At dawn the horses were at the door, and we were mounting the Serra before sunrise. We were bound to a fazenda on the Serra da Babylonia, some two leagues from the one at which we were staying, and on higher ground, too high indeed for the culture of coffee, and devoted to pasture land. It is here that Senhor Lage has his horses and cattle. The ride along the zigzag road winding up the Serra was delightful in the early morning. The clouds were flushed with the dawn; the distant hills and the forest, spreading endlessly beneath us, glowed in the sunrise. The latter part of the road lay mostly through the woods, and brought us out, after some two hours’ ride, on the brow of a hill overlooking a small lake, sunk in a cuplike depression of the mountain, just beyond which was the fazenda. The scenic effect was very pretty, for the border of the lake was ornamented with flags, and on its waters floated a little miniature steamer with the American flag at one end and the Brazilian at the other. Our host invited us to ride in at the gate of the fazenda, in advance of the rest of our cavalcade, a request which we understood when, as we passed the entrance, the little steamer put into shore, and, firing a salute in our honor, showed its name, Agassiz, in full. It was a pleasant surprise very successfully managed. After the little excitement of this incident was over, we went to the house to tie up our riding-habits and prepare for the woods. We then embarked in the newly-christened boat and crossed the lake to a forest on the other side. Here were rustic tables and seats arranged under a tent where we were to breakfast; but while the meal was making ready and a fire building for the boiling of coffee, the stewing of chicken, rice, and other creature comforts, we wandered at will in the wood. This was the most beautiful, because the wildest and most primitive, specimen of tropical forest we have yet seen. I think no description prepares one for the difference between this forest and our own, even though the latter be the “forest primeval.” It is not merely the difference of the vegetation, but the impenetrability of the mass here that makes the density, darkness, and solemnity of the woods so impressive. It seems as if the mode of growth—many of the trees shooting up to an immense height, but branching only toward the top—were meant to give room to the legion of parasites, sipos, lianas, and climbing plants of all kinds which fill the intervening spaces. There is one fact which makes the study of the tropical forest as interesting to the geologist as to the botanist, namely, its relation to the vegetable world of past ages hidden in the rocks. The tree-ferns, the Chamærops, the Pandanus, the Araucarias, are all modern representatives of past types, and this walk in the forest was an important one to Mr. Agassiz, because he made out one of those laws of growth which unite the past and the present. The Chamærops is a palm belonging to the ancient vegetable world, but having its representatives in our days. The modern Chamærops, with its fan-like leaves spreading on one level, stands structurally lower than the Palms with pinnate leaves, which belong almost exclusively to our geological age, and have numerous leaflets arranged along either side of a central axis. The young Palms were exceedingly numerous, springing up at every step upon our path, some of them not more than two inches high, while their elders towered fifty feet above them. Mr. Agassiz gathered and examined great numbers of them, and found that the young Palms, to whatever genus they may belong, invariably resemble the Chamærops, having their leaves extending fan-like on one plane, instead of being scattered along a central axis, as in the adult tree. The infant Palm is in fact the mature Chamærops in miniature, showing that among plants as among animals, at least in some instances, there is a correspondence between the youngest stages of growth in the higher species of a given type and the earliest introduction of that type on earth.[[40]]
At the close of our ramble, from which the Professor returned looking not unlike an ambulatory representative of tropical vegetation, being loaded down with palm-branches, tree-ferns, and the like, we found breakfast awaiting us. Some of our party were missing, however, the hunters having already taken their stations at some distance near the water. The game was an Anta (Tapir), a curious animal, abounding in the woods of this region. It has a special interest for the naturalist, because it resembles certain ancient mammalia now found only among the fossils, just as the tree-fern, Chamærops, &c. resemble past vegetable types. Although Mr. Agassiz had seen it in confinement, he had a great desire to observe it in action under its natural condition, and in the midst of a tropical forest as characteristic of old geological times as the creature itself. It was, in fact, to gratify this desire that Mr. Lage had planned the hunt. “L’homme propose et Dieu dispose,” however, and, as the sequel will show, we were not destined to see an Anta this day. The forest being, as I have said, impenetrable to the hunter, except where paths have been cut, the game is roused by sending the dogs into the wood, the sportsmen stationing themselves at certain distances on the outskirts. The Anta