Mr. Agassiz has been very fortunate in collecting in this region. Although we are at so short a distance from Manaos, where he already knows the fishes tolerably well, he finds a surprising number of new genera and species about Mauhes and its neighborhood. As usual, wherever we go, everybody turns naturalist in his behalf. Our kind friend, the President, always ready to do everything in his power to facilitate his researches, has several boats out, manned by the best fishermen of the place, fishing for him. The commander, while his ship lies at anchor, has his men employed in the same way; and Mr. Michelis and his friends are also indefatigable. Occasionally, however, in the midst of his successes, he has to bear disappointments, arising from the ignorance and superstition of the working people. Ever since he came to the Amazons he has been trying to obtain a specimen of a peculiar kind of porpoise, native to these waters. It is, however, very difficult to obtain, because, being useless for food, there is nothing to induce the Indian to overcome the difficulty of catching it. Mr. Michelis has, however, impressed upon the fishermen the value of the prize, and, yesterday evening, just as we were rising from the dinner-table, it was announced that one was actually on its way up from the beach. Followed by the whole party of sympathizing friends,—for all had caught the infection,—Mr. Agassiz hastened out to behold his long-desired treasure; and there was his Boto, but sadly mutilated, for one Indian had cut off a piece of the fin as a cure for a sick person, another had taken out an eye as a love-charm, which, if it could be placed near the person of the girl he loved, would win him her favor, and so on. Injured as it was, Mr. Agassiz was, nevertheless, very glad to have the specimen; but he locked it up carefully for the night, not knowing what other titbits might be coveted by the superstitious inhabitants.
December 18th.—In the midst of the zoölogical work, the collection of palms, which is now becoming very considerable, is not forgotten. This morning we went into the forest for the purpose of gathering young palms to compare with the full-grown ones, already cut down and put up for transportation. In these woods a thousand objects attract the eye, beside that which you especially seek. How many times we stopped to wonder at some lofty tree which was a world of various vegetation in itself, parasites established in all its nooks and corners, sipos hanging from its branches or twining themselves so close against the bark that they often seem as if sculptured on its trunk; or paused to listen to the quick rustle of the wind in palm-leaves fifty feet above our heads, not at all like the slow, gathering rush of the wind in pine-trees at home, but like rapidly running water. Through the narrow path an immense butterfly, of that vivid blue which excites our wonder in collections of Brazilian insects, came sailing towards us. He alighted in our immediate neighborhood, folding all his azure glories out of sight, and looking, when still, like a great brown moth, spotted with white. We crept softly nearer, but the first leaf trodden under foot warned him, and he was off again, dazzling us with the beauty of his wonderful coloring as he opened his wings and, bidding us a gay good-by, vanished among the trees. The sailing motion of these Morphos, though rapid, contrasts strikingly with the more fluttering flight of the Heliconians. The former give broad, strong strokes with their wide wings, the latter beat the air with quick, impatient, tremulous movements.
December 20th.—This morning we left Mauhes, accompanied by our Mundurucu Indian and his wife. The President takes them to Manaos, in the hope of obtaining their portraits to enlarge Mr. Agassiz’s collection. I am interested in watching the deportment of these people, which is marked by a striking propriety that wins respect. They have remained in the seat where the Captain has placed them, not moving, except to bring their little baggage, from which the woman has taken out her work and is now busy in sewing, while her husband makes cigarette envelopes from a bark used by the Indians for this purpose;—certainly very civilized occupations for savages. As they speak no Portuguese, we can only communicate with them through the interpreter or through Mr. Coutinho, who has considerable familiarity with the “lingua geral.” They seem more responsive, more ready to enter into conversation now than when we first saw them; but the woman, when addressed, or when anything is offered to her, invariably turns to her husband, as if the decision of everything rested with him. It might be thought that the fantastic ornaments of these Indians would effectually disguise all pretence to beauty; but it is not so with this pair. Their features are fine, the build of the face solid and square, but not clumsy, and there is a passive dignity in their bearing which makes itself felt, spite of their tattooing. I have never seen anything like the calm in the man’s face; it is not the stolidity of dulness, for his expression is sagacious and observant, but a look of such abiding tranquillity that you cannot imagine that it ever has been or ever will be different. The woman’s face is more mobile; occasionally a smile lights it up, and her expression is sweet and gentle. Even her painted spectacles do not destroy the soft, drooping look in the eyes, very common among the Indian women here, and, as it would seem, characteristic of the women in the South American tribes; for Humboldt speaks of it in those of the Spanish provinces to the north.
