The quantity of detached grass, shrubs, &c. carried past the vessel, as we lie here at anchor, is amazing,—floating gardens, sometimes half an acre in extent. Some of these green rafts are inhabited; water-birds go sailing by upon them, and large animals are occasionally carried down the river in this way. The commander told me that, on one occasion, when an English vessel was lying at anchor in the Parana, one of these grassy gardens was seen coming down the river with two deer upon it. The current brought it directly against the ship, and the captain had only to receive on board the guests who arrived thus unexpectedly to demand his hospitality. In the same river another floating island brought with it a less agreeable inhabitant: a large tiger had possessed himself of it and was sailing majestically with the current, passing so near the shores that he was distinctly seen from the banks; and people went out in montarias to get a nearer view of him, though keeping always at a respectful distance. The most conspicuous of the plants thus detached from the shore are the Canarana (a kind of wild cane), a variety of aquatic Aroides, Pistia among the number, Ecornia, and a quantity of graceful floating Marsileaceæ.
January 18th.—To-day we have been on a hunt after the Victoria regia. We have made constant efforts to see this famous lily growing in its native waters; but, though frequently told that it was plenty at certain seasons in the lakes and igarapés, we have never been able to find it. Yesterday some of the officers of the ship, who had been on an excursion to a neighboring lake, returned laden with botanical treasures of all sorts, and, among other plants, an immense lily-leaf, which, from its dimensions, we judged must be the Victoria regia, though it had not the erect edge so characteristic of it. This morning, accompanied by two or three of yesterday’s party, who kindly undertook to be our guides, we went to visit the same lake. A short walk from the river-bank brought us to the shore of a large sheet of water,—the Lago Maximo,—which connects with the Ramos by a narrow outlet, but at a point so distant from our anchorage that it would have been necessary to make a great detour in order to reach it in a canoe. We found an old montaria, with one or two broken paddles, left, as it seemed, at the lake-shore for whom it might concern, and in that we embarked at once. The banks of this lake are bordered with beautiful forests, which do not, however, rise immediately from the water, but are divided from it by a broad band of grass. We saw many water-birds on this grassy edge, as well as on several dead trees, the branches of which were completely covered with gulls, all in exactly the same attitude, facing one way, to meet the wind which blew strongly against them. Ducks and ciganas were plenty; and once or twice we startled up from the woods small flocks of mackaws,—not only the gaudy red, green, and yellow species, but the far more beautiful blue mackaw. They flew by us, with their gorgeous plumage glittering in the sun, and disappeared again among the trees, seeking deeper and more undisturbed retreats. From the reedy grasses came also the deep note of the unicorn, so greatly prized in Brazil,—a large bird, half wader, half fowl, belonging to the genus Palamedea; but as we were only prepared for a botanizing expedition, we could not avail ourselves of any of the opportunities thus offered; and the birds, however near and tempting the shots, had little to fear from us. At the upper end of the lake we came upon the bed of water-lilies from which the trophies of yesterday had been gathered. The leaves were very large, many of them from four to five feet in diameter; but, perhaps from having lost their first freshness and something therefore of their natural texture, the edge of the leaf was scarcely perceptibly raised, and in most instances lay perfectly flat upon the water. We found buds, but no perfect flower. In the afternoon, however, one of the daughters of our fisherman Maia, hearing that we wished to see one of the flowers, brought us a very perfect specimen from another more distant locality, which we had not time to visit. The Indians, by the way, have a characteristic name for the leaf. They call it “forno,” on account of its resemblance to the immense shallow pans in which they bake their farinha over the mandioca ovens. The Victoria regia, with its formidable armor of spines, its gigantic leaves, and beautiful flowers, deepening in color from the velvety white outer leaves through every shade of rose to deepest crimson, and fading again to a creamy, yellowish tint in the heart of the flower, has been described so often that I hardly dare dwell upon it, for fear of wearying the reader. And yet we could not see it growing in its native waters—a type, as it were, of the luxuriance of tropical nature—without the deepest interest. Wonderful as it is when seen in the tank of a greenhouse, and perhaps even more impressive, in a certain sense, from its isolation, in its own home it has the charm of harmony with all that surrounds it,—with the dense mass of forest, with palm and parasite, with birds of glowing plumage, with insects of all bright and wonderful tints, and with fishes which, though hidden in the water beneath it, are not less brilliant