has his haunts near lakes or rivers, and when wearied and heated with the chase he generally makes for the water, and, springing in, is shot as he swims across. As we were lingering over the breakfast-table we heard the shout of Anta! Anta! In an instant every man sprang to his gun and ran down to the water-side, while we all stood waiting, listening to the cries of the dogs, now frantic with excitement, and expecting every moment the rush of the hunted animal and his spring into the lake. But it was a false alarm; the cries of the dogs died away in the distance: the day was colder than usual, the Anta turned back from the water, and, leading his pursuers a weary chase, was lost in the forest. After a time the dogs returned, looking tired and dispirited. But though we missed the Tapir, we saw enough of the sport to understand what makes the charm to the hunter of watching for hours in the woods, and perhaps returning, after all, empty-handed. If he does not get the game, he has the emotion; every now and then he thinks the creature is at hand, and he has a momentary agitation, heightened by the cries of the dogs and the answering cry of the sportsmen, who strive to arouse them to the utmost by their own shouts, and then if the animal turns back into the thicket all sound dies away, and to a very pandemonium of voices succeed the silence and solitude of the forest. All these things have their fascination, and explain to the uninitiated, to whom it seems at first incomprehensible, why these men will wait motionless for hours, and think themselves repaid (as I heard one of them declare) if they only hear the cry of the dogs and know they have roused the game, even if there be no other result. However, in this instance, we had plenty of other booty. The Anta lost, the hunters, who had carefully avoided firing hitherto, lest the sounds of their guns should give him warning, now turned their attention to lesser game, and we rode home in the afternoon rich in spoils, though without a Tapir.
The next day was that of our departure. Before leaving, we rode with Mr. Lage through his plantation, that we might understand something of the process of coffee culture in this country. I am not sure that, in giving an account of this model fazenda, we give a just idea of fazendas in general. Its owner carries the same large and comprehensive spirit, the same energy and force of will, into all his undertakings, and has introduced extensive reforms on his plantations. The Fazenda da Fortaleza de Santa Anna lies at the foot of the Serra da Babylonia. The house itself, as I have already said, makes a part of a succession of low white buildings, enclosing an oblong square divided into neat lots, destined for the drying of coffee. This drying of the coffee in the immediate vicinity of the house, though it seems a very general custom, must be an uncomfortable one; for the drying-lots are laid down in a dazzling white cement, from the glare of which, in this hot climate, the eye turns wearily away, longing for a green spot on which to rest. Just behind the house on the slope of the hill is the orangery. I am never tired of these golden orchards, and this was one of especial beauty. The small, deep-colored tangerines, sometimes twenty or thirty in one cluster, the large, choice orange, “Laranja selecta,” as it is called, often ten or twelve together in a single bunch, and bearing the branches to the ground with their weight; the paler “Limaō dôce,” or sweet lemon, rather insipid, but greatly esteemed here for its cool, refreshing properties,—all these, with many others,—for the variety of oranges is far greater than we of the temperate zone conceive it to be,—make a mass of color in which gold, deep orange, and pale yellow are blended wonderfully with the background of green. Beyond the house enclosure, on the opposite side of the road, are the gardens, with aviary, and fish-ponds in the centre. With these exceptions, all of the property which is not forest is devoted to coffee, covering all the hillsides for miles around. The seed is planted in nurseries especially prepared, where it undergoes its first year’s growth. It is then transplanted to its permanent home, and begins to bear in about three years, the first crop being of course a very light one. From that time forward, under good care and with favorable soil, it will continue to bear and even to yield two crops or more annually, for thirty years in succession. At that time the shrubs and the soil are alike exhausted, and, according to the custom of the country, the fazendeiro cuts down a new forest and begins a new plantation, completely abandoning his old one, without a thought of redeeming or fertilizing the exhausted land. One of the long-sighted reforms undertaken by our host is the manuring of all the old, deserted plantations on his estate; he has already a number of vigorous young plantations, which promise to be as good as if a virgin forest had been sacrificed to produce them. He wishes not only to preserve the wood on his own estate, and to show that agriculture need not be cultivated at the expense of taste and beauty, but to remind his country people also, that, extensive as are the forests, they will not last forever, and that it will be necessary to emigrate before long to find new coffee grounds, if the old ones