A PROGRESSIVE STATE
It is a distance of three hundred miles from Rio to São Paulo, the second
city in the republic, and the ride is very interesting, especially so
for the first two or three hours. This time is taken by the railway
line to climb over the ridge of mountains, which everywhere pass close
to the shore. For some time after leaving the Central station in Rio,
the train passes through the city and suburban towns, over which a good
and frequent suburban service is run. Then a strip of rather low land
gives the traveller a fairly good view of a Brazilian forest of small
trees and undergrowth, matted together with parasites, and forming an
almost compact mass of green in which many orchids may be seen. Fairly
well cultivated fields are passed at intervals until the ascent begins
at Belem, from which time there is very little cultivation. Some grand
glimpses of mountain scenery are revealed as the train turns around
bends and emerges from one or another of the numerous tunnels along the
line. Mountains, hills and valleys, flowing streams and cascades, mingle
in a panorama of wonderful beauty. At Barra do Pirahy the São Paulo road
branches off from the line to Bello Horizonte, and gradually descends to
lower levels.
Much of the land, as the slopes become less steep, has been cultivated
in the past with coffee, but it is now abandoned. Dead, or nearly dead,
coffee trees are still standing amidst the wild growth that has sprung up
since the land was abandoned. This part of Minas Geraes was at one time
regarded as one of the richest coffee sections in Brazil, and would be
valuable land even to-day were it not for the improvident and wasteful
methods of the average planter. The trees were planted too thick, and no
effort made to place back in the soil any of the elements taken out. It
was considered cheaper to buy virgin soil in a new location than to do
anything to build up the land already owned. The same thing is seen in
other parts of Minas Geraes and the state of Rio de Janeiro, the latter
being the state in which was originally grown the famous “Rio” coffee.
The road follows the Parahyba River most of the way, sometimes on one
bank and again on the other. The valleys become broader, although
occasionally a cut is made through an interesting ridge. The towns are
more numerous and larger during the last hundred miles. The Italian
element grows more pronounced, and many Italians may be seen at the
stations and on the trains. Ox teams drawing clumsy carts seem to be
the principal conveyances for freight, and two-wheeled carriages of an
antiquated type, which must have been the originals of the London hansom
cabs, convey the passengers. At one station an old style automobile
was sandwiched in between these two classes of vehicles, and it seemed
strangely out of place, except that the automobile was as antiquated for
that class of conveyances as the others were in their line.
Immense ant hills dot the landscape in many places. These hills are
oftentimes from three to four or five feet in height, and look strangely
like old-fashioned bee hives with their rounded tops. The red dust sifts
in through the car windows in clouds. As the windows must be kept closed
on this account, one is given a turkish bath under very disadvantageous
circumstances. Furthermore, no matter how hot it is, the sweltering
traveller is not permitted to remove his coat, as that is a breach of
etiquette not allowed here. I tried it and was immediately requested very
politely to put it on. You may expectorate on the floor as much as you
like, but to remove your coat—“No, Senhor; it is against the rules of the
company.”
The dust is caused by the red clay which is used as a ballast here
because it is found all along the line, and is cheaper than stone. A few
coffee fields are passed, and then we enter a valley many miles broad,
and one has his first glimpse of really level land in Brazil. At length,
after eleven hours’ ride, the train rolls into the Norte station of the
City of São Paulo, and the _carigadores_ begin their struggle for your
luggage. Then, after being released from their clutches, you are turned
over to the tender mercies of the cabman, and the traveller welcomes the
comfort of a bath in his hotel to get rid of the dust of travel.
The city of São (pronounced Sah-o, with a nasal sound after the a)
Paulo is the second city in the republic in population and commercial
importance. It is situated on a plain with low hills upon the entire
horizon. Its population is in the neighbourhood of three hundred and
fifty thousand. Although little coffee is produced within fifty miles of
São Paulo, yet it is the centre of that trade, and the great increase in
the production has caused the wonderful growth of this city. It is more
like an American city than any of the other Brazilian towns, because, in
whatever direction one looks, the high smoke-stacks of some of the many
factories may be seen. The suburbs are many and new, and everywhere are
signs of building activity and the construction of public improvements.
