Through Five Republics on Horseback Part 15

Yet this great republic has only had its borders touched. It is estimated that there are over a million Indians in the interior, who hold undisputed possession of four-fifths of the country. Three and a quarter million square miles of the republic thus remains to a great extent an unknown, unexplored wilderness. In this area there are over a million square miles of virgin forest, "the largest and densest on earth." The forest region of the Amazon is twelve hundred miles east to west, and eight hundred miles north to south, and this sombre, primeval woodland has not yet been crossed. [Footnote: Just as this goes to press the newspapers announce that the Brazilian Government has appropriated $10,000 towards the expenses of an expedition into the interior, under the leadership of Henry Savage Landor, the English explorer.]

Brazil's federal capital, Rio de Janeiro, stands on the finest harbor of the world, in which float ships from all nations. Proudest among these crafts are the large Brazilian gunboats. "It is a curious anomaly," says the _Scientific American_, "that the most powerful Dreadnought afloat should belong to a South American republic, but it cannot be denied that the _Minas Geraes_ is ent.i.tled to that distinction." This is one of the vessels that mutinied in 1910.

Brazil is a strange republic. Fanatical, where the Bible is burned in the public plaza whenever introduced, yet, where the most obscene prints are publicly offered for sale in the stores. Where it is a "mortal sin" to listen to the Protestant missionary, and _not_ a sin to break the whole Decalogue. Backward--where the villagers are tied to a post and whipped by the priest when they do not please him.

Progressive--in the cities where religion has been relegated to women and children and priests.

Did I write the word religion? Senhor Ruy Barbosa, the most conspicuous representative of South America at the last Hague Conference, and a candidate for the Presidency of Brazil, wrote of it: "_Romanism is not a religion, but a political organization, the most vicious, the most unscrupulous, and the most destructive of all political systems. The monks are the propagators of fanaticism, the debasers of Christian morals. The history of papal influence has been nothing more nor less than the story of the dissemination of a new paganism, as full of superst.i.tion and of all unrighteousness as the mythology of the ancients--a new paganism organized at the expense of evangelical traditions, shamelessly falsified and travestied by the Romanists. The Romish Church in all ages has been a power, religious scarcely in name, but always inherently, essentially and untiringly a political power_."

As Bishop Neely of the M. E. Church was leaving Rio, Dr. Alexander, one of Brazil's most influential gentlemen, said to him: "_It is sad to see my people so miserable when they might be so happy. Their ills, physical and moral, spring from lack of religion. They call themselves Catholics, but the heathen are scarcely less Christian_!" Is it surprising that the Italian paper _L'Asino_ (The a.s.s), which exists only to ridicule Romanism, has recently been publishing much in praise of what it calls authentic Christianity?

"Rio Janeiro, the beautiful," is an imperial city of imposing grandeur.

It is the largest Portuguese city of the world--greater than Lisbon and Oporto together. It has been called "the finest city on the continents of America,--perhaps in the world, with unqualifiedly the most beautiful street in all the world, the Avenida Central." [Footnote: Clark. "Continent of Opportunity."] That magnificent avenue, over a mile long and one hundred and ten feet wide, asphalt paved and superbly illuminated, is lined with costly modern buildings, some of them truly imposing. Ten people can walk abreast on its beautiful black and white mosaic sidewalks. The buildings which had to be demolished in order to build this superb avenue cost the government seven and a half millions of dollars, and they were bought at their _taxed_ value, which, it was estimated, was only a third of the actual. [Footnote: "But as a wonderful city, the crowning glory of Brazil--yes of the world, I believe--is Rio de Janeiro."--C. W. Furlong, in "The World's Work."]

Some years ago I knew a thousand people a day to die in Rio Janeiro of yellow fever. It is now one of the healthiest of cities, with a death-rate far less than that of New York.

Rio Janeiro, as I first knew it, was far behind. Oil lamps shed fitful gleams here and there on half-naked people. Electric lights now dispel the darkness of the streets, and electric streetcars thread in and out of the "Ruas." There is progress everywhere and in everything.

To-day the native of Rio truthfully boasts that his city has "the finest street-car system of any city of the world."

A man is not permitted to ride in these cars unless he wears a tie, which seems to be the badge of respectability. To a visitor these exactions are amusing. A friend of mine visited the city, and we rode together on the cars until it was discovered that he wore no tie. The day was hot, and my friend (a gentleman of private means) had thought that a white silk shirt with turn-down collar was enough. We felt somewhat humiliated when he was ignominiously turned off the car, while the black ex-slaves on board smiled aristocratically. If you visit Rio Janeiro, by all means wear a tie. If you forget your shirt, or coat, or boots, it will matter little, but the absence of a tie will give the negro cause to insult you.