are to be considered worthless. Another of his reforms is that of the roads, already alluded to. The ordinary roads in the coffee plantations, like the mule-tracks all over the country, are carried straight up the sides of the hills between the lines of shrubs, gullied by every rain, and offering, besides, so steep an ascent that even with eight or ten oxen it is often impossible to drive the clumsy, old-fashioned carts up the slope, and the negroes are obliged to bring a great part of the harvest down on their heads. An American, who has been a great deal on the coffee fazendas in this region, told me that he had seen negroes bringing enormous burdens of this kind on their heads down almost vertical slopes. On Senhor Lage’s estate all these old roads are abandoned, except where they are planted here and there with alleys of orange-trees for the use of the negroes, and he has substituted for them winding roads in the side of the hill with a very gradual ascent, so that light carts dragged by a single mule can transport all the harvest from the summit of the plantation to the drying-ground. It was the harvesting season, and the spectacle was a pretty one. The negroes, men and women, were scattered about the plantations with broad, shallow trays, made of plaited grass or bamboo, strapped over their shoulders and supported at their waists; into these they were gathering the coffee, some of the berries being brilliantly red, some already beginning to dry and turn brown, while here and there was a green one not yet quite ripe, but soon to ripen in the scorching sun. Little black children were sitting on the ground and gathering what fell under the bushes, singing at their work a monotonous but rather pretty snatch of song in which some took the first and others the second, making a not inharmonious music. As their baskets were filled they came to the Administrador to receive a little metal ticket on which the amount of their work was marked. A task is allotted to each one,—so much to a full-grown man, so much to a woman with young children, so much to a child,—and each one is paid for whatever he may do over and above it. The requisition is a very moderate one, so that the industrious have an opportunity of making a little money independently. At night they all present their tickets and are paid on the spot for any extra work. From the harvesting-ground we followed the carts down to the place where their burden is deposited. On their return from the plantation the negroes divide the day’s harvest, and dispose it in little mounds on the drying-ground. When pretty equally dried, the coffee is spread out in thin even layers over the whole enclosure, where it is baked for the last time. It is then hulled by a very simple machine in use on almost all the fazendas, and the process is complete. At noon we bade good by to our kind hosts, and started for Juiz de Fora. Our stage was not a bad imitation of Noah’s ark, for we carried with us the beasts of the field and the birds of the air and the fishes from the waters,[[41]] to say nothing of the trees from the forest. The party with whom we had passed such pleasant days collected to bid us farewell, and followed us, as we passed out from the gate, with vivas and waving hats and handkerchiefs.
The following day we were fortunate in having cool weather with a somewhat cloudy sky, so that our ride of ten hours from Juiz de Fora to Petropolis, on the top of the stage, was delightful. The next morning in driving down the Serra to Mauá we witnessed a singular phenomenon, common enough, I suppose, to those who live in high regions. As we turned the corner of the road which first brings us in sight of the magnificent view below the Serra, there was a general exclamation of surprise and admiration. The valley and harbor, quite out to the sea, were changed to a field of snow, white, soft, and fleecy, as if fallen that night. The illusion was perfect, and though recognized at once as simply an effect of the heavy morning fog, we could hardly believe that it would disperse at our approach and not prove to be the thing it seemed. Here and there the summit of a hill pierced through it like an island, making the deception more complete. The incident was especially interesting to us as connecting itself with our late discussions as to the possible former existence of glaciers in this region. In his lecture a few nights before, describing the greater extension of the ice in former geological ages, when the whole plain of Switzerland between the Alps and Jura must have been filled with glaciers, Mr. Agassiz had said “there is a phenomenon not uncommon in the autumn in Switzerland which may help us to reconstruct this wonderful picture. Sometimes in a September morning the whole plain of Switzerland is filled with vapor which, when its pure white, undulating surface is seen from the higher summits of the Jura, looks like a snowy ‘mer de glace,’ appearing to descend from the peaks of the Alps and extending toward the Jura, while from all the tributary valleys similar masses pour down to meet it.” It was as if the valley and harbor of Rio had meant to offer us a similar picture of past times, with the image of which our minds had been filled for the last few days in consequence of the glacial phenomena constantly presented to us on our journey.
