stones out of their country. They accuse
foreigners of going there to rob them of their wealth;
yet you seldom meet a Brazilian who will venture out
of a city to go and help himself. The Brazilian Government
is now beginning to wake up to the fact that it
is the possessor of the most magnificent country on
earth, and it is its wish to endeavour to develop it;
but the existing laws, made by short-sighted politicians,
are considered likely to hamper development for many
years to come.

Brazil is not lacking in intelligent men. Indeed, I
met in Rio de Janeiro and S. Paulo men who would[7]
be remarkable anywhere. Councillor Antonio Prado of
S. Paulo, for instance, was a genius who had done
wonders for his country. The great development of
the State of S. Paulo compared with other States is
chiefly due to that great patriot. Then the Baron de
Rio Branco—the shrewd diplomatist, who has lately
died—has left a monument of good work for his country.
The cession of the immensely rich tract of the Acre
Territory by Bolivia to Brazil is in itself a wonderful
achievement. Dr. Pedro de Toledo, the present
Minister of Agriculture, is a practical, well-enlightened,
go-ahead gentleman, who makes superhuman efforts,
and in the right direction, in order to place his country
among the leading states of the two Americas. Dr.
Lauro Severiano Müller, the new Minister of Foreign
Affairs, is a worthy successor of Baron de Rio Branco.
There are many other persons of positive genius, such
as Senator Alcindo Guanabara, a man of remarkable
literary ability, and one of the few men in Brazil who
realize thoroughly the true wants of the Republic, a
man of large views, who is anxious to see his country
opened up and properly developed. Another remarkable
man is Dr. José Carlos Rodriguez, the proprietor of
the leading newspaper in Rio—the Jornal do Commercio—and
the organizing genius of some of the most important
Brazilian commercial ventures. Having had an
American and English education, Dr. Rodriguez has been
able to establish in Rio the best edited and produced
daily newspaper in the world. Its complete service of
telegraphic news from all over the globe—on a scale
which no paper, even in England, can equal or even
approach—the moderate tone and seriousness of its[8]
leading articles, its highly reliable and instructive
columns on all possible kinds of subjects by a specially
able staff of the cleverest writers in Brazil, and the
refined style in which it is printed, do great honour
to Dr. Rodriguez. Then comes another man of genius—Dr.
Francisco Pereira Passos, who, with Dr. Paulo
de Frontin, has been able in a few years to transform
Rio de Janeiro from one of the dirtiest and ugliest
cities in South America into the most beautiful. The
great drive around the beautiful bay, the spacious
new Avenida Central—with its parallel avenues of
great width—the construction of a magnificently
appointed municipal theatre, the heavenly road along
the Tijuca mountains encircling and overlooking the
great harbour, and a thousand other improvements of
the city are due to those two men. Dr. Paulo Frontin
has also been active in developing the network of
railways in Brazil. Whatever he has undertaken, he
has accomplished with great judgment and skill.

Rio de Janeiro as it was in 1903.

It would be impossible to enumerate here all the
clever men of Brazil. They are indeed too numerous.
The older generation has worked at great disadvantage
owing to the difficulty of obtaining proper education.
Many are the illiterate or almost illiterate people one
finds even among the better classes. Now, however,
excellent and most up-to-date schools have been
established in the principal cities, and with the great
enthusiasm and natural facility in learning of the
younger generations wonderful results have been obtained.
On account partly of the exhausting climate
and the indolent life that Brazilians are inclined to
lead, a good deal of the enthusiasm of youth dies out[9]
in later years; still Brazil has in its younger generation
a great many men who are ambitious and heartily
wish to render their country service. It is to be hoped
that their efforts may be crowned with success. It is
not talent which is lacking in Brazil, it is not patriotism;
but persistence is not perhaps the chief characteristic
among races of Portuguese descent. In these days of
competition it is difficult to accomplish anything great
without labour and trouble.

I left London on December 23rd, 1910, by the Royal
Mail steamship Amazon, one of the most comfortable
steamers I have ever been on.

We touched at Madeira, Pernambuco, and then at
Bahia. Bahia seen from the sea was quite picturesque,
with its two horizontal lines of buildings, one on the
summit of a low hill-range, the other along the water
line. A border of deep green vegetation separated the
lower from the upper town. A massive red building
stood prominent almost in the centre of the upper
town, and also a number of church towers, the high
dome of a church crowning the highest point.

I arrived in Rio de Janeiro on January 9th, 1911.

It is no use my giving a description of the city of
Rio de Janeiro. Everybody knows that it is—from
a pictorial point of view—quite a heavenly spot. Few
seaside cities on earth can expect to have such a glorious
background of fantastic mountains, and at the same
time be situated on one of the most wonderful harbours
known. I have personally seen a harbour which was
quite as strangely interesting as the Rio harbour—but
there was no city on it. It was the Malampaya Sound,
on the Island of Palawan (Philippine Archipelago).[10]
But such an ensemble of Nature’s wonderful work
combined with man’s cannot, to the best of my knowledge,
be found anywhere else than in Rio.

It does not do to examine everything too closely in
detail when you land—for while there are buildings of
beautiful architectural lines, there are others which suggest
the work of a pastrycook. To any one coming direct
from Europe some of the statuary by local talent which
adorns the principal squares gives a severe shock.
Ladies in evening dress and naked cupids in bronze
flying through national flags flapping in the wind,
half of their bodies on one side, the other half on the
other side of the flags, look somewhat grotesque as you
approach the statues from behind. But Rio is not the
only place where you see grotesque statuary—you have
not to go far from or even out of London to receive
similar and worse shocks. If Rio has some bad statues
it also possesses some remarkably beautiful ones by
the sculptor Bernardelli—a wonderful genius who is
now at the head of the Academy of Fine Arts in Rio.
This man has had a marvellous influence in the beautifying
of the city, and to him are due the impressive
lines of the finest buildings in Rio, such as the Academy
of Fine Arts. Naturally, in a young country like
Brazil—I am speaking of new Brazil, now wide awake,
not of the Brazil which has been asleep for some decades—perfection
cannot be reached in everything in one
day. It is really marvellous how much the Brazilians
have been able to accomplish during the last ten years
or so in their cities, on or near the coast.

Brazilians have their own way of thinking, which
is not ours, and which is to us almost incomprehensible.[11]
They are most indirect in their thoughts and deeds—a
characteristic which is purely racial, and which they
themselves cannot appreciate, but which often shocks
Europeans. For instance, one of the most palatial
buildings in the Avenida Central was built only a
short time ago. In it, as became such an up-to-date
building, was established a lift. But do you think that
the architect, like all other architects anywhere else
in the world, would make the lift start from the ground
floor? No, indeed. The lift only starts from the
second floor up—and, if I remember rightly, you have
to walk some thirty-eight steps up a grand staircase
before you reach it! Do you know why? Because
the architect wished to compel all visitors to the
building to admire a window of gaudy coloured glass
half-way up the staircase. In this way they reason
about nearly everything. They have not yet mastered
the importance and due proportion of detail. Frequently
what is to us a trifling detail is placed by them
in the forefront as the most important point of whatever
they undertake.

Thanks to the strong credentials I carried—among
which were letters from H.E. Regis de Oliveira, Brazilian
Minister in London—I was received in Rio de Janeiro
with the utmost consideration and kindness. From the
President of the Republic to the humblest citizens,
all with no exception treated me with charming
civility. My stay in Rio was a delightful one. The
Brazilians of the principal cities were most courteous
and accomplished, and it was a great pleasure to
associate with them. Intense interest was shown by
the Government of the country and by the people in[12]
my plan to cross the continent. Dr. Pedro de Toledo,
the Minister of Agriculture, was specially interested
in the scheme, and it was at first suggested that the
expedition should be an Anglo-Brazilian one, and that
I should be accompanied by Brazilian officers and
soldiers. Colonel Rondon, a well-known and brave
officer, was ordered by the Government to find suitable
volunteers in the army to accompany my expedition.
After a long delay, Colonel Rondon informed me that
his search had been unsuccessful. Colonel Rondon said
he would have gladly accompanied the expedition himself,
had he not been detained in Rio by his duties as
Chief of the Bureau for the Protection and Civilization
of the Indians. Another officer offered his services in
a private capacity, but he having become involved in
a lawsuit, the negotiations were suddenly interrupted.

Dr. Pedro de Toledo, Minister of Agriculture, Brazil.

I endeavoured to find suitable civilians. No one
would go. The Brazilian forest, they all said, was
worse, more impenetrable than any forest in the world.
Brazilian rivers were broader, deeper and more dangerous
than any river on earth. Wild beasts in Brazil
were more numerous and wilder than the wildest animals
of Africa or Asia. As for the Indians of Central Brazil,
they were innumerable—millions of them—and ferocious
beyond all conception. They were treacherous cannibals,
and unfortunate was the person who ventured
among them. They told stories galore of how the few
who had gone had never come back. Then the insects,
the climate, the terrible diseases of Central Brazil were
worse than any insect, any climate, any terrible disease
anywhere. That is more or less the talk one hears in
every country when about to start on an expedition.

[13]
I had prepared my expedition carefully, at a cost
of some £2,000 for outfit. Few private expeditions
have ever started better equipped. I carried ample
provisions for one year (tinned meats, vegetables,
1,000 boxes of sardines, fruits, jams, biscuits, chocolate,
cocoa, coffee, tea, etc.), two serviceable light tents, two
complete sets of instruments for astronomical and
meteorological observations, and all the instruments
necessary for making an accurate survey of the country
traversed. Four excellent aneroids—which had been
specially constructed for me—and a well-made hypsometrical
apparatus with six boiling-point thermometers,
duly tested at the Kew Observatory, were carried in
order to determine accurately the altitudes observed.
Then I possessed two prismatic and six other excellent
compasses, chronometers, six photographic cameras,
specially made for me, with the very best Zeiss and
Goertz lenses, and some 1,400 glass photographic
plates—including some for colour photography. All
articles liable to be injured by heat and damp were
duly packed in air- and water-tight metal cases with
outer covers of wood. Then I carried all the instruments
necessary for anthropometric work, and painting
materials for recording views and scenes in colours when
the camera could not be used, as at night or when the
daylight was insufficient. I had a complete supply of
spades, picks, large saws, axes, and heavy-bladed knives
(two feet long) for cutting our way through the forest,
making roads and constructing rafts, canoes and
temporary bridges.

I carried, as usual, very little medicine—merely
three gallons of castor oil, a few bottles of iodine, some[14]
formiate of quinine, strong carbolic and arsenical soaps,
permanganate and other powerful disinfectants, caustic—that
was about all. These medicines were mostly
to be used, if necessary, upon my men and not upon
myself.

I had twelve of the best repeating rifles that are
made, as well as excellent automatic pistols of the most
modern type, and several thousand rounds of ammunition—chiefly
soft-nosed bullets. These weapons were
carried in order to arm my followers. Although I had
several first-class rifles for my own use—following my
usual custom, I never myself carried any weapons—not
even a penknife—upon my person except when
actually going after game. Again on this occasion—as
on previous journeys—I did not masquerade about
in fancy costumes such as are imagined to be worn by
explorers, with straps and buckles and patent arrangements
all over. I merely wore a sack coat with ample
pockets, over long trousers such as I use in town. Nor
did I wear any special boots. I always wore comfortable
clothes everywhere, and made no difference in my
attire between the Brazilian forest and Piccadilly,
London. When it got too hot, naturally I removed
the coat and remained in shirt sleeves; but that was
all the difference I ever made in my wearing apparel
between London and Central Brazil. I have never
in my life adopted a sun helmet—the most absurd,
uncomfortable and grotesque headgear that was ever
invented. I find, personally, that a common straw
hat provides as much protection as any healthy person
requires from the equatorial sun.

If I give these details, it is merely because they[15]
might be of some use to others—not because I wish to
advertise these facts; and also, if I do not give the
names of the firms which supplied the various articles,
it is because—unlike many other explorers—I have
been in the custom of never letting my name be used
in any way whatever for advertising purposes.

There are many people who are enthusiastic over
a dangerous project when they first hear of it, but on
thinking it over and talking with friends and relatives
their enthusiasm soon wears off. That is what happened
in Rio. I wasted some time in Rio—socially most
enjoyably employed—in order to get followers and come
to some suitable arrangement with the Government.
I was deeply indebted to the Minister of Agriculture,
Dr. Pedro de Toledo, for allowing me the free use
of all the telegraphs in Brazil, and also for a special
permission (of which I never availed myself) to use, if
necessary, the flotilla of Government boats on the
Amazon. Credentials were also furnished me, but
owing to the way in which they were worded they were
more of a danger to me than a protection. They
actually proved to be so once or twice when I was
compelled to present them. The expedition was considered
so dangerous that the Government published
broadcast statements in the official and other papers
stating that “Mr. A. H. Savage Landor’s expedition
across Brazil was undertaken solely at his own initiative
and absolutely at his own risk and responsibility.”
They also circulated widely the statement that I had
promised not in any way to injure or hurt the native
Indians, that I would not supply them with firearms
of any kind, and that I would in no way ill-treat them.[16]
I had gladly promised all that. I had not even dreamt
of doing any of those things to the natives, and naturally
I strictly kept my promise.

In a luxurious Administration car placed at my
disposal by Dr. Paulo Frontin I left Rio by the Central
Railway, escorted as far as S. Paulo by Dr. Carlo da
Fonseca, a railway engineer, sent to look after my
comfort by the Central Brazilian Railway Company.

On approaching S. Paulo in the early morning I was
much struck by the activity of the waking city as
compared with Rio. Carts were dashing to and fro
in the streets, the people walked along fast as if they
had something to do, and numerous factory chimneys
ejected clouds of smoke, puffing away in great white
balls. The people stopped to chat away briskly as if
they had some life in them. It seemed almost as if
we had suddenly dropped into an active commercial
European city. The type of people, their ways and
manners were different from those of the people of Rio—but
equally civil, equally charming to me from the
moment I landed at the handsome railway station.

With a delicious climate—owing to its elevation—with
a population of energetic people chiefly of Italian
origin, instead of the apathetic mixture of Portuguese
and negro, S. Paulo was indeed the most flourishing
city of the Brazilian Republic. Its yearly development
was enormous. Architecturally it was gradually
becoming modified and improved, so that in a few
years it will be a very beautiful city indeed. Already
the city possessed beautiful avenues and a wonderful
theatre.

Senador Alcindo Guanabara, a great Literary Genius and Patriot of Brazil.

Everybody knows what an important part the[17]
enterprising people of S. Paulo have played in the
expansion and colonization of the central and southern
regions of Brazil. The early activity of the Paulistas—it
dates back to 1531—can be traced from the River
Plate on the south, to the head waters of the Madeira
in Matto Grosso on the east, and as far as Piantry on
the north.

I cannot indulge here, as I should like to do, in
giving a complete historical sketch of the amazing
daring and enterprise of those early explorers and
adventurers and of their really remarkable achievements.
Their raids extended to territories of South
America which are to-day almost impenetrable. It
was really wonderful how they were able to locate and
exploit many of the most important mines within an
immense radius of their base.

The history of the famous Bandeiras, under the
command of Raposo, and composed of Mamelucos
(crosses of Portuguese and Indians) and Tupy Indians,
the latter a hardy and bold race, which started out on
slave-hunting expeditions, is thrilling beyond words and
reads almost like fiction. The ways of the Bandeirantes
were sinister. They managed to capture immense
numbers of slaves, and must have killed as many as
they were able to bring back or more. They managed,
therefore, to depopulate the country almost entirely,
the few tribes that contrived to escape destruction
seeking refuge farther west upon the slopes of the
Andes.

Although the Brazilians—even in official statistics—estimate
the number of pure savage Indians in the
interior at several millions, I think that the readers of[18]
this book will be convinced, as I was in my journey
across the widest and wildest part of Brazil, that perhaps
a few hundreds would be a more correct estimate.
Counting half-castes, second, third and fourth crosses,
and Indians who have entirely adopted Portuguese
ways, language and clothes, they may perhaps amount
to several thousand—but that is all.

The Jesuits endeavoured to save the Indians from
the too-enterprising Bandeirantes, with the result that
the missions were destroyed also and the missionaries
driven away or killed.

Brazil occupies to-day in the world’s knowledge
practically the same position that forbidden Tibet
occupied some fifteen or twenty years ago. It was
easier to travel all over Brazil centuries ago than now.

The Bandeirantes became extraordinarily daring.
In 1641 another slave-hunting Paulista expedition
started out to sack the missions of Paraguay and make
great hauls of converted Indians. The adventurers
invaded even the impenetrable territory of the Chaco.
But, history tells us, the Jesuits, who were well prepared
for war, were not only able to trap the 400
Paulista Bandeirantes in an ambuscade and to set
free their prisoners, but killed a great number of them,
120 of the adventurous Bandeirantes thus supplying
a handsome dinner for the cannibal Chaco Indians.
Infuriated at the reverse, the survivors of the expedition
destroyed all the missions and Indian villages
upon their passage, not one escaping. They came to
grief, however, in the end. Few only returned home
to tell the tale. That lesson practically ended the
slave-hunting expeditions on a large scale of the[19]
Bandeirantes, but not the expeditions of parties in
search of gold and diamonds, many of which were
extraordinarily successful. Minor expeditions were
undertaken in which Paulista adventurers were employed
under contract in various parts of Brazil for
such purposes as to fight the Indians or to break up
the so-called Republic of the Palmeiras—an unpleasant
congregation of negroes and Indians.

The astonishing success which the dauntless Paulistas
had obtained everywhere made them thirst for
gold and diamonds, which they knew existed in the
interior. They set out in great numbers—men, women,
and children—in search of wealth and fresh adventure.
Several of the towns in distant parts of the interior
of Brazil owe their origin to this great band of adventurers,
especially in the section of Brazil now called
Minas Geraes. The adventurers were eventually outnumbered
and overpowered by swarms of Brazilians
from other parts of the country, and by Portuguese
who had quickly arrived in order to share in the wealth
discovered by the Paulistas. They finally had to
abandon the mines which they had conquered at an
appalling loss of human life.

The ardour of the Paulistas was quelled but not
extinguished. About the year 1718 they started afresh
to the north-west in the direction of the Cuyaba River
and of Goyaz, where they had learnt that gold and
diamonds of great beauty were to be found. So many
joined in these adventurous expeditions that S. Paulo
was left almost depopulated. That is how those
immense territories of Goyaz and Matto Grosso were
discovered and annexed to S. Paulo, but eventually,[20]
owing to their size, these became split up into capitaneas,
then into states.

The Paulistas were great fighters. In 1739 they
were able to drive away the Spaniards from Rio Grande
do Sul and forced them to retreat into Uruguay. After
many years of vicissitudes in war and exploration—after
phases of prosperity, oppression, and even of
almost total ruin, owing to maladministration and
official greed—things began to look up again for São
Paulo when the port of Santos was thrown open to the
trade of the world, in 1808. The history of Brazil
during the last hundred years is too well known to be
repeated here.

During the last few years the State of São Paulo
has attained amazing prosperity, principally from the
export of coffee—perhaps the most delicious coffee in
the world. Although nearly all the rivers of the State
of São Paulo are absolutely useless for navigation, owing
to dangerous rapids, the State is intersected by innumerable
streams, large and small—of great importance
for purposes of irrigation and for the generation of
electric power. The most important harbour in the
State is Santos. Ubatuba, São Sebastião, Iguape and
Carranca are ports of less consequence. It is principally
from Santos that the exportation of coffee takes
place.

The Municipal Theatre, Rio de Janeiro.

The State extends roughly in a parallelogram from
the ocean, south-east, to the Parana River, north-west;
between the Rio Grande, to the north, and the Rio
Paranapanema, to the south, the latter being two
tributaries of the Parana River. The State can be
divided into two distinct zones, one comprising the[21]
low-lying lands of the littoral, the second the tablelands
of the interior north-west of the Serra Cadias,
Serra do Paranapiacaba and Serra do Mar—along
or near the sea-coasts. The first zone by the sea is
extremely hot and damp, with swampy and sandy soil
often broken up by spurs from the neighbouring hill
ranges. It is well suited for the cultivation of rice.
The second zone, which covers practically all the
elevated country between the coast ranges and the
Parana River, is extraordinarily fertile, with a fairly
mild climate and abundant rains during the summer
months. During the winter the days are generally
clear and dry.

