Across Unknown South America by A. Henry Savage-Landor
From Rio to the Andes: Savage-Landor’s Defiant Cartography of South America
Arnold Henry Savage-Landor’s Across Unknown South America is an ambitious, vividly detailed, and often audacious two-volume chronicle of his solo expedition across Brazil and into the Andes in the early 20th century. First published in 1913, this travelogue is part scientific documentation, part philosophical reflection, and wholly a testament to the author’s physical stamina, relentless curiosity, and imperviousness to danger or discomfort. The book serves not only as a travel narrative but as a critique of prevailing geographic misconceptions, a catalog of indigenous cultures, and a counterpoint to both colonial and sensationalist myths of the South American interior.
Savage-Landor sets out to challenge two dominant perceptions: that Brazil's vast interior was impenetrable jungle teeming with dangerous tribes and beasts, and that any attempt at transcontinental exploration was doomed to failure. Beginning in Rio de Janeiro, the author travels westward across the Brazilian plateau, through the states of Goyaz and Matto Grosso, and eventually toward the Andes and the Pacific. His aims were multifaceted: to chart unexplored rivers such as the Arinos-Juruena, document indigenous languages and customs, and record geographical, geological, meteorological, and anthropological data. His conclusion—that Brazil is far more navigable, less populated by indigenous tribes, and geologically misunderstood than believed—is as much a polemic as it is an observation.
Though not an academic scientist, Savage-Landor proves to be a formidable autodidact. He assumes all roles on the journey: surveyor, hydrographer, cartographer, anthropologist, and photographer, completing the trek with just six undertrained followers—many of them convicted criminals. His credentials rest not in formal training but in firsthand experience and an unyielding commitment to documentation. He records barometric altitudes, river courses, and meteorological data daily, and his survival with 800 photographs, full field notes, and multiple vocabularies of indigenous languages intact is nothing short of astonishing.
That said, his theorizing—particularly regarding global geologic shifts and a rejection of the then-popular Atlantis hypothesis—while fascinating, ventures beyond the rigor of empirical science and reads more like speculative geography. Still, the observational accuracy and the sheer physical feat of his expedition lend weight to his broader conclusions about Brazil’s potential and misunderstood geography.
Savage-Landor writes with Edwardian bravado, his tone a mixture of cosmopolitan wit, imperial critique, and dogged empiricism. He is engaging, often humorous (as in his dialogue with a French cinematograph salesman who thinks Brazil is “close to Montreal”), and unflinchingly honest—even when it comes to the failings of his own expedition members. His prose, though sometimes verbose by modern standards, is remarkably clear given the scope and complexity of the subject matter. His ability to switch between technical detail, narrative anecdote, and philosophical musing is commendable and keeps the pacing lively despite the encyclopedic breadth.
Among the book’s strengths are:
Exhaustive documentation: The journey yields unprecedented insights into Brazil’s interior—its geology, topography, river systems, and ethnography.
Photographic and illustrative richness: With over 800 photos and sketches, the volumes are as much visual artifacts as textual ones.
Indigenous engagement: While sometimes framed through a colonial lens, his treatment of the Bororo and other tribes is surprisingly sympathetic and linguistically rigorous.
However, the work is not without weaknesses:
Limited source verification: Savage-Landor largely relies on firsthand experience, with little corroboration from contemporary scientific authorities.
Occasional arrogance: His disdain for cartographers, the Brazilian upper class, and armchair geographers, though understandable, borders on polemic.
Eurocentric assumptions: Though more progressive than many of his contemporaries, some generalizations about race and civilization reflect early 20th-century biases.
At a time when South America remained largely a mystery to European readers, this book offered a window into its untapped potential. Today, it remains a valuable primary source for historians, geographers, and anthropologists—albeit one that must be contextualized. It belongs alongside works like Theodore Roosevelt’s Through the Brazilian Wilderness and Richard Burton’s Explorations of the Highlands of Brazil but stands out for its solitude, scope, and interdisciplinary ambition.
Savage-Landor’s Across Unknown South America is a monumental achievement in exploration literature. Despite its occasional indulgences and speculative leaps, it remains a compelling, data-rich, and singular account of a journey few would dare repeat. It will appeal to readers of historical travelogues, lovers of South American geography, and scholars of early ethnographic observation.
Highly recommended for readers interested in raw adventure, historical geography, or the mind of a truly tireless explorer.
—N3UR4L Reviews