July 6th.—To-morrow was to have been the day of our departure for the Amazons, but private interests must yield to public good, and it seems that the steamer which was to have left for Pará to-morrow has been taken by the government to transport troops to the seat of war. The aspect of the war grows daily more serious, and the Emperor goes himself the day after to-morrow to Rio Grande do Sul, accompanied by his son-in-law, the Duke of Saxe, soon to be followed by the Conte d’Eu, who is expected by the French steamer of the 18th of this month. Under these circumstances, not only are we prevented from going at the appointed date, but it seems not improbable that the exigencies of war may cause a still further delay, should other steamers be needed. A very pleasant public dinner, intended to be on the eve of his departure, was given to Mr. Agassiz yesterday by Messrs. Fleiuss and Linde. Germans, Swiss, French, Americans, and Brazilians made up the company, a mingling of nationalities which resulted in a very general harmony.
July 9th.—For some time Mr. Agassiz has been trying to get living specimens of the insect so injurious to the coffee-tree; the larva of a little moth akin to those which destroy the vineyards in Europe. Yesterday he succeeded in obtaining some, and among them one just spinning his cocoon on the leaf. We watched him for a long time with the lens as he wove his filmy tent. He had arched the threads upwards in the centre, so as to leave a little hollow space into which he could withdraw; this tiny vault seemed to be completed at the moment we saw him, and he was drawing threads forward and fastening them at a short distance beyond, thus lashing his house to the leaf as it were. The exquisite accuracy of the work was amazing. He was spinning the thread with his mouth, and with every new stitch he turned his body backward, attached his thread to the same spot, then drew it forward and fastened it exactly on a line with the last, with a precision and rapidity that machinery could hardly imitate. It is a curious question how far this perfection of workmanship in many of the lower animals is simply identical with their organization, and therefore to be considered a function, as inevitable in its action as digestion or respiration, rather than an instinct. In this case the body of the little animal was his measure: it was amazing to see him lay down his threads with such accuracy, till one remembered that he could not make them longer or shorter; for, starting from the centre of his house, and stretching his body its full length, they must always reach the same point. The same is true of the so-called mathematics of the bee. The bees stand as close as they can together in their hive for economy of space, and each one deposits his wax around him, his own form and size being the mould for the cells, the regularity of which when completed excites so much wonder and admiration. The mathematical secret of the bee is to be found in his structure, not in his instinct. But in the industrial work of some of the lower animals, the ant for instance, there is a power of adaptation which is not susceptible of the same explanation. Their social organization, too intelligent, it seems, to be the work of any reasoning powers of their own, yet does not appear to be directly connected with their structure. While we were watching our little insect, a breath stirred the leaf and he instantly contracted himself and drew back under his roof; but presently came out again and returned to his work.