Major Coutinho tells us that the tattooing has nothing to do with individual taste, but that the pattern is appointed for both sexes, and is invariable throughout the tribe. It is connected with their caste, the limits of which are very precise, and with their religion. The tradition runs thus, childish and inconsequent, like all such primitive fables. The first man, Caro Sacaibu, was also divine. Associated with him was his son, and an inferior being named Rairu, to whom, although he was as it were his prime minister and executed his commands, Caro Sacaibu was inimical. Among other stratagems he used to get rid of him was the following. He made a figure in imitation of a tatu (armadillo), and buried it partly in the earth, leaving only the tail exposed. He covered the tail with a kind of oil, which when touched adheres to the skin. He then commanded Rairu to drag the half-buried tatu out of its hole and bring it to him. Rairu seized it by the tail, but was of course unable to withdraw his hand, and the tatu, suddenly endowed with life by the Supreme Being, dived into the earth, dragging Rairu with him. The story does not say how Rairu found his way out of the earth again, but, being a spirit of great cunning and invention, he contrived to reach the upper air once more. On his return, he informed Caro Sacaibu that he had found in the earth a great many men and women, and that it would be an excellent thing to get them out to till the soil and make themselves useful above ground. This advice seems to have found favor in the sight of Caro Sacaibu, who forthwith planted a seed in the ground. From this seed sprang a cotton-tree, for into this fantastic tale is thus woven the origin of cotton. The tree throve and grew apace, and from the soft white contents of its pods Caro Sacaibu made a long thread, with one end of which Rairu descended once more into the earth by the same hole through which he had entered before. He collected the people together, and they were dragged up through the hole by means of the thread. The first who came out were small and ugly, but gradually they improved in their personal appearance, until at last the men began to be finely formed and handsome, and the women beautiful. Unfortunately, by this time the thread was much worn, and being too weak to hold them, the greater number of handsome people fell back into the hole and were lost. It is for this reason that beauty is so rare a gift in the world. Caro Sacaibu now separated the population he had thus drawn from the bowels of the earth, dividing them into different tribes, marking them with distinct colors and patterns, which they have since retained, and appointing their various occupations. At the end there remained over a residue, consisting of the ugliest, smallest, most insignificant representatives of the human race; to these he said, drawing at the same time a red line over their noses, “You are not worthy to be men and women,—go and be animals.” And so they were changed into birds, and ever since, the Mutums, with their red beaks and melancholy wailing voices, wander through the woods.
The tattooing of the Mundurucus is not only connected with this dim idea of a primitive creative command; it is also indicative of aristocracy. A man who neglected this distinction would not be respected in his tribe; and so strong is this traditional association, that, even in civilized settlements where tattooing is no longer practised, an instinctive respect is felt for this mark of nobility. A Mundurucu Indian, tattooed after the ancient fashion of his tribe, arriving in a civilized village, such as the one we visited, is received with the honor due to a person of rank. “Il faut souffrir pour être beau,” was never truer than among these savages. It requires not less than ten years to complete the tattooing of the whole face and body; the operation being performed, however, only at intervals. The color is introduced by fine puncturings over the whole surface; a process which is often painful, and causes swelling and inflammation, especially on such sensitive parts as the eyelids. The purity of type among the Mundurucus is protected by stringent laws against close intermarriages. The tribe is divided into certain orders or classes, more or less closely allied; and so far do they carry their respect for that law, which, though recognized in the civilized world, is so constantly sinned against, that marriage is forbidden, not only between members of the same family, but between those of the same order. A Mundurucu Indian treats a woman of the same order with himself as a sister; any nearer relation between them is impossible. Major Coutinho, who has made a very careful study of the manners and habits of these people, assures us that there is no law more sacred among them, or more rigidly observed, than this one. Their fine physique, for which they are said to be remarkable, is perhaps owing to this. They are free from one great source of degeneration of type. It is to be hoped that Major Coutinho, who, while making his explorations as an engineer on the Amazonian rivers, has also made a careful study of the tribes living along their margins, will one day publish the result of his investigations. It is to him we owe the greater part of the information we have collected on this subject.