The growth of the city has really been marvellous. Twenty years ago
São Paulo was a comparatively unimportant city of twenty-five thousand
people. Now it has grown and broadened out until it covers a wide
territory. Real estate values have increased until to-day real estate on
Rua São Bento, or Rua Quinze de Novembro (15th of November), is almost as
high as on the principal streets in similar towns of the United States.
It has become the distributing and manufacturing centre for this, the
most progressive state in the republic. The temperature of São Paulo may
have something to do with the energetic character of the people. Although
the latitude is not much different from Rio, its altitude of more than
2,000 feet renders the climate very agreeable. I was there in the middle
of their summer, and, although the days were quite warm, the nights were
delightfully cool, and blankets were very comfortable on one’s bed.
[Illustration: RUA DIREITA, SÃO PAULO.]
The business centre of the city is a triangle composed of the two streets
above mentioned, and the Rua Direita, the straight street. Around this
triangle in the afternoons the ladies walk on their shopping tours; in
the evening it is the promenade, and all the people who are down town at
night may be seen somewhere on that route. São Paulo is not a typical
Brazilian town, for it has outgrown many of those characteristics to
be seen in the towns which are more peculiarly Portuguese. There is a
large foreign element, and their influence is notable in every part of
the city, and even in the life of the Paulistas themselves. A great deal
of the exclusiveness of the family life has disappeared, and the young
women of the city may be seen out upon the street on a shopping tour,
or performing an errand, unaccompanied by the duenna, which would be
unknown in more conservative Rio. There are perhaps one hundred thousand
Italians in the city, and added to these are several thousands of
other nationalities, with only a small sprinkling of those of American
birth. And yet, although the number of Americans is small, the American
influence is paramount, and everywhere I went, among high officials or
business men, I found a great interest in things American, and an effort
to copy after and learn from the institutions in the United States. Their
aim is progress and, although some of the methods are rather crude and
sometimes impractical, the effort is apparent and great good is being
done.
The Tramways, Light and Power Company of São Paulo has had a great
influence in this city and has, I believe, been an educational feature in
the business development. It is owned by the same group of capitalists
who control the company having similar concessions in Rio, but their
influence is more easily traced here. The charter of this company is
Canadian, but its methods are strictly what we term American, and a
number of our fellow-citizens are at work with it. Brazilian young men
consider it a credit to be in the employ of this company. They furnish an
excellent system of electric traction with about eighty miles of track.
The electricity is developed from a waterfall on the Tieté River, a few
miles away. A great deal of freight is hauled on the tram lines, and it
is no uncommon sight to see car load after car load of squealing pork
hauled through the streets.
English is taught in the public schools, and is a required language
before a degree is given, so that it will not be many years before the
educated classes will all have a knowledge of that language. “And,” said
the able director of the schools, “we aim to teach a conversational
knowledge of the language and not merely a reading knowledge.”
“Furthermore,” he said, “we are copying after the educational methods
of the United States just as fast as it is possible to introduce new
methods. It can not all be done at once, for certain prejudices exist in
favour of the old systems.”
[Illustration: BUZZARDS AT THE MARKET, SÃO PAULO.]
“_Estado_, Senhor? _Correio?_” These are the cries that greet one’s
ears as the hustling little newsboys ply their trade, just as their
counterparts do in our own land. This city supports a dozen dailies. The
two above mentioned are very enterprising publications, which publish
more foreign news than the average American daily, although the most
of it is European. Then the lotteries are everywhere in evidence. In
some blocks there are three or four agencies, besides the vendors on the
streets. The Brazilians are born gamblers, and this is their favourite
method of wooing the fickle goddess of fortune. There is a national
lottery, and perhaps the next most popular one is that of this state.