July 14th.—I have passed two or three days of this week very pleasantly with a party of friends who invited me to join them on a visit to one of the largest fazendas in this neighborhood, belonging to the Commendador Breves. A journey of some four hours on the Dom Pedro Railroad brought us to the “Barra do Pirahy,” and thence we proceeded on mule-back, riding slowly along the banks of the Parahyba through very pleasant, quiet scenery, though much less picturesque than that in the immediate vicinity of Rio. At about sunset we reached the fazenda, standing on a terrace just above the river, and commanding a lovely view of water and woodland. We were received with a hospitality hardly to be equalled, I think, out of Brazil, for it asks neither who you are nor whence you come, but opens its doors to every wayfarer. On this occasion we were expected; but it is nevertheless true that at such a fazenda, where the dining-room accommodates a hundred persons if necessary, all travellers passing through the country are free to stop for rest and refreshment. At the time of our visit there were several such transient guests; among others a couple quite unknown to our hosts, who had stopped for the night, but had been taken ill and detained there several days. They seemed entirely at home. On this estate there are about two thousand slaves, thirty of whom are house-servants; it includes within its own borders all that would be required by such a population in the way of supplies: it has its drug-shop and its hospital; its kitchens for the service of the guests and for that of the numerous indoor servants, its church, its priest, and its doctor. Here the church was made by throwing open a small oratory, very handsomely fitted up with gold and silver service, purple altar-cloth, &c., at the end of a very long room, which, though used for other purposes, serves on such an occasion to collect the large household together. The next morning our hostess showed us the different working-rooms. One of the most interesting was that where the children were taught to sew. I have wondered, on our Southern plantations, that more pains was not taken to make clever seamstresses of the women. Here plain sewing is taught to all the little girls, and many of them are quite expert in embroidery and lace-making. Beyond this room was a storeroom for clothing, looking not unlike one of our sanitary rooms, with heaps of woollen and cotton stuffs which the black women were cutting out and making up for the field hands. The kitchens, with the working and lodging rooms of the house negroes, enclosed a court planted with trees and shrubs, around which extended covered brick walks where blacks, young and old, seemed to swarm, from the withered woman who boasted herself a hundred, but was still proud to display her fine lace-work, and ran like a girl, to show us how sprightly she was, to the naked baby creeping at her feet. The old woman had received her liberty some time ago, but seemed to be very much attached to the family and never to have thought of leaving them. These are the things which make one hopeful about slavery in Brazil; emancipation is considered there a subject to be discussed, legislated upon, adopted ultimately, and it seems no uncommon act to present a slave with his liberty. In the evening, while taking coffee on the terrace after dinner, we had very good music from a brass-band composed of slaves belonging to the estate. The love of the negroes for music is always remarkable, and here they take pains to cultivate it. Senhor Breves keeps a teacher for them, and they are really very well trained. At a later hour we had the band in the house and a dance by the black children which was comical in the extreme. Like little imps of darkness they looked, dancing with a rapidity of movement and gleeful enjoyment with which one could not but sympathize. While the music was going on, every door and window was filled with a cloud of dusky faces, now and then a fair one among them; for here, as elsewhere, slavery brings its inevitable and heaviest curse, and white slaves are by no means uncommon. The next morning we left the fazenda, not on mule-back, however, but in one of the flat-bottomed coffee-boats, an agreeable exchange for the long, hot ride. We were accompanied to the landing by our kind hosts, and followed by quite a train of blacks, some of them bringing the baggage, others coming only for the amusement of seeing us off. Among them was the old black woman who gave us the heartiest cheers of all, as we put off from the shore. The sail down the river was very pleasant; the coffee-bags served as cushions, and, with all our umbrellas raised to make an awning, we contrived to shelter ourselves from the sun. Neither was the journey without excitement, the river being so broken by rocks in many places that there are strong rapids, requiring a skilful navigation.
July 15th.—A long botanizing excursion to-day among the Tijuca hills with Mr. Glaziou, director of the Passeio Publico, as guide. It has been a piece of the good fortune attending Mr. Agassiz thus far on this expedition to find in Mr. Glaziou a botanist whose practical familiarity with tropical plants is as thorough as his theoretical knowledge. He has undertaken to enrich our scientific stores with a large collection of such palms and other trees as illustrate the relation between the present tropical vegetation and the ancient geological forests. Such a collection will be invaluable as a basis for palæontological studies at the Museum of Comparative Zoölogy in Cambridge.
