Petropolis.--Summer Residence of the Citizens of Rio.--Brief
Sketch of the late Royal Family.--Dom Pedro's Palace.--A
Delightful Mountain Sanitarium.--A Successful but Bloodless
Revolution.--Floral Delights.--Mountain Scenery.--Heavy
Gambling.--A German Settlement.--Cascatinha.--Remarkable
Orchids.--Local Types.--A Brazilian Forest.--Compensation.
Petropolis,--or the city of Peter,--the fashionable summer resort of the
citizens of Rio Janeiro, is a modern town, dating only from 1844, and
contains at that season of the year a population of some eight thousand.
The intense heat of the crowded city in the summer months, not to
mention its usually unhealthy condition, makes even the acclimated
inhabitants seek a refuge in the hills. So long as the fever continues
to rage, merchants leave their families here, and come up nightly to
sleep and breathe the fresh, pure air. It is only on the coast and in
crowded communities that epidemics prevail. We were told by residents
that a case of yellow fever never originated at Petropolis; that it was
too elevated for the citizens to fear anything of the sort. It is so
generally throughout the country; the yellow fever prevails only in the
ports and at sea level, a peculiarity also observable in Cuba and the
several West Indian islands. When the fever prevails, as it does
annually at Havana and Matanzas, the wealthy citizens, and all
unacclimated people who are able to do so, retire inland to elevated
localities, where they are comparatively safe from the scourge. The same
rule applies to the coast cities of South America,--Para, Pernambuco,
Bahia, etc. It is a very important matter to the merchants of Rio that
they have, within two or three hours' reach of their overheated city
offices, a resort where they can sit in a dry skin and sleep in quiet
and comfort. Had they not this resort, they would be obliged to succumb
to disease, or to leave Rio for half of the year annually.
Petropolis is situated in the Organ Mountain range, about thirty miles
from the metropolis, and is something less than three thousand feet
above tide-water. The town is built in a slight depression among the
well wooded hills, forming a vale of alpine beauty, easily reached from
Rio by boat and rail. The latter portion of the trip, comprising a sharp
mountain ascent, is made by a system of railroad like that by which the
summit of Corcovado is reached. The popular route is to cross the harbor
at Rio by a large and commodious steamboat, a distance of twelve miles,
and then to take the steam-cars. There is also another railroad route,
all the way by land. The late emperor's summer palace is the prominent
feature of Petropolis, together with its elaborate gardens, covering
some fifteen or twenty acres of land. Hither come the diplomatic
representatives of foreign nations to enjoy the salubrious mountain air
and the hospitable society of the best people of Rio Janeiro, and to lay
aside many of the constraints of city life. A great contrast is apparent
here to the crowded streets and narrow lanes of the uncleanly capital,
while the air is undoubtedly remarkable for its healthful and
invigorating qualities. The summer palace is surrounded by elegantly
arranged grounds, planted with rare flowers and choice trees from every
clime. In general effect it resembles an old English country house,
except for the tropical vegetation, the fine verdant lawns of grass, the
only ones of any extent in the country, being particularly noticeable.
This mountain resort has been called the Versailles of Brazil.
It seems appropriate to recall, in brief, the family history of the late
emperor, Dom Pedro II., of whose favorite abiding-place we are speaking.
He enjoyed a distinguished reputation among modern rulers, was liberal,
scholarly, and possessed of great experience of men and the world at
large. Having been an observant and studious traveler in many parts of
the globe, his endeavor was to adopt the best well-tried systems of
other governments in educational and other matters relating to political
economy. His system was mild, progressive, and designed for the general
good of the people over whom he presided; in fact, it was too mild for
the turbulent, unlettered masses of the provinces of Brazil. They were
not intellectually prepared for such leniency.