There is a drawing nearly every day, with an occasional grand prize of
fifty thousand dollars. I met one American who had just drawn a prize of
sixty thousand dollars in the National lottery, and this had caused quite
a flutter in the English speaking colony. The people forget that not one
dollar is paid out for perhaps four that are paid in, but they are always
hoping that the lightning will strike in their direction. Men, women and
school children, people in silk and rags, black, white and brown, all
buy the little strips of paper with the magic numbers on them, and they
eagerly scan the drawings when posted. Brazil is not alone in this folly,
however, for all the republics surrounding her encourage the same form of
gambling.
As São Paulo is the capital of a state there are the usual public
buildings that one will find for the transaction of the public business.
The finest and most imposing building in the city is the Municipal
Theatre, which is a very fair rival to the one in Rio de Janeiro. It is
not quite finished as yet, but the exterior is very fine and in good
taste. There are some beautiful homes on the Avenida Tiradentes and the
Avenida Paulista, the latter being a comparatively new street. The new
thoroughfares are broad and roomy, while the streets in the old town are,
for the most part, very narrow and illy adapted for the traffic of a
large city. This is overcome to a certain extent by allowing the cars and
street traffic to move only one way on many streets.
[Illustration: THE YPIRANGA.]
Just beyond São Paulo, and only a short ride by electric car, is a
magnificent building known as the Ypiranga, which deserves more than
passing notice, for it is built on the site of the birthplace of
Brazilian independence. Dom Pedro, representative of the Portuguese
authority in Brazil, was also the son of the King of Portugal. In the
struggles between Brazil and the Cortes of Lisbon, which was striving
to increase the taxes of that country, and at the same time remove what
little constitutional liberty had been granted, this prince was heart
and soul on the side of the people. During the long struggle Dom Pedro
had ingratiated himself with the people, until all were united with
him. Insult was heaped upon the Brazilian deputies in the Cortes, by
refusing to let them speak in behalf of their country’s cause. At length
a peremptory order was sent to Dom Pedro ordering his immediate return
to Portugal. The messenger bearing this decree met the prince as he was
returning with a hunting party on the bank of a little stream called the
“Ypiranga.” Upon reading it he called upon his followers, and declared
that he would never leave Brazil. “_Independence ou morte_ (independence
or death), is my watchword,” said he. The party took up this watchword,
and it spread like wildfire all over the land. This was on the 7th of
September, 1822, and a month later Dom Pedro was proclaimed Emperor of
Brazil. One will find many streets in Brazil named 7th de Setembro, in
commemoration of this _grito_, or shout of independence.
The museum is very imposing, as it stands on an eminence that overlooks
the country for miles around. It is built of marble, but the red sand
of the country has given it a very peculiar effect, almost like that of
old ivory. It contains much that is of scientific interest. Especially
fine is the collection of humming birds, beetles and butterflies. There
are several specimens of the _Louvadeus_ grasshopper, which raises its
feelers and poses itself almost in the attitude of prayer. The name
means “praise God.” One of the principal objects of interest is a large
painting representing the scene when the prince pronounced the watchword
“independence or death.”
[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW OF THE IMMIGRANT STATION AT SÃO PAULO.]
The governments of several different states are endeavouring to
induce immigrants to come in. The efforts of São Paulo have been most
successful, and their methods are copied by other states. This state
maintains a splendid immigration office in the city of São Paulo, which
is strictly up to date. The immigrants upon landing at Santos are taken
by special train to this station, and here they are kept for a week or
ten days at government expense. During this time they are housed in
excellent quarters, given good food, and kept under the supervision of
doctors. Many have had their entire expenses from their homes paid by
the government. In these buildings are offices where immigrants are
secured employment on the various _fazendas_. A record is kept of each
_fazendero_ to see if he carries out his contracts. Notices are posted up
where labour is wanted on _fazendas_ or railroads. Written contracts are
made and signed between employer and employee in legal form. The wages
generally received are from $.90 to $1.25 per day for such labourers.
Interpreters are kept who are able to converse in the many languages that
will be required. The labourer is then forwarded to his destination in
the interior at government expense. It is far different from the way they
are received in our own land, and I only wish that a few hundred thousand
of those seeking the shores of the United States each year would turn
their steps down this way. They would be better off there than they are
in our own great cities.
