The Naturalist on the River Amazons

by Henry Walter Bates

The creek Iritirí at the mills is only a few yards wide; it winds about between two lofty walls of forest for some distance, then becomes much broader, and finally joins the Magoary. There are many other ramifications, creeks or channels, which lead to retired hamlets and scattered houses, inhabited by people of mixed white, Indian, and negro descent. Many of them did business with Mr. Leavens, bringing for sale their little harvests of rice, or a few logs of timber. It was interesting to see them in their little, heavily-laden montarias. Sometimes the boats were managed by handsome, healthy young lads, loosely clad in a straw hat, white shirt, and dark blue trousers, turned up to the knee. They steered, paddled, and managed the varejao (the boating pole), with much grace and dexterity.

We made many excursions down the Iritirí, and saw much of these creeks; besides, our second visit to the mills was by water. The Magoary is a magnificent channel; the different branches form quite a labyrinth, and the land is everywhere of little elevation. All these smaller rivers, throughout the Pará Estuary, are of the nature of creeks. The land is so level, that the short local rivers have no sources and downward currents like rivers as we generally understand them. They serve the purpose of draining the land, but instead of having a constant current one way, they have a regular ebb and flow with the tide. The natives call them, in the Tupí language, Igarapés, or canoe-paths. The igarapés and furos or channels, which are infinite in number in this great river delta, are characteristic of the country. The land is everywhere covered with impenetrable forests; the houses and villages are all on the waterside, and nearly all communication is by water. This semi-aquatic life of the people is one of the most interesting features of the country. For short excursions, and for fishing in still waters, a small boat, called montaria, is universally used. It is made of five planks; a broad one for the bottom, bent into the proper shape by the action of heat, two narrow ones for the sides, and two small triangular pieces for stem and stern. It has no rudder; the paddle serves for both steering and propelling. The montaria takes here the place of the horse, mule, or camel of other regions. Besides one or more montarias, almost every family has a larger canoe, called Igarité. This is fitted with two masts, a rudder, and keel, and has an arched awning or cabin near the stern, made of a framework of tough lianas thatched with palm leaves. In the igarité they will cross stormy rivers fifteen or twenty miles broad. The natives are all boat-builders. It is often remarked, by white residents, that an Indian is a carpenter and shipwright by intuition. It is astonishing to see in what crazy vessels these people will risk themselves. I have seen Indians cross rivers in a leaky montaria, when it required the nicest equilibrium to keep the leak just above water; a movement of a hair’s breadth would send all to the bottom, but they managed to cross in safety. They are especially careful when they have strangers under their charge, and it is the custom of Brazilian and Portuguese travellers to leave the whole management to them. When they are alone they are more reckless, and often have to swim for their lives. If a squall overtakes them as they are crossing in a heavily-laden canoe, they all jump overboard and swim about until the heavy sea subsides, then they re-embark.

A few words on the aboriginal population of the Pará estuary will not be out of place here. The banks of the Pará were originally inhabited by a number of distinct tribes, who, in their habits, resembled very much the natives of the sea-coast from Maranham to Bahia. It is related that one large tribe, the Tupinambas, migrated from Pernambuco to the Amazons. One fact seems to be well-established, namely, that all the coast tribes were far more advanced in civilisation, and milder in their manners, than the savages who inhabited the interior lands of Brazil. They were settled in villages, and addicted to agriculture. They navigated the rivers in large canoes, called ubas, made of immense hollowed-out tree trunks; in these they used to go on war expeditions, carrying in the prows their trophies and calabash rattles, whose clatter was meant to intimidate their enemies. They were gentle in disposition, and received the early Portuguese settlers with great friendliness. The inland savages, on the other hand, led a wandering life, as they do at the present time, only coming down occasionally to rob the plantations of the coast tribes, who always entertained the greatest enmity towards them.

