RESIDENCE OF THE PRESIDENT
BOTANICAL GARDENS
The Botanical Garden, long celebrated as possessing the finest collection of tropical plants among the parks of the world, was founded in 1808 by Dom João VI when Prince Regent of Portugal. At the Avenida Station, a car marked Gavea may be taken about once in ten minutes. The route is at first a familiar one, near the shore of the bay, but turns at length to the west, passing presently under the steep walls of Corcovado on the right and near the shore of a considerable lake, the Lagõa Rodrigues de Freitas on the left, a ride for which the three-quarters of an hour required is none too long. Within the gateway, flanked by small office buildings, one is confronted by a splendid avenue of superb palms, 150 in number, extending in a straight line nearly half a mile. The tree trunks, a yard in diameter at the base, are straight shafts 75 feet high, ere they are topped by their leafage crown. Some distance up, this avenue is crossed by another of 140 palms, a fountain adorning the square of intersection. These palms, with all those forming colonnades in other parts of the city, are descendants of the ancient tree which was planted by D. João VI. The story goes that some Brazilian officers, shipwrecked, were carried to the Isle of France, where was a fine botanical garden. One of the officers, Luiz de Abreu, after gaining possession of several choice specimens, managed to escape with them. Returning to Brazil he presented them to Dom João, who, transferring them to the Garden, planted with his own hands the seed of the Royal Palm. The tree still standing, 130 feet high, apparently destined to flourish for some time longer, is marked by an inscription, and will be pointed out by an attendant if overlooked. It is not, of course, in any of the rows. Besides hundreds of varieties of Brazilian plants, the Garden contains as many from all parts of the world; it maintains close relations with other Gardens, sending to them hundreds of thousands of seeds, as well as making extensive distribution in various parts of Brazil. A delightful section at the left of the entrance is called the Bamboo Salon, where a walk under the feathery archway recalls the aisle of a Gothic cathedral. Of great interest is the traveler’s tree, somewhat resembling a banana plant, of which the sap is like pure cold water. The gentleman who showed me about, kindly cut the stalk with his knife. I drank as the sap spouted forth, and found it indistinguishable from clear water. If the tree would grow in desert regions, what a godsend to the thirsty traveler! The victoria regia with its great leaves, four or five feet in diameter floating on the water is always noteworthy, even if it is not the flowering season, there May or June. Naturally rubber trees of many varieties are to be seen, coffee shrubs, tea plants, and others in profusion, both useful and beautiful, a wealth of vines, but fewer orchids, at least in blossom, than I had hoped. The candelabra tree, so called from its shape, and the cow tree, which supplies a kind of milk better for making cement than for drinking, are of interest. An especial curiosity is one tree growing inside of another, the trunk of the palm being almost completely surrounded by the trunk of another tree of entirely different character, both trees now 30 or 40 feet high.
A number of pretty pavilions, a lake, grottoes, and cascades contribute to adorn the Garden, also several monuments and statues. One of the monuments is in memory of the real founder of the Garden, Frei Leandro do Sacramento, Professor of Botany in the Faculty of Medicine, a distinguished scholar, who on his death in 1829 left the Garden in a flourishing condition. At the end of the central avenue of palms, the monument, Dea Palmaris, was inaugurated in 1906. There are various statues of nymphs, a temple of Nike, a Belvedere, a colonial portico, and the first statue ever cast in Brazil, this in 1783 by Valentim da Fonseca e Silva. In one of the buildings by the gate is a herbarium of great value, as also a library. Even unscientific persons with no especial interest in botany may enjoy a long afternoon wandering in the delightful walks, the charm of which is increased by the wooded steeps and grim cliffs of Corcovado just above, seeing here the side of Corcovado precisely opposite to the one visible from the center of the city. One may leave the Garden in time to continue the short distance to the end of the line to Gavea, where there is a noted spring of water of excellent quality. From a spot called Boa Vista, a short climb, the panorama is superb. The headlands, Dous Irmãos, are at the left, the shores ever beaten by angry waves; in front is the broad ocean dotted with islands, one named Rosa bearing a lighthouse; on the right imposing Gavea, on whose face near the summit may be distinguished lines believed to have been traced by some primitive people. The name Gavea, meaning topsail, is derived from the shape of the summit. Its ascent is possible from the side towards Tijuca and has several times been made.
Corcovado. Most delightful to many of all the days to be spent at Rio will be that which is devoted to the Ascent of Corcovado; nor should it long be postponed. The first clear day or afternoon should be improved, as at some seasons clouds are frequent. Even setting out with a cloudless sky, one may find the goal shrouded in mist, or spread out below a mantle of softest sheen concealing in part or whole the glorious prospect beneath. There is a choice of two routes to the summit: both I strongly recommend; every one should go twice; but with time so limited that a single trip may be made it is desirable to go one way and return the other. The Sylvestre route begins by electric car, starting every half hour from the Largo da Carioca back of the Avenida Hotel. The other, longer or shorter, according to the point of departure, is all by cog-wheeled railway; but the base station is 35 or 40 minutes from the Avenida. One takes here or farther out a car marked Cosme Velho or Larangeiras to the pretty station among the Santa Theresa hills, passing on the way the familiar Estrangeiros and Largo Machado, there turning to the right on Larangeiras, a street as yet unfamiliar. Near the end of the line on the left is the station, return ticket 3 milreis, where one enters a car open at the sides with sufficiently comfortable seats if you face upwards. The track, one meter wide, about two miles long, crosses the valley of the Sylvestre stream on an iron viaduct of three arches, each 80 feet wide, supported on iron pillars with a masonry base, then enters a deep trench, later crossing two more bridges.
At the first station, Sylvestre, those board the train who have come by electrics to this point. The latter, after a few rods of steep grade from Carioca, wind along the side of San Antonio Hill in gradual ascent, then cross on the picturesque double arches of the old viaduct to the outlying hill of the Santa Theresa ridge. Swiftly speeds the car affording but fleeting glimpses of the busy streets and the houses below. Winding along the hillside, soon passing the International Hotel, with many level stretches and moderate inclines, the outlook above or below is enchanting. Any description must fall far short of the reality. The conjunction of a great city with picturesque scenery, pellucid bays, ragged cliffs, and tropical vegetation is unparalleled. One sits enthralled with the vision of loveliness. One’s entire vocabulary of adjectives such as exquisite, entrancing, magnificent, sublime, crowd upon the mind. A short distance away towers the massive Sugar Loaf, its cliffs so steep and smooth that apparently even a fly would find no foothold, unless with a liberal supply of Spalding’s glue upon his little toes. My cry was not “O for the wings of a dove!” but for the pen of my gifted friends, Aked or Gifford, to attempt the glowing description the scenes deserve. Here are trees with great bunches of yellow flowers, somewhat resembling wistaria, but with a very artificial look. Many trees bear large scarlet flowers. One below is covered with white blossoms. Pretty villas and gardens are passed, the dwellings, pink, blue, green, and terra cotta. In bright sunshine smoked glasses may seem desirable to eyes not especially strong. As we skirt the hillside in many curves, the city below is now on our right, the gleaming bay, and curving shore; the next moment the steep slopes or cliffs above; and now we move through a dense and quiet forest. A good carriage road is here by the side of the track. A happy couple is occasionally seen strolling on a sequestered path. In January it was too warm to enjoy a climb, but a leisurely descent would at any time be a pleasure. In winter, June, July, and August, the ascent would be equally agreeable, and the opportunity to pause and enjoy the charming vistas no one could fail to appreciate.
CORCOVADO FROM THE BOULEVARD BEIRA MAR