When I visited this immigration station there were about nine hundred
immigrants there who had just been landed. Of this number four-fifths
were Spaniards, with a sprinkling of Russians, Poles, Austrians,
Hungarians and Italians. A few days later I saw a couple of hundred
more of the same varied nationalities landed at Santos, and loaded on a
special train for São Paulo. I always pity these poor immigrants who come
to a new country with no money, few clothes, many children, and nothing
else but a big hope of something, or faith in somebody, in their breast.
The total number of immigrants reaching all Brazil in the past year, the
excess over those leaving, would not exceed eighty thousand.
The government of São Paulo has established a number of colonies in the
state, one or two of which I visited. In these colonies the land is
platted in tracts of about fifty acres, which are sold to the colonists
at $500 per tract, payable one-tenth each year. The colonist is allowed
to live one year free of charge in the colony house, but within this time
he must construct his own home. Some of these colonies have proven quite
successful, and many immigrants have thus been able to acquire a home
with their own vine and fig tree surrounding it. It is certainly the best
thing for the colonist, for he has a chance to secure his own home and
that ought to be a stimulus to bring out the best there is in a man. In
the less developed part of the state, lands will be given the colonist
practically free.
The Italian element in Brazil is large, and is increasing each year by
immigration. In all of the cities of southern Brazil the Italians are
numerous, but they probably reach their largest percentage in the state
of São Paulo, where they number about forty per cent. of the population.
Of the two and a half millions of people in that state there are perhaps
one million of Italian birth. Everywhere one can see evidences of these
children of sunny Italy, who have sought homes in the new land because
of the overcrowding at home. Most of them come from northern Italy, and
they are said to make better workmen than those from Southern Italy. It
would be difficult for the coffee planters to work their plantations were
it not for these people, and every plantation has one or several colonies
of these labourers. They are generally preferred to the negro labourers
by the planters. The most of them are industrious and frugal. Many of
them eventually join one of the government colonies, and purchase a small
tract of land; others become tradesmen, and open a small store to cater
to those of their own nationality; still others travel from door to door
selling small household articles needed by the housewives. One will hear
the same street cries, see the same characteristic packs and bundles,
and observe the same styles of dress that are common in the northern
provinces of Italy. In recent years the number of Italians coming to
Brazil has because of restrictions of the Italian government.
There is still an abundance of soil in this state, nearly three times as
large as all New England, awaiting development. The entire western half,
which is composed of fertile virgin soil, is practically unexploited.
The recent completion of the railroad, which follows the Tieté River
to its junction with the Paraná, will open that section to emigration.
Along this river, and the other water courses of the state, much fine
hardwood timber is found that is well adapted for finishing lumber. Some
of the woods are similar to and will take as fine a polish as mahogany.
The difficulty is in marketing them. The logs will not float, so that it
is necessary to build rafts on which to transport them. As none of the
streams flow direct to the Atlantic, the logs must be sent down through
the La Plata system, and the many waterfalls make this impracticable.
Cheap railroad rates furnish the only solution to this problem.
The water power awaiting development in this state is almost incredible.
As the rainfall is large and frequent the volume of water is constant
and reliable. On the Tieté River alone there are hundreds of feet of
hydraulic falls that could furnish thousands of horsepower energy for
practical purposes. The same might be said of the Piracicaba, the Rio
Grande, the Paranapanema, and the Mogy-Guassu Rivers, as well as the
mighty Paraná itself, which forms the western boundary of São Paulo.