Some large, box-like cars have the words "_Descalcos e Bagagem_"

(literally, "For the Shoeless and Baggage") printed across them. In these the poorer cla.s.ses and the tieless can ride for half-price. And to make room for the constantly inflowing people from Europe, two great hills are being removed and "cast into the sea."

Rio Janeiro may be earth's coming city. It somewhat disturbs our self-complacency to learn that they have spent more for public improvements than has any city of the United States, with the exception of New York. Munic.i.p.al works, involving an expenditure of $40,000,000, have contributed to this.

Rio Janeiro, however, is not the only large and growing city Brazil can boast of. Sao Paulo, with its population of 300,000 and its two-million-dollar opera house, which fills the s.p.a.ce of three New York blocks, is worthy of mention. Bahia, founded in 1549, has 270,000 inhabitants, and is the centre of the diamond market of Brazil. Para, with its population of 200,000, who export one hundred million dollars'

worth of rubber yearly and keep up a theatre better than anything of the kind in New York, is no mean city. Pernambuco, also, has 200,000 inhabitants, large buildings, and as much as eight million dollars have recently been devoted to harbor improvements there.

Outside of these cities there are estates, quite a few of which are worth more than a million dollars; one coffee plantation has five million trees and employs five thousand people.

With its Amazon River, six hundred miles longer than the journey from New York to Liverpool, England, with its eight branches, each of which is navigable for more than a thousand miles, Brazil's future must be very great.

CHAPTER XII.

_A JOURNEY FROM RIO JANEIRO TO THE INLAND TOWN OF CORUMBA_.

Brazil has over 10,000 miles of railway, but as it is a country larger than the whole of Europe, the reader can easily understand that many parts must be still remote from the iron road and almost inaccessible.

The town of Cuyaba, as the crow flies, is not one thousand miles from Rio, but, in the absence of any kind of roads, the traveller from Rio must sail down the one thousand miles of sea-coast, and, entering the River Plate, proceed up the Parana, Paraguay, and San Lorenzo rivers to reach it, making it a journey of 3,600 miles.

"In the time demanded for a Brazilian to reach points in the interior, setting out from the national capital and going either by way of the Amazon or Rio de la Plata systems of waterways, he might journey to Europe and back two or three times over." [Footnote: Sylvester Baxter, in The Outlook, March, 1908.]

The writer on one occasion was in Rio when a certain mission called him to the town of Corumba, distant perhaps 1,300 miles from the capital.

Does the reader wish to journey to that inland town with him?

Boarding an ocean steamer at Rio, we sail down the stormy sea-coast for one thousand miles to Montevideo. There we tranship into the Buenos Ayres boat, and proceed one hundred and fifty miles up the river to that city. Almost every day steamers leave that great centre for far interior points. The "Rapido" was ready to sail for Asuncion, so we breasted the stream one thousand miles more, when that city was reached. There another steamer waited to carry us to Corumba, another thousand miles further north.

The climate and scenery of the upper reaches of the Paraguay are superb, but our spirits were damped one morning when we discovered that a man of our party had mysteriously disappeared during the night. We had all sat down to dinner the previous evening in health and spirits, and now one was missing. The All-seeing One only knows his fate. To us he disappeared forever.

Higher up the country--or lower, I cannot tell which, for the river winds in all directions, and the compa.s.s, from pointing our course as due north, glides over to northwest, west, southwest, and on one or two occasions, I believe, pointed due south--we came to the first Brazilian town, Puerto Martinho, where we were obliged to stay a short time. A boat put off from the sh.o.r.e, in which were some well-dressed natives.

Before she reached us and made fast, a loud report of a Winchester rang out from the midst of those a.s.sembled on the deck of our steamer, and a man in the boat threw up his arms and dropped; the spark of life had gone out. So quickly did this happen that before we had time to look around the unfortunate man was weltering in his own blood in the bottom of the boat! The a.s.sa.s.sin, an elderly Brazilian, who had eaten at our table and scarcely spoken to anyone, stepped forward quietly, confessing that he had shot one of his old enemies. He was then taken ash.o.r.e in the ship's boat, there to await Brazilian justice, and later on, to appear before a higher tribunal, where the accounts of all men will be balanced.

Such rottenness obtains in Brazilian law that not long since a judge sued in court a man who had bribed him and sought to evade paying the bribe. Knowing this laxity, we did not antic.i.p.ate that our murderous fellow-traveller would have to suffer much for his crime. The _News_, of Rio Janeiro, recently said: "The punishment of a criminal who has any influence whatever is becoming one of the forgotten things."