The royal family of Portugal fled hither in 1808, at the time of
Napoleon's invasion of that country, but returned to Europe in 1821. A
national congress assembled at Rio Janeiro the next year, and chose Dom
Pedro, eldest son of King Joao VI. of Portugal, "Perpetual Defender of
Brazil." He proclaimed the independence of the country, and was chosen
"Constitutional Emperor." In 1831 he abdicated in favor of his only son,
Dom Pedro II., who reigned as emperor until November 15, 1889, when he
was dethroned by a bloodless revolution, and, together with his family,
was exiled, Brazil declaring herself a republic under the title she now
bears of the United States of Brazil. The feeling was nearly universal
among the Brazilians that they desired to live under a republican form
of government, but Dom Pedro II. was a man of such estimable character,
so just, intelligent, and popular a ruler, that the revolution, which
finally dethroned him, was deferred long after it was determined upon.
The peaceful manner in which it was finally achieved is perhaps without
precedent, and shows how thoroughly the mind of the active spirits of
the nation was made up to this end. It was a political _coup d'etat_,
accomplished without the burning of an ounce of gunpowder. The emperor
himself seemed to accept the position as a foregone conclusion. We
learned from persons who had been quite intimate with him that he had
already anticipated the whole condition of affairs, foreseeing that it
was inevitable. If this is so, he was wise as well as diplomatic and
humane, for he had enough devoted adherents about him to have made a
serious though doubtless futile conflict for possession. There are
always myriads of the unthinking rabble ready to join and even fight for
authority which is already established, especially when seconded, as was
the case with Dom Pedro, by a strong personal popularity.
The palace at Petropolis is, with its extensive grounds, now offered for
sale, the country having no further use for palaces. It is understood
that a local syndicate propose to purchase the whole and cut up the land
into building lots, which are very much in demand just at this writing.
It would not be surprising if Petropolis were to double its population
during the next four or five years. Speculators are already at work
"booming" the place, and a summer home here is just what the Rio
merchant requires.
Some queer stories are told about the every-day life of Dom Pedro by his
neighbors. It seems, according to these reports,--for the truth of which
we cannot vouch,--that he often chose as his associates and advisers
uneducated persons of very humble origin, who had accumulated wealth by
shrewdness and industry, besides which he latterly exhibited many very
peculiar traits of character; but, as we say, it is difficult to decide
whether these stories are to be relied upon. It is more than hinted that
he had grown very weak minded, or, as the Scotch say, had a bee in his
bonnet. At all events, it now appears that he did not possess the
necessary energy and executive ability requisite to control a naturally
turbulent and restless people, and that his summary dethronement, so
peaceably accomplished, must have come sooner or later.
It is very natural to speculate upon the present state of affairs in
this country, since the change has taken place. To render a republic
possible and successful requires a liberal degree of intelligence among
the common people, that is, the masses at large. Unfortunately Brazil
cannot boast of such a condition among her population. The educated,
cultured portion of the community is quite limited, consequently the
country is hardly fit for self-government. Ignorant masses are only
amenable to the strong arm, and cannot, while untaught, be controlled
through the influence of reason and argument. Past experience shows us
that while a republic in the United States, France, or Switzerland means
freedom and order, in these half barbaric southern states it signifies
an alternation of revolution and of military despotism. Subject to the
rule of Dom Pedro, Brazil was alike free from despotism and from
disorder, so that it may be questioned whether his liberal reign was
not, under the circumstances, the truest republic for which Brazil was
fitted. Indeed, while these lines are being written, the question of a
return to the former style of government is openly discussed at Rio
Janeiro, where a state of political imbroglio exists very similar to the
conditions which caused the late disastrous civil war in Chili, on the
other side of the Andes. Such a shocking outcome, however, need never be
feared in Brazil as has been developed by the sister republic on the
Pacific coast, since both intelligence and civilization are far more
advanced in Brazil than in Chili.
The town of Petropolis and its neighborhood possesses good roads for
driving purposes, this location having been for several years the pride
and pleasure of the late emperor, who made the place what it now is by
his liberal expenditures and the constant improvements which he
instituted, paying for them out of his own private purse. The first
selection of this healthful spot was also his idea, and he felt a
personal pride in doing everything possible towards making it popular.