and varied than the world of life above. I do not remember to have seen an allusion, in any description, to the beautiful device by which the whole immense surface of the adult leaf is contained within the smaller dimensions of the young one; though it is well worth notice, as one of the neatest specimens of Nature’s packing. All know the heavy scaffolding of ribs by which the colossal leaf, when full grown, is supported on its under side. In the young leaf these ribs are comparatively small, but the whole green expanse of the adult leaf is gathered in between them in regular rows of delicate puffings. At this period, the leaf is far below the surface of the water, growing slowly up from the base of the stock from which it springs. Thus drawn up, it has the form of a deep cup or vase; but in proportion as the ribs grow, their ramifications stretching in every direction, the leaf lets out one by one its little folds, to fill the ever-widening spaces; till at last, when it reaches the surface of the water, it rests horizontally above it, without a wrinkle. Mr. Agassiz caused several stocks to be dragged up from the bottom (no easy matter, on account of the spines), and found the leaf-buds just starting between the roots,—little white caps, not more than half an inch in height. There was another lily growing in this lake, which, though diminutive by the side of the Victoria, would be a giant among our water-lilies. The leaf measured more than a foot in diameter, and was slightly scolloped around the edge. There were no open flowers, but the closed buds resembled those of our common white water-lilies, and were no larger. The stalk and ribs, unlike those of the Victoria, were quite smooth, and free from thorns. After our visit to the lilies, we paddled in among the trees along the overflowed margin of the lake, in order that the boatmen might cut down several palms new to us. While waiting under the trees in the boat, we had cause to admire the variety and beauty of the insects fluttering about us; the large blue butterflies (Morpho), and the brilliant dragon-flies, with crimson bodies and burnished wings, glittering with metallic lustre.[[88]]
January 21st.—Obydos. We left Villa Bella yesterday with a large collection of fishes, and some valuable additions to the collection of palms. The general character of the fish collections, both from the river Ramos and the Lago Maximo, shows the faunæ to be the same now as when we were here five months ago. Certainly, during this interval, migration has had no perceptible influence upon the distribution of life in these waters. Leaving Villa Bella at night, we reached Obydos early this morning. This pretty town is one of the most picturesque in position, on the Amazons. It stands on a steep bluff, commanding an extensive view of the river west and east, and is one of the few points at which the southern and northern shores are seen at the same time. The bluff of Obydos is crowned by a fortress, which has stood here for many years without occasion to test its power. It may be doubted whether it would be very effectual in barring the river against a hostile force, inasmuch as its guns, though they carry perfectly well to the opposite side, are powerless nearer home. The slope of the cliff on which the fortress stands intervenes between it and the water below, so that by keeping well in to shore the enemy could pass with impunity immediately under the guns. The hill consists entirely of the same red drift so constantly recurring on the banks of the Amazons and its tributaries. Here it is more full of pebbles than at Manaos or at Teffé; and we saw these pebbles disposed in lines or horizontal beds, such as are found in the same deposit along the coast and in the neighborhood of Rio. The city of Obydos is prettily laid out, its environs are very picturesque, its soil extremely fertile; but it has the same aspect of neglect and hopeless inactivity so painfully striking in all the Amazonian towns.
January 23d. Yesterday, in the early morning, we arrived at Santarem, and went on shore for a walk at half past seven. The town stands on a point of land dividing the black waters of the Tapajoz, on the one side, from the yellow flood of the Amazons on the other, and has a very attractive situation, enhanced by its background of hills stretching away to the eastward. Our first visit was to the church, fronting on the beach and standing invitingly open. We had, however, a special object in entering it. In 1819 Martius, the naturalist, on his voyage of exploration on the Amazons, since made famous by his great work on the Natural History of Brazil, was wrecked off the town of Santarem, and nearly lost his life. In his great danger he took a vow to record his gratitude, should he live, by making a gift to the church of Santarem. After his return to Europe, he sent from Munich a full-length figure of Christ upon the cross, which now hangs against the wall, with a simple inscription underneath, telling in a few words the story of his peril, his deliverance, and his gratitude. As a work of art it has no special value, but it attracts many persons to the church who never heard of Martius or his famous journey; and to Mr. Agassiz it was especially interesting, as connected with the travels and dangers of his old friend and teacher.