One of the most interesting trips made by me in Brazil was to Riberão
Preto, which is in the very centre of the richest coffee district in
the world. The route first led over the tracks of the São Paulo Railway
to the town of Jundiahy. This line runs through the hills and gradually
reaches a lower level. No villages of importance are passed until
Jundiahy is reached, and that is interesting only as a railroad junction
point. Here a change was made to the Paulista Railway, over which a ride
of an hour takes the traveller to Campinas, a city once very flourishing
because the centre of the coffee trade. During the past few years this
town has declined, because the coffee production in this neighbourhood
has greatly decreased. The city probably contains twenty-five thousand
people, and is a typical Brazilian town—far more representative than
its more successful rival of São Paulo. There are hundreds of acres
of coffee trees still producing in the Campinas district, but they are
not well kept, as it seems to be the general intention of abandoning
it when the present trees cease to bear. I visited one plantation in
this neighbourhood, the Fazenda da Lapa, and it was very interesting,
because it was the first one that I had examined, but it cannot compare
with the ones later to be described. The charming hospitality of these
_fazenderos_ is most captivating. On the visit to this plantation the
owner served us a meal of fruit fit for a king’s table. It was in the
early days of January, and we had oranges, bananas, figs, mangoes,
pineapples, strawberries, plums and several varieties of grapes, all
of them raised on the plantation, and most of which we had ourselves
assisted in picking.
[Illustration: THE PICTURESQUE FAZENDA DA LAPA AT CAMPINAS.]
At Campinas is located the Instituto Agronomico, which is an experimental
institution of the state government. Its purpose is to study the various
enemies which attack vegetation and discover means, if possible, for
their eradication. It also experiments with the raising of various kinds
of grain, and the cultivation of fruits. The work laid out for this
institution is a good one, for what is needed in Brazil is a practical
application of good agricultural principles, a study of the soil and a
knowledge of what it is adapted for. The equipment of this institution
is good, and the buildings are large and commodious. But a great deal of
money is spent for what might be termed the show features, where it could
better be expended for practical purposes. There is a great field, I
believe, for the cultivation of fruits. In a country such as this, where
fruit trees grow almost without cultivation, a very large percentage of
the fruits are imported. For instance, at the hotels the fruit served
would be American or Portuguese apples, and Malaga grapes. And yet, right
here at this institute, I saw grapes finer, in my opinion, than those
brought over thousands of miles of water. With proper cultivation nearly
every one of the common fruits of the tropical and temperate zone could
be raised here, and of fine quality. Instead, thousands of dollars are
sent out of the country for the fruits which might be better raised at
home.
From Campinas the journey was continued over the Mogyana Railroad, a
narrow gauge track. The line passes through coffee plantations for some
distance, and then into uncultivated lands, where the only industry
is the raising of stock. A part of the land traversed is abandoned
agricultural land, and part of it has never been under cultivation. The
cattle seen on these farms are only of fair quality, for not much care
has been taken in breeding the animals up to a high standard. With many
bends and graceful curves the road follows a stream, cuts across valleys
and around hills. There is no part of the ten hours’ journey when hills
of fair size are not a prominent feature in the foreground. A number
of towns are passed, and a few very narrow gauged railroads run off
to plantations, which cannot be seen from the railroads. The soil is
almost the colour of dried blood, and this red dirt filters in through
the windows in great clouds. This blood-red dust colours everything it
touches with a reddish hue. The clothing is soon tinted with it, and even
the children’s complexions show the effects, for Brazilian children, like
their cousins all over the world, like to play in the dirt. But this red
soil is good coffee land, and coffee plantations are seen crowning the
summits of the hills. At last the train reaches Riberão Preto, near which
are situated the best and largest coffee plantations, not only in Brazil
but in the world. The town is comparatively modern, for this district
is newer than Campinas, and it has been growing in importance year after
year in the past two decades. It is now a city of ten or fifteen thousand
people.
[Illustration: “MONTE ALEGRE” FAZENDA.]
At the station were waiting carriages from the hospitable “Monte Alegre”
_fazenda_, the residence of Colonel Francisco Schmidt, who is known as
the “coffee king.” This man came to Brazil as a poor emigrant boy a half
century ago, and hoed coffee trees for other _fazenderos_, and on lands
which he now owns. Seated on the broad veranda of “Monte Alegre,” one
could see avenues of coffee trees stretching out over the hills, and
good coffee lands are always hilly, until they were lost in the horizon.
