The cordial interest shown by the Emperor in all the objects of the present expedition is very encouraging to Mr. Agassiz. So liberal a spirit in the head of the government will make his own task comparatively easy. He has also seen several official persons on business appertaining to his scientific schemes. Everywhere he receives the warmest expressions of sympathy, and is assured that the administration will give him every facility in its power to carry out his plans. To-night finds us established in our rooms, and our Brazilian life begins; with what success remains to be seen. While still on board the “Colorado” we seemed to have one foot on our own soil.
April 26th.—This morning Mrs. C—— and myself devoted to the arranging of our little domestic matters, getting out our books, desks, and other knickknacks, and making ourselves at home in our new quarters, where we suppose we are likely to be for some weeks to come. This afternoon we drove out on the Larangeiras road (literally, the “orangery”). Our first drive in Rio left upon my mind an impression of picturesque decay; things seemed falling to pieces, it is true, but mindful of artistic effect even in their last moments. This impression was quite effaced to-day. Every city has its least becoming aspect, and it seems we had chosen an unfavorable direction for our first tour of observation. The Larangeiras road is lined on either side by a succession of country houses; low and spreading, often with wide verandas, surrounded by beautiful gardens, glowing at this season with the scarlet leaves of the Poinsettia, or “Estrella do Norte” as they call it here, with blue and yellow Bignonias, and many other shrubs and vines, the names of which we have hardly learned as yet. Often, as we drove along, a wide gateway, opening into an avenue of palms, would give us a glimpse of Brazilian life. Here and there a group of people were sitting in the garden, or children were playing in the grounds under the care of their black nurses. Farther out of town the country houses were less numerous, but the scenery was more picturesque. The road winds immediately under the mountains to the foot of the Corcovado, where it becomes too steep for carriages, the farther ascent being made on mules or horses. But it was too late for us,—the peak of the Corcovado was already bathed in the setting sun. We wandered a little way up the romantic path, gathered a few flowers, and then drove back to the city, stopping on our return to ramble for half an hour in the “Passeio Publico.” This is a pretty public garden on the bay, not large but tastefully laid out, its great charm being a broad promenade built up from the water’s edge with very solid masonry, against which the waves break with a refreshing coolness. To-morrow we are invited by Major Ellison, chief engineer of the Dom Pedro Railroad, to go out to the terminus of the road, some hundred miles through the heart of the Serra do Mar.
Tree entwined by Sipos.
April 27th.—Perhaps in all our journeyings through Brazil we shall not have a day more impressive to us all than this one; we shall, no doubt, see wilder scenery, but the first time that one looks upon nature, under an entirely new aspect, has a charm that can hardly be repeated. The first view of high mountains, the first glimpse of the broad ocean, the first sight of a tropical vegetation in all its fulness, are epochs in one’s life. This wonderful South American forest is so matted together and intertwined with gigantic parasites that it seems more like a solid, compact mass of green than like the leafy screen, vibrating with every breeze and transparent to the sun, which represents the forest in the temperate zone. Many of the trees in the region we passed through to-day seemed in the embrace of immense serpents, so large were the stems of the parasites winding about them; orchids of various kinds and large size grew upon their trunks; and vines climbed to their summits and threw themselves down in garlands to the ground. On the embankments also between which we passed, vines of many varieties were creeping down, as if they would fain clothe in green garments the ugly gaps the railroad had made. Yet it must be confessed that, in this instance, the railroad has not destroyed, but rather heightened, the picturesque scenery, cutting, as it does, through passes which give beautiful vistas into the heart of the mountain range. Once, as we issued from a tunnel, where the darkness seemed tangible, upon an exquisite landscape all gleaming in the sunshine, a general shout from the whole party testified their astonishment and admiration. We were riding on an open car in front of the engine, so that nothing impeded our view, and we had no inconvenience from smoke or cinders. During the latter part of the ride we came into the region of the most valuable coffee-plantations; and indeed the road is chiefly supported by the transportation of the immense quantities of coffee raised along its track or beyond it. Near its terminus is an extensive fazenda, from which we were told that five or six hundred tons of coffee are sent out in a good year. These fazendas are singular-looking establishments, low (usually only one story) and very spreading, the largest of them covering quite an extensive area. As they are rather isolated in situation, they must include within their own borders all that is needed to keep them up. There is something very primitive in the way of life of these great country proprietors. Major Ellison told me that some time ago a wealthy Marqueza living at some distance beyond him in the interior, and going to town for a stay of a few weeks, stopped at his house to rest. She had a troop of thirty-one pack-mules, laden with all conceivable baggage, besides provisions of every sort, fowls, hams, &c., and a train of twenty-five servants. Their hospitality is said to be unbounded; you have only to present yourself at their gates at the end of a day’s journey, and if you have the air of a respectable traveller, you are sure of a hearty welcome, shelter and food. The card of a friend or a note of introduction insures you all the house can afford for as long as you like to stay.