It is in that second zone that immense coffee
plantations are to be found, the red soil typical of that
tableland being particularly suitable for the cultivation
of the coffee trees.

It is hardly necessary here to go into detailed
statistics, but it may be sufficient to state, on the
authority of the Directoria de Estatistica Commercial
of Rio de Janeiro, that during the first eleven months
of the year 1912, 10,465,435 sacks of coffee were exported
from Brazil—mostly from São Paulo—showing
an increase of 548,854 sacks on eleven months of the
previous year. That means a sum of £40,516,006
sterling, or £5,218,564 more than the previous year; the
average value of the coffee being, in 1912, 58,071
milreis, or, taking the pound sterling at 15 milreis,
£3 17s. 5½d. a sack—an increase in price of 4,628
reis = 6s. 2d. per sack, on the sales of 1911.

The other exports from the State of São Paulo are
flour, mandioca, cassava, bran, tanned hides, horns,[22]
fruit (pineapples, bananas, cocoanuts, abacates (alligator
pears), oranges, tangerines, etc.), wax, timber
(chiefly jacarandà or rosewood), a yearly decreasing
quantity of cotton, steel and iron, mica, goldsmith’s
dust, dried and preserved fish, scrap sole leather,
salted and dry hides, wool, castor seed or bean, crystal,
mate, rice, sugar, rum (aguardente) and other articles
of minor importance.

The area of the State of São Paulo has been put
down at 290,876 sq. kil.

Its population in 1908 was calculated at 3,397,000,
and it had then more inhabitants to the square kilometre
than any other part of Brazil. It is useless to
give actual figures of the population, for none are
reliable. Although this State is the most civilized in
Brazil, yet a good portion of its western territory is
still practically a terra incognita, so that even the best
official figures are mere guess-work.

Owing to the wonderful foresight of that great man,
Antonio Prado—to my mind the greatest man in
Brazil—a new industry has been started in the State
of São Paulo which promises to be as lucrative and
perhaps more so than the cultivation of coffee. It is
the breeding of cattle on a gigantic scale, the magnificent
prairies near Barretos, in the northern part of the
State, being employed for the purpose. Slaughter-houses
and refrigerating plants of the most modern
type are to be established there, and with such a practical
man as Antonio Prado at the head of the enterprise,
the scheme is bound, I should think, to be a
success. With the population of the Republic gradually
increasing—it could be centupled and there would still[23]
be plenty of room for as many people again—the
São Paulo State will one day supply most of the meat
for the principal markets of Brazil. A good deal of
the cattle which will eventually be raised on the marvellous
campos of Matto Grosso and Goyaz, and destined
to Southern Brazilian markets, will find its way
to the coast via São Paulo. The rest will travel
perhaps via Minas Geraes.

For some years cattle breeding has been carried
on successfully enough, but on a comparatively small
scale, in this State. Experiments have been made in
crossing the best local breeds, principally the Caracù,
with good foreign breeds, such as the Jersey, Durham
and Dutch stocks. Pigs of the Berkshire, Yorkshire,
Canasters and Tatus type are the favourites in São
Paulo, and seem to flourish in that climate.

Sheep-breeding is also successful, and would be
even more so if proper care were taken of the animals.
Of the wool-producing kinds, those preferred are the
Leicester, Merino, Oxford and Lincoln, the Oxford
having already produced quite excellent results.

The Government of the State, I understand, is at
present giving great attention to the matter, and is
using discrimination in the selection of suitable breeds
from foreign countries in order to procure the best
animals of various kinds for the production of meat,
butter, and hides. I also believe that an endeavour
is being made to produce in the State a good breed of
horses for military and other purposes.

The elevation of São Paulo city is 2,450 ft. above
the sea level.

Thanks to the kindness of the President of the[24]
Paulista Railway, a special saloon carriage was placed
at my disposal when I left São Paulo, and a railway
inspector sent to escort me and furnish me with any
information I required. I preferred travelling seated
in front of the engine, where I could obtain the full
view of the interesting scenery through which we were
to pass.

Baron de Rio Branco.

The Paulista Railway was interesting, as it was
the first line in Brazil constructed entirely with Brazilian
capital. The line was begun in 1870, but since that
date several extensions have been successfully laid out.
Up to 1909 the lines owned and worked by the Paulista
Railway were the 1·60-metre-gauge trunk line from
Jundiahy to Descalvado (north of S. Paulo), and the
two branch lines of the same gauge from Cordeiro to
Rio Claro; Laranja Azeda to S. Veridiana; the two
branch lines of 0·60 m. gauge from Descalvado to Aurora
and from Porto Ferreira to S. Rita do Passo Quatro.
Then they possessed the one-metre trunk line from
Rio Claro to Araraquara, with the following branch
and extension lines: Visconde de Rio Claro to Jahu;
Araraquara to Jaboticabal; Bebedouro to Barretos;
Mogy Guasso Rincão to Pontal; S. Carlos to S. Euxodia
and Rib. Bonita; Agudos to Dois Corregos and Piratininga;
and the loop line through Brotas. Of the
total charters for 1,114 kil. 261 have been granted by
the Federal Government and are under their supervision,
whereas 583 kil. are under charter granted by
the State of São Paulo.

The following statistics taken from the last Brazilian
Year Book show the wonderful development of the
passenger and goods traffic on the Paulista Railway:—

[25]

At Jundiahy the Paulista Company has extensive
repairing shops for engines. Formerly they had there
also shops for building carriages, but these are now
constructed at the Rio Claro Station, partly from
material which comes from abroad. The rolling stock
of the Company is excellent in every way—quite up-to-date,
and kept in good condition—almost too luxurious
for the kind of passengers it has to carry.

It is principally after leaving Campinas that the
scenery of the line is really beautiful—wonderful undulating
country—but with no habitations, except,
perhaps, a few miserable sheds miles and miles apart.
At Nueva Odena the Government is experimenting
with Russian and Italian labourers, for whom it has
built a neat little colony. After a time each labourer
becomes the owner of the land he has cultivated. I
am told that the colony is a success.

[26]

CHAPTER II

My object in travelling by the Paulista Railway was
to inspect the line on my way to the immense coffee
plantations at Martinho Prado, owned by Conselheiro
Antonio Prado. The estate is situated at an elevation
above the sea level of 1,780 ft., upon fertile
red soil. It is difficult, without seeing them, to
realize the extent and beauty of those coffee groves—miles
and miles of parallel lines of trees of a healthy,
dark green, shining foliage. A full-grown coffee tree,
as everybody knows, varies in height from 6 ft. to 14
or 15 ft. according to the variety, the climate, and
quality of the soil. It possesses a slender stem,
straight and polished, seldom larger than 3 to 5 in.
in diameter, from which shoot out horizontal or slightly
oblique branches—the larger quite close to the soil—which
gradually diminish in length to its summit.
The small white blossom of the coffee tree is not unlike
jessamine in shape and also in odour. The fruit,
green in its youth, gradually becomes of a yellowish
tint and then of a bright vermilion when quite ripe—except
in the Botucatú kind, which remains yellow to
the end.

The fruit contains within a pericarp a pulp slightly[27]
viscous and sweet, within which, covered by a membrane,
are the two hemispherical coffee beans placed
face to face and each covered by a tender pellicle. It
is not unusual to find a single bean in the fruit, which
then takes the shape of an ellipsoid grooved in its longer
axis—and this is called moka owing to the resemblance
which it bears to the coffee of that name.

The coffee chiefly cultivated in Brazil is the Arabica
L. and to a small extent also the Liberica Hiern, but
other varieties have developed from those, and there
are crosses of local kinds such as the Maragogype, which
takes its name from the place where it was discovered
(Bahia Province). Those varieties are locally known
as Creoulo, Bourbon, Java, Botucatú (or yellow bean
coffee), the Maragogype, and the Goyaz. The Creoulo,
the Botucatú and the Maragogype are wilder and show
more resistance than the Java and Bourbon sorts,
which are nevertheless more productive under good
conditions and with careful cultivation, which the first
three qualities do not exact.

The coffee tree is a most serviceable plant, every
part of which can be used. Its wood is much used in
cabinet making, and makes excellent fuel; its leaves,
properly torrefied, and then stewed in boiling water,
give a palatable kind of tea; from the sweet pulp of
its fruit an agreeable liqueur can be distilled; from
its beans can be made the beverage we all know, and
from the shells and residue of the fruit a good fertilizer
can be produced.

The chemical examination of the cinders of the
coffee bean shows that it contains 65·25 per cent of
potash, 12·53 per cent of phosphoric acid, 11·00 per[28]
cent of magnesia, 6·12 per cent of lime, and some
traces of sulphuric and salicylic acid, oxide of iron and
chlorine.

An interesting study has been made by Dr. Dafert
of the weight of the various components of the coffee
tree at different ages, from which it appears that the
proportion of potash increases progressively in the
organs as they are more and more distant from the
roots. The contrary is the case with lime and phosphoric
acid, which preponderate generally in the seeds.

With this knowledge a scientific cultivator can
judge exactly how to treat the exigencies of the different
trees at different ages. Naturally, the condition of
the soil has to be taken into consideration in any case.
According to experiments made by Dr. Dafert each
kilo of coffee beans has extracted from the soil—potash
0·7880 gramme; phosphoric acid 0·4020 gramme;
magnesia 0·3240 gramme; lime 0·1470 gramme.

These experiments apply merely to coffee grown in
Brazil, and are no doubt at variance with experiments
on coffee grown elsewhere. Taking all things into consideration,
it has been proved by chemical analysis that
the Brazilian coffee comes as near as any in its components
to what the normal or perfect coffee should be.

The soil, the elevation of the land, the zone and the
climate naturally have considerable influence on the
quality of the coffee. The Coffea Arabica seems to feel
happy enough in a temperate zone and at elevations
from 1,500 to 2,300 ft. The States of São Paulo,
Minas Geraes, Rio de Janeiro and Espirito Santo fulfil
most if not all these conditions.

Dr. Passos.

The coffee trees can stand cold—if not of long[29]
duration—down to freezing-point, as well as a fairly
high temperature. Unlike the Liberia coffee, they
fare better on undulating or broken ground than on
the flat.

Two distinct seasons—the dry and the rainy—each
of about six months’ duration—such as are found in
the above-mentioned States of Brazil, seem perfectly
to suit the growth of the coffee trees. The trees are
in bloom for three or four days some time during the
months of September to December. If the rains are
not abundant when the trees are in blossom, and
during the maturing of the fruits, the latter do not
develop properly, especially those at the end of the
branches, where the berries become dry before their
time or even do not form. If the rain comes too long
before the trees are in bloom it causes the blossoms to
open before their time and they are frequently spoiled
by the cold which follows. The coffee beans are collected
in April, during the dry weather.

The coffee trees are very sensitive to winds, cold
or hot, especially when blowing continuously in the
same direction, which causes the undue fall of leaves
and rupture of the bark at the neck of the roots. Wind,
indeed, is one of the most dangerous enemies of coffee
trees, and it is to obviate this danger that in many
countries—but not in Brazil—a protecting plantation
in lines of other trees—generally useful fruit trees—is
adopted in order to screen the coffee trees from the
prevailing wind, as well as to give a further income
from the fruit produced.

It has been proved that even from good trees below
a certain altitude the coffee is of inferior quality, while[30]
above that height the crop becomes irregular. In zones
fully exposed to the sun the quality is superior to that
of regions where the sun does not reach or only reaches
for a short portion of the day.

The Coffea Arabica is not particularly exacting in
the quality of the soil, but the soil on which it flourishes
best is that formed in great part by decomposed vegetable
matter—as, for instance, from ancient trees
mixed with volcanic earth, such as the famous red earth
of the State of São Paulo. Volcanic cinders also are
said to be wonderful fertilizers for the soil, and well
adapted for the welfare of coffee trees.

One thing is undoubted, and that is that the State
of São Paulo possesses the ideal soil for coffee plantations.
Analysis has shown that, curiously enough, the
soil of São Paulo is not in itself very rich. It has an
insufficient quantity of fertilizing substances, particularly
of lime; but it should not be forgotten that
locality and climatic conditions must be taken into
serious consideration, and that we must not be misled
by the difference between the apparent and the real fertility
of the soil. What would be a poor soil in Europe
may prove to be an excellent one in a tropical country.
So the famous “red earth” of São Paulo, which in
a drier climate would be sterile and unproductive, is
there excellent because of its extremely permeable,
porous and powdery qualities.

The special terms used for naming the different
kinds of earth suitable for the cultivation of coffee are:
terra roxa (red earth), massapé, salmorão, catanduva,
terra de areia (sand earth), picarra (stony earth), and
pedreguelho (stony earth).

[31]
The terra roxa is an argillaceous, ferruginous earth
of diabasic origin, occasionally mixed with sand. It
contains salicylic acid, oxide of iron, alumina, phosphoric
acid, oxide of manganese, lime, magnesia, potash
and soda.

The massapé, originally decomposed gneiss-granitic
rock mixed with clay, contains oxide of iron. Its
occasional blackness is due to the decomposed vegetable
matter it embodies.

The salmorão includes in its formation small stones
indicating the incomplete decomposition of the rock
from which it originates.

The catanduva—which is of inferior quality—is composed
of much disintegrated vegetable matter and fine
dust.

The names of the other kinds of earth well denote
their quality.

One reason why coffee cultivation is so popular in
Brazil is because of the general belief that no trouble
is required to look after the trees—a very mistaken
notion indeed. There is a marked difference between
plantations carefully looked after and those that are
not. More than usual care must be taken to select
the seed for new plantations. The young plants must
get strong in a nursery and then be transplanted into
proper soil, the prudent distance between trees being
generally from 9 to 12 ft. For the convenience of collecting
the beans and keeping the soil clean, a perfect
alignment in all directions is necessary. The most
suitable month for planting coffee in Brazil, according
to the authority of Dr. Dafert, is the month of July.

Great care must be taken of the trees themselves[32]
and of the soil around the trees, which must be kept
clean and absolutely free from grass. The capillary
roots of the trees extending horizontally near the
surface of the soil are much affected by the presence
of any other vegetation, and by the collection of insects
which this produces and harbours. Frost, rain, and the
heat of the sun naturally affect the trees more when
the soil is dirty than when kept clean. Many of the
coffee estates suffer considerably from insufficient labour.
The effects of this are quickly visible on the trees.
Artificial fertilization is useful, even necessary after a
number of years, and so is careful pruning in order to
keep the trees healthy, strong and clean.

A Beautiful Waterfall at Theresopolis.

Antonio Prado’s Coffee Estate.

Coffee trees have many natural enemies—chiefly
vegetable and animal parasites—which mostly attack
the leaves. The Ramularia Goeldiana, a parasite not
unlike the Cercospora Coffeicola, is one of the worst,
and undoubtedly the chief offender in Brazil, although
great is the number of insects prejudicial to the trees.
The most terrible of all, perhaps, are the ants and
termites, such as the Termes opacus, which attack
and destroy the roots of young trees. The cupim
(Termes album) or white ant, and the carregador or
Sauba, a giant ant with which we shall get fully acquainted
later on our journey, are implacable enemies
of all plants. Also the quen-quen, another kind of ant.
These ants are so numerous that it is almost an impossibility
to extirpate them. Various ways are suggested
for their destruction, but none are really effective.
Certain larvæ, flies and cochinilla, owing to their
sucking habits, deposit on the leaves and branches a
viscous sugary substance, which, on account of the[33]
heat, causes fermentation known locally as fumagina.
This produces great damage. Birds pick and destroy
the berries when ripe; and caterpillars are responsible
for the absolute devastation of many coffee districts
in the Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo States. Other
pests of the Heteroptera type attack the roots to such
an extent as to cause the death of the trees.

Among the diseases of the trees are the Aphelencus
Coffeæ and the Loranthus brasiliensis—the latter a
terrible parasite which quickly envelops the stem and
branches of the tree and ends by killing it.

The collection of the berries is the busiest process
in the fazendas, and has to be performed with considerable
care, for some of the berries are already ripe
and dried when others hidden under the branches have
not yet reached the required degree of maturity. An
experienced hand can collect from 400 to 450 litres
of coffee berries per day. It takes an average of 100
litres of coffee berries to produce 15 kilos of prepared
coffee beans ready to be shipped. The crop is not
the same every year. After one plentiful crop there
generally succeeds one year, sometimes two or three, of
poor—almost insignificant—collections, varying according
to the care that is taken of the trees and the soil.

When once the coffee has been collected and transported
to the fazenda in baskets, blankets and sheets,
it is necessary to remove the skin and viscous pulpy
matter which envelop the beans. This is done partly
by maceration in water tanks, and afterwards by drying
upon extensive flat terraces, tiled or cemented, and
locally called terreiro. The process of drying by
machinery has not been adopted in Brazil; principally[34]
because of its high cost. The coffee is first placed for
some days in mounds on the terraces, until fermentation
of the outer skin begins, which afterwards hastens
desiccation when coffee is spread flat in a thin layer
on the terraces. When once the coffee berries have
been freed from their pulpy envelope and skin, the
desiccation—if the weather is propitious—takes place
in a few days. Care must be taken to move the berries
constantly, so that they dry evenly on all sides, as
perfect desiccation is necessary in order to preserve
the coffee in good condition after it is packed for shipment.

There are two ways of preparing coffee for export—the
humid and the dry. In the humid process
the berries are placed in a special machine called
despolpadore, which leaves the beans merely covered
and held together in couples by the membrane immediately
enclosing them after the skin and viscous sugary
coating have been removed. Those coffees are called
in commerce, lavados, or washed.

The dry process consists, after the berries have been
skinned and dried, in removing part of the pulp and
membrane in a special machine and a series of ventilators.
They are then quite ready for export.

The preparation of coffee from the drying terraces
is slightly more complicated. The coffee passes through
a first ventilator, which frees it from impurities such
as earth, stems, stones, filaments, etc.; from this it is
conveyed by means of an elevator into the descascador,
where the membrane is removed. Subsequently it
passes through a series of other ventilators, which
eliminate whatever impurities have remained and[35]
convey the coffee into a polishing machine (brunidor).
There the coffee is subjected to violent friction, which
not only removes the last atoms of impurity but gives
the beans a finishing polish. The coffee is then ready
for the market.

I spent a most instructive day inspecting the fazenda
of Conselheiro Antonio Prado and having things clearly
explained by his intelligent overseer, Mr. Henrique P.
Ribeiro.

From that place I drove across country, through
endless groves of coffee trees—for miles and miles—as
far as the next great coffee estate, belonging to the
Dumont Company, an English concern, with an authorized
capital of £800,000, the estates being valued at
£1,200,000. It is not often one sees an estate so
beautifully managed and looked after in a country
like Brazil. The buildings, the machinery, the “drying
terraces,” everything was in capital order. To indicate
on what scale the Company does business, it will be
sufficient to state that in 1911 the coffee crop amounted
to 109,368 cwts., which realized on a gross average
56s. 10½d. per cwt. This crop was not as plentiful as
in the previous year, when 110,558 cwts. were harvested.
The gross profit for the year up to June 21st,
1911, was £123,811 2s. 5d., which, less London charges,
still showed the substantial sum of £119,387 11s. 8d.
There had been a considerable rise in the rate at which
coffee was sold in 1911—viz., 56s. 10½d. per cwt. as
compared with 41s. 8½d. the previous year; but notwithstanding
the high price, the high rate of exchange,
and the cost of laying the coffee down in London—which
had risen on the estate by 1s. 11½d. and by 1s. 3½d.[36]
in respect of charges between the estate and London,
the Company had been able to earn a profit of 20s. 4¾d.
per cwt.

I was taken round the estate by Mr. J. A. Davy,
the general manager, whose good and sensible work
was noticeable at every turn. The trees seemed in
excellent condition and likely to have a long life on
the specially suitable rich red soil, and with sufficient
breathing space allowed to maintain them in good
health. The soil was of such unusual richness in that
particular spot that no artificial stimulation was required
in order to keep the trees healthy and vigorous.
One could walk for miles and miles along the beautiful
groves of coffee trees, clean-looking with their rich
deep green foliage.

They seemed to have no great difficulty on the
Dumont estate in obtaining sufficient labour—greatly,
I think, owing to the fair way in which labourers were
treated. Mr. Davy told me that over an area of 13,261
acres a crop had been maintained which averaged
8¼ cwts. per acre.