After a walk through the town, which is built with more care, and contains some houses having more pretensions to comfort and elegance than we have seen elsewhere on the Amazons, we returned to the ship for breakfast. At a later hour we went on a very pleasant canoe excursion to the other side of the Tapajoz, again in search of the Victoria regia, said to grow in great perfection in this neighborhood. Our guide was Senhor Joachim Rodriguez, to whom Mr. Agassiz has been indebted for much personal kindness, as well as for a very valuable collection made since we stopped here on our way up the river, partly by himself and partly by his son, a bright boy of some thirteen years of age. Crossing to the opposite side of the river, we came upon a vast field of coarse, high grass, looking like an extensive meadow. To our surprise, the boatmen turned the canoe into this green field, and we found ourselves apparently navigating the land, for the narrow boat-path was entirely concealed by the long reedy grasses and tall mallow-plants with large pink blossoms rising on either side, and completely hiding the water below. This marshy, overflowed ground, above which the water had a depth of from four to six feet, was full of life. As the rowers pushed our canoe through the mass of grass and flowers, Mr. Agassiz gathered from the blades and stalks all sorts of creatures; small bright-colored toads of several kinds, grasshoppers, beetles, dragon-flies, aquatic snails, bunches of eggs,—in short, an endless variety of living things, most interesting to the naturalist. The harvest was so plentiful that we had only to put out our hands and gather it; the oarsmen, when they saw Mr. Agassiz’s enthusiasm, became almost as interested as he was; and he had soon a large jar filled with objects quite new to him. After navigating these meadows for some time, we came upon open water-spaces where the Victoria regia was growing in great perfection. The specimens were much finer than those we had seen before in the Lago Maximo. One leaf measured five feet and a half in diameter, and another five feet, the erect edge being three inches and a half in height. A number of leaves grew from the same stalk; and seen thus together they are very beautiful, the bright rose-color of the outer edge contrasting with the vivid green of the inner surface of the leaf. As before, there were no open flowers to be seen; Senhor Rodriguez told us that they are cut by the fishermen almost as soon as they open. When Mr. Agassiz expressed a wish to get the roots, two of our boatmen plunged into the water with an alacrity which surprised me, as we had just been told that these marshes are the haunts of Jacarés. They took turns in diving to dig up the plants, and succeeded in bringing to the surface three large stalks, one with a flower-bud. We returned well pleased with our row overland.
Our live-stock is increasing as we descend the river, and we have now quite a menagerie on board; a number of parrots, half a dozen monkeys, two exquisite little deer from the region of Monte Alégre, and several Agamis, as tame and gentle as barn-yard fowls, stepping about the deck with graceful, dainty tread, and feeding from the hand. Their voices are singularly harsh, however, and out of keeping with their pretty looks and ways. Every now and then they raise their heads, stretch their long necks, and utter a loud, gurgling sound, more like the roll of a drum than the note of a bird. Last, but not least, we have a sloth on board, the most fascinating of all our pets to me, not certainly for his charms, but for his oddities. I am never tired of watching him, he looks so deliciously lazy. His head sunk in his arms, his whole attitude lax and indifferent, he seems to ask only for rest. If you push him, or if, as often happens, a passer-by gives him a smart tap to arouse him, he lifts his head and drops his arms so slowly, so deliberately, that they hardly seem to move, raises his heavy lids and lets his large eyes rest upon your face for a moment with appealing, hopeless indolence; then the lids fall softly, the head droops, the arms fold heavily about it, and he collapses again into absolute repose. This mute remonstrance is the nearest approach to activity I have seen him make. These live animals are not all a part of the scientific collections; many of them belong to the captain and officers. The Brazilians are exceedingly fond of pets, and almost every house has its monkeys, its parrots, and other tame animals and birds.