Although it was not possible to see, yet one knew that they continued in
the same unbroken rows down the other slope. I rode in a carriage with
the Colonel for hours through a continuous succession of coffee trees,
during the three days that I was his guest, with no end in sight. When
you consider that there are from two hundred and fifty to three hundred
trees to each acre, you will readily realize that the number of trees
soon runs into the thousands, then into the tens of thousands, and
finally into the millions. So do not be surprised when I tell you that
this coffee king has already growing upon his various _fazendas_ the
almost incredible number of eight million coffee trees. I did not see all
of them, but I saw so many that numbers lost their meaning, and I could
only think in millions.
Twenty-three million pounds of coffee were marketed by this man in one
year. This is enough to give every man, woman and child in the United
States and Canada a cup of coffee for breakfast for one week. He has
twenty railroad stations on his thirty-two different _fazendas_. He has
twenty machines run by water or steam power for cleaning coffee, and
acres upon acres of drying yards, all of which are scenes of activity
in the harvesting season. Nearly a thousand horses are employed in the
work of the plantations, besides more than that number of mules and oxen.
There is also a fully-equipped sugar mill, which turns out thousands of
pounds of refined sugar each year. In fact, the Colonel told me, as we
were seated at the great dining table, that would seat forty persons,
and which was spread with the good things of life: “Everything on the
table, except the flour used in making the bread, was raised on this
plantation.”
The Colonel reminded me of the feudal lords of old, for the eight
thousand people who live on his plantations not only depend on him for
labour, but look up to him and tip their hats respectfully whenever they
see him. The work of taking care of the coffee trees is all let out to
families at so much a thousand trees per year, and a family will take
care of five thousand trees. The price paid is from $25.00 to $30.00
per thousand per year for hoeing and cleaning the fields, and they are
paid in addition to this for picking the coffee at established rates.
Furthermore, they are permitted to plant corn and beans in between the
coffee rows which gives them an extra profit. Day labourers are paid at
the rate of $.90 to $1.00 for each day’s work.
Everything about this plantation is conducted in a systematic manner, and
in that is the secret of Colonel Schmidt’s success. The thirty-two farms
are all connected with his home by telephone, for which more than eighty
miles of telephone wire have been strung. Everything, including plumbing
supplies, is kept in systematic order and the owner himself knows where
each article may be found. Machinery when not in use is carefully stored
under shelter to protect it from rust. A half dozen blacksmiths, as
many woodworkers, harnessworkers, shoemakers, etc., are kept on the
plantation, and even a private tailor is employed at the house. A dozen
or more general stores are operated for supplying the wants of the
employees. With this and much more detail this great plantation is run on
modern business methods, with as perfect a system of bookkeeping as the
average business man employs. From these books can be told at a glance
the exact cost of each plantation for each year, its production and the
net profit to the owner. And, above all, the Colonel is a charming host,
and finds time to make it interesting for those, like myself, who visit
him where he is king.
[Illustration: A RUBBER PLANTATION OF MANIÇOBA RUBBER TREES.]
The “Dumont” _fazenda_ adjoins the one just described, and it is the
second largest plantation in Brazil, and perhaps in the world. It was
formerly owned by the family of Santos-Dumont, the aeronaut, but is now
under the control of an English company. They own a private railroad with
more than forty miles of track, which runs to Riberão Preto. The track
is only twenty-six inches wide, and the cars are rather narrow with room
for only one person on each side of the aisle. A special train, with
the best car the road possesses, drawn by a Baldwin engine, was sent for
us and we were taken over the coffee plantation, which possesses nearly
five million trees. It was also very interesting to travel over the
thousands of acres owned by them, in and through the rows of coffee trees
which almost brushed up against the car in places, in this comfortable,
if diminutive coach, and see the methods of culture and care of the
coffee, which is slightly different than that pursued on the other. It
was also interesting to find an up-to-date American in charge of the
vast interests of this English company, and to know that one of our own
nationality is making good in the coffee-raising industry as well as in
other lines. This company markets all its own coffee through an auxiliary
company in England in packages under its own labels. The “Dumont”
_fazenda_ is also conducting an experiment in rubber culture, and now
has forty thousand trees growing, some of which are almost ready to tap.
If rubber continues to advance, as it has in the past year, this part of
their plantation may prove more profitable than the growing of coffee.