Experiments have also been made on the Dumont
Estate (at an elevation of 2,100 ft. above the sea level)—chiefly,
I believe, to satisfy the wish of shareholders in
London—in the cultivation of rubber, but it did not
prove a success—as was, after all, to be expected. It
is not easy to make the majority of people understand
that coffee grows lustily in that particular part of the
State of São Paulo mainly because of the eminently
suitable quality of the soil; but it does not at all
follow that soil or climatic conditions which are good
for coffee are suitable for rubber trees, or vice versa.[37]
In the case of the Dumont Estates, although the best
possible land was chosen and three different varieties
of rubber—the Pará, Ceará and the Castilloa were
experimented with, it was soon discovered that only
one kind—the Ceará—attained any growth at all, and
this gave very little latex—owing undoubtedly to the
nature of the soil and the climate. The cost of extracting
the latex was prohibitive. With wages at
four shillings a day a man could collect about one-third
of a pound of latex a day. Rubber trees could,
in that region, not be expected to produce more than
one-fifth of a pound of rubber a year, so that the cost
of collecting and shipping rubber from ten-year-old
trees would amount to 3s. 3d. per lb., without counting
the cost of planting and upkeep.

By a special train on the Dumont Railway line I
travelled across beautiful country—all coffee plantations—the
property of the Dumont Company and of
Colonel Schmidt, the “Coffee King,” whose magnificent
estate lies along the Dumont Railway line. I
regretted that I could not visit this great estate also,
but I was most anxious to get on with my journey and
get away as soon as possible from civilization. It was
pleasant to see that no rivalry existed between the
various larger estates, and I learnt that the Dumont
Railway actually carried—for a consideration, naturally—all
the coffee from the Schmidt Estate to the
Riberão Preto station on the Mogyana Railway.

[38]

CHAPTER III

I arrived at Riberão Preto at 3.45 p.m. on March 29th.
Riberão Preto—421 kil. N.N.W. of São Paulo and 500
kil. from Santos—is without doubt the most important
commercial centre in the northern part of the State of
São Paulo, and is a handsome active city, neat and
clean-looking, with an Italian, Spanish and Portuguese
population of some 25,000 souls. Its elevation above
the sea level is 1,950 ft. The people of Riberão Preto
subsist chiefly on the coffee industry. There are one
or two theatres in the city, the principal being a provincial
one. There are several hotels of various degrees
of cleanliness and several industrial establishments.
Unlike other cities of the interior, Riberão Preto boasts
of a good supply of agua potavel (drinking water),
and the town is lighted by the electric light.

The value of land in the vicinity of Riberão Preto
varies from 300 milreis to 1,500 milreis for the alqueire,
a price far superior to that of other localities on the
same line, where cultivated land can be purchased at
300 milreis an alqueire and pasture land at 100 milreis.

At Riberão Preto I was to leave the Dumont Railway.
Special arrangements had been made for me to
meet at that station a special Administration car which[39]
was to be attached to the ordinary express train on
the Mogyana Railway line.

I had been warned at the Dumont Estate that a
brass band had been sent to the Riberão Preto station,
where some notabilities were awaiting my arrival in
order to greet me with the usual speeches of welcome.
As I particularly dislike public speaking and publicity,
I managed to mix unseen among the crowd—they
expecting to see an explorer fully armed and in khaki
clothes of special cut as represented in illustrated
papers. It was with some relief that I saw them departing,
with disappointed faces, and with their brass
instruments, big drums and all, after they had entered
the luxurious special car placed at my disposal by the
Mogyana Railway and found it empty—I humbly
watching the proceedings some distance away from the
platform.

Thanks to the splendid arrangements which had
been made for me by Dr. José Pereira Rebonças, the
President of the Mogyana, I was able to take a most
instructive journey on that line, the Traffic Superintendent,
Mr. Vicente Bittencourt, having been instructed
to accompany me and furnish all possible information.

A few words of praise are justly due to the Mogyana
line for the excellence of the service and the perfection
of the rolling stock. I inspected the entire train and
was amazed to find such beautiful and comfortable
carriages, provided with the latest improvements for
passengers of all classes. It is seldom I have seen in
any country a train look so “smart” as the one in
which I travelled from Riberão Preto to the terminus
of the line. The appointments of every kind were[40]
perfect, the train ran in excellent time, and very
smoothly over well-laid rails. The special car in which
I travelled was “palatial and replete with every comfort,”
if I may use the stock words invariably applied
to railway travelling.

Here are a few interesting points regarding the
Mogyana Railway.

By a provincial law (São Paulo) of March 21st,
1872, a guaranteed interest of 7 per cent on a capital
of 3,000,000 milreis was granted for ninety years
for the construction of a railway of 1 metre gauge
from Campinas to Mogymirim, and of a branch line
to Amparo, to the north-east of Campinas and due east
of Inguary. By a similar law of March 20th, 1875, a
guaranteed interest was granted for thirty years as
to the capital of 2,500,000 milreis for a prolongation
of the line to Casa Blanca.

By a provincial law (Minas Geraes) of October 1st,
1881, another guarantee was granted of 7 per cent for
thirty years, upon a maximum capital of 5,000,000
milreis, for a continuation of the railway through the
provincial territory from the right bank of the Rio
Grande to the left bank of the Paranahyba River.
Finally, by a provincial contract of Minas Geraes of
October, 1884, a further guarantee was granted of
7 per cent for thirty years, on a maximum capital of
5,000,000 milreis, for the construction of the prolongation
of the railway from its terminal point at the
Rio Grande as far as the Paranahyba via the city of
Uberaba.

In view of other important concessions obtained,
one may consider that the Mogyana Company is perhaps[41]
the most important railway concern in Brazil, up to
the present time. It does great credit to Brazilians
that the railway was constructed almost entirely by
capital raised on bonds in Brazil itself, the only foreign
loan issued in London being a sum raised amounting
merely to £341,000 at an interest of 5 per cent. Between
the years 1879 and 1886 the Company returned to the
Government of São Paulo the interests received, thus
liquidating its debt. A decree of October 18th, 1890,
fixed the capital spent on the Rio Grande line and
a branch to Caldas at 4,300,000 milreis gold and
1,853,857.750 milreis paper as guarantee of the interest
of 6 per cent conceded by the National Treasury.

In the year 1900 the value of interests received
amounted to 3,190,520.418 milreis in paper, and
1,963,787.300 milreis in gold, out of which 544,787.300
milreis were in debenture bonds. On the same date
the value of interests repaid to the National Treasury
amounted to 1,606,578.581 milreis in paper currency.

The federalized lines of the Company were: from
Riberão Preto to Rio Grande (concession of 1883);
from Rio Grande to Araguary (concession of 1890);
with a total extension of 472 kil., and a branch line
from Cascavel to Poço de Caldas, 77 kil., the last 17 kil.
of which were in the Province of Minas Geraes. The
extension from Rio Grande to Araguary, 282 kil., was
also situated in the Province of Minas Geraes.

Having dodged the expectant crowd at the station
unnoticed, I did not go with the Traffic Superintendent,
Mr. Vicente Bittencourt, into the luxurious special car
as the train was steaming out of the Riberão Preto
station, but preferred to travel in front of the engine[42]
so as to get a full view of the beautiful scenery along
the line. We went at a good speed over gentle curves
rounding hill-sides, the grass of which bent under a
light breeze. Here and there stood a minute white
cottage—almost toy-like—where coffee gatherers lived.
On the left we had a grandiose undulating region—what
the Americans would call “rolling country”—combed
into thousands of parallel lines of coffee
trees, interrupted at intervals by extensive stretches
of light green grazing land. Only now and then, as
the engine puffed and throbbed under me, did I notice
a rectangle of dried brownish yellow, where the farmers
had grown their Indian corn. These patches were a
great contrast to the interminable mass of rich dark
green of the coffee trees and the light green of the
prairies.

Near these patches—prominently noticeable in the
landscape because so scarce—one invariably saw groups
of low whitewashed or red-painted houses, mere humble
sheds. Where the land was not yet under cultivation—quite
a lot of it—low scrub and stunted trees far
apart dotted the landscape.

On nearing villages, as the express dashed through,
goats stampeded in all directions: sleepy women and
men looked at the train half dazed as it went by, and
children, with quite a characteristic gesture, screened
their eyes with their elbows to protect them from the
dust and wind the train produced. I was astonished
to notice how many fair-haired children one saw—curious
indeed in a population of Latin races and negroes.
That golden hair, however, seemed gradually to grow
darker, and became almost black in the older people.

[43]
Hideous barbed-wire fences gave a certain air of
civilization to those parts, but the landscape was nevertheless
getting desolate as we proceeded farther north.
Except in the immediate vicinity of habitations, one
felt the absolute lack of animal life. Only rarely did
we see a black bird of extraordinary elongated form
dash frightened across the railway line, much too fast
for me to identify to which family it belonged.

One could not help being impressed by the immensity
of the landscape, endless sweeping undulation after
undulation spreading before us, but not a real mountain
in sight. It was like a solid ocean of magnified proportions.
Just above the horizon-line a large accumulation
of globular clouds of immaculate white intensified
the interesting colour-scheme of greens and yellows
on the earth’s surface to its full value by contrast.

The large proportion of cultivated land which had
impressed me so much in the vicinity of Riberão Preto
gradually diminished; and at sunset, by the time we
had reached Batataes, only 48 kil. farther on, hardly
any more coffee plantations were visible. Only fields
of short grass spread before us on all sides. An occasional
bunch of trees hiding a humble farmhouse could
be perceived here and there, but no other sign of life
upon the immense, silent, green undulations of symmetric
curves, not unlike enormous waves of the sea.

Farther north upon the Mogyana line, land seemed
to diminish in price considerably. Its quality was not
so good, especially for coffee plantations. At Batataes,
for instance, 548 kil. by rail from the coast, prices were
cheaper. Good land for cultivation could be obtained
at 200 milreis, and campos at 25 milreis an alqueire.

[44]
Such low prices were general north of Riberão
Preto, although naturally they were likely to increase
as the country got slowly opened up with new roads
and railroads. Away from the railway the price of
land was much lower.

One thing that particularly struck the traveller
straying in those parts was the poverty of all the minor
towns and villages. The industrial development of the
larger settlements consisted merely of a distillery of
“fire-water” (aguardente), or, if the city were modern
and up-to-date, of a brewery, the only two profitable
industries in those regions.

Batataes—according to Brazilian statistics—was
stated to “deve ter“—”it should have perhaps” some
5,000 inhabitants. The zone around it was said to be
suitable for coffee growing; in fact, the municipality
possessed much machinery for the preparation of coffee.

At 7.50 p.m. punctually—as she was due—the
engine steamed into the Franca station, where the train
was to halt for the night. The passenger traffic was
not yet sufficiently extensive on that line to allow trains
to travel continuously during the twenty-four hours.
Passenger trains ran only in the daytime.

I was treated with the greatest consideration while
travelling on the Mogyana. Not only was the Administration
saloon car, containing a comfortable bedroom,
placed at my disposal, but telegrams had been sent all
along the line with orders to supply me with anything
I required. At Franca, much to my surprise, I found
an imposing dinner of sixteen courses waiting for me
in the station hotel—with repeated apologies that they
were distressed they could not produce more, as the[45]
telegram announcing my arrival had been received late.
On no account whatever was I allowed—as I wished—to
pay for anything. I was rather interested to watch
in the station restaurant the wonderful mixture of
people who had assembled: priests, monks, railway
porters, commercial travellers—some black, some white,
some a combination of the two—all sitting together in
a jovial manner sipping coffee or devouring a meal.

The city of Franca itself, 2 kil. away from the
station, 617 kil. from the sea at Santos, 528 kil. from
São Paulo, was in the most remote northerly corner
of the State of São Paulo, and had a population of 9,000
people or thereabout. The electric light had been
installed in the town, and there was a theatre. Much
difficulty was experienced in obtaining sufficient water
for the needs of the population. In the municipality
there existed a number of machines for use in the rice
and the coffee culture, as well as two steam saws, a
butter, and a sugar factory.

There were several trails—so-called roads—branching
off from this town and leading to Borda de Matta,
Garimpo das Canoas, Potrocinio do Sapucahy, S. José
da Bella Vista, etc.

The climate was healthy and delightful. While I
was there the Fahrenheit thermometer registered 76° at
an elevation of 3,450 feet. With a fairly good soil, the
municipality could produce cereals in plenty under
proper cultivation. Land was cheap enough in that
region—150 milreis per alqueire for good land for cultivation,
and 25 to 30 milreis per alqueire for campos.

We proceeded on our journey north the next
morning, passing through Indaya, 3,450 ft. above the[46]
sea level—a settlement boasting of two houses upon
the highest point of the railway line in the State of
São Paulo. We were nearing the Rio Grande, or Great
River, which, flowing in a westerly direction, formed
in that region the northern boundary of the State of
São Paulo with the State of Minas Geraes. As we got
near the river a greater lack of cultivation was noticeable,
with more extensive zones of wooded country,
especially in the depressions of the land. The undulations
of the landscape were more accentuated as we
approached the Minas Geraes province. Clouds hung
low in the valleys, and we occasionally went through
banks of mist not unlike those of Scotland. At
Chapadão the ground was more “accidenté“—to use
an appropriate French expression—with deep depressions
and indentations in the surface soil caused by
erosion.

The high land on which we had been travelling between
Franca and Igaçaba, the station after Chapadão,
gave birth on the west to several important tributaries
of the Rio Grande, enumerated below, from south to
north; the Rio Salgado, the Rio do Carmo, Riberão
Ponte Nova, Rib. Bandeira, Rio da Soledade, Rib.
S. Pedro; on the east was the Rib. S. Jesus, also a
tributary of the Rio Grande.

As the train sped down the incline towards the Rio
Grande we were now treated to magnificent scenery on
our right. An isolated hill stood at the bottom of
the valley with higher mountains on either side of it,
and, beyond, a high flat-topped plateau. The railway
line skirted snake-like along the hill-side. The hill-tops
were getting more rounded and fairly thickly[47]
wooded. As we got to a lower elevation the isolated
hill assumed the appearance of an elephant’s back. A
grassy valley several miles wide opened up before us.

At Rifaina Station we had reached the level of the
banks of the Rio Grande, that is to say, 1,950 ft. above
the sea level. The valley of the river was formed, in
this case also, by erosion which had left isolated hills
in terraces, one with as many as six distinct terraces,
others with rounded backs, but all plainly showing in
their stratification, which was identical with that of
the surrounding elevations, that in former days there
stood, where the valley was now, a plateau which had
subsequently been gradually eroded by the action of
water and wind.

Having crossed the river, we arrived at Jaguara—we
were now travelling in the Minas Geraes Province—where
a breakfast awaited us of rice, pork, dried
beef, as hard as leather, omelette with shrimps (a much
cherished dish in those parts), beans, mandioca, and
coffee. Black railway porters, firemen and engine
drivers all sat round the table and ate heartily, the
meal costing 2 milreis, or about 2s. 8d.

The railway ran almost parallel with the river on
the north side round the immense curve which the Rio
Grande describes in that particular section. We passed
Sacramento (elev. 1,850 ft.), and, in numerous curves,
the railway rose by a gradient of 3½ per cent among
hills seemingly worn out by torrential rains into
rounded shapes with huge gaps between. We left the
Rio Grande, there about 100 yards wide with thickly
wooded banks and islands. At Conquista we had
already again reached an elevation of 2,350 ft., but we[48]
still continued to rise by a gradient of 2½ to 3 per cent,
until a pass was reached from which two exquisite
panoramas were obtained. One, particularly interesting,
looked over Conquista with its whitewashed houses—some
250 of them—and red-tiled roofs against the
background formed by the rugged sides of the natural
cauldron worn in the tableland by erosion.

At 538 kil., 2,700 ft. above the sea level, a view was
obtained of a small coffee plantation, but most of the
country around was scantily wooded, grassy in places,
barren in others.

The railway, having descended to 2,500 ft., rose
again to 2,900 ft. near Paneiras Station. Then, through
beautiful grazing country, gently undulating, we descended
and mounted and went round sweeping curves,
which formed in places regular loops not unlike a
horseshoe. Two pits producing a considerable quantity
of lime existed some 2 kil. from Paneiras. Weak
attempts were noticeable here and there at growing
coffee. We were now in an eminently wonderful
pasture land—getting more and more beautiful as we
neared Uberaba, where we found ourselves on almost
flat country at an elevation of 2,900 ft., with hardly
any trees at all and with a delicious climate. The town
of Uberaba, with some 12,000 people, was situated at
a slightly lower elevation—only 2,700 ft.

The Station and Shed of the Goyaz Railway, Araguary.

Mr. Luiz Schnoor and his two engineers.

Typical Trees of the Brazilian Forest, Goyaz.

The stem devoid of branches and foliage up to a great height.

Uberaba was perhaps the most important distributing
centre in the western part of Minas Geraes, for
many trails branched from that place to various distant
points in the farther interior. The most important
trail was the one to Sta. Rita do Paranahyba, thence
to the capital of Goyaz Province via Marrinhos and[49]
Allemão; whence a second trail went to Fructal via
Conceiçao das Alagaos; a third, to Sant’ Anna do
Paranahyba, going on the whole almost due west,
but with great deviations, went almost across South
America as far as Pulacayo, in Bolivia, crossing first the
State of Matto Grosso in its southern and narrower
point via Coxim and Corumba, then all Bolivia, eventually
joining the La Paz-Antofagasta Railway line at
Uyum (Pulacayo is connected by rail to Uyum), and
ending at the Pacific Ocean. Another trail led to
Monte Alegre; yet another to Uberabinha—although
the railway had already connected that town with
Uberaba. This last trail continued, making great
detours, to Bagagem, then to Patrocino, from which
place it deviated due north to Paracatú, where three
ramifications occurred: one to Sta. Lucia, Pyrinopolis,
and Goyaz (capital); the second to Jamarria, Jocaré
(on the San Francisco River), and Carrinhan (on the
Carinhaha River, a tributary of the San Francisco),
and eventually by water to the Atlantic Ocean; the
third trail proceeded due east—across the S. Francisco
River to Montes Claros and Grão Mogol; a fourth in
a south-easterly direction led to Curvelho and Sta.
Lucia, where it met the railway to Rio de Janeiro.
Another route proceeded south to Sta. Rita do Paraiso.

The price of land—which was excellent in the valley
of the river—in the vicinity of Uberaba was from 30
to 150 milreis per alqueire—each alqueire being
reckoned at 10,000 square braças, and a braça being
about 6½ ft., or a little over two metres.

After leaving Uberaba the scenery was magnificent,
especially when a storm approached as we were steam[50]ing
over the Serra de Caracol. Dense black clouds
collected and capped the dark green forest of the
Serra, while down, down below on our right the endless
gently undulating plain of fresh green grass was brilliantly
illuminated by a warm dazzling sun. Most
beautiful grazing land—practically going to waste
now—we crossed on reaching the highest point of the
Serra; grass, grass, as far as the eye could see—quite
flat land—but not a head of cattle in sight; in fact,
no sign of animal life, and a stillness of death except
for the puffing of the railway engine on which I sat.
Water, however, did not seem to abound—only a small
stream, near which curious-looking patches, or bosquets
of trees lay in dark spots on that light green expanse.
We were then at an elevation of 3,400 ft., amid delightfully
cool and crisp air.

At Burity passed the great route of the cattle
dealers from Goyaz and Matto Grosso for Sta. Rita,
Passos, and Tres Corações do Rio Verde. At Palestina
(845 kil. from the sea) we were on what seemed an
interminable flat plateau with ideally green grass,
and here and there patches of stunted vegetation. Land
could be purchased there as low as 10 milreis an alqueire,
although the best land cost from 50 to 300 milreis.

All was absolutely flat until we reached Sicupira
(elev. 3,100 ft. above the sea level), where we began
to descend to the Rio Uberabinha, its delightfully clear
crystalline water winding its way through scrub.

At Uberabinha we again came across the wonderful
red earth of the Riberão Preto district. Situated at
an elevation of 3,050 ft. stood the little town of some
4,000 inhabitants, about 500 yards from the comfort[51]able
and pretty station. Although the land was beautiful,
cultivation could not be said to be prevalent.
Merely some rice, beans, and Indian corn were grown
in small quantities.