The roads referred to lead one through delightful scenery and highly
cultivated neighborhoods, beautified by art, until finally they lose
themselves among the hills and amidst impenetrable forests. There are
several fairly good hotels here, where the charges are moderate and the
domestic conveniences execrable! The great variety of trees to be found
in and about the town is marvelous, the palm and pine prevailing,
interspersed with the beautiful feathery Brazilian cedar. The tree-ferns
which grow here to a height of twelve feet are great favorites, with
their bright green fronds, six feet in length, almost reaching the
ground as the stalk bends gracefully with their weight. The scarlet
passion flower is trained as an ornamental creeper in nearly every
garden-plot, and tall fuchsias in various colors and pearl white
camellias also abound. We have rarely seen the camellia in such variety
of colors, or such profusion of flowers. It is often found blooming
beside tall coffee-trees, themselves full of deep green clustering
berries, the tree, where grown for ornamental purposes, being permitted
to reach full proportions. Here one sees also a profusion of the rich
green bamboo in prolific groves by the roadside, or surrounding humble
cottages, thus forming a welcome shade. In midsummer, so rapid is the
growth of the bamboo that every twenty-four hours adds two feet to its
height, or in other words, it grows an inch each hour throughout the day
and the night. Jack's fabulous beanstalk hardly surpasses the bamboo,
though the former is an amusing myth, while the latter is simply a
literal fact. Some very lovely gladioli and white roses were noted as
adding their beauty to these charming hill gardens in the Organ
Mountains. So abundant were the flowers of various kinds in the grounds
which surrounded our hotel, that any one was welcome to pluck and
appropriate them to the extent of his fancy. The public tables were
supplied with fresh ones every day, forming great living pyramids of
beautiful colors, emitting inimitable fragrance.
Our hotel was situated on gently rising ground, commanding a
considerable view of the plateau on which the town stands, with Dom
Pedro's palace in the middle foreground, shaded by groups of palms. It
was a delight to sit out-of-doors and watch the cloud effects as they
hung over the tree-covered hills and peaks, closing their ranks now and
again, and sweeping over the valley like a dashing charge of cavalry; or
cautiously advancing in single scuds like infantry deployed as
skirmishers; or, again, mottling the sky in white and peaceful masses.
At the brief twilight hour, it was like a living poem to note the
varying sunset hues creeping along the valley and gleaming through the
branches of the grand old trees which broke the sky-line of the
mountains, and the soft lilac blush of the sky, like a profile in
silhouette, with sharp curves and infinite detail. A deep, broad gulch,
opening towards the west, afforded a lingering view of the golden,
crimson, and pink horizon, long after the day had closed, and until the
stars gleamed forth through the transparent atmosphere and glorified the
advent of night.
This is nature in her happy moods. A little later, to these exquisite
delights of the moment, an ugly obverse presents itself. "Only man is
vile."
From opposite the open window where we sit penning these lines,--it is a
Sabbath evening,--there comes the sharp rattle of diceboxes and billiard
balls, together with the loud, angry talk of persons engaged at gambling
games of cards, interrupted by the repeated cries of the presiding
genius of the roulette table: "Make your game, signors, make your game,"
as he coolly rakes in the winnings of the bank. Italian, French,
English, and Spanish adventurers mingle their jargon with Portuguese in
the noisy throng who crowd the gambling "hell." It was said that
seventeen thousand dollars were won by a Portuguese gentleman, last
evening, in this "casino" just across the street, so losers to a like
amount, on the same occasion, must have been rendered half desperate.
The wretchedly demoralizing effect of gambling is apparent throughout
all the cities of this republic, the common lotteries tempting the mass
of the people, and various games of chance others who have money to
risk.
Petropolis is extremely attractive in many respects, the scenery round
about it very much resembling that of Switzerland. The broad streets are
lined with such pretty villas and attractive gardens that one falls to
making romantic pictures of possible delightful things which might
naturally happen in them, and is led to peer into nooks and corners with
a prying earnestness amounting almost to impertinence. These avenues
contain in their centres deep canals, thirty or forty feet wide, having
granite linings and the upper portion of the banks neatly sodded with
grass. Through these canals the water from the surrounding hills flows
in a pure, rapid stream, carrying away the drainage of the town, which
is emptied into them by underground conduits. These water-ways are
crossed by numerous small but substantial bridges, painted scarlet,
while the rushing river imparts a delightful coolness.
