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). 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. 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 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.
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.