From Uberabinha the railway line descended all
the time through thinly wooded country of shrubs and
stunted trees; the verdant prairies, so refreshing to
the eyes, were left behind, and the country became more
broken, but the land was still excellent for agricultural
purposes. After crossing a well-constructed iron bridge
resting on two masonry pillars and spanning the picturesque
rapids of the Rio das Velhas—the river, with
its turbid, muddy, nasty-looking water, being there
some 80 yards wide, at an elevation of 2,050 ft. above
the sea level—we again began a steep ascent by a
gradient of over 3 per cent, following most of the time
the river course. The thickly wooded banks obstructed
a good deal of the view except here and there, where a
charming glimpse of the water could be obtained.

Seven hundred and eighty-nine kilometres from
Campinas—or 982 kil. from the Atlantic Ocean at
Santos—we arrived at the terminal station of the
Mogyana Railway at a place called Araguary, 3,150 ft.
above the sea level—one of the dirtiest and most unpleasant
spots on the face of the earth. The termini
of railway lines in newly developed countries seem
to act like filters. Whatever is good passes through;
only the impurities or dregs remain.

[52]

CHAPTER IV

A great crowd had assembled at the station. The
train had hardly stopped when my car was invaded
by boisterous people, who embraced me and patted me
on the back in the most approved Brazilian style.
Before I could inquire who they were, one fellow,
more boisterous than the others, informed me that he
had purchased a great many mules for me, that he had
engaged men for me, and also procured riding and pack-saddles,
harness, implements, clothing and bedding for
the men he had engaged, and I do not know what else.
Everything was paid for. I could return the sum paid
out the next day. Another man said he had already
prepared a sumptuous apartment for me in the best
hotel in the town.

When asked who had instructed them to make
such arrangements, they were vague, and on being
pressed for an answer gave names of people of whose
existence I was perfectly ignorant. Before I could
realize what all this meant I discovered—much to my
annoyance—that all my baggage had been taken out
of the train and had been conveyed to the hotel. I was
therefore compelled to proceed there myself, in the[53]
company of my new “friends,” who shouted everything
they had to say at the top of their voices, so
that I should not fail to understand. It was already
night, and the streets of the town were in such a
terrible condition that the overladen carriage—there
were people on all the seats, on the box and standing
on the steps—nearly turned over on going round
corners. The wheels sank up to their axles in mud.

We pulled up at the hotel door, where another crowd
of loafers had assembled. I was literally dragged into
the hotel—for I had become somewhat reluctant, first
on seeing the appearance of the place, then on being
met by waves of a nauseating odour which suggested
the non-existence of sanitary arrangements and worse.

“Come in, come in!… wait here!” shouted
they in a most excited manner, when I expressed a
wish to inspect the palatial quarters which they had
been good enough to reserve for me.

“Wait a moment!” shouted the landlord, a
slumbering, disjointed, murderous-looking creature,
whose violent gestures and waving of hands in front
of my face were somewhat irritating. He dashed
into a room on the ground floor—and we outside could
hear an altercation between the loud-voiced proprietor
and the plaintive moans of a half-dying man.

A moment later the half-dying man, skeleton-like,
with livid eyes, a complexion the colour of a lemon
gone bad, and quivering bare legs, was literally dragged
out of the bed and roughly thrown out of the door.

“Here is your room!” cried the landlord triumphantly
to me, as he flung out of that apartment some
cheap canvas bags, clothes—which from birth had[54]
been innocent of washing and pressing—and the socks,
shoes, and day shirt of the guest who had been ejected.

The odour alone, as I peeped into the room, was
enough to stifle any one with the sense of scent even
less delicate than my own. As for the vacant bed—any
pariah dog of any other country would have been
offended to be offered such filthy accommodation.

In Brazil—as elsewhere—it does not do to lose
one’s calm. I also wished to avoid an unpleasant
quarrel, as I have a belief that quarrels are bad for
one’s health. I spoke gently and kindly to the hotel-keeper,
and said that, although I had ordered nothing,
still, as he had kindly reserved that charming apartment
for me, I should be very pleased to pay for it,
which I would do at once. If he would excuse me, I
preferred to go back to sleep in my private car. Upon
hearing these words a nasty tragi-comic scene occurred,
which, had I not remained cool and collected, might
have ended badly.

“Do you know, sir,” shouted the landlord, with
livid features and eyes shooting out of their orbits, so
enraged was he—”do you know that I am the Chief
of Police here, and that everybody is afraid of me? I
have only to give orders and every one will kill any one
I like.” Here he discontinued shaking his somewhat
grimy hands under my nose and, drawing himself up,
stood upon the doorstep of the hotel in order to harangue
the great crowd which had collected.

“We are all millionaires in Brazil,” shouted the
landlord, with an effort which seriously impaired the
safety of his fully-congested jugular vein. “We are
all atheists and anarchists in Brazil. Down with the[55]
infamous oppression and slavery of Europe! Down
with kings and emperors! Down with Europe, the
land of oppression and cruelty!” And again: “We
in Brazil are the richest people on earth. We are
all millionaires in Brazil. We do not need foreign
charity!”

“Down with foreigners!” answered the chorus of
assembled natives.

The railway inspector who had been sent by the
Company to accompany me became scared at the
turn matters were taking, and told me, against the
instructions he had received, that I could not now
return to the car. Upon hearing this, my new friends,
believing they had me in their power, renewed their
vocal attack.

I remained some time endeavouring to collect my
baggage, pretending to pay no attention whatever to
the absurd oratory. To this day I cannot yet grasp
what the oppression of Europe had to do with my
wanting to pay for something I had never had. I
then repeated my offer, which was again refused.
With the protection of his strong rear-guard, the Chief
of Police advanced bravely towards me, holding in a
suggestive manner with his right hand the pommel of
his revolver in the back pocket of his trousers. In a
tragic manner he exclaimed:

“We will settle this matter, to-morrow.”

“We will settle it at once,” I placidly replied.

“No, to-morrow,” he repeated, with a vicious look.

“Very good: at what time and where?”

“At ten o’clock,” he eventually grunted, after I had
repeated the above question four times.

[56]
I also politely invited all the others present to come
forward if they had any claims to square. I was quite
ready to settle anybody at any time and anywhere.
Perhaps they might get more than they wished.

I departed with my baggage laden on two carriages
and a cart, and eventually found accommodation at
an equally filthy hotel near the station—only the latter
place was kept by a humble and honest, decrepit old
woman. I do not know that I have ever spent a more
miserable evening anywhere. I do not mind roughing
it in the roughest way possible, but I have always
detested pretentious efforts at civilization of an inferior
kind. Thus I sat having a meal—eggs, beans, rice—all
soaked in toucinho (pork fat) which I detest and
loathe. I watched black railway workmen and
porters stuffing themselves with food in a most unappetizing
way, and making disgusting noises of all
kinds.

Fortunately I remembered that a friend of mine—a
railway contractor, Mr. Louis Schnoor—must be at
that time in Araguary, looking after the construction
of the new railway line which will eventually join
Araguary to the capital of Goyaz. I went in search of
him, stumbling along the terrible roads with deep
holes and pools of water and mud. As luck would have
it, I was able to purchase from him, that very same
evening, a number of excellent mules, which he very
generously had offered to place at my disposal without
payment. Also he promised to supply me with two
reliable men—a job not at all easy in that particular
part of Brazil.

Author departing from Morro da Meza,

Showing costume worn during the expedition.

Alcides.                          Filippe the Negro.

Mr. Louis Schnoor—a Brazilian of German extrac[57]tion—was
a godsend to me. Thanks to him, I returned
that night quite happy to the miserable hotel. Happy,
because in less than half an hour I had arranged to
leave that pestilential hole the following day. Mr.
Schnoor had kindly undertaken that he would send
me, at eleven o’clock the next morning, in a special
train to the end of the line in construction, some 45 kil.
farther north. In a town of gentle folks like Araguary
the luxury of sleeping with one’s window open could
not be indulged in—especially as nearly all the houses
were one storey high. So the night was rendered
particularly oppressive and long, tormented as you were
in your bed by its innumerable inhabitants, which
stung you all over. I had taken the precaution to
spread a waterproof sheet under my own blankets on
the bed, but that, too, proved ineffective. Mosquitoes
were numerous.

No sanitary arrangements to speak of existed in
Araguary, so that everything was flung out of the
windows into the streets, which made walking about
the town most objectionable. The odour everywhere
was revolting, as can well be imagined. The city
was nevertheless considered by the natives as all that
is most perfect in the way of civilization, for not only
did it possess a few anæmic electric lights—so far apart
as to be a nuisance instead of a help in seeing one’s
way about—but also, behold! it actually boasted of
a spasmodic cinematograph. There were some 500
houses, all counted, at Araguary, all more or less
miserable-looking, and a population of some 2,500 souls—”lost
souls,” I should think.

Slowly, very slowly came the next morning, March[58]
31st. At ten o’clock sharp I called on the Chief of
Police at his hotel, and found that he had departed
early in the morning and was not to be expected back
for some hours! A charming way of keeping an
appointment which he was so anxious to bring about.

In the company of Mr. Louis Schnoor I also called
on the persons who said they had made arrangements
for my expedition, as I did not wish to have any misunderstanding
in the matter. Far from having purchased
mules, horses, saddles and harness, they could
produce nothing on demand, and finally asked me to
remain in Araguary for one month—fancy one month
in Araguary!—so that they could produce their
purchases.

As I was driving in Mr. Schnoor’s carriage we met,
a long way from his home and hotel, the Chief of
Police and hotel proprietor. I immediately dismounted
and informed that gentleman of my visit at the appointed
time. I also demanded that whatever he
wished me to settle must be settled at once.

“Nothing at all,” said he, shaking me warmly by
the hand. “You owe me nothing. It was all a mistake.
It was all a mistake. Please do not think of
it any more. You owe me nothing, nothing, nothing.
If I can be of use to you, pray order me! I am your
humble servant.” And his delightful politeness was
such that I could hardly realize it was the same vicious
man of the previous evening. In my surprise I had
to turn to Mr. Schnoor to inquire whether I had got
hold of the wrong man.

Yes, indeed. Some of those fellows of Central
Brazil were a remarkable mixture of villainy and charm[59]—in
chemical language one might describe them as
sublimates of rascality and delightful manners.

However, good manners or not, I had taken such
a dislike to the place that I was glad when eleven
o’clock came and Mr. Schnoor conveyed me to the
special train—an engine and one car. I inspected the
new station of the Goyaz railway, which was already
finished—a useful, well-constructed building, quite sufficient
for its needs. In the company of Mr. Schnoor,
his chief engineer, Mr. Schirmer and Mr. Bertoux, we
left Araguary—oh, what a relief!—for the end of the
line, 45 kil. away. I had decided to go and wait there
in the open country the few hours which would be
necessary to collect the men who were to accompany
me, and the mules.

The work on that portion of the Goyaz line which
was already laid was well and quickly done. Mr.
Schnoor assured me that in four or five months more
they expected to run trains to Catalão. An iron
bridge will eventually be built across the Paranahyba
River, within a short distance of which the line had
already been laid when I was there. Some delay had
been experienced in making a deep cut on the south
side of Paranahyba Hills, where the strata had been
found much harder than expected.

I camped for a day and a half at Morro da Meza,
a lovely spot at an elevation of 2,850 ft., from whence
an immense panorama could be enjoyed. What a
relief this heavenly place was after Araguary, and how
everlastingly grateful I shall be to my friend Mr.
Schnoor for having deposited me there!

I took the opportunity of the solitude to rearrange[60]
my baggage. On April 1st my good friend Schnoor
reappeared to see that all arrangements were satisfactory
for my departure.

Morro da Meza will ever remain present in my mind,
for it was my jumping-off place into the wilds. It was
from there that the actual marching on horseback
and on foot began, and it was there I last saw a railway
train for the best part of a year.

On April 1st, at 4 p.m., I left Morro da Meza, went
through the new railway cut in preparation, crossed
the Paranahyba River (at an elevation of 1,970 ft.
above the sea level), and made my camp on the opposite
side of the stream at Anhãnguera (elev. 2,100 ft.
above sea level) in the railway engineers’ camp, 800
yards away from the water. The engineers, an Italian,
Mr. Schnoor’s father-in-law, and a Russian—a Mr.
Martens—showed me every possible civility. A curious
incident occurred while we were having dinner. The
day was a holiday, and the workmen on the line were
resting. We were sipping our coffee, when a man
entered our hut and said a companion of his had been
shot. We rushed to see him, and we found that the
poor wretch had had his skin perforated in eight
different places by the same bullet. What was more
remarkable was that each perforation was close to
dangerous places in the man’s anatomy, and yet not
a single wound was mortal. This is how it happened.
The man was lying down in his suspended hammock,
resting his left hand on his left knee. A friend came
along to show him a new automatic pistol he had
purchased. In the usual silly fashion he had pointed
it at his friend. The pistol went off, and the bullet[61]
passed just under the skin at the knee, at the side of
the knee-cap, and having come out again, went right
through the soft part of the hand between the thumb
and index finger. It then perforated the arm at the
biceps, and further entering the chest, shaved the
heart and came out at the shoulder-blade, continuing
its flight beyond to somewhere where no one could
find it again. That spoke highly for the penetrating
power of bullets from automatic pistols, and also for the
little harm those little bullets may inflict. The man, after
we had carefully dressed his wounds, looked, perhaps,
a little miserable, but he was able to depart on horseback
carrying with his good arm a bottle of medicine.

The Goyaz railway was making rapid progress.
The rails were soon to be laid on the north side of the
river as far as Catalão. The bed of the railway was
fast being made ready.

It was not until April 3rd that I was able actually
to make a start with my caravan. My good friend,
Mr. Louis Schnoor, had promised me two men—Alcides
Ferreiro dos Santos and Filippe da Costa de
Britto; the first a German Brazilian of a violent revolutionary
temper but of extraordinary bravery; the
other a pure negro of a boisterous, simple nature, also
of indisputable bravery in moments of great danger.
These two men—both natives of Araguary—proved
themselves to be on that fateful expedition the two
best men I possessed. Thus, if nothing else can be
said in praise of Araguary, it must be said in justice
that it can produce some men of great courage and
faithfulness—a boast which cannot well be applied to
many places in Brazil.

[62]
On April 3rd, at 9 a.m., after a touching farewell,
I left the engineers’ camp mounted on a magnificent
mule that Mr. Schnoor had insisted on lending me as
far as Goyaz, with the pack animals which I had
purchased. I did not follow the principal road, which
went by a somewhat circuitous route from Araguary
to the capital of Goyaz via the towns of Catalão and
Bomfin, but preferred to travel across country by a
short cut which took you there in an almost direct
line in a north-westerly direction. On getting over
the Serrinha (elev. 2,250 ft.), a hill range, one obtained
a gorgeous view of the valley of the Paranahyba River—a
river which, already of good width there, became
eventually the great Parana. It is on the right bank
of the river, near its mouth, some thousands of miles
from where we were, that Buenos Aires is situated.

Going through a beautiful forest in undulating
country, we reached the summit of a flat-topped tableland,
2,500 ft. above the sea level, with a gentle slope
towards the north, where the edge of its summit was
some 50 ft. lower than on the south. The vegetation
was somewhat stunted, but interesting, for many were
the trees I noticed which could be put to some use
or other. The Barbatimão (Stryphnodendron bar. M.)
was plentiful, and could be used advantageously in
tanning leather; the Pao ferro (Cæsalpinia ferria M.)
and the Paneira, were present in quantities.

Through the forest we descended in three hours to
the Rio Virissimo, which, swollen by the sub-tributaries
Barrocas, Indaica, Pirahitinga and Perobas on the
east and Vae Vem on the west, throws itself into the
Paranatinga between Morro Alto and Porto do Barreiro.[63]
That stream had been bridged over. We had descended
to 2,000 ft. During the entire distance—we had
travelled some 23 kil. from the Paranahyba River—we
had passed only two miserable sheds and we had not
met a single soul, barring a glimpse at a shaggy female
who happened to be opening the door of her hut as we
were passing, and with a yell of terror banged it again,
and bolted it as she perceived us riding by.

A peculiar kind of wild fig-tree was to be seen, ball-like
in appearance, with branches inclined down instead
of skyward like most trees. On our right as we
proceeded down to the farms of S. Jeronymo and Sta.
Barbara (elev. 2,400 ft.) stood a mountain with
beautiful grazing land upon its slopes. Healthy fat
cattle, in most wonderful condition—testifying to the
excellence of the grazing in that region—were bred by
the farmers. To the north, north-east and north-west
behind this place were to be seen delightful green
round-topped hills, also with excellent grazing. A
few cows and imported zebus were to be seen, it is
true, but the country could support a million times that
number and more.

It was that evening that I noticed for the first time
in Brazil a peculiar and most wonderful effect of light
at sunset—not unlike an aurora borealis. White,
well-defined radiations shot skyward from the west,
where the sun had set, and stood out luminously against
the dark blue sky, like the spokes of a gigantic wheel.
This effect, as we shall see, was repeated frequently at
sunset, and sometimes was even more beautiful than
on the occasion of that first acquaintance with it.

We marched 39½ kil. that day—with my nine[64]
pack-mules, Formosa (which in Portuguese means
“beautiful”), the splendid white mule I rode, and
three other mules ridden by my men. It was a real
pleasure to see the appetite of the animals when we
made camp. How joyfully they ground with their
powerful jaws the Indian corn which each had received
in a nose-bag soon after we had halted, removed the
loads and saddles from their backs, and properly
groomed them!

When we started the next morning we went through
most beautiful grazing land for some 20 kil., and
through marvellous grassy slopes on the mountains
beyond. Streamlets of clear abundant water were
passed. From 2,050 ft., the elevation of the stream,
we rose to 2,650 ft., then descended gradually to the
village of Corumbahyba, with its brand-new red-tiled
roofs and whitewashed houses—very tiny, and, with
one exception, all one-storied. The windows and
doors were gaily decorated with bright blue paint.
There was a church, of course, on one side of the large
square smothered in high grass, and by the church two
wooden pillars supported a beam from which hung a
bronze bell. Then in the centre of the square stood,
most prominent of all in the village, a huge wooden
cross in a dilapidated condition. What little life
seemed to exist in the place was to be found in the
local store, where an inquisitive crowd had collected
when I arrived.

Goyaz Railway in Construction.

The cut leading to the Paranahyba River.

Author’s Caravan crossing a Stream.

My mules were let loose to graze in the square,
joining a number of cows that were there already. As I
sat in the shop, closely examined by the inhabitants,
I returned the compliment by analysing them. What a[65]
strange, dried-up, worn-out appearance young and
old presented! What narrow, chicken-like chests,
what long, unstable legs and short arms. And, dear
me! what shaggy, rebellious hair, which stood out
bristle-like in all directions upon their scalps! Yet
those people came from ancestors who must have been,
centuries ago, magnificent types of humanity to be
able to accomplish what they did in the way of colonization.
With the habit we possess of looking for finer,
healthier specimens of humanity in the country than in
the cities, this condition of affairs came somewhat as
a surprise to me, since that rule generally applied to
most nations I have visited except Brazil. Those
people, partly by constant intermarriage among themselves,
partly by the mixture of black blood with the
white, and greatly owing to the effects of the most
terrible complaint of the blood in existence—universal
in Brazil—partly, too, by the dull, uninteresting,
wasted lives they led and the poverty of their nourishment,
were reduced to a state of semi-idiocy. The
men hardly seemed to have the strength and energy
to walk or even stand up—although I must confess, to
my regret, that they had not yet lost the power of
talking.

Their features were unattractive. Eyes wide apart
and widely expanded, so that the entire circle of the
iris was exposed, although the eyeball itself was not
à fleur de tête, but rather sunk into excessively spacious
orbital cavities in the skull. The part of the eyeball
which is usually white was yellow with them, softened
somewhat by luxuriant eyelashes of abnormal length.
In fact, the only thing that seemed plentiful and[66]
vigorous with them was the hair, which grew abundantly
and luxuriantly everywhere, just as bad grass
and weeds do on uncultivated or abandoned lands.
There was a lot of hair everywhere—on the scalp, on
the eyebrows, on the men’s unshaven cheeks, on the
chest, the arms, hands, and the legs. It is, I believe,
a well-known fact that hair is generally more luxuriant,
the weaker and more anæmic the subject is—up to a
certain point.