The original Indian tribes of the district are now either civilised, or have amalgamated with the white and negro immigrants. Their distinguishing tribal names have long been forgotten, and the race bears now the general appellation of Tapuyo, which seems to have been one of the names of the ancient Tupinambas. The Indians of the interior, still remaining in the savage state, are called by the Brazilians Indios, or Gentios (Heathens). All the semi-civilised Tapuyos of the villages, and in fact the inhabitants of retired places generally, speak the Lingoa geral, a language adapted by the Jesuit missionaries from the original idiom of the Tupinambas. The language of the Guaranis, a nation living on the banks of the Paráguay, is a dialect of it, and hence it is called by philologists the Tupi-Guarani language; printed grammars of it are always on sale at the shops of the Pará booksellers. The fact of one language having been spoken over so wide an extent of country as that from the Amazons to Paráguay, is quite an isolated one in this country, and points to considerable migrations of the Indian tribes in former times. At present the languages spoken by neighbouring tribes on the banks of the interior rivers are totally distinct; on the Juruá, even scattered hordes belonging to the same tribe are not able to understand each other.

The civilised Tapuyo of Pará differs in no essential point, in physical or moral qualities, from the Indian of the interior. He is more stoutly built, being better fed than some of them; but in this respect there are great differences amongst the tribes themselves. He presents all the chief characteristics of the American red man. The skin of a coppery brown colour, the features of the face broad, and the hair black, thick, and straight. He is generally about the middle height, thick-set, has a broad muscular chest, well-shaped but somewhat thick legs and arms, and small hands and feet. The cheek bones are not generally prominent; the eyes are black, and seldom oblique like those of the Tartar races of Eastern Asia, which are supposed to have sprung from the same original stock as the American red man. The features exhibit scarcely any mobility of expression; this is connected with the excessively apathetic and undemonstrative character of the race. They never betray, in fact they do not feel keenly, the emotions of joy, grief, wonder, fear, and so forth. They can never be excited to enthusiasm; but they have strong affections, especially those connected with family. It is commonly stated by the whites and negroes that the Tapuyo is ungrateful. Brazilian mistresses of households, who have much experience of Indians, have always a long list of instances to relate to the stranger, showing their base ingratitude. They certainly do not appear to remember or think of repaying benefits, but this is probably because they did not require, and do not value such benefits as their would-be masters confer upon them. I have known instances of attachment and fidelity on the part of Indians towards their masters, but these are exceptional cases. All the actions of the Indian show that his ruling desire is to be let alone; he is attached to his home, his quiet monotonous forest and river life; he likes to go to towns occasionally, to see the wonders introduced by the white man, but he has a great repugnance to living in the midst of the crowd; he prefers handicraft to field labour, and especially dislikes binding himself to regular labour for hire. He is shy and uneasy before strangers, but if they visit his abode, he treats them well, for he has a rooted appreciation of the duty of hospitality; there is a pride about him, and being naturally formal and polite, he acts the host with great dignity. He withdraws from towns as soon as the stir of civilisation begins to make itself felt. When we first arrived at Pará many Indian families resided there, for the mode of living at that time was more like that of a large village than a city; but as soon as river steamers and more business activity were introduced, they all gradually took themselves away.

These characteristics of the Pará Indians are applicable, of course, to some extent, to the Mamelucos, who now constitute a great proportion of the population. The inflexibility of character of the Indian, and his total inability to accommodate himself to new arrangements, will infallibly lead to his extinction, as immigrants, endowed with more supple organisations, increase, and civilisation advances in the Amazon region. But, as the different races amalgamate readily, and the offspring of white and Indian often become distinguished Brazilian citizens, there is little reason to regret the fate of the race. Formerly the Indian was harshly treated, and even now he is so, in many parts of the interior. But, according to the laws of Brazil, he is a free citizen, having equal privileges with the whites; and there are very strong enactments providing against the enslaving and ill-treatment of the Indians. The residents of the interior, who have no higher principles to counteract instinctive selfishness or antipathy of race, cannot comprehend why they are not allowed to compel Indians to work for them, seeing that they will not do it of their own accord. The inevitable result of the conflict of interests between a European and a weaker indigenous race, when the two come in contact, is the sacrifice of the latter. In the Pará district, the Indians are no longer enslaved, but they are deprived of their lands, and this they feel bitterly, as one of them, an industrious and worthy man, related to me. Is not a similar state of things now exhibited in New Zealand, between the Maoris and the English colonists?