July 23d.—At last our plans for the Amazons seem definitely settled. We sail the day after to-morrow by the Cruzeiro do Sul. The conduct of the government toward the expedition is very generous; free passages are granted to the whole party, and yesterday Mr. Agassiz received an official document enjoining all persons connected with the administration to give him every facility for his scientific objects. We have another piece of good fortune in the addition to our party of Major Coutinho, a member of the government corps of engineers, who has been engaged for several years in explorations on the Amazonian rivers. Happily for us, he returned to Rio a few weeks ago, and a chance meeting at the palace, where he had gone to report the results of the journey just completed, and Mr. Agassiz to discuss the plans for that about to begin, brought them together. This young officer’s investigations had made his name familiar to Mr. Agassiz, and when the Emperor asked the latter how he could best assist him, he answered that there was nothing he so much desired or which would so materially aid him as the companionship of Major Coutinho. The Emperor cordially consented, Major Coutinho signified his readiness, and the matter was concluded. Since then there have been frequent conferences between Mr. Agassiz and his new colleague, intent study of maps and endless talk about the most desirable mode of laying out and dividing the work. He feels that Major Coutinho’s familiarity with the scenes to which we are going will lighten his task of half its difficulties, while his, scientific zeal will make him a most sympathetic companion.[[42]] We found to-day some large leaves of the Terminalia Catappa of the most brilliant colors; red and gold as bright as any of our autumnal leaves. This would seem to confirm the opinion that the turning of the foliage with us is not an effect of frost, but simply the ripening of the leaf; since here, where there is no frost, the same phenomenon takes place as in our northern latitudes.
July 24th.—Our last preparations for the journey are completed; the collections made since our arrival, amounting to upwards of fifty barrels and cases, are packed, in readiness for the first opportunity which occurs for the United States, and to-morrow morning we shall be on our way to the great river. We went this morning to the Collegio Dom Pedro Segundo to bid farewell to our excellent friend Dr. Pacheco, to whose kindness we owe much of our enjoyment during our stay here. The College building was once a “seminario,” a charitable institution where boys were taken to be educated as priests. The rules of the establishment were strict; no servants were kept, the pupils were obliged to do their own work, cooking, &c., and even to go out into the streets to beg after the fashion of the mendicant orders. One condition only was attached to the entrance of the children, namely, that they should be of pure race; no mulattoes or negroes were admitted. I do not know on what ground this institution was broken up by the government and the building taken as a school-house. It has still a slightly monastic aspect, though it has been greatly modified; but the cloisters running around closed courts remind one of its origin. The recitations were going on at the moment of our visit, and as we had seen nothing as yet of the schools, Dr. Pacheco took us through the establishment. A college here does not signify a university as with us, but rather a high school, the age of the pupils being from twelve to eighteen. It is difficult to judge of methods of education in a foreign language with which one is not very familiar. But the scholars appeared bright and interested, their answers came promptly, their discipline was evidently good. One thing was very striking to a stranger in seeing so many young people collected together; namely, the absence of pure type and the feeble physique. I do not know whether it is in consequence of the climate, but a healthy, vigorous child is a rare sight in Rio de Janeiro. The scholars were of all colors, from black through intermediate shades to white, and even one of the teachers having the direction of a higher class in Latin was a negro. It is an evidence of the absence of any prejudice against the blacks, that, on the occasion of a recent vacancy among the Latin professors, this man, having passed the best examination, was unanimously chosen in preference to several Brazilians, of European descent, who presented themselves as candidates at the same time. After hearing several of the classes we went over the rest of the building. The order and exquisite neatness of the whole establishment, not forgetting the kitchen, where the shining brasses and bright tins might awaken the envy of many a housekeeper, bear testimony to the excellence of the general direction. Since the institution passed into Dr. Pacheco’s hands he has done a great deal to raise its character. He has improved the library, purchased instruments for the laboratory, and made many judicious changes in the general arrangement.