Deep grooves and hollow cheeks—the latter due
to absence of teeth—marked the faces of even young
men. Then one of the most noticeable peculiarities
was the extraordinary development, prominence and
angularity of the apple of the throat. The ears—which
to my mind show the real character and condition of
health of a person more than any other visible part of
his or her anatomy—were large and prominent, occasionally
well-formed, but lacking colour and the
delightful, well-chiselled, vigorous curves of healthy,
normal, intelligent people. The hands and feet were
generally small and well-shaped, in wonderful condition—though
not necessarily clean—owing to the
inborn reluctance which all the people of Brazil have
towards manual labour.

It has always been my experience that, generally
speaking, malformed people possess distorted brains—which
does not mean at all that the brain of a malformed
person may not perhaps develop in a marvellous
manner in one particular direction. What I maintain
is that, with few possible exceptions, the brains of
malformed people are seldom perfectly balanced. In
those particular subjects it did not take a deep student[67]
of human nature to set down the entire crowd of them
as visionaries, most fantastically inclined—in which
direction, having no restraint whatever, they ran
absolutely amuck.

Yet there was something very charming about the
people of the interior of Brazil, after they had overcome
their first suspicion of strangers and their own shyness.
They seemed imbued with the idea that everybody
went there specially to do them harm. They lived in
a constant state of fear and trembling, even of their
own relations and friends. They all went about armed
to the teeth, and would not dream of going a yard
outside their homes without a revolver, a rifle and a
dagger. Even to walk about the village the men were
all armed.

When not in a rage or sulky—which seemed to be
their almost constant condition—they were the most
good-hearted people I have ever met; gentle, affectionate—in
fact, so sentimental that it became a positive
nuisance. If one learnt how to deal with them—which
was not always easy—they were really delightful people
in their enviable simplicity.

A reflection of the people’s mentality was to be
discovered at a glance in examining the articles that
were for sale in the only shop in the village. There,
remember, you were in a country which, from an
agricultural point of view, could be made of immense
value. Now, did you notice any implements in the
shop which suggested agricultural pursuits of any kind
whatever? No; what you found were patent leather
dress shoes, elaborately embroidered top-boots, fancy
neckties, gaudy gilt and silver spurs of immense size,[68]
bottles of powerful perfumes, fancy soaps, mirrors,
combs, and highly-coloured calicoes, beer, fire-water,
and other such articles of luxury.

Characteristic Types of Brazilians of the Interior.

(Notice degenerate faces and development of goitre.)

A Typical Village of the Province of Goyaz.

The Corumbahyba village stood at an elevation of
2,250 ft. in a hollow surrounded by low hills. The
water was delicious at that place.

As I was getting through my lunch—which I enjoyed
thoroughly after my morning march of 23 kil.—I
saw crossing the square two murderers laden with
iron chains, led along with a rope by two mounted men.
The natives present laughed as they saw the poor devils
struggle along. Not a sign of pity or care was shown
by anybody present.

After leaving Corumbahyba we witnessed a panorama
of magnificent mountain scenery from a height
of 2,550 ft., to which we had ascended. Then came a
steep and rugged descent through a forest down to
a streamlet (2,250 ft.); then up another ascent to
2,350 ft. and down again to 2,050 ft. at the great
Corumbá River, there 300 yards wide. We crossed this
beautiful stream—animals and all—on three canoes
joined together, upon which a platform had been
built.

[69]

CHAPTER V

At the river were several picturesque two-wheeled carts
waiting to be ferried across. Drawn by ten, twenty,
and even as many as thirty oxen, these heavy hooded
vehicles travelled across country in a most wonderful
manner. Naturally they had to be of solid construction
to stand the wear and tear demanded of them. Their
wheels were heavy solid discs of hard wood encircled
by powerful tyres of iron. A primitive system of
brake—a mere bar of wood held in position by ropes—retarded
the speed of the vehicle down extra-steep
declivities. When going up or down hill the friction
of the wheels upon their axles produced a continuous
shrill whistle, which, when heard from a distance,
sounded not unlike the whistle of a locomotive. In
the deathly stillness of the Goyaz landscape those
whistles could be heard a long way off. The expectant
farmers—expectant, because those trading carts conveyed
to them a good deal of the food-stuff, salt, and
other necessaries of life, as well as the luxuries they
could afford—were clever at recognizing the whistles
of the various carts, and they identified one special
cart or another by what they poetically called the
“voice of the wheel” or the “song of Goyaz.”

[70]
There were some picturesque rapids just above
the spot where we crossed the Corumbá River, which
flowed in a tortuous channel with a general direction
of W.S.W.

To the east of our track, as we proceeded northward,
stood a glorious range of hills with magnificent
grazing land extending for many miles. In front of
us to the north and N.N.E. towered a high plateau, the
Serra de Callos, also called, I believe, Serra do Cusuzeiro.

Still travelling up and down and across several
streamlets, we reached at sunset the Rio Boccagna
(2,230 ft. above the sea level), which, soon after passing
the place where we crossed it, entered the large river
Bagri, winding its way through a gorgeous forest.
We had passed during the day really wonderful grazing
land on either side of the track, but principally to the
east, between the north bank of the Corumbá River
and Camp Mazagan. There were plenty of small
streams in the hilly and sometimes slightly wooded
valleys.

At seven o’clock, having ridden that day 76 kil.,
we halted after dark at the moradoria, or farm, of
Mazagan (elev. 2,375 ft. above the sea level). We
were politely asked to enter the house, and immediately
preparations were made to clear out the best room
for me. The illumination was not grand: an ancient
metal arrangement—not unlike a Pompeian lamp—with
a wick soaked in oil profusely smoking. In the
dim light I could just distinguish in the background,
reclining against the wall, a youth with a guitar, from
which two chords—always the same two chords—were
strummed. The boy seemed in a trance over this[71]
musical composition, and even our appearance had not
disturbed his efforts. He had taken no notice whatever
of us. Dinner was prepared—it took a long time—the
musician all the time delighting his admiring family
with the two monotonous chords.

“It is a pity,” said his delighted mother to me,
“that we cannot send him to school. He is a genius;
he would astonish the world.”

“Yes,” I hastily agreed, “it is a pity you cannot
send him … somewhere!”

“Can you not take him with you?”

I explained to the poor woman that it required
very civilized people to appreciate her son’s music.
Among the wild Indians I expected to find, later on
in my journey, I was sure that with music like that,
we should all be killed; they were such savages!

After two solid hours—and the two chords still
continuing, with no signs whatever of relenting—I
asked the musical genius if he could treat me to a
different tune. Alas! he knew no other, but as he
saw that I was so fond of music he would again, with the
greatest pleasure, go on playing the same air—he called
it an air.

“Muito obrigado! (Thank you very much!)” I
moaned, with a sickly smile on my lips and a violent
internal wish to smash guitar and guitarist.

“No hai de que! (Do not mention it!)” and here
recommenced the repetition of the two chords.

“I should like to go to sleep now; thank you
very much again for the lovely music,” I next
plaintively added, in my most approved Brazilian
politeness.

[72]
“Oh, not at all: I shall go on playing while you
are sleeping. It will give you pleasant dreams!”

It was too pathetic. Nothing short of murder could
have stopped his enthusiasm. Being a traveller of
years’ experience, I was not to be outwitted. As he
would not stop the music, I stopped hearing it by
stuffing my ears tight with cotton-wool. So I slept
soundly enough, notwithstanding the orchestral entertainment.
At sunrise, when I opened my eyes again,
the boy was still at it. I removed the cotton from my
ears … yes, indeed, the identical two chords!

The boy and the guitar will perhaps never know
what a narrow escape they both had! In despair I
gave orders to get the mules ready at once in order to
depart immediately.

Those halts in farmhouses were dreary beyond
words. The Brazilians of the interior—quite unlike
those of the big towns in or near the coast—were sullen
people, with no conversation—or else too much—no
interest in anything, no art, no imagination. They
were timid and vain to an incredible degree, suspicious,
avaricious, and easily offended, so that the greatest
tact had to be used with them. They were ignorant
of everything even in their own immediate neighbourhood.
Yet, mind you, with all that, extraordinarily
kind and ultra-polite of speech. They all seemed
turned out of the same mould. When you had seen
one you had seen them all. There were, of course, a
few exceptions—Brazilians of recent German, French,
Italian or Spanish origin—but these exceptions were
indeed very rare in the interior.

Ill-fed, his blood corrupted and impoverished to the[73]
utmost degree—his health, therefore, never in a normal
condition—his finances at the lowest ebb, the Brazilian
of the interior had little indeed to make him happy.
His home at best was as miserable and dirty as
possible. The room generally given to an honoured
guest—the best in the house—was the granary. More
than once was my camp-bed perched on a mound of
Indian corn. And the furniture? A wooden bench
of the roughest description—really an instrument of
torture rather than an article of comfort; a few wooden
pegs in the wall for hanging rifles or other things; an
occasional wooden bedstead; seldom, very seldom, a
stool or a chair—in any case, never a comfortable one
such as you invariably find with peasants and old-established
colonists of most other countries. They
cared not for comfort. Their beds, a mass of rags, were
shared by masters and hens and dogs. Everything was
in an abandoned state, everything had fallen to rack
and ruin. All looked as if they were tired of life, too
indolent to move. They seldom saluted when you met
them on the trail, nor when you entered their houses;
if they did, they rapidly touched their dilapidated hats
as if afraid to spoil them. Never did you perceive
a smile upon their long-drawn countenances. When
they greeted one another they laid their bodies close
together as if about to dance the tango, and patted each
other repeatedly on the shoulder-blades, turning their
heads away as if to avoid their reciprocal evil odour.
It is not the fashion in any part of Brazil to shake
hands. Some say it is because of the unpleasant feeling
of touching sweating hands; others suggest that it is
to prevent the contagion of the many skin complaints[74]
from which people suffer. When they do shake hands—with
a stranger, for instance—one might as well be
grasping the very dead hand of a very dead man; it
is done in so heartless a manner.

For a consideration they reluctantly gave a stranger
what little they possessed, but they had not the remotest
idea of the value of things. In one farmhouse
you were charged the equivalent of a few pence for
an egg or a chicken; in the next farm a small fortune
was demanded for similar articles of convenience. Men,
women, children, dogs, pigs and fowls, all lived—not
happily, but most unhappily—together.

No sooner were we able to saddle the animals and
pack the baggage and pay our hostess, than we tried
to make our escape from that musical farm. But luck
was hard on me that day. One mule was lost, a second
received a terrible gash in his hind quarters from a
powerful kick from another mule.

We went on among low, fairly grassy hills to the
west, W.N.W. and to the east of us. We still had
before us the Serra de Callos—a flat-topped tableland
some 12 kil. in diameter on the summit, where it was
almost circular. Its deeply grooved sides showed
clearly the great work of erosion which had occurred
and was still taking place in those regions. With the
exception of two spurs, which projected on the west
and east sides of the plateau, its sky-line was quite
clean and flat.

After rising to an elevation of 2,600 ft., then descending
to 2,450 ft., we crossed two streamlets which
afterwards joined a fairly important torrent. One was
called the Rio Boa Vista. We gradually then rose[75]
to 2,750 ft. on another flat tableland to the east of the
Serra de Callos, with its sides eroded in two distinct
terraces, the higher one being almost a straight wall
from two-thirds up the side of the range. In the lower
portion a number of rounded mounds were to be
observed, which, with a stretch of the imagination
and for the sake of comparison, resembled, perhaps,
elephants’ heads.

North-east of the Serra stood a thickly-wooded,
detached mound, while to the north as we went along
there was displayed before us a magnificent view of
the flat valley into which we were about to descend.

Where the country was wooded many trees and plants
were to be found, useful for their tanning, medicinal,
oliferous or lactiferous qualities: such as the Dedal,
a yellowish-leafed shrub from which a yellow dye can
be obtained; the tall thin Arariba Amarelho, or
Amarelhino (Centrolobium robustum), a great number
of Lobelia trees, with their elongated light green leaves
and clean barked stems, which eject, from incisions, a
caustic and poisonous juice. The tallest of all the
trees in that region was perhaps the Jacaranda, with its
tiny leaves…. There were four kinds of Jacaranda—the
Jacaranda cabiuna, rosa, tan and violeta, technically
known as Dalbergia nigra, Machærium incorruptibile,
Machærium cencopterum, Machærium Alemanni, Benth.
The three latter have a specific gravity higher than
that of most woods in Brazil, except the Pao de
ferro (Cæsalpina ferrea), the very plentiful Barbatimao
(Stryphnodendron barbatimao), a mimosa-like tree, and
the Vinhatico amarello (Echyrosperum Balthazarii),
the last of which has the highest specific gravity of all.

[76]
Then we found plenty of Sambaiba, an excellent
wood, and Imuliana, a wood of great resistance, much
used in certain parts of Brazil for constructing fences.

A peculiar tree with concave leaves shaped like a
cup was locally called Ariticun or Articun. It produced
a large fruit, quite good to eat.

Much botanical variety was indeed everywhere
around us…. There was the terra da folha miuta, which,
as its name tells, possessed minute shiny leaves; then
the tall Faveiro (Pterodon pubescens), producing a bean,
and having dark leaves not unlike those of mimosas.
Then, many were the kinds of acacias we noticed as we
went along.

Picturesque Ox-carts of Goyaz.

Still descending, we arrived at the little town of
Caldas de Goyaz—so called because there were three
hot springs of water of different temperatures. I
visited the three springs. The water tasted slightly
of iron, was beautifully clear and quite good to drink.
Two springs were found in a depression some 150 ft.
lower than the village—viz., at an elevation of 2,450 ft.,
whereas the village itself was at 2,600 ft. These two
springs were only 20 ft. away from a stream of cold
water. A short distance from the cold stream was
another stream of hot water emerging from the rocks.

Small rectangular tanks had been made at the two
higher springs, which were said to possess wonderful
curing qualities for eczema and other cutaneous troubles;
also for rheumatism and blood complaints of all kinds.
Whether those waters were really beneficial or not, it
was not possible to ascertain on a passing visit. I
drank some of the water and it did me no harm, so if
it does no good neither is it injurious.

[77]
The village of Caldas showed signs of having seen
better days. It was clean-looking, but like all other
villages of Goyaz it was dreary in the extreme. There
were only a few houses in the place, and each had a
shop; all the shops sold similar articles—nickel-plated
revolvers, spurs and daggers, calicoes, gaudy wearing-apparel,
perfumery, and so on.

For any one interested in the study of the effects of
erosion on a gigantic scale, no more suitable country
could be found than Central Brazil. Here again to the
E.N.E. of Caldas stood the Serra do Sappé. In this
case it was not a tableland, like the Serra de Caldas,
but purely a hill range. The plateau of Serra de
Caldas, I was told, measured on its summit 12 kil.
by 18 kil.

Again, after leaving Caldas, we went through most
wonderful grazing ground to the north-east and east
of our route at the foot of the Serra do Sappé. We
had descended to the Rio Lagiadi, 2,480 ft. above the
sea level, which flowed into the Pirapitinga River (a
tributary of the Corumbá). Once more did we admire
that evening the remarkable effect of solar radiation,
this time a double radiation with one centre—the sun—to
the west, and a second centre, at a point diametrically
opposite, to the east. Those radiations, with a
gradually expanded width, rose to the highest point of
the celestial vault, where they met. The effect was
gorgeous indeed, and gave the observer the impression
of being enclosed in the immeasurable interior of an
amazingly beautiful sea-shell turned inside out.

We arrived in the evening at the farm of Laza (elev.
2,450 ft.), where we had to abandon the wounded mule,[78]
and also another which, on coming down a steep incline,
had badly injured its fore leg.

The pack-saddles used in the interior of Brazil
(Minas Geraes, Goyaz and Matto Grosso) were the
most impracticable, torturing arrangements I have
ever had to use on my travels. The natives swore by
them—it was sufficient for anything to be absurdly unpractical
for them to do so. It only led, as it did
with me at first, to continuous unpleasantness, wearying
discussions and eventual failure if one tried to diverge
from the local habits, or attempted to eradicate deeply-rooted
ideas.

Let me describe a typical Brazilian pack-saddle.
It weighed, with its inseparable protecting hide, well
over 90 lbs. It was bulky and cumbersome, most
difficult to lift and set right on the animal’s back. It
consisted of two great parallel, clumsily-carved, heavy
U-shaped pieces of wood supported upright on two
enormous pads, at least double the size and thickness
necessary. The breast and tail pieces were of extra
thick leather of great width, which had the double
disadvantage of being heavy and of producing bad sores
by their constant friction and hard, saw-like, cutting
edges. Then the saddle allowed the loads to hang
much too low on the sides of the animal’s body. This
naturally saved trouble and effort to the men who
packed the animals. Two of them simply lifted the
loads simultaneously on the two sides and hooked
them to the saddle by means of adjusted loops of leather
or rope. Then came the difficulty of keeping the loads
in position, so that they would not shift back and
forth. This was done by passing a leather thong over[79]
all and under the animal’s belly, which was then
squeezed beyond all measure. Result of this: continuous
trouble to pack rebellious animals, who knew
what was coming; painful marching for the animals,
who thus had difficulty in breathing, and therefore
extra long marches, almost an impossibility without
much injury to them. We will not speak of sore backs,
sore sides, sore chests, and sore tail root—which was a
matter of course after a pack animal had borne for a
few hours one of those torturing arrangements on its
back.

I had tried to adopt lighter saddles of a more practical
design, such as I had used on other expeditions;
but as this involved a different method altogether of
packing the animals, it led to much derision, unpleasantness,
and refusal to do the work except in their own
stupid way, so that in order to save time, expense and
trouble I had to conform, much against my will, to the
Brazilian method. It was an impossibility to induce
a Brazilian of the interior to agree that any other way
of doing anything was better or even as good as his
own.

A painful phase of human existence, as the country
became more and more sparsely inhabited, was the
number, relative to the population, of cases of sexual
insanity, due naturally to the great difficulty of intercourse.
We will not refer to sexual vices—extremely
common—which reduced the few inhabitants to a
state of absolute idiocy. Thus at Laza farm there
were only three women and no men. They were all of
a certain age, and for many many years had been there
alone, and had not seen a man. They had become[80]
absolutely insane, and it required no little tact to prevent
a catastrophe. One—a repulsive, toothless black
woman, formerly a slave—was in such an excited state
of mind that I was really glad when I saw my troop
of animals started on the march early the next morning.

On April 6th we were still on the north side of the
Serra de Caldas, at the northernmost point of which
flowed a riberão, or great river (elev. 2,450 ft.). Most
beautiful grazing land spread to the north of us, enormous
stretches of undulating country verdant with
delicious grass. The Sappé Mountains were still visible
in the distance.

Marching through enchanting country—almost level,
or merely rising or descending a few feet—with a magnificent
view of distant mountains to our right and of
low flat plains and far-away tablelands to our left,
we arrived, after a morning’s march of 36 kil., at the
fazenda of Pouso Alto (elev. 2,600 ft.).

A Home in Central Brazil.

A Clever Automatic Pounding Machine.

Outwardly Pouso Alto was by far the neatest-looking
fazenda we had yet seen since leaving Araguary, but
on entering the house the floor was a mass of dirt.
Fowls were running to and fro all over the rooms. A
rough table of Portuguese origin, a couple of benches
so dirty that one did not dare to sit on them, some
roughly made bedsteads, miserable and filthy—but no
washstands or basins, no articles of necessity were
anywhere to be observed or found. The mattresses—if
one can elevate them to the dignity of such a name:
they were mere bags filled with anything that had been
found handy, such as the leaves and stalks of Indian-corn,
wool and dried grass—were rolled up in the
daytime. Only one bed was still made up. On it a[81]
cackling hen was busy laying an egg. That egg—a very
good egg—was triumphantly served to me for breakfast.

The walls of nearly all the farmhouses in the southern
part of the Province of Goyaz were made of wooden
lattice work, the square cavities formed by the cross
sticks being filled in and the whole plastered over with
mud, which eventually became hard when dry. Near
the foundations the walls were strengthened with mud
bricks half baked.