CHAPTER XI.
RETURN TO MANAOS.—EXCURSION ON THE RIO NEGRO.—LEAVE MANAOS.
Christmas Eve at Manaos.—Ceremonies of the Indians.—Churches on the Amazons.—Leave Manaos for the Rio Negro.—Curious River Formation.—Aspect of the River.—Its Vegetation.—Scanty Population.—Village of Taua Péassu.—Padre of the Village.—Palms.—Village of Pedreira.—Indian Camp.—Making Palm-thatch.—Sickness and Want at Pedreira.—Row in the Forest.—Tropical Shower.—Geology of Pedreira.—Indian Recruits.—Collection of Palms.—Extracts from Mr. Agassiz’s Notes on the Vegetation of the Amazons and the Rio Negro.—Return to Manaos.—Desolation of the Rio Negro.—Its future Prospects.—Humboldt’s Anticipations.—Wild Flowers.—Distribution of Fishes in the Amazonian Waters.—How far due to Migration.—Hydrographic System.—Alternation between the Rise and Fall of the Southern and Northern Tributaries.
December 25th.—Manaos. The Indians have a pretty observance here for Christmas eve. At nightfall, from the settlements at Hyanuary, two illuminated canoes come across the river to Manaos; one bearing the figure of Our Lady, the other of Saint Rosalia. They look very brilliant as they come towards the shore, all the light concentrated about the figures carried erect in the prows. On landing, the Indians, many of whom have come to the city in advance, form a procession,—the women dressed in white, and with flowers in their hair, the men carrying torches or candles; and they follow the sacred images, which are borne under a canopy in front of the procession, to the church, where they are deposited, and remain during Christmas week. We entered with them, and saw the kneeling, dusky congregation, and the two saints,—one a wooden, coarsely painted image of the Virgin, the other a gayly dressed doll,—placed on a small altar, where was also a figure of the infant Jesus, surrounded by flowers. At a later hour the midnight mass was celebrated; less interesting to me than the earlier ceremony, because not so exclusively a service of the Indians, though they formed a large part of the congregation; and the music, as usual, was performed by the band of Indian boys from the Casa dos Educandos. But there is nothing here to make the Catholic service impressive; the churches on the Amazons generally are of the most ordinary kind, and in a ruinous condition. There is a large unfinished stone church in Manaos, standing on the hill, and occupying a commanding position, which will make it a conspicuous object if it is ever completed; but it has stood in its present state for years, and seems likely to remain so for an indefinite length of time. It is a pity they have not the custom here of dressing their churches with green at Christmas, because they have so singularly beautiful and appropriate a tree for it in the palms. The Pupunha palm, for instance, so architectural in its symmetry, with its columnar-like stem and its dark-green vault of drooping leaves, would be admirable for this purpose. To-morrow we leave Manaos in the “Ibicuhy,” in order to ascend the Rio Negro as far as Pedreira, where the first granitic formation is said to occur.