It is very interesting to read of the bitter contests that were carried on from the year 1570 to 1759, between the Portuguese immigrants in Brazil, and the Jesuit and other missionaries. They were similar to those which have recently taken place in South Africa, between the Boers and the English missionaries, but they were on a much larger scale. The Jesuits, as far as I could glean from tradition and history, were actuated by the same motives as our missionaries; and they seemed like them to have been, in great measure, successful, in teaching the pure and elevated Christian morality to the simple natives. But the attempt was vain to protect the weaker race from the inevitable ruin which awaited it in the natural struggle with the stronger one; in 1759, the white colonists finally prevailed, the Jesuits were forced to leave the country, and the fifty-one happy mission villages went to ruin. Since then, the aboriginal race has gone on decreasing in numbers under the treatment which it has received; it is now, as I have already stated, protected by the laws of the central government.

On our second visit to the mills, we stayed ten days. There is a large reservoir and also a natural lake near the place, both containing aquatic plants, whose leaves rest on the surface like our water lilies, but they are not so elegant as our nymphæa, either in leaf or flower. On the banks of these pools grow quantities of a species of fan-leaved palm tree, the Carana, whose stems are surrounded by whorls of strong spines. I sometimes took a montaria, and paddled myself alone down the creek. One day I got upset, and had to land on a grassy slope leading to an old plantation, where I ran about naked whilst my clothes were being dried on a bush. The creek Iritirí is not so picturesque as many others which I subsequently explored. Towards the Magoary, the banks at the edge of the water are clothed with mangrove bushes, and beneath them the muddy banks into which the long roots that hang down from the fruit before it leaves the branches strike their fibres, swarm with crabs. On the lower branches the beautiful bird, Ardea helias, is found. This is a small heron of exquisitely graceful shape and mien; its plumage is minutely variegated with bars and spots of many colours, like the wings of certain kinds of moths. It is difficult to see the bird in the woods, on account of its sombre colours, and the shadiness of its dwelling-places; but its note, a soft long-drawn whistle, often betrays its hiding place. I was told by the Indians that it builds in trees, and that the nest, which is made of clay, is beautifully constructed. It is a favourite pet-bird of the Brazilians, who call it Pavao (pronounced Pavaong), or peacock. I often had opportunities to observe its habits. It soon becomes tame, and walks about the floors of houses picking up scraps of food or catching insects, which it secures by walking gently to the place where they settle, and spearing them with its long, slender beak. It allows itself to be handled by children, and will answer to its name “Pavao! Pavao!” walking up with a dainty, circumspect gait, and taking a fly or beetle from the hand.

During these rambles by land and water we increased our collections considerably. Before we left the mills, we arranged a joint excursion to the Tocantins. Mr. Leavens wished to ascend that river to ascertain if the reports were true, that cedar grew abundantly between the lowermost cataract and the mouth of the Araguava, and we agreed to accompany him.

Whilst we were at the mills, a Portuguese trader arrived with a quantity of worm-eaten logs of this cedar, which he had gathered from the floating timber in the current of the main Amazons. The tree producing this wood, which is named cedar on account of the similarity of its aroma to that of the true cedars, is not, of course, a coniferous tree, as no member of that class is found in equatorial America, at least in the Amazons region. It is, according to Von Martius, the Cedrela Odorata, an exogen belonging to the same order as the mahogany tree. The wood is light, and the tree is therefore, on falling into the water, floated down with the river currents. It must grow in great quantities somewhere in the interior, to judge from the number of uprooted trees annually carried to the sea, and as the wood is much esteemed for cabinet work and canoe building, it is of some importance to learn where a regular supply can be obtained. We were glad of course to arrange with Mr. Leavens, who was familiar with the language, and an adept in river navigation—so we returned to Pará to ship our collections for England, and prepare for the journey to a new region.