Evidently, as was the case with this particular old
house, in former days, when Goyaz was more prosperous
than it is now, in the time of the Emperor, most of the
houses were whitewashed—a luxury which in these days
of misery the farmers can no longer indulge in. The
doors and windows were rambling, though the frames
of them were generally solidly made, but one never saw
a pane of glass in any window anywhere in the country.
At night the people barricaded themselves tight into
their rooms and let no air in. It was partly due to
fear of attack. Whenever a building was whitewashed
one invariably saw on it the impression of its owner’s
spread hand in outline, or else his signature in blue
paint. The favourite colours in house decoration—where
any were noticeable—were blue and a dirty
cinnabar red.

Dogs were numerous everywhere, and, like their
masters, were indolent and sleepy.

In the afternoon of that same day we travelled
some 13 kil. more, on practically level ground intersected
by a couple of streamlets. Marching through
thinly wooded country, grassy here and there, one began
to notice a variation in the scenery, which was gradually[82]
becoming more tropical in appearance. Palm trees,
especially burity (Mauritia vinifera M.), in single specimens,
or in groups, could be seen in the great stretches
of good grazing country which appeared on both sides
of our course.

We spent the night at the fazenda of Ritiro Alegre
(elev. 2,450 ft.), which words translated mean “the
merry rest”—a most undeserved name, I can assure
you, for neither merriment nor rest was to be obtained
there. An evening in a Brazilian farm was, nevertheless,
occasionally not devoid of interest or of comic
scenes.

These folks evidently valued little the life of their
children. As I was sitting on the doorstep waiting
for my dinner to be cooked, down came, galloping at a
breakneck speed and riding bareback, a little child of
eight, carrying slung under his arm a smaller child of
one, the latter squealing terribly. They both landed
safely at the door. Then there appeared one of the
picturesque carts drawn by twelve oxen, anxiously
awaited by the family. Twenty snarling, snorting,
ill-natured pigs provided enough noise seriously to
impair the drums of one’s ears; and when you added
to this the monotonous bellowing of cows and oxen,
the frantic neighing of horses and mules waiting to be
fed, the crowing of cocks and the cackling of hens, the
unmusical shrieks of a beautiful arara (or macaw, of
gorgeous green, blue, and yellow plumage), and of
two green parrots—to which total add, please, the
piercing yells of the children—it was really enough to
drive one insane.

They were superior farmers, those of the “Merry[83]
Rest”—no one could doubt it when the lady of the
house and her pretty daughter arrived from an errand
and found strangers in the house. Dear me, what
style, what enchanting affectation, the pretty maid and
her mamma put on when they perceived us!… With
an air of solemnity that was really delightful, they each
offered us the tip of one finger for us to shake, and
spoke with such affectation that their words stumbled
one against the other. Their vocabulary was evidently
restricted, and in order to make the conversation elegant
they interpolated high-sounding words which did not
exactly belong, but sounded grand in their ears. It
was a trial to have to remain serious.

Dinner was served—always the same fare wherever
you went. Boiled rice (very badly boiled), beans,
stewed chicken chopped up, pimienta (peppers), fried
eggs and Indian corn flour, which one mixed up together
on one’s plate and rendered into a paste. The
coffee was always plentiful and good, but so strong
that it was quite bitter.

By the light of a wick burning and smoking terribly
from the neck of an ex-medicine bottle filled with oil,
we enjoyed our meal, watched intently by the entire
family, silent and flattened in semi-obscurity against
the walls. The primitive lamp gave so little light—although
it gave abundant smell—that the many figures
were almost indistinguishable against the dirty background,
and all one perceived on raising one’s eyes
from the dinner-plate was a row of expanded eyes,
following the movements of our hands, and just under
that row a row of white teeth.

When seen in a stronger light it was curious to notice[84]
criminal characteristics on nearly every face one saw;
in the servants at those farmhouses one frequently
observed murderous-looking creatures whom one would
not care to meet alone in the dark. They were a
special breed of stranded outcasts who had drifted
there—the outcome of a complex mixture of Portuguese,
former black slaves, and Indians. When you
realized that the people who had drifted into the interior
were the worst Portuguese, the worst blacks, and the
Indians who intermarried with these gentry the worst
Indians, you can well imagine what fine results could
be expected from such a breed.

One trait predominant among these people was the
unreasonable jealousy of the men over their women.
Had they been so many Venuses of Milo the men could
not have guarded them with more ferocity. I am sure
it would take a brave man indeed, and, above all, a
totally blind man, to fall in love with the farmers’
wives, daughters, or servants of the Province of Goyaz.

I must say this in favour of my Brazilian men, that,
whatever other faults they may have had, they always,
behaved in a most chivalrous, dignified way with the
women-folk we met. Never once did I have to reprimand
them.

In the morning, as the cows were driven into the
yard to be milked, and the calves were being suckled
by their mothers, and the children, rubbing their
sleepy eyes with the backs of their hands, scrambled
out of the house upon their drowsy legs, the girls of
the family brought the last cups of coffee to us departing
strangers. We packed our animals, paid the bill, and
were off again.

[85]
On April 7th we crossed the Piracanjuga River,
another tributary of the Corumbá, 50 yards wide,
flowing from north-east to south-west, at an elevation
of 2,300 ft. One league (6 kil. 600 m.) farther on we
crossed another stream flowing east, in its turn a tributary
of the Piracanjuga.

One of the most beautiful trees in that region was
the caneleira, of the family of the Laurineas. Beautiful,
too, were the oleo pardo and vermelho (Myrocarpus
frondosus and Myrospermum erythrozylon).

We were next treated to a view of an extensive,
deliciously green valley, most excellent for grazing
purposes, extending from north to south to the west
of our route. In the central depression of this valley
were burity palms in abundance. They say that
wherever you find a burity you are sure to find water.
It is perfectly true, as the burity only flourishes where
there is a good deal of moisture in the soil.

Having crossed a low pass, we found ourselves in
another valley—this one sparsely wooded (2,500 ft.
above the sea level), very beautiful, with undulations
some 200 ft. high, and with streamlets at the bottom
of most of the undulations. The summit of the highest
elevation on that undulating land was 2,750 ft., the
level of the principal streamlet 2,600 ft. above the sea.

[86]

CHAPTER VI

Twenty-nine kilometres from the “Merry Rest” we
arrived at the little town of Pouso Alto—duly translated
“high camp”—situated 2,750 ft. above the sea level
on an elevation between the two rivers Piracanjuba,
and the Furmiga (which afterwards became the Rio
Meio Ponte), throwing itself into the Paranahyba River.

Pouso Alto was like all the other villas or settlements
of Goyaz, only perhaps a little larger. The
same whitewashed houses with doors and windows
decorated with blue, the same abandoned, deserted
look of the principal square and streets; in fact,
another “city of the dead.” Only two men—drinking
in the local store—were visible in the whole village.

The usual impertinent questions had to be answered.

“Who are you? Why do you come here? Is
your country as beautiful as ours? Have you any
cities as large as ours in your country? How much
money have you? Are you married? You are
English; then you come here to steal our gold and
diamonds.”

“Have you any gold and diamonds here?”

“No!”

[87]
“No, you cannot travel for pleasure. The English
only travel to take away all the riches from other
countries! Those instruments you carry” (a compass
and two aneroids) “are those that tell you where to
dig for gold!”

I could not help remarking to this gentleman that
so far the country I had traversed seemed merely to
be rich in misery, that was all.

Nothing could be imagined more funereal than
those little towns. My men intended remaining there
for the night, but I insisted on pushing on for a few
more kilometres—especially as in these places my men
were led to drink and became unmanageable. On we
went for 9 kil. to the farm of Bellianti (elev. 2,500 ft.
above the sea level).

On April 8th we made an early start and travelled
through a luxuriant forest, which was daily getting
more and more tropical as we went farther north. We
were, of course, do not forget, south of the equator.

Thirteen kilometres from camp we crossed the Rio
Furmiga (or Meio Ponte) about 100 yards wide, flowing
there in a direction from east to west at an elevation
of 2,000 ft. Most gorgeous, richly verdant vegetation
overhung and festooned the banks of the stream.

As we went farther toward the interior the vegetation
grew more beautiful, the people more repulsive.
The majority of the people suffered from goître in
more or less advanced stages. Many were the persons
affected by leprosy.

We were in a region where oranges (imported, of
course) of most excellent juicy quality were obtainable—for
instance at the farm of Felicidade (elev. 2,350 ft.).[88]
All those farms—very old—showed signs of having seen
better days—no doubt when slavery existed in a legal
form in Brazil and it was possible to work those estates
profitably. With the prohibitive price of labour—and
in fact the impossibility of obtaining labour at any
price in the interior—farming cannot indeed flourish
to-day. The comparatively few immigrants who landed
at the various ports in Brazil were at once absorbed
near the coast, and seldom left the port of landing, where
labour was anxiously required.

For the first time, that day did I see two snakes,
which were concealed in the deep grooves left by a
cart wheel. One wound itself around the front leg of
my mule, and for a moment I was anxious lest the animal
had been bitten; but fortunately the snake, which had
been trodden upon, did no damage. Only rarely did
we see a bird anywhere, except in villages, where an
occasional crow, with its dried-up neck and jerky
motions, could be seen. How like the inhabitants those
birds were!

Brazilian Pack-saddles.

A Typical Village.

(The higher building is the church.)

Twenty-seven kilometres farther we reached Santo
Antonio, a village situated in quite a heavenly spot,
2,800 ft. above the sea level, but in itself one of the
most miserable villages I have ever seen. There were
altogether some forty houses scattered about, eight of
which were along the sides of the principal square—an
abandoned field. The church had the appearance of
a disused barn. A large wooden cross stood in front
of it, upon which birds had built their nests. Four
thin, anæmic-looking palms stood at different angles
by the side of the cross. We had the misfortune to
stay there for the night. By seven o’clock everybody[89]
had barricaded their houses and had retired to sleep.
There was, of course, no such thing as a post-office
or a telegraph in the place. The nearest place where a
letter could be posted was some 72 kil. away on the
high road between Goyaz and Catalão. Goats tied in
pairs, with a log of wood between in order to keep them
apart, seemed to have the run of the place, and were
the only things there which appeared to have any life
in them.

But if the place was miserable, if the natives were
repulsive and dull, there was plenty to be thankful
for in admiration of the really glorious country around,
and the superb sunsets to which we were treated
every evening. Again that evening, when everybody
in the place was slumbering, the sunset was more
wonderful than words can describe. The usual radiations,
which again reached the highest point of the
sky’s vault, were that night white on the west, with
corresponding ones of brilliant cobalt blue to the east.

A drizzling rain rendered the night cold and damp,
although the Fahrenheit thermometer registered a
minimum temperature of 70°.

On leaving S. Antonio the trail ascended to a height
of 3,100 ft. (4½ kil. from the village), and we were
then in a rich forest region, where the acaju—of the
Terebinthaceæ family—was plentiful, with its huge
leaves and contorted branches. The acaju produced
a refreshing fruit, either of a bright red or else of a
yellow colour, not unlike a large pepper, outside of
which was strongly attached a seed possessing highly
caustic qualities. Many gordinha trees were also to
be seen. It was interesting to see how those zones of[90]
forest were suddenly succeeded by beautiful and vast
areas of grazing land, such as we found that day. We
crossed three streams at the respective elevations of
2,550 ft., 2,650 ft., and 2,750 ft., after which we reached
an elevation of 3,000 ft., the highest we had so far
attained on our route from the coast, where we found
ourselves on a grassy tableland of considerable beauty.
Looking back to the S.S.E., we perceived the two
hill ranges, one behind the other, which we had crossed.
Between them and us were marvellous slopes covered
with green grass, but not in the lower portion, where
bordering the stream was luxuriant forest. This was
noticeable also on a hill to the west, forming a minor
tableland with rounded sides.

To the N.N.E. was a perfectly flat plateau. The
distance rendered it of a deep blue, and its level sky-line
gave the appearance of the horizon upon the ocean,
except that there rose two small peaks which stood up
slightly above the elevation of the plateau. On all
that beautiful land only two small miserable farms
were to be seen. Yet it seemed to be a paradise on
earth—delightful climate, excellent soil, useful woods
in the forest, plenty of delicious water.

Three more streamlets flowing from west to east
were encountered at elevations of 2,700 ft., 2,750 ft.
and 2,800 ft., with undulating grassy land between of
wonderful beauty.

Having deviated somewhat from our route, we at
last descended into a grassy valley—absolutely flat—the
best of all we had seen. It had been fenced all round.
Upon inquiry, I learned that it had been acquired by
the Redemptionist Friars. There is one thing friars[91]
certainly know. It is how to select the best land
anywhere to settle upon.

We had travelled 46 kil. 200 m. that day when we
arrived at Campinas (elev. 2,550 ft. above the sea level)—the
usual kind of filthy village with tiny, one-storied
houses, more like toys than real liveable habitations.
This time the doors and windows were bordered with
grey instead of blue. On nearing those villages in Central
Brazil one frequently found an abundance of rough
wooden crosses scattered upon the landscape. They
marked the spots where individuals had been killed.

In the room where I put up in the village, in the
hospedagem, or rest-house, the floor was besmeared
with blood, the result of a recent murder. The shops
grew more and more uninteresting as we got farther
into the interior. The difficulties of transport were
naturally greater, the prices rose by leaps and bounds,
as we got farther; the population got poorer and poorer
for lack of enterprise. The articles of luxury and
vanity, so frequently seen in shops before, were now
altogether absent, and only bottles of inferior liquor
and beer were sold, matches and candles—that was
all. No trade, no industry, no money, existed in those
places. If one happened to pay with a five- or a ten-milreis
note (6s. 8d. or 13s. 4d.), one could never obtain
change. Frequently, unless you wished to leave the
change behind, you were obliged to carry away the
balance in cheap stearine or beer. I took the stearine.
A short distance from the town was a seminary, with
four German friars, very fat, very jolly, very industrious.

Alcides, one of my men, was by way of being a
veterinary surgeon. Here is how he cured a wounded[92]
mule, which, having received a powerful kick from
another animal, displayed a gash 3 in. long in her
back, and so deep that the entire hand could be inserted
and actually disappear into the wound. Francisco,
another of my men, having duly and firmly tied
the animal’s legs—a sensible precaution—proceeded
with his naked arm to search for bishus: anything
living is a bishu in Brazil, from an elephant to a flea;
but in this particular case it was applied to insects,
such as carrapatos, maggots, or parasites, which might
have entered the wound. Having done this at considerable
length and care, he proceeded to tear off with
his nails the sore edges of the laceration, after which
he inserted into the gash a pad of cotton-wool soaked
in creoline. That was the treatment for the first day.
The second day, the wound proceeding satisfactorily,
he inserted into it, together with his hand, a whole
lemon in which he had made a cut, and squeezed its
juice within the raw flesh. The amazing part of it
all was that the animal, with an additional bath or
two of salt and water, absolutely recovered from the
wound and got perfectly well.

The Redemptionist monks had a fine vineyard
adjoining their monastery—the only one of any size
and importance we had seen since leaving the railway—and
also some lovely orange groves in a walled
enclosure. They had built a mill on the bank of the
stream. Most of that beautiful valley for miles and
miles belonged to them. The town of Campinas—not
to be confounded with Campinas of São Paulo
Province—had a population of 600 souls.

When we left that place the next morning, again we[93]
went across beautiful flat stretches of grassy land—several
miles long and broad—regular tablelands, at an
elevation of 2,700 ft.—most wonderful pasture lands
now going absolutely to waste. Plentiful streamlets
intersected those lovely meadows at a slightly lower
elevation—merely a few feet—where the water had
eroded itself a channel. Those streams were generally
bordered by a thick growth of trees and entangled
vegetation. We stopped for lunch at the farm of Boa
Vista (Belvedere or Fine View), so called—according
to the usual Brazilian way of reasoning—because it
was situated in a deep hollow from which you could
see nothing at all! Another more rational name
which this place also possessed was Bocca do Matto
(Mouth of the Forest), because it truly was at the
entrance of a thick forest extending to the north.

We went, in fact, from that point through densely
wooded country, although the trees were of no great
height or size. The ground was swampy and sloppy,
most unpleasant for marching, for some nineteen kilometres,
until we arrived at Goyabeira (elev. 2,700 ft.),
having covered 56 kil. 100 m. that day—not at all
bad marching considering that we could not change
animals and we conveyed all our baggage along with us.

I saw that day another snake, called by the natives
duas cabecas (and Tu Nou), or double-headed snake,
because its marking gives that impression at first sight.

After leaving Goyabeira the thick growth continued
over several ridges, the highest of which was 2,950 ft.,
with streams between at elevations respectively of
2,630 and 2,700 ft. I noticed in the forest some
beautiful paneira trees, with their trunks enlarged near[94]
the base—a regular swelling all round. One of the
peculiarities of this tree was that it produced a
kind of vegetable wool contained within fairly hard
capsules.

That was indeed a day of surprises for us. As we
were proceeding over another hill range between two
streams (elev. 2,850 ft.), we saw at last some butterflies
of a gorgeous lemon yellow, some of a rich orange,
others of red and black, great numbers of pure white,
and some huge ones of an indescribably beautiful
metallic blue colour. There were swarms of them
near the water. So unaccustomed were they to see
human beings that many settled on my white coat
and on my straw hat and came along undisturbed for
long distances upon my person. They were so beautiful
that I had not the desire to kill them, even for the
sake of bringing back a valuable collection. It would
have been easy to capture them, as you could touch
them several times with your fingers before they would
fly away. One butterfly particularly took a great
fancy to my left hand, in which I held the reins of my
mule, and on which it sat during our marches for several
days—much to my inconvenience, for I was afraid of
injuring it. It would occasionally fly away and then
return. At night while we were camping I transferred
it to my straw hat, on which it quietly remained until
the next morning. The moment I had mounted my
mule, the butterfly would at once fly again to my hand.
This great affection was due chiefly, I believe, not to
any magnetic attraction, but merely to the delicately
scented soap which I used in my morning bath, and
which greatly attracted the butterfly.

[95]
On many occasions on that expedition I had similar
experiences with butterflies.

For the first time, too, I perceived that day a few
colibris—tiny humming-birds of wonderful plumage.

Twenty-three kilometres from Goyabeira—after
many ups and downs along a deep-channelled, slushy
trail, and having crossed over several swampy, troublesome
streamlets—we suddenly emerged into a marvellous
undulating open plain with lovely grass and
numerous fat cattle grazing upon it. In the distance
upon the hill-side four or five farm-sheds could be
perceived. We had stopped at one farm on the way
in hopes of getting food, but they could only sell us
some feijão—beans soaked in lard—so that it was with
some haste that we directed our mules to the more
imposing building in expectation of finding there at
least some rice and eggs. We hurriedly crossed the
plain and then the stream, and halted at the Cachoeira
Grande (Grand Rapid) farm, 2,950 ft. above the sea
level. A pure negro was in charge of the place, whose
wife was also as black as the ace of spades. Curiously
enough, they possessed a child much discoloured and
with golden hair and blue eyes. Such things will
happen in the best regulated countries. The black
man swore it was his own child, and we took—or,
rather, did not take—his word for it.

We went on thirteen more kilometres that afternoon,
when we were overtaken by a hurricane and torrential
rain which drenched us to the marrow of our bones.
We halted for the night at the farm of Lagoa formosa
(Beautiful Lagoon), 3,000 ft. above the sea level.

It was on April 12th that we proceeded to climb[96]
the dividing range between the waters flowing south
into the Paranahyba (afterward called the Parana)
River, and those flowing north eventually into the
Amazon. This range of mountains was by some called
Serra de Sta. Rita, by others Serra Dourada. It was
not possible to ascertain the real name from the local
people, who could tell me the names of no place, or
mountain, or stream, and hardly knew the names of
their own homes.

On a flat expanse some 13 kil. from Lagoa Formosa
we came upon a small lake. We travelled mostly across
campos (or prairies), with waters from that point flowing
northward. Seventeen kilometres farther we entered the
neat-looking village of Curralhino (elev. 2,600 ft.), with
two squares and streets actually with names to them.
We were from this point on the main route between
São Paulo and the capital of Goyaz, and also met there
the telegraph line between Goyaz and São Paulo.