After leaving Puerto Martinho, the uniform flatness of the river banks changes to wild, mountainous country. On either hand rise high mountains, whose blue tops at times almost frowned over our heads, and the luxuriant tropical vegetation, with creeping lianas, threatened to bar our progress. Huge alligators sunned themselves on the banks, and birds of brilliant plumage flew from branch to branch. _Carpinchos_, with heavy, pig-like tread, walked among the rushes of the sh.o.r.e, and made more than one good dish for our table. This water-hog, the largest gnawing animal in the world, is here very common. Their length, from end of snout to tail, is between three and four feet, while they frequently weigh up to one hundred pounds. The girth of their body will often exceed the length by a foot. For food, they eat the many aquatic plants of the river banks, and the puma, in turn, finds them as delicious a morsel as we did. The head of this amphibious hog presents quite a ludicrous aspect, owing to the great depth of the jaw, and to see them sitting on their haunches, like huge rabbits, is an amusing sight. The young cling on to the mother's back when she swims.

Farther on we stopped to take in wood at a large Brazilian cattle establishment, and a man there a.s.sured us that "there were no venomous insects except tigers," but these killed at least fifteen per cent. of his animals. Not long previously a tiger had, in one night, killed five men and a dog. The heat every day grew more oppressive. On the eighth day we pa.s.sed the Brazilian fort and a.r.s.enal of Cuimbre, with its bra.s.s cannon shining in a sun of bra.s.s, and its sleepy inhabitants lolling in the shade.

Five weeks after leaving Rio Janeiro we finally anch.o.r.ed in Corumba, an intensely sultry spot. Corumba is a town of 5,000 inhabitants, and often said to be one of the hottest in the world. It is an unhealthy place, as are most towns without drainage and water supply. In the hotter season of the year the ratio on a six months' average may be two deaths to one birth. It is a place where dogs at times seem more numerous than people, a town where justice is administered in ways new and strange. Does the reader wish an instance? An a.s.sa.s.sin of the deepest dye was given over by the judge to the tender mercies of the crowd. The man was thereupon attacked by the whole population in one ma.s.s. He was shot and stabbed, stoned and beaten until he became almost a shapeless heap, and was then hurried away in a mule cart, and, without coffin, priest or mourners, was buried like a dog.

Perhaps the populace felt they had to take the law into their own hands, for I was told that the Governor had taken upon himself the responsibility of leaving the prison gates open to thirty-two men, who had quietly walked out. These men had been incarcerated for various reasons, murder, etc., for even in this state of Matto Grosso an a.s.sa.s.sin who cannot pay or escape suffers a little imprisonment. The excuse was, "We cannot afford to keep so many idle men--we are poor."

What a confession for a Brazilian! I do not vouch for the story, for I was not an eye-witness to the act, but it is quite in the range of Brazilian possibilities. The only discrepancy may be the strange way of Portuguese counting. A man buys three horses, but his account is that he has bought twelve feet of horses. He embarks a hundred cows, but the manifest describes the transaction as four hundred feet. The Brazilian is in this respect almost a Yankee--little sums do not content him. Why should they, when he can truthfully boast that his territory is larger than that of the United States? His mile is longer than that of any other nation, and the _bocadinho_, or extra "mouthful," which generally accompanies it, is endless. Instead of having one hundred cents to the dollar, he has two thousand, and each cent is called a "king." The sound is big, but alas, the value of his money is insignificantly small!

The child is not content with being called John Smith. "Jose Maria Jesus Joao dois Sanctos Sylva da Costa da Cunha" is his name; and he recites it, as I, in my boyhood's days, used to "say a piece" while standing on a chair. There is no school in the town. In Brazil, 84 per cent. of the entire population are illiterate.

Corumba contains a few stores of all descriptions, but it would seem that the stock in trade of the chemist is very low, for I overheard a conversation between two women one day, who said they could not get this or that--in fact, "he only keeps cures for stabs and such like things." In the _armazems_ liquors are sold, and rice, salt and beans despatched to the customer by the pint. Why wine and milk are not sold by the pound I did not enquire.

One is not to ask too much in Brazil, or offence is given. When seated at table one day with a comrade, who had the misfortune to swallow a bone, I quietly "swallowed" the remedy a Brazilian told us of. He said their custom was for all to turn away their heads, while the unfortunate one revolved his plate around three times to the left, and presto! the bone disappeared. My friend did not believe in the cure; consequently, he suffered for several days.

I have said that dogs are numerous. These animals roam the streets by day and night in packs and fight and tear at anyone or anything. Some days before we arrived there were even more, but a few pounds of poison had been scattered about the streets--which, by the way, are the worst of any town I have ever entered--and the dog population of the world decreased nine hundred. This is the Corumba version. Perhaps the truth is, nine hundred feet, or, as we count, two hundred and twenty-five dogs. In the interests of humanity, I hope the number was nine hundred heads. Five carts then patrolled the streets and carried away to the outskirts those dead dogs, which were there burnt. I, the writer, find the latter part of the story hardest to believe. Why should a freeborn Brazilian lift dogs out of the street? In what better place could they be? They would fill up the holes and ruts, and, in such intense heat, why do needless work?