The last three miles of our journey was over what is called the “temporary road,” the use of which will be discontinued as soon as the great tunnel is completed. I must say, that to the inexperienced this road looks exceedingly perilous, especially that part of it which is carried over a wooden bridge 65 feet high, with a very strong curvature and a gradient of 4 per cent (211 feet per mile). As you feel the engine laboring up the steep ascent, and, looking out, find yourself on the edge of a precipitous bank, and almost face to face with the hindmost car, while the train bends around the curve, it is difficult to resist the sense of insecurity. It is certainly greatly to the credit of the management of the line that no accident has occurred under circumstances where the least carelessness would be fatal.[[17]]
It gives one an idea of the labor expended on this railroad, to learn that for the great tunnel alone, now almost completed (one of fourteen), a corps of some three hundred men, relieving each other alternately, have been at work day and night, excepting Sundays, for seven years. The sound of hammer and pick during that time has hardly ever been still, and so hard is the rock through which the tunnel is pierced, that often the heaviest blows of the sledge yield only a little dust,—no more in bulk than a pinch of snuff.[[18]]
On our return we were detained for half an hour at a station on the bank of the river Parahyba. This first visit to one of the considerable rivers of Brazil was not without its memorable incident. One of our friends of the Colorado, who parts from us here on his way to San Francisco, said he was determined not to leave the expedition without contributing something to its results. He improvised a fishing apparatus, with a stick, a string, and a crooked pin, and caught two fishes, our first harvest from the fresh waters of Brazil, one of which was entirely new to Mr. Agassiz, while the other he had never seen, and only knew from descriptions.
April 28th.—This morning we went over to the Colorado, which still lies in the harbor, and where the visit of the Emperor was expected. We all felt an interest in the occasion, for we have a kind of personal pride in the fine ship whose first voyage has been the source of so much enjoyment to us. The Imperial yacht arrived punctually at twelve o’clock, and was received by the captain with a full salute from his Parrott guns, fired with a promptness and accuracy which the Emperor did not fail to notice. His Majesty went over the whole steamer; and really an exploring expedition over such a world in little, with its provision-shops, its cattle stalls, its pantries and sculleries, its endless accommodations for passengers and freight, its variety of decks and its great central fires, deep below all, is no contemptible journey for a tropical morning. The arrangements of the vessel seemed to excite the interest and admiration both of the Emperor and his suite. Captain Bradbury invited his Majesty to lunch on board; he very cordially accepted, and remained some time afterward, conversing chiefly about scientific subjects, and especially on matters connected with the expedition. The Emperor is still a young man; but though only forty, he has been the reigning sovereign of Brazil for more than half that time, and he looks careworn and somewhat older than his years. He has a dignified, manly presence, a face rather stern in repose, but animated and genial in conversation; his manner is courteous and friendly to all.
May 1st.—We celebrated May-day in a strange land, where May ushers in the winter, by driving to the Botanical Garden. When I say we, I mean usually the unprofessional members of the party. The scientific corps are too busily engaged to be with us on many of our little pleasure excursions. Mr. Agassiz himself is chiefly occupied in seeing numerous persons in official positions, whose influence is important in matters relative to the expedition. He is very anxious to complete these necessary preliminaries, to despatch his various parties into the interior, and to begin his personal investigations. He is commended to be patient, however, and not to fret at delays; for, with the best will in the world, the dilatory national habits cannot be changed. Meanwhile he has improvised a laboratory in a large empty room over a warehouse in the Rua Direita, the principal business street of the city. Here in one corner the ornithologists, Mr. Dexter and Mr. Allen, have their bench,—a rough board propped on two casks, the seat an empty keg; in another, Mr. Anthony, with an apparatus of much the same kind, pores over his shells; a dissecting-table of like carpentry occupies a conspicuous position; and in the midst the Professor may generally be seen sitting on a barrel, for chairs there are none, assorting or examining specimens, or going from bench to bench to see how the work progresses. In the midst of the confusion Mr. Burkhardt has his little table, where he is making colored drawings of the fish as they are brought in fresh from the fishing-boats. In a small adjoining room Mr. Sceva is preparing skeletons for mounting. Every one, in short, has his special task and is busily at work. A very questionable perfume, an “ancient and fish-like smell,” strongly tinged with alcohol, guides one to this abode of Science, where, notwithstanding its unattractive aspect, Mr. Agassiz receives many visitors, curious to see the actual working process of a laboratory of Natural History, and full of interest in the expedition. Here also pour in specimens from all quarters and of every kind; voluntary contributions, which daily swell the collections.[[19]] Those of the party who are not engaged here have their work elsewhere. Mr. Hartt and Mr. St. John are at various stations along the railroad line, making geological sections of the road; several of the volunteers are collecting in the country, and Mr. Hunnewell is studying at a photographic establishment, fitting himself to assist Mr. Agassiz in this way when we are beyond the reach of professional artists.