We were getting near the capital of the province.
A little more life was noticeable in this settlement
than in those we had met before. Caravans of mules
and horses occasionally passed through, and bullock-carts,
with eighteen and twenty oxen, slowly and
squeakily crept along. We were going through a region
that was more than hilly—almost mountainous—the
first of the kind we had encountered since leaving
the railway.

Author’s Caravan about to cross the River Corumba.

Burity Palms.

At Camp Maria Alves we were at an elevation of
3,000 ft. Beautiful crystals were to be found at and
near this place. Many were enclosed in hard envelopes
of yellow lava, which contained besides semi-crystallized
matter easily crushed—to be strictly accurate,[97]
the imprisoned infinitesimal crystals were easily separated,
under gentle pressure. Some spherical balls
and pellets of lava I picked up, when split contained
red baked earth which had evidently been subjected
to intense heat. In the centre of these pellets one or
more crystals of great clearness were invariably to be
found. These pellets must have been expelled with
terrific force from a volcanic vent, and must have
travelled great distances, for the depression where I
found them had a surface of alluvial formation.

On April 13th we again rose over a range where we
encountered a good deal of igneous rock and quantities
of beautiful crystals. We had a range to the west of
us and one higher and more important to the north-east,
the latter more broken up than any we had so
far seen in the three last provinces crossed. We somehow
missed now the lovely pasture lands of the day
before, so refreshing to the eye, and the landscape had
suddenly become more rugged and barren, except near
water. Some 9 kil. from the farm Maria Alves the Uru
or Uruba River (elev. 2,550 ft.) flowed north—there
merely a picturesque torrent among rocks and overhanging
vegetation on both banks.

The wonderful effect of erosion was noticeable on
the mountain sides to the north of us, where it had
left a top terrace with deep corrugations in the lower
sides of the mountain. A miserable-looking farmhouse
could be seen here and there—quite as miserable as the
country in itself was rich. Some shaggy policemen,
in rags and barefooted, passed us, guarding an ox-cart
dragging treasure to the capital. Only the oxen and
some cows which were about looked at us with interest,[98]
and sniffed us—it is wonderful how quick animals
are at detecting the presence of strangers—but the
people took no notice of us. Here and there a tumbled-down
tree blocked the way. There were tracts of
pasture land. My men were considerably excited on
seeing a poisonous snake crawl swiftly towards our
mules. It was perhaps an absent-minded or a short-sighted
snake, for no sooner did it realize our presence
than it quickly veered round to escape. My men
killed it.

At an elevation of 2,550 ft. we met a limpid stream
of most delicious water. At that particular spot it
flowed south.

We were now confronted with a range of actual
mountains. The trail took us over wonderful rugged
scenery, masses of pillar-like grey rock of granitic
formation. On the summit of the pass we were over
strata of half-solidified tufa in sheets—or foliated—easily
crumbled and finely powdered between one’s
fingers. The strata were at an angle of 45°, showing
that they had undergone some disturbance. They had
been subjected to great heat, for in some places they
had been hard baked, which rendered them of a yellowish
brown colour. On the left of us—to the west—a great
vertical pillar of rock plainly showed the stratification,
the continuation of which could be followed
on the opposite side of the pass, both in the horizontal
strata and those which had been forced up at an angle.
Looking back from the pass, we obtained a heavenly
panorama of wooded hills to the south-east, far, far
beyond in the background, and of glorious campos
between them and us. With the winter coming on—of[99]
course you know that south of the equator they have
their winter when we have our summer—beautiful
yellowish, reddish and brown tints of the foliage added
picturesqueness to the landscape.

The pass itself was 2,850 ft. above the sea level.
There was not much in the way of vegetation, barring
a few stunted sucupira trees. The air was exquisitely
pure and the water of two streamlets at 2,550 ft.
delicious and cool. We were marching over quantities
of marble fragments and beautiful crystals, which
shone like diamonds in the sun. Having gone over
the pass, we came upon a most extraordinary geological
surprise. There seemed to have been in ages long
gone by a great subsidence of the region north of us.
We were then on the steep edge of what remained of
the plateau, and down, down in the depth below was
an immense valley in which Goyaz city lay.

To the west of us—as I stood impressed by that
awe-striking scene—we had the irregularly-cut continuation
of the edge of the plateau on which we stood,
supported as it were on a pillar-like granitic wall of
immense height and quite vertical, resting on a gently
sloping base down to the bottom of the vast basin
below.

This great natural wall of gneiss, which contained
myriads of crystals and mica schists, shone like silver
in the spots where the sun struck it, and with the lovely
pure cobalt blue of the distant hills, the deep green
of the valley below, and the rich brown and yellow
and red tints of the near foreground, made one of the
most exquisitely beautiful sights I have ever witnessed.
The nearest approach to it in my experience was,[100]
perhaps, the eastern escarpment of the Abyssinian
plateau in Africa, where a similar panorama on a much
smaller scale could be seen, but not the same geological
formation.

The President of Goyaz and his Family.

Giant cactus in the background.

No sooner had I recovered from the strangeness
and marvellous beauty of Nature’s work around me,
than I felt a great shock at seeing what men had done
in that region. We were at this point on the high
road between São Paulo, Uberaba and Goyaz capital.
As my animals stumbled down the steep escarpment
traces could be seen of what must have been formerly
a beautiful paved road, well-drained on both sides with
channels, and held up in terraces by stone works where
the gradient was steepest. Here and there bits still
remained, demonstrating how well the road had been
made. But, uncared for and abandoned, most of it
had been washed away by the heavy rains, which had
turned that road into a foaming torrent in wet weather.
Near habitations, the well-cut slabs with which the
road was paved had come convenient to the natives
for building purposes. During the time of the Emperor
Pedro II., I was told, that was a magnificent road,
kept in excellent repair.

Goyaz city lay before us down, down below, in the
hollow of the huge depression. Its single row of low
whitewashed houses of humble architectural pretensions
became less and less impressive and less picturesque as
one got nearer. I had by that time grown quite accustomed
to this optical disillusion, for it was frequently
the case with the work of man in Brazil. It always
needed distance—the greater distance the better—to
lend enchantment to it.

[101]
With a feeling of intense oppression—perhaps due
to the stifling air and the lower elevation (1,950 ft.)
at which Goyaz city lay—we entered the capital of
Goyaz. At the sound of our mules upon the pavement,
timid men, timid women and children cautiously peeped
from each window through the half-closed Venetian
blinds. We only had to turn round to peep at them,
and with terrified squeals the hidden creatures banged
and bolted the windows. The sight of a stranger in
Goyaz was apparently an event. Whether we were
expected or not, I do not know, but the whole population
seemed to be hiding behind the tiny windows
to look at us. The few who were caught in the street
seemed as if they wanted to bow but had not the
courage to do it. Indeed, their timidity was intensely
amusing. Some, more courageous, gave a ghastly
grin, displaying rows of irregular teeth in a terrible
condition of decay.

DISTANCES BETWEEN ARAGUARY AND GOYAZ

[102]

CHAPTER VII

There was no such thing as an hotel in Goyaz capital.
The nearest approach to it was a filthy rest-house
for muleteers, which was, furthermore, already full.
Against my usual custom—as I never, unless absolutely
necessary, make use of the credentials I carry for my
private needs—I had, therefore, to apply to the Presidente
or Governor of the Province to find some sort of
accommodation in the town for my animals, men, and
myself.

“Take off your spurs before you enter!” roughly
shouted a sentry at the Governor’s palace—a huge
barn-like structure—just as I was stooping to do that
before being asked.

“Do not stand on the pavement,” said the sentry
again, anxious to display his authority.

Being a law-abiding person I shifted to one side.

“Do not stop under the Presidente’s window!”
cried the policeman angrily once more, digging me in
the ribs with his bayonet.

I was beginning to be sorry I had not brought an
aeroplane with me in order to complete my toilet in
the air before entering so sacred a precinct, but patience[103]
being one of my chief virtues I transferred myself to
the remotest point across the square, where, stork-like,
upon one foot at a time I was able—this time undisturbed—to
remove both spurs.

“Take off your hat before entering,” again shouted
the policeman, as I was still some fifteen yards from
the door.

I really began to feel rather nervous, with all those
orders grunted at me. I wondered at the strange
people who must visit the palace to have to be instructed
to such an extent before entering. I also stopped for
a moment to ponder whether I had taken off all that
was necessary to enter a palace where so much etiquette
was required.

The moment I entered things were different. I was
ushered into an ante-room, where I had to go through
a short cross-examination by some police officers. Then,
when they had made sure of my identity, they immediately
led me before the Presidente.

The Presidente greeted me with effusion. He was
a most polished and charming gentleman from Rio de
Janeiro, had travelled extensively in Europe, and could
speak French and English. He roared heartily when I
told him of my experience outside his palace.

“They are all savages here,” he told me; “you
must not mind. The sentry has orders to keep everybody
away from the palace, as people come in the
afternoon and squat under my windows to jabber, and
I cannot sleep. Those orders, I assure you, were not
meant for you. You will be my guest all the time you
are in the city, and I can accept no excuse.”

The Presidente placed a small house near the[104]
palace at my disposal, and insisted on my having
all meals with his family—most refined, handsome,
exquisitely polite wife and daughters.

I presented the credentials I possessed from the
Minister of Agriculture in Rio and the Brazilian Ambassador
in London, requesting the Presidente to do all
in his power to further the success of the expedition—I,
of course, paying all expenses. The Presidente, like
most other Brazilians of a certain age, was blasé beyond
words. Nothing interested him except his family, and
life was not worth living. He believed in nothing. He
was an atheist because he had not been as successful
as he wished in the world, and attributed the fault to
God. He cared little about the future of his country.
If his country and all his countrymen went to a warmer
place than Heaven, he would be glad to see them go
that way! As for going exploring, mapping unknown
regions, studying the country and the people, building
roads, railways and telegraphs, it little mattered to
him, but it seemed all nonsense.

“Instead of coming to these wild, deadly regions,
why do you not go and spend your money enjoying
yourself in Paris or Vienna?” was his advice to
me.

“Perhaps I need a change occasionally, and I enjoy
things all the more by contrast when I return to
Europe.”

The Presidente was evidently not in good health
and spirits. He was a Senator of the Republic, and
a man formerly of great ambitions, which were more
or less shattered when he was elected Governor of
Goyaz Province, with its population of corpses, and at[105]
a salary of £40 a month—very little more than I paid
my head muleteer—so that little could be expected
from the Governor of such a Province.

It was thus that the State of Goyaz, one of the
naturally richest in Brazil—it contained pasture lands
unique for their beauty, forests with valuable woods,
plenty of water and great navigable rivers draining
it both north and south, of which it was sufficient to
mention the magnificent Araguaya River, the Rio
Tocantins and the Paranahyba (or Parana)—was
instead one of the poorest. In the very heart of
Brazil, Goyaz was geographically and politically the
centre of the Republic. With an area of 747,311 sq. kil.
(288,532 sq. miles), the Province had an estimated
population of some 280,000 souls, or less than one to
every square mile.

The region forming the present State of Goyaz was
first explored in 1647 by Manoel Correa, a native of
São Paulo, and in 1682 by another Paulista, Bartholomeu
Bueno de Silva, who both were prospecting for
gold. The latter was successful in locating gold mines
and in making friends with the local Indians of the
Goyaz tribe, from whom the Province then took its
name. Some forty-three years later de Silva returned
to São Paulo with 918 ounces of gold. The news of
these goldfields quickly attracted a great number of
adventurers to Goyaz. The country then saw its most
prosperous days, especially in and near Villa Boa, the
present city of Goyaz, where gold was said to have been
plentiful in those days.

The enterprising Bartholomeu Bueno de Silva returned
to Goyaz in 1731 as a Capitão Mor, or Grand[106]
Captain, with the right to dispose of land. In 1822
Goyaz was recognized as a Province of the Empire,
and subsequently in 1869 it became one of the States
of the Union, with autonomy as regards local affairs
under its own Constitution approved by the Federal
Constituent Assembly in 1891.

Cattle, horse and mule breeding on a small scale
was the chief source of income of that magnificent
State—an income which in less indolent hands might
be increased ten-thousand-fold or more. Its horses and
mules found a ready market in the adjacent State
of Matto Grosso and from there went into Bolivia,
while the States of Minas Geraes and São Paulo were
the chief buyers of pigs, toucinho (dried pork fat), dried
beef, hides raw and cured, cheese, lard, etc.

Goyaz prided itself greatly on its horses, which
enjoyed a certain fame all over Brazil. Perhaps they
were in a way as good as any produced in the Republic.
With a little study and care in the breeding they
might be greatly improved and rendered as sturdy and
good-looking as some horses of Asia and Northern
Africa. So far they were far inferior in appearance
and endurance to the horses of Arabia, Turkestan,
Europe and Abyssinia.

The most interesting type of the Goyaz horse was
what is called the curraleiro or “stable horse,” bred
in the north of the State, especially in the valley
of Paranan, bordering upon Minas and Bahia. The
curraleiro was also known as cavallo sertanejo or
“horse of the jungle”—two most inappropriate names,
for it was, accurately speaking, neither one nor the
other.

[107]
The Goyaz horse was a typical Brazilian horse. It
shared many of the characteristics of the people of
the Province. Timidity, laziness, lack of affection and
judgment, sulkiness and great stubbornness under training
of any kind were its qualities. This was due chiefly,
I think, to its inferior intelligence when compared with
thoroughbred horses of other nations. The Goyaz
horse was small, fairly agile, and when well cared for
had a handsome shiny coat with luxuriant mane and
tail. It was capable of short, noteworthy efforts, but
did not possess abnormal endurance.

The present curraleiro is a mere degeneration of
what must have formerly been an excellent horse.
Considering the absolute lack of care taken in its breeding,
it was certainly remarkable that it proved to be as
good a horse as it actually was. Judiciously crossed
with Hungarian, Turkestan, Arab or Abyssinian horses,
I think that quite excellent results might be obtained.
It must be taken into consideration that great hardships
and work of the roughest character were demanded of
animals in Central Brazil.

A praiseworthy movement was started some years
ago by Marechal Hermes da Fonseca, now President
of the Republic, to mount the entire Brazilian Cavalry
on national horses. That will perhaps lead some day
to a great improvement in the breeding of animals
all over the country, and especially in Goyaz, which
provided the most suitable land for that purpose. The
same remarks could, perhaps, in a slightly lesser degree,
be applied to the breeding of donkeys and mules. No
care whatever was exercised by the breeders in order to
improve the breeds. Everything was left to luck and[108]
chance. The result was that a degenerate type of
animal was produced—wonderful indeed, considering
the way it was bred, but which might be improved to
an immense extent and made into a remarkable animal,
in such a propitious climate and with such marvellous
pasture lands.

With cattle also, it is safe to assert that, since the
colonial time, very little fresh foreign blood of any
importance has been introduced in breeding—except,
perhaps, some inferior types of the Indian humped
zebu. Most of the stock I saw in Southern Goyaz was
intermixed with zebu. The formerly existing bovine
races, such as the Mocha, Coraçu and Crioula have now
almost altogether disappeared.

Unlike most other States of Brazil, Goyaz had no
Provincial Customs duties. With its immense frontier,
bordering upon seven different other States, it would
be impossible to enforce the collection of payments.
No reliable statistics were obtainable as to the amount
of exports or imports of the State. Even approximately
it would be impossible to make a guess as to
the actual amount of the resources of the State.

Sugar-cane and tobacco could be profitably grown
in the State. The small quantity of tobacco grown
there was of excellent quality.

The Main Square of Goyaz City,

Showing Prison and Public Library.

Some of the Baggage and Scientific Instruments used by the Author on his Expedition.

The Government of Goyaz Province consisted of
three Powers: the Executive, represented by the
President, elected for three years by universal suffrage;
the Legislature—a Chamber of Deputies equally elected
for three years by suffrage; and a Judicial power constituted
by the High Court of Justice, Juges de droit—law
judges—and District Judges. To be elected Presi[109]dent
of Goyaz State all that was necessary was to be
a Brazilian citizen, over thirty years of age, and able
to read and write. The same applied to the election
of Deputies—for whom a residence of only two years
in the State was sufficient.

The capital of Goyaz—situated on the Rio Vermelho,
a tributary of the great Araguaya River—had, according
to the census of 1900, a population of some 13,475
people, but I rather doubt whether it possessed as many
as 8 to 10,000 souls when I visited it. One could notice
indications that Goyaz had been in days gone by a
flourishing place. There were a number of fine churches,
and a large cathedral in course of construction—but
since abandoned. Some of the buildings, too—the
finest was the prison—must have been quite handsome,
but were now in a dilapidated condition. It was
really heart-breaking to see such a magnificent country
go to rack and ruin—a State naturally the richest
perhaps in Brazil, yet rendered the poorest, deeply
steeped in debt, and with the heavy weight of absurdly
contracted loans from which it had no hope whatever
of recovering under present conditions. They had in
the province the most beautiful land in Brazil, but it
was a land of the dead. People, industries, trade, commerce,
everything was dead. Formerly, in the time
of the Emperor and of that great patriot General
Couto de Magalhães, Goyaz city could be reached—within
a few kilometres—by steam on the beautiful
river Araguaya, which formed the western boundary of
the province, an ideal waterway navigable for 1,200 kil.—in
Goyaz province alone. In the time of the Emperor,
when Brazil was a wild country, steam navigation[110]
actually existed up the Araguaya River from Conceição
as far as Leopoldina (the port for Goyaz city). The
river was free from obstacles of any kind, even in the
rainy season. There were then three beautiful English-built
launches on that service. A fine repairing shop
had been erected at Leopoldina.

But in these days of civilization, order and progress,
the steamers have been purposely run aground and
left to rot. There was actually a tree growing through
the hull of one of those launches when I last heard of
them; the machine shop was robbed of all its tools,
and the machinery destroyed and abandoned. The
Presidente told me that the Provincial Government
had eventually bought the wrecks of the launches
and the machine shops for £20—and as it cost too
much to leave a man in charge everything had since
been abandoned.

When I visited Goyaz there was no sign and no
hope of re-establishing steam navigation on that marvellous
waterway.

The Tocantins River, which intersected the Province
from Goyaz city to its most northern point, was
also another serviceable stream—but no one used it,
except, perhaps, some rare private canoe taking up
goods to settlements on its banks.

The navigation of the Tocantins, when I was in
Goyaz, extended merely to the Port of Alcobaça, 350 kil.
from Para, from which point rapids existed which
made steam navigation impossible as far as Praia da
Rainha. The distance of 180 kil. between those two
places was eventually to be traversed by a railway, a
a concession for which had been granted to the Estrada[111]
de Ferro Norte do Brazil. In the High Tocantins I
believe two steam launches were temporarily running
as far as Porto Nacional or perhaps a little higher.

Undoubtedly the State of Goyaz will some day,
notwithstanding its apathetic inhabitants, see great
changes for the better. The new epoch will begin
when the several railways which were in course of
construction from various directions enter the Province.
Not one of them had penetrated the Province
at the time of my visit, although the work of preparing
the road had just been begun on Goyaz territory, as
we have seen, for a few kilometres north of the Paranahyba
River, on the extension of the Mogyana line from
São Paulo. A second railway line in course of construction
was a branch of the Western Minas Railway;
and there was a third up the Araguaya from Para.
Those railways will certainly revolutionize the country.
The inhabitants of Goyaz, ultra-conservative in their
ideas, were not at all anxious to see a railway reach
their capital. In their curious way of reasoning they
seemed to think that the railway would make life
dearer in the city, that strangers would be coming in
great numbers to reap the benefit of their country,
and that the younger people who were satisfied to live
there—because they could not get away—would all fly
to the coast as soon as the railway was established,
to enjoy the luxuries of Rio and São Paulo, of which
they had heard, but could so far only dream of. They
did not stop to think that the railways will certainly
make Goyaz the richest country in the world.

The financial condition of that beautiful State can
perhaps best be shown by quoting the words of the[112]
Presidente himself in his message to the Legislative
Congress of Goyaz on May 13th, 1910, on assuming
the Presidency of the Province.

