Page 34 of The Voice of Wild Places
Watt hesitated.He said, “My mother collects artwork, she has a piece he did for the Walker Gallery.It was before my time, but growing up I always thought it was … I don't know, I just liked it.So I keep up with some artists I like now and then.”This last bit Watt said a bit defensively, and Cornelius elbowed him.
“Don't say that in the park too loud, might give a man a wrong idea,” Cornelius teased, then immediately went red with regret, all the way to the tips of his ears.
Watt blinked in that slow way he did when he was processing.“Say what?”
Cornelius thanked the heavens Watt was clueless.He coughed and said, “Nothing.We better—uh—catch up with Severino.Come on.”
Severino wasn't all that much ahead of them, but Watt didn't push the subject.Toucans flew between the trees and birds that reminded Cornelius of some type of quail ran through the brush.Marmosets with white tufted fur and black capuchins cried and barked, seeming to laugh at the humans as they walked past.There were ruins of an old gunpowder factory and sugar mill, and Cornelius desperately wanted to search them.But that wasn’t in the plan.
And neither was visiting Christ the Redeemer.They could barely see the distant statue perched atop Corcovado’s peak, shrouded in scaffolding and fog, it's back to them.“Do you know much about it?”Watt asked Severino, nodding to the statue.
Severino grinned.He seemed to know everything and anything, and loved to talk.He said, “In 1888, Princess Isabel signed the Golden Law into effect while acting as regent while her father was traveling, effectively abolishing all forms of slavery in Brazil.They called her the Redemptress, and there was discussion of building a statue in her honor.Princess Isabel suggested an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus instead, as he was the true redeemer, but the republic ended.Church and state were separated, so the idea was dropped.But In 1920, The Catholic Circle of Rio made another proposal for a great symbol to be constructed atop Corcovado, but something to bring Godliness back to Brazil.Through fundraising and donations, they got together the means to commission the statute.Construction started in 22’, they plan to have it finished later this year, actually.”
“And who did they commission?”Watt asked, staring up at the mountain.“What’s it made from?”
“Concrete and soapstone.Heitor da Silva Costa designed the statue, and Paul Landowski sculpted the majority of it.Georghe Leonida crafted the last piece, the face.It’s all made of pieces, you see.The head, the hands, and the torso.It’s over 90 feet tall, not including the over 20 foot pedestal.”
“The largest art deco statue in the world.Beautiful,” Watt breathed.Cornelius found it hard to look at anything but Watt’s face turned up in wonder.
O Progresso
April9th,1930
There wasn’t much time between departing the hotel and boarding the train, and Cornelius was glad for it.His mind swam, and his heart was heavy.It was easier not to think if you were busy.Perhaps all the travel was catching up with him.The past few days, weeks even, had been enjoyable if mildly stressful.The other day at the beach was especially nice.Last night he and Watt had gone to bed early, both had spent the evening writing letters.Cornelius had gotten a decent amount of sleep, but Watt had dark circles beneath his eyes.He didn’t seem worse for wear though, smiling when Cornelius gave him attention and making small talk without being prompted.
Severino met them outside the Estação Central do Brasil right on time, having spent yesterday and early this morning with his family.The station was generously sized with three lofty levels and dressed in the same stone architecture much of Rio offered, with many great arches across its face.There was a figure cast in bronze high above, standing astride a clock.A nude man with all the important bits covered by a draping of sorts, and in his right hand he held a shield across his chest, which depicted a locomotive.His left hand was raised, clutching …
“Electricity,” Severino murmured, smoking a cigarette beside Cornelius.
“Oh, I see now,” Cornelius said, able to interpret the jagged, wiry construction in the man’s hand as lightning bolts.His heart clenched with thoughts of Dimitri, who had always reminded Cornelius of lightning.He was passionate and confident, defiant and radiant just like the sculpture.Gabriel's opposite, to be sure.Gabriel was a quiet intellectual with a fondness for art, and the artist.Dimitri dabbled in watercolors and oils, men and women and everything in between.The pair had an interesting arrangement that involved partners coming and going into their relationship in different ways, although the core remained the same.They had taught Cornelius a great deal, and it had been an electrifying time.
“O Progresso,” Watt said, a solid presence at Cornelius’ other side.“Almeida Reis’ work, yeah?”He asked Severino with a slight quirk of the mouth that said he already knew, and Cornelius shook his head fondly.He found Watt’s lingering animosity amusing since Severino was the epitome of pleasantness, while Cornelius was the complete opposite and Watt tolerated him just fine.
Severino nodded, exhaling a plume of paper and tobacco.“Indeed, commissioned by his long time friend and director of the station at the time.”
“Your family isn't seeing you off?”Watt asked, an abrupt change of subject.
“Oh no, we said our goodbyes already.I will not subject Isabela to the terror of children at the train station,” Severino said, chuckling.
The smell of Severino's cigarette had Cornelius craving another.But Watt had stopped asking Cornelius for them, resorting to habitually smoking his pipe once a day, usually after dinner.So Cornelius had tried to limit his smoking to only a few times a day, for Watt's lungs sake.It hadn't been going so well.“Should we get going?”Cornelius said, prompting them to get a move on.
There was a mild hangup at the station regarding Maggie, but after some words from Severino the dog was allowed at Watt’s side instead of holed up in the luggage car.Their luggage was attended to and they boarded the train in short order, despite how crowded the station was.They had a cabin to themselves, fit with two upholstered benches.The space was snug with three men and a dog, but not uncomfortable.The air coming in through the window was thick with smoke, heat, and chatter.When the train pulled away from the station, dust entered the equation as well.
Maggie did not like the train.As a result, she sat on the seat beside Watt, leaving Cornelius to sit beside Severino.Cornelius liked the man well enough, but he didn’t know him as well as he knew Watt.Regardless, they made conversation easily enough, having to talk somewhat loudly in order to be heard.
The ride to São Paulo was as boring as it was beautiful.They climbed the steep cliffs separating Rio de Janeiro from the rest of Brazil, and Severino pointed out where the construction on a new road was taking place, the Petropolis Road, which was predicted to be a far more efficient mode of travel than the train.Cornelius couldn’t imagine cars having an easier time carving these mountainsides than trains, but figured the engineers knew best.
By the third day, Cornelius was starting to feel restricted.At least on the Eastern Prince there were places to retreat to, to hide and reset.But there was nowhere to go on the train, which was beautiful but too industrial for days on end.He tried to focus on the positives instead of the cabin walls shrinking with each passing day.
The food was good, and the company was pleasant.He and Watt had finally found their stride, able to behave as true colleagues with little awkwardness between them.Severino was a good addition, even if Watt hadn’t fully warmed up to him yet.He wasn’t rude to Severino, but withdrawn in a way that he wasn’t with Cornelius, not anymore.He tried not to feel too smug about that.
The landscape was ever changing.Thick jungle and curving tributaries, scrub country and marshland.They passed through tunnels that seemed to never end, and bridges that were impossibly tall.At one point Cornelius remarked on the astounding ingenuity of Brazilians, and Severino beamed with pleasure.There was a great patriotism that South Americans had, one that Cornelius had read about but never experienced.He’d never felt attached to his own country, a fact that he’d never admitted to anyone.Or to any other country he’d visited.It felt strangely selfish, and wrong.But there it was.
On the fifth day of their trip, there was an uncomfortable conversation.
“We are fairly certain the area was occupied by a Toltec era civilization, but there are some discrepancies that we are still investigating.I have a feeling we will be here for some years.It is a pity that you cannot stay,” Severino said.
He’d been patient, Cornelius had to give him that much.