The largest portion of the permanent inhabitants of Petropolis is
composed of Germans, whose native tongue is heard on all sides, while
the familiar clatter of wooden shoes speaks of Berlin, Dresden, and
other German continental centres. The rosy-cheeked, flaxen-haired,
blue-eyed children are also prima facie evidence of the prevailing
nationality, though there are a large number of Italians who reside
here. The latter keep small shops and are peddlers of fruit, or marble
cutters and stucco workers, while many others find employment as
gardeners.
The highway to a certain mining district passes through the town, and
many donkeys laden with inland products are constantly to be seen in the
streets en route for Rio, giving the place a business aspect hardly
warranted by the local trade. From the neighboring hills charcoal
burners drive their donkeys every morning, laden with that article for
domestic use in the town, forming picturesque groups on the public
square, where they await purchasers. Others bring small-cut wood from
the hill for fuel, packed in little, narrow, toy carts, each drawn by a
single donkey. Scores of donkeys bearing tall, widespread loads of green
fodder are so hidden by the mass of greenery which they struggle under,
that none of the animal is seen at all, leading one to imagine that
Birnam wood has literally come to Dunsinane. These animals are almost
always attended by women, who sell the fodder in the market and return
home at night with such domestic necessities as are required. Women are
the laborers here, as at home in Germany, where they perform the hard
work, while their husbands guzzle beer and smoke endless tobacco.
Petropolis is, as we have said, steadily growing, but the banishment of
the emperor will retard its progress, as it takes from the town its
strongest element of assured success. We counted about a score of fine,
large residences in course of construction. The climate here is like
that of June in New England, and the verdure of the trees is perennial.
There is a charming excursion which strangers rarely fail to enjoy,
namely, to a place familiarly known as the Cascades. The village
adjoining these falls is called Cascatinha, and is situated in the lap
of the Organ Mountains, about five miles from Petropolis. The road
thither leads along the side of a small but boisterous stream, which
gladdens the ear with its merry, gurgling notes, past lowly, thatched
cottages, orange orchards, bamboo and banana groves, and green breadths
of well-cultivated, undulating land, finally ending in the midst of a
panorama of bold mountain peaks, lovely with varied gradations of tint,
and subtlest effects of light and shade. Here the abundant water
furnished by the river, which is artificially adapted to the purpose,
forms a series of cascades and falls, at the same time furnishing the
motive power for operating extensive cotton and woolen mills, which give
employment to several hundred men and women. A very humble type of life
mingles hereabouts with that of a much more refined character. Naked or
half-clad children are seen here and there playing with those who are
comparatively well dressed. Nice cottage homes adjoin those of the
poorest class. Children of both sexes are observed, only partially
covered with rags, who are endowed with a loveliness of eyes and
features, together with handsome figures, causing one to reflect upon
the unfulfilled possibilities of such childish beauty.
Men and women often bring into Petropolis and offer for sale beautiful
orchids, which they find in the woods not far away. These they pack in
green leaves, retaining a piece of the original bark or wood upon which
they have grown. These pretty flowerings of exuberant nature are sold
for a trifling price. Some are very remarkable in form and color, such
as we have never before chanced to see, and for really rare ones the
finders ask and receive good prices. We saw among them a specimen of the
Flor del Espiritu Santo,--"Flower of the Holy Spirit,"--to find which is
thought to bring to the fortunate discoverer good luck, as well as a
handsome price for the orchid. These women may have passed whole days in
their search of the forest, patiently breaking their way through nearly
impassable jungles, before nature reveals to them one of her most dainty
gems. As a rule, the forests are so dense that it is useless to try to
penetrate them, except by following some beaten route,--a charcoal
burner's road or a straggling way formed by a watercourse.