“On my assuming the Government of the Province,
I ordered the Secretary of Finance to give an account
of the balance existing in the State Treasury; and it
was verified that up to April 30th last there existed a
sum of Rs. 87,000,000 (£5,800 sterling), which became
reduced to Rs. 50,000,000 (£3,334 sterling) after the
payments made on the 1st, 3rd, and 4th of the present
month (May, 1910). It must be understood that the
above-mentioned sum does not represent a balance
existing in the Treasury, because it includes deposits
and guarantees, as well as the deposits of the Orphan
Asylum and of the Monte Pio.

“Leaving out the sums left in the Treasury on
deposit, and which represent in fact a debt of the State,
we come to the conclusion that there is no money whatever
in the Treasury, and that the State ‘ainda fica a
dever‘ (is instead deep in debt). The expenses were vastly
higher than the income of the Province and whereas
the expenses of administration increased daily, the
receipts remained stationary.”

There was a certain humour in the Presidente’s
remarks on crime, when he referred to the difficulties
experienced by the Chief of Police, who received no
remuneration.

The Author’s Six Followers.

“It is easy,” he said, “to understand the drawbacks
resulting for the maintenance of order and the repression
of crime, which is daily becoming more common—owing,
no doubt, to the facility of entrance, through our unguarded
boundaries, of persecuted people or fugitives[113]
from our neighbouring States, and of the impunity of
criminals due to the benevolence of our juries. The
diminution of our police force in so large a State with
such difficult communications has had the result that
the police force, moved incessantly from one end of
the State to the other, never arrives in time to prevent
crime!

“Many criminals have been prosecuted and are
now safely guarded in prisons, but unhappily the
greater number of criminals are loose all over the State
without fear of being prosecuted, and terrorizing the
population. Bands of gipsies were followed by officers
and soldiers, and their attacks on property and individuals
were prevented…. In the town of Catalão
the two armed parties were successfully prevented from
violence and ‘viessem ás máos‘ (coming to blows). At
Morrinhos armed citizens in a menacing attitude were
dispersed by the police … in other localities other
riots or attempts (sic) at disorder were immediately
repressed, and we can now say that the State enjoys
perfect peace, save the municipality of Douro, which is
threatened by bandits from Bahia. They are constantly
springing upon the terrified population of the
municipality and especially of the town.

“… The bandits continue their incursions; murders
follow one another in the entire zone between
Formosa and Barreiros, including Santa Rita and
Campo Largo, the inhabitants of which zone are paralyzed
with terror…. Our commerce with Bahia, as
well as relations between private individuals, is thus
interrupted.”

In his message the Presidente wisely and frankly[114]
disclosed the difficulty of administering justice under
existing laws, when juries would absolve proved and
confessed murderers wholesale. He endeavoured to
stimulate some sense of honour in the officials in charge
of the various municipalities, where “as rendas em geral
mal applicadas” (the revenue generally misapplied)
found its way into channels through which it was not
intended to pass.

A fervent appeal the Presidente made to prevent
the spread of smallpox. The vaccine which the Government
sent to various points of the State was not used.

Curious, indeed, but perfectly true, were his statements
regarding the police force.

“The officers are zealous and understand their
duty. The policemen, notwithstanding all their defects,
are being instructed and disciplined. The policemen
are in general ‘criminals’ (morigerados). Ha falta de
armamento, e o existente não é o melhor. (There is lack
of armament and the existing one is not the best.)
The pay is small … and the body needs reorganization.”

The Academy of Law (Academia de direito) was not
satisfactory and did not answer the purpose for which
it was established.

The Lyceum, with its 105 pupils, gave fair results,
barring the tolerance in examinations, which, however,
did not reach a criminal point (sic). It possessed no
building of its own, and was badly housed in a private
dwelling.

Public instruction was admittedly defective all over
the province. The teachers were almost as ignorant
and illiterate as the people who went to learn—and[115]
perhaps more so; while the Escola Normal (Normal
School) for women was almost altogether unattended.
The public works were uncared for—there was not a
single new work of art begun in the State. Nor could
the State boast of a single road or trail or bridge in
fair condition.

The laws on the possession of land would one day
lead to immense difficulties and confusion. The greater
part of the land now occupied was in the hands of
people who had no legal right whatever to it.

The existing laws on mining were equally unsatisfactory,
and the Presidente rightly remarked that
“without facilities and guarantees, capitalists will
never venture upon so risky and problematic an enterprise
as mining in a State so distant and so difficult of
access.” He also exhorted the people to re-establish
steam navigation on the Araguaya River, such as existed
in the days of the Empire.

I was told that a launch had actually been purchased
in the United States, but was either waiting at Pará
for want of an engineer or else had again been sold
owing to the impossibility—due to lack of money—of
its being transported in sections over the rapids above
Conceição.

The question of boundaries with neighbouring
States was an amusing one. According to some rule
for which no one can account, the Government of Goyaz
claimed from the State of Matto Grosso enormous
stretches of land on the opposite side of its natural,
indisputable geographical western boundary, the main
stream Araguaya, as well as the isolated settlement of
Conceição, on the opposite side of the Araguaya River,[116]
which was undoubtedly in the State of Pará. One
only had to glance at a map—bad as maps were—to
see that in both cases the claim was an absurd one.
In the case of Conceição it was perfectly ridiculous.
The Pará Government held the place with a military
force and occupied the territory with complete jurisdiction.
In a more peaceful manner the State of Matto
Grosso was in possession of the entire territory west of
the Rio Grande do Araguaya, which the people of
Goyaz said belonged to them. On the west the
Araguaya formed a perfect geographical boundary from
the Southern Goyaz boundary—where the Araguaya
had its birth—as far as the most northern point of
the State; whereas, were one to accept the supposed
Goyaz boundary formed by the Rio das Mortes—a
tributary of lesser volume than the main stream—it
would involve an imaginary compound boundary line
up the Paredão stream, then up the Rio Barreiros, then
an imaginary straight line from north to south across
mountainous country, winding its way east until it
met the Serra dos Bahus, then again north-east over
undetermined country, then along the Rio Aporé and
eventually joining the Paranahyba River.

Curiously enough, nearly all the Brazilian Government
maps—and all the foreign ones copied, of course,
from the Brazilian, all remarkable for their inaccuracies—gave
the wrong boundary as the correct one! In any
case, both the States of Matto Grosso and Pará were
in actual occupation of the respective disputed territories,
and Goyaz was much too poor to afford fighting
for them, so that I fear her most unreasonable claims
will ever remain unsatisfied.

[117]
The final blow to the financial status of the Province
was the loan raised on the Banco do Brazil of
Rs. 300,000,000 (£20,000 sterling) at an interest of 7 per
cent per annum. The Presidente counted on the receipts
from the exports as well as on economy in administration
in order to pay the interest on this sum—a dream
which soon became impossible to realize.

It was then attempted to float an internal loan of
Rs. 200,000,000 (about £13,334 sterling) at an interest of
6 per cent; but, as the Presidente pathetically ended
his message to the State Congress, “not a single person
presented himself to subscribe to the loan.”

The receipts from the export of cattle from Goyaz
State amounted in 1910 to only Rs. 171,901,000 (or
£11,460 1s. 4d. sterling). After all expenses were
deducted the State of Goyaz then showed a deficit of
Rs. 325,510,743 (£21,700 14s. 4d. sterling).

[118]

CHAPTER VIII

It was in the town of Goyaz that I had entertained
hopes of finding suitable followers to accompany my
expedition. The officials in Rio de Janeiro had given
me glowing accounts of the bravery of the people
of Goyaz. According to them those settlers of the
interior were all daredevils, courageous beyond words,
and I should have no difficulty whatever in finding
plenty of men who, for a consideration, would join
the expedition.

“They will one and all come with you,” a well-known
Colonel had exclaimed enthusiastically to me
in Rio—”and they will fight like tigers.”

I carried the strongest possible—although somewhat
curiously worded—credentials from the Federal Government
to the Presidente and other officials of Goyaz,
the letters, which had been handed to me open, stating
that the Presidente was earnestly requested to do all
in his power to help to make the expedition a success.
When I presented these documents, I explained
clearly to the Presidente that all I wished was that
he should help me to collect thirty plucky men, whom
I would naturally pay, and pay well, out of my own
pocket, feed and clothe, during the entire time the[119]
expedition lasted, as well as pay all their expenses
back and wages up to the day of reaching their original
point of departure.

“I cannot help you; you will get nobody. Besides,
I have received an official but confidential message
from Rio requesting me to do all I can to prevent your
going on.”

Such treachery seemed inconceivable to me, and I
took no notice of it. I again requested the Presidente
to endeavour to find me men and animals, as nothing
would deter me from going on. If no Brazilians came,
I said that I would go alone, but that the value of the
expedition would naturally suffer, as I should thus have
to leave behind all the instruments, cameras, and other
impedimenta, which, single-handed, I could not possibly
carry.

It was my intention to travel north-west from Goyaz
city as far as the River Araguaya. There I wanted to
descend the Araguaya as far as the Tapirapez River—a
small tributary on the west side of the Araguaya,
shown on some of the very incorrect existing maps
approximately in Lat. 11° S., and on others in Lat. 9°
and some minutes S. Proceeding westward from that
point again, I proposed crossing over to the Xingu
River, then to the Tapajoz, and farther to the Madeira
River. It was necessary for me to hire or purchase a
canoe in order to descend the Araguaya River as far
as the Tapirapez.

Believing that perhaps I might be able to find
men without the assistance of the Governor, I tried
every possible channel in Goyaz. I sent men all round
the town offering high pay. I applied to the com[120]manding
officer of the Federal troops. I applied to
the Dominican monks, who have more power in Goyaz
State than all the officials taken together.

The Father Superior of the Dominicans shook his
head at once and told me that, much as he wished to
oblige me, I was asking for something impossible. He
was right. The people were so scared of the Indians,
and of the horrors of camping in the jungle, that no
money in the world would ever induce them to move
out of their town.

“Are there no young fellows in the town who will
come along for the love of adventure as well as the
money they will get?” I asked.

“For love! … love!” said the friar, bursting
with laughter. “I do not believe that such a thing
exists in Brazil.”

Having removed “love or money” from the
programme of temptation, there remained little else
except patience. In the meantime I endeavoured to
hire a canoe. The Presidente kindly undertook to do
this for me with the help of a well-known Colonel,
one of the most revered men in the city.

“There is only one boat on the Araguaya,” said the
Presidente to me. “You cannot build a raft, as all
the woods in these regions are too heavy and not one
will float. You must hire that boat or nothing.”

View of Goyaz City from Sta. Barbara.

Author’s Men packing Animals.

The honoured Colonel his friend also impressed that
point well upon me. “Only that boat or nothing.”
They also added that they had arranged for me to hire
that boat for four days, and it would only cost me
£500 sterling. My distinguished friends had taken ten
days to arrange that bargain. It took me ten seconds[121]
to disarrange it all. All the more as I had heard that
a German traveller, Dr. Krause, had the previous year
gone down the Araguaya River, where he had done
excellent research work, and had also travelled up the
tributary Tapirapez, crossing over nearly as far as the
Xingu River. He had found in that region no Indians
and the country of little interest. Furthermore, on my
arrival in Goyaz capital I learnt that a Brazilian Government
expedition, under the leadership of Dr. Pimentel,
had already been in Goyaz some six months trying to
start on a journey down the Araguaya, and, if possible,
also to go up the Tapirapez and other tributaries of
that great stream. Moreover, the Araguaya was perhaps,
after the Madeira, one of the best known southern
tributaries of the Amazon. As we have already seen,
during the time of Dom Pedro, the Emperor, there was
even steam navigation almost all along the course of
the upper Araguaya as far as Leopoldina, the port for
Goyaz capital. Several Englishmen and Germans and
very many Brazilians had travelled on that river, where
even military posts had at one time been established
at intervals on its banks.

So that, rather than be imposed upon and travel
for hundreds of kilometres in so well-known a region,
I decided slightly to alter my route in order to cover
ground that was newer and infinitely more interesting
and important.

The Presidente’s friend, the highly revered Colonel,
had also undertaken to purchase a number of horses
and mules for me. “The people of Goyaz,” said he,
“are terrible thieves; they will swindle you if you
buy them yourself. I will purchase them for you and[122]
you will then pay me back the money. By to-morrow
morning,” he had stated, “I shall have all the horses
and mules you require.”

This was on the day of my arrival in Goyaz. Twelve
days after that date he appeared with a famished,
skeleton-like horse—only one—for which he made me
pay nearly double what I had myself paid for other
excellent animals.

I took care after that experience to beware of the
“revered and honest men of Goyaz.” Those who
behaved honestly were generally those who were described
as thieves. Everything is reversed in Brazil,
and I should have known better.

Let us have a look around the city. Mules and
horses were grazing in the principal square on a severe
slope; the streets were paved in a fashion calculated
to dislocate your feet or possibly break them if you
happened to be walking out after dark. There was
not the slightest semblance of drainage in any part of
the town. The people flung out into the streets all
that could be flung out, and also a good deal that
should not be flung. The dirt was excessive all over
the place when the rain did not come to the rescue and
wash it all off.

The boast of the town was its brilliant illumination—one
hundred petroleum lights all told, lighted up
until ten p.m. when there was no moon. When there
was, or should have been, a moon, as on stormy nights,
the municipality economized on the paraffin and the
lamps were not lighted. I do not know anything more
torturing than returning home every night after my
dinner at the palace, walking on the slippery, worn[123]
slabs of stone of the pavements, at all angles—some
were even vertical—in the middle of the road. You
stumbled, slipped, twisted your feet, jamming them
in the wide interstices between the slabs. I never
could understand why the municipality troubled to
have lights at all. They gave no light when they were
lighted—not enough to see by them—and they were
absolutely of no use to the natives themselves. By
eight o’clock p.m. all the people were asleep and barricaded
within their homes.

Yet—can you believe it?—in this mediæval city
you would be talked about considerably and would give
much offence if you went out of your house in clothes
such as you would wear in England in the country.
On Sundays and during all Easter week—when I was
there—all the men went out in their frock-coats, top
hats of grotesquely antiquated shapes, extra high
starched collars, and, above all, patent leather shoes—with
the sun scorching overhead. The women were
amusing enough in their finery—which had been perhaps
the fashion elsewhere fifty or sixty or more years ago.
But they believed they were as well-dressed and quite as
up-to-date as the smartest women of Paris or London.
They never let an opportunity pass of telling you so.

The most striking building in the principal square
of Goyaz was the prison. I visited it in the company
of the Chief of Police. The place had been specially
cleaned on the occasion of my visit, and that particular
day it looked quite neat. I was shown very
good food which—at least that day—had been prepared
for the prisoners. Nearly all the prisoners were murderers.
“But the biggest criminals of all,” said the[124]
Chief of Police to me, “are not inside this prison;
they are outside!” The poor devils inside were mere
wretches who had not been able to bribe the judges.

Curiously enough, petty theft was considered a shame
in the Province of Goyaz, and was occasionally severely
punished; whereas murderers were usually set free.
I saw a poor negro there who had stolen a handful of
beans and had been sent to five years’ penal servitude,
while others who had killed were merely sentenced to
a few months’ punishment. In any case, no one in
Brazil can be sentenced to more than thirty years’
detention, no matter how terrible the crime he has
committed.

The display of police guarding the prison was somewhat
excessive. There were fifty policemen to guard
fifty prisoners: policemen standing at each door,
policemen at each corner of the building, while a swarm
of them occupied the front hall. The various common
cells were entered by trap doors in the ceiling, of great
height, and by a ladder which was let down. Thus
escape was rendered improbable, the iron bars of the
elevated windows being sounded every morning and
night for further safety.

The sanitary arrangements were of the most primitive
kind, a mere bucket in a corner serving the needs
of eight or ten men in each chamber.

As there was no lunatic asylum in Goyaz, insane
people were sent to prison and were kept and treated
like criminals.

I noticed several interesting cases of insanity: it
generally took either a religious or a criminal form
in Brazil. One man, with a ghastly degenerate face,[125]
and his neck encircled by a heavy iron collar, was
chained to the strong bars of a window. His hands
and feet were also chained. The chain at his neck
was so short that he could only move a few inches away
from the iron bars. He sat crouched like a vicious
dog on the window-ledge, howling and spitting at us
as we passed. His clothes were torn to shreds; his
eyes were sunken and staring, his long, thin, sinewy
arms, with hands which hung as if dead, occasionally
and unconsciously touching this or that near them.
I tried to get close, to talk and examine him; but his
fury was so great against the policeman who accompanied
me that it was impossible to get near. He
was trying to bite like a mad dog, and injured himself
in his efforts to get at us. Another lunatic, too—loose
in a chamber with other prisoners—gave a wonderful
exhibition of fury—that time against me, as he was
under the impression that I had come there to kill
him! He was ready to spring at me when two policemen
seized him and drove him back.

There was a theatre in Goyaz—a rambling shed of
no artistic pretensions. The heat inside that building
was stifling. When I inquired why there were no
windows to ventilate the place I was told that a leading
Goyaz gentleman, having once travelled to St. Petersburg
in Russia in winter-time, and having seen there
a theatre with no windows, eventually returned to his
native city, and immediately had all the windows of
the theatre walled up, regardless of the fact that what
is suitable in a semi-arctic climate is hardly fit for a
stifling tropical country.

One thing that struck me most in Goyaz was the[126]
incongruity of the people. With the little literature
which found its way so far in the interior, most of the
men professed advanced social and religious ideas, the
majority making pretence of atheism in a very acute
form. “Down with faith: down with religion: down
with the priests!” was their cry.

Yet, much to my amazement—I was there in Easter
week—one evening there was a religious procession
through the town. What did I see? All those fierce
atheists, with bare, penitent heads stooping low,
carrying lighted candles and wooden images of our
crucified Saviour and the Virgin! The procession was
extremely picturesque, the entire population, dressed
up for the occasion, being out in the streets that night,
while all the men, including the policemen and federal
soldiers—all bareheaded—walked meekly along in the
procession, each carrying a candle. When the procession
arrived at the church, the Presidente himself—another
atheist—respectfully attended the service; then
the priest came out and delivered a spirited sermon
to the assembled crowds in the square. Then you saw
those atheists—old and young, civil and military—again
kneeling on the hard and irregular paving-stones—some
had taken the precaution to spread their handkerchiefs
so as not to soil their trousers—and beating
their chests and murmuring prayers, and shaking their
heads in sign of repentance.

Such is the world! The prettiest part of the procession
was that formed by the young girls, all garbed
in immaculate white, and with jet-black hair—masses
of it—hanging loose upon their shoulders. The chanting
was musical and the whole affair most impressive.

[127]
I had received somewhat of a shock in the morning
on passing the principal church—there were five or
six in Goyaz. Spread out upon the pavement was the
life-size wooden figure of our Saviour—which had
evidently long been stored in a damp cellar—much
mildewed and left there in the sun in preparation for
the evening performance. The red wig of real hair,
with its crown of thorns, had been removed and was
drying upon a convenient neighbouring shrub! Really,
those people of Goyaz were an amusing mixture of
simplicity and superstition.

One great redeeming point of the people of Goyaz
was that they were extremely charitable. They had
erected a huge building as a workhouse. It was entirely
supported by charity. A small library had also been
established.

As I have elsewhere stated, I needed for my expedition
no less than thirty men, so that they could, if
necessary, carry all my instruments, cameras, provisions,
ammunition, etc., where animals could not get through.

Fourteen long and tedious days elapsed in Goyaz.
No one could be induced to come. In despair I sent
a despatch to the Minister of Agriculture, asking for
the loan of at least four soldiers—whom I should naturally
have paid out of my own pocket, as I had duly
explained to the Presidente, who backed my request.
To my regret I received a reply from the Minister of
War saying that at that moment the Government
could not possibly spare four soldiers. It must be
said that, although the men of Goyaz did not shine
for their bravery, it was not so with the ladies, several
of whom offered, if necessary, to accompany the ex[128]pedition
and do, of course, the work of the men. I
believe that they meant it.

I have, indeed, the greatest respect and admiration for
the noble self-sacrifice of the women of Goyaz. Devoted
mothers and wives, to men who deserved no devotion
at all—nearly all the men had concubines—gentle,
humble, thoughtful, simple and hard-working, they
did all the work in the house. They were a great
contrast to the lazy, conceited, vain male portion of
the population. Certainly, in a population of 10,000
people, I met two or three men who deserved respect,
but they were the exception.