December 27th.—On board the “Ibicuhy.” There was little incident to mark our day yesterday, and yet it was one full of enjoyment. The day itself was such as rarely occurs in these regions; indeed, I should say it is the only time, during the whole six months we have passed on the Amazons, when we have had cool weather with a clear sky. Cool weather here is usually the result of rain. As soon as the sun shows his face the heat is great. But yesterday a strong wind was blowing down the Rio Negro; and its usually black, still waters were freshened to blue, and their surface broken by white caps. It is a curious fact in the history of this river, that, while tributary to the Amazons, it also receives branches from it. A little above its junction with the Solimoens, the latter sends several small affluents into the Rio Negro, the entrance to which we passed yesterday. The contrast between their milky-white waters and the clear, dark, amber tint of the main river makes them very conspicuous. It would seem that this is not a solitary instance of river formation in this gigantic fresh-water system; for Humboldt says, speaking of the double communication between the Cassiquiare and the Rio Negro, and the great number of branches by which the Rio Branco and the Rio Hyapura enter into the Rio Negro and the Amazons: “At the confluence of the Hyapura there is a much more extraordinary phenomenon. Before this river joins the Amazons, the latter, which is the principal recipient, sends off three branches, called Uaranapu, Manhama, and Avateparana, to the Hyapura, which is but a tributary stream. The Portuguese astronomer, Ribeiro, has proved this important fact. The Amazons gives waters to the Hyapura itself before it receives that tributary stream.” So does it also to the Rio Negro.
The physiognomy of the Rio Negro is peculiar, and very different from that of the Amazons or the Solimoens. The shores jut out in frequent promontories, which, while they form deep bays between, narrow the river from distance to distance, and, as we advance towards them, look like the entrances to harbors or lakes. Indeed, we have already passed several large lakes; but great sheets of water so abound here that they are nameless, and hardly attract attention. The vegetation also is different from that of the Amazons. As yet we have seen few palms; and the forest is characterized by a great number of trees, the summits of which are evenly and gently arched, forming flattened domes. The most remarkable of these, on account of its lofty height and spreading foliage, is the Sumauméra, to which I have alluded before. But this umbrella-like mode of growth is by no means confined to one tree, but, like the buttressed trunks, characterizes a number of Brazilian trees. It is, however, more frequent here than we have seen it elsewhere. The shores seem very scantily inhabited; indeed, during our whole journey yesterday, we met but one canoe, which we hailed, in order to inquire our distance from the little hamlet of Taua Péassu, where we meant to drop anchor for the night. It was the boat of an Indian family going down the river. We were reminded that we were leaving inhabited regions, for the man who was rowing was quite naked; his wife and children peeped out from under the tolda in the stern of the boat. We received from them the welcome intelligence that we were not far from our destination, where we accordingly arrived soon after nightfall. At this hour we could form but little idea of the appearance of the place; yet, by the moonlight, we could see that its few houses (some eight or ten, perhaps) stood on a crescent-shaped terrace, formed by the bank of a little bay which puts in just at this point. The gentlemen went on shore, and brought back the padre of the village to tea. He seems a man of a good deal of intelligence, and was eloquent upon the salubrity of the village, its freedom from mosquitoes, piums, and all kinds of noxious insects. At first a life so remote and isolated seems a hard lot, and one would think only the greatest devotion could induce a man to undertake it. But there is hardly a corner so remote in Brazil as not to be reached by the petty local politics; and the padre is said to be a great politician, his campaign before election among the poor people with whom his lot is cast being as exciting to him as that of any man who canvasses in a more distinguished arena; the more satisfactory, perhaps, because he has the game very much in his own hands. We left Taua Péassu with the dawn, and are again on our way to Pedreira. The weather still continues most favorable for travelling,—an overcast sky and a cool breeze. But to-day the black river sleeps without a ripple; and, as we pass along, the trees meet the water, and are so perfectly reflected in it that we can hardly distinguish the dividing line. I have said that the forest is not characterized by palms, and yet we see many species which we have not met before; among these is the Jara-assú, with its tall, slender stem, and broom-like tuft of stiff leaves. Mr. Agassiz has just gone on shore in the montaria, to cut down some palms of another kind, new to him. As he returns, the little boat seems to have undergone some marvellous change; it looks like a green raft floating on the water, and we can hardly see the figures of the rowers for the beautiful crowns of the palm-trees.