We well remember, but can only partially describe, the glory and beauty
of the Brazilian primeval forest. The general tone of the color is
brownish rather than light green, influenced by the absence of strong
light, for though the sun is glowing in the open country, here it is
twilight. Not one direct beam penetrates the density of the foliage, the
sombre drapery of the woods. At first one is awed by the vast extent of
the forest, by the dark, mournful shadows, by the gigantic trees
reaching so far heavenward, forming here and there gothic arcades of
matchless grandeur, and by the bewildering variety of the undergrowth.
Scarcely a tree trunk is seen without its parasite, green with foliage
not its own, "beyond the power of botanists to number up their tribe."
These dense jungles might be in India, or a bit out of "Darkest Africa;"
one is barred by an impenetrable wall of vegetation. Where palms occur,
it is almost always in groups; being a social tree, it loves the company
of its species. So with the bamboo, which is found in the more swampy
regions, but always in groups of its own family. These damp woods are
the home of the orchids; it is here that they revel in moisture,
clinging to the trunks of tall, columnar trees, fattening on decayed
portions of the bark, but forming bits of lovely color, while about the
stems of other forest monarchs wind creeping vines of rope-like texture,
binding huge trunks in a fatal embrace. Their final strangulation is
slow, but it is sure,--only a question of time. Lofty trees bear
charming flowers, as lowly shrubs do in our northern clime. Arborescent
ferns vie with the palms in poetic beauty, with their elastic, tufted
tops. Bunches of lilac and blossoms of snowy whiteness hang in the air.
Drooping mosses depend like human hair from widespread branches, and
soft, velvety moss carpets the way, with here and there dwarf mimosas
trailing beneath the ferns. Long vines of woody climbers, in deep
olive-green, twine and intertwine among the ranks of stout, aged trees,
breaking out at short distances with pink, blue, and scarlet buds,
rivaling the color of the birds which flash hither and thither like rays
of sunlight breaking through the leafy screen. Now and again the shrill
or plaintive notes of unfamiliar songsters fall upon the ear, mingling
with the cooing of the wood-doves and the low drone of the dragon-fly.
The magnificent arboreal growth of these forests develops itself into
thousands of strange and beautiful forms, stimulated by the constant
humidity of the high temperature.
The atheist must feel himself stifled for breath in the tropical forest,
and his fallacious creed challenged by every surrounding object, while a
new light illumines his unwilling soul with irrefutable evidences. The
Supreme Being writes his gospel not in the Bible alone, but upon the
grand old trees, the lowly flowers, the fleeting clouds, and upon the
eternal stars. Those who seek nature for religious inspiration never
fail to obtain it, untrammeled by the vulgar tenets of sectarianism or
outraged by the tinsel of church forms and ceremonies.
The observant traveler from the north is fain to seek some consolation,
some evidence of the glorious law of compensation, while comparing the
features of these poetical latitudes with his own well-beloved but more
prosaic home. He remembers that if these gaudy birds do flout in vivid
colors that dazzle and charm the eye, they have not the exquisite power
of song which inspires our more soberly clad New England favorites.
Brilliancy of feathers and sweetness of song rarely go together, a
natural fact which suggests a whole moral essay in itself. The torrid
zone clothes its feathered tribes in glowing plumage, but the colder
north endows hers with heart-touching melody. If the flowers of the
tropics exhaust the hues of the prism, attracting us by the oddity of
their forms, while blooming in exuberant abundance, the sweet and lowly
children of Flora in higher latitudes greet the senses with a fragrance
unknown in equatorial regions. Joy is nowhere all of a piece. Blessings,
we are forced to believe, whether in the form of beauty of color,
fragrance, or melody, are very equally divided all over the world, and
those portions which have not one, as a rule, are almost sure to have
the other. When we become eloquent and appreciative in the lively
enjoyment of scenes in a new country, it is not always because they are
more desirable or more beautiful than our own; it is the newness and the
contrast which for the moment so captivate us. That to which we are
accustomed, however grand, becomes commonplace; we covet and require
novelty to quicken the observation. Were the sun to rise but once a
year, in place of three hundred and sixty-five times every twelve
months, we would willingly travel thousands of miles, if it were
necessary, to witness the glorious phenomenon. The most charming natural
objects please us in proportion to their rarity or our unfamiliarity
with them.