Corumba is a typical Brazilian town. Little carts, drawn by a string of goats or rams, thread their way through the streets. Any animal but the human must do the work. As the majority of the people go barefooted, the patriarchal custom prevails of having water offered on entering a house to wash the feet. At all hours of the day men, women and children seek to cool themselves in the river, which is here a mile wide, and with a depth of 20 feet in the channel. While on the subject of bathing, I might mention that a wooden image of the patron saint of the town is, with great pomp, brought down at the head of a long procession, once every year, to receive his annual "duck" in the water.

This is supposed to benefit him much. After his immersion, all the inhabitants, men, women and children, make a rush to be the first to dip in the "blessed water," for, by doing this, all their sins are forgiven them for a year to come. The sick are careful to see that they are not left in the position of the unfortunate one mentioned in the Gospel by John, who "had no one to put him into the pool."

I have also known the Virgin solemnly carried down to the water's edge, that she might command it to rise or fall, as suited the convenience of the people. While she exercised her power the natives knelt around her on the shingly beach in rapturous devotion. At such times the "Mother of Heaven" is clothed in her best, and the jewels in her costume sparkle in the tropical sun.

What the Nile is to Egypt, the Paraguay River is to these interior lands, and what Isis was to the Egyptians, so is the Virgin to these people. Once, when the waters were low, it is related the Virgin came down from heaven and stood upon some rocks in the river bed. To this day the pilot tells you how her footprints are to be clearly seen, impressed in the stone, when the water is shallow. Strange that Mahomet does not rise from his tomb and protest, for that miracle we must concede to him, because his footprints have been on the sacred rocks at Mecca for a thousand years. Does he pa.s.s it over, believing, with many, that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?

Whatever Roman Catholicism is in other parts of the world, in South America it is pure Mariolatry. The creed, as we have seen, reads: "Mary must be our first object of worship, Saint Joseph the second." Along with these, saints, living and dead, are numberless.

A traveller in South Brazil thus writes of a famous monk: "There, in a shed at the back of a small farm, half sitting, half reclining on a mat and a skin of some wild animal, was a man of about seventy years of age, in a state of nudity. A small piece of red blanket was thrown over his shoulders, barely covering them. His whole body was encrusted with filth, and his nails had grown like claws. His vacant look showed him to be a poor, helpless idiot. Beside him a large wood fire was kept burning. The ashes of this fire, strewn around him for the sake of cleanliness, are carried away for medicinal purposes by the thousands of pilgrims who visit him. Men and women come from long distances to see him, in the full persuasion that he is a holy man and has miraculous powers." [Footnote: "The Neglected Continent"] Romanism is thus seen to be in a double sense "a moral pestilence."

The church is, of course, very much in evidence in Corumba, for it is a very religious place. A _missa cantata_ is often held there, when a noisy bra.s.s band will render dance music, often at the moat solemn parts. The drums frequently beat until the worshippers are almost deafened.

In the town of Bom Fim, a little further north, the priest runs a "show" opposite his church, and over it are printed the words, "Theatre of the Holy Ghost."

Think, O intelligent reader, how dense must be the darkness of Papal America when a church notice, which anyone may see affixed to the door, reads:

RAFFLE FOB SOULS.

A raffle for souls will be held at this Church on January 1st, at which four bleeding and tortured souls will be released from purgatory to heaven, according to the four highest tickets in this most holy lottery. Tickets, $1.00. To be had of the father in charge. Will you, for the poor sum of one dollar, leave your loved ones to burn in purgatory for ages?

At the last raffle for souls, the following numbers obtained the prize, and the lucky holders may be a.s.sured that their loved ones are forever released from the flames of purgatory: Ticket 4l.--The soul of Madame Coldern is made happy for ever. Ticket 762.--The soul of the aged widow, Francesca de Parson, is forever released from the flames of purgatory. Ticket 84l.--The soul of Lawyer Vasquez is released from purgatory and ushered into heavenly joys. [Footnote: "Gospel Message."]

But, my reader asks, "Do the people implicitly believe all the priest says?" No, sometimes they say, "Show us a sign." This was especially true of the people living on the Chili-Bolivian border. The wily, yet progressive, priest there made a number of little balloons, which on a certain day of the year were sent up into the sky, bearing away the sins of the people. Of course, when the villagers saw their sins float away before their own eyes, enclosed in little crystal spheres, such as _could not be earthly_, they believed and rejoiced. Yes, reader, the South American priest is alive to his position after all, and even "patents" are requisitioned. In some of the larger churches there is the "slot" machine, which, when a coin is inserted, gives out _"The Pope's blessing."_ This is simply a picture representing his Holiness with uplifted hands.