January 26th.—Monte Alégre. Leaving Santarem on Tuesday we arrived here on Wednesday morning, and, as on our former visit, were received most hospitably at the house of Senhor Manuel. Mr. Agassiz and Mr. Coutinho have gone on a geologizing excursion to the Serra d’Ereré, that picturesque range of hills bounding the campos, or open sandy plain, to the northwest of the town. They took different routes, Major Coutinho, with Captain Faria and one or two other friends, crossing the campos on horseback, while Mr. Agassiz went by canoe. They will meet at the foot of the Serra, and pass two or three days in that neighborhood. Little is as yet known of the geological structure of the Amazonian Serras,—those of Santarem, of Monte Alégre, and of Almeyrim. Generally they have been considered as prolongations either of the table-land of Guiana on the north, or that of Brazil on the south. Mr. Agassiz believes them to be independent of both, and more directly connected with the formation of the Amazonian Valley itself. The solution of this question is his special object, while Major Coutinho has taken barometers to determine the height of the range. In the mean time, I am passing a few quiet days here, learning to be more familiar with the scenery of a region very justly called one of the most picturesque on the borders of the Amazons. Not only are the views extensive, but the friable nature of the soil, so easily decomposed, combined with the heavy rains, has led to the formation of a variety of picturesque dells and hollows, some of which have springs running into them, surrounded by rocky banks and overhung with trees. One of these is especially pretty; the excavation is large, and has the form of an amphitheatre; its rocky walls are crowned with large forest-trees, palms, mimosas, etc., making a deep shade; and at one side the spring flows down from the top of the cliff, with a pleasant ripple. Here the negro or Indian servants come to fill their water-jars. They often have with them the children under their charge; and you may sometimes see the large red jars standing under the mouth of the spring above, while white babies and dark nurses splash about in the cool water-basin below. Although in the campos the growth is low, and the soil but scantily covered with coarse grass and shrubs, yet, in some localities, and especially in the neighborhood of the town, the forest is beautiful. We have seen nowhere larger and more luxuriant mimosas, sometimes of a green so rich and deep, and a foliage so close that it is difficult to believe, at a distance, that its dense mass is formed by the light, pinnate leaves of a sensitive plant. The palms are also very lofty and numerous, including some kinds which we have not met before.
January 28th.—Yesterday our kind host arranged an excursion into the country, for my especial pleasure, that I might see something of the characteristic amusements of Monte Alégre. One or two neighbors joined us, and the children, a host of happy little folks, for whom anything out of the common tenor of every-day life is “festa,” were not left behind. We started on foot to walk out into a very picturesque Indian village called Surubiju. Here we were to breakfast, returning afterwards in one of the heavy carts drawn by oxen, the only conveyance for women and children in a country where a carriage-road and a side-saddle are equally unknown. Our walk was very pleasant, partly through the woods, partly through the campos; but as it was early in the day, we did not miss the shade when we chanced to leave the trees. We lingered by the wayside, the children stopping to gather wild fruits, of which there were a number on the road, and to help me in making a collection of plants. It was about nine o’clock when we reached the first straw-house, where we stopped to rest. Though it has no longer the charm of novelty for me, I am always glad to visit an Indian cottage. You find a cordial welcome; the best hammock, the coolest corner, and a cuia of fresh water are ready for you. As a general thing, the houses of the Indians are also more tidy than those of the whites; and there is a certain charm of picturesqueness about them which never wears off.
After a short rest, we went on through the settlement, where the sitios are scattered at considerable distances, and so completely surrounded by trees that they seem quite isolated in the forest. Although the Indians are said to be a lazy people, and are unquestionably fitful and irregular in their habits of work, in almost all these houses some characteristic occupation was going on. In two or three the women were making hammocks, in one a boy was plaiting the leaves of the Curua palm into a tolda for his canoe, in another the inmates were making a coarse kind of pottery; and in still another a woman, who is quite famous in the neighborhood for her skill in the art, was painting cuias. It was the first time I had seen the prepared colors made from a certain kind of clay found in the Serra. It is just the carnival season, and, as every one has a right to play pranks on his neighbors, we did not get off without making a closer acquaintance than was altogether pleasant with the rustic artist’s colors. As we were leaving the cottage, she darted out upon us, her hands full of blue and red paints. If they had been tomahawks, they could not have produced a more sudden rout; and it was a complete sauve qui peut of the whole company across the little bridge which led to the house. As a stranger, I was spared; but all were not fortunate enough to escape, and some of the children carried their blue and red badges to the end of the day.
The prettiest of all these forest sitios was one at the bottom of a deep dell, reached by a steep, winding path through a magnificent wood abounding in palms. But though the situation was most picturesque, the sickly appearance of the children and the accounts of prevailing illness showed that the locality was too low and damp to be healthful. After a very pleasant ramble we returned to breakfast at our first resting-place, and at about one o’clock started for town in two ox-carts which had come out to meet us. They consist only of a floor set on very heavy, creaking wooden wheels, which, from their primitive, clumsy character, would seem to be the first wheels ever invented. On the floor a straw-mat was spread, an awning was stretched over a light scaffolding above, and we were soon stowed away in our primitive vehicle, and had a very gay and pleasant ride back to town. Yesterday evening Mr. Agassiz returned from his excursion to the Serra Ereré. I add here a little account of the journey, written out from his notes, and containing some remarks on the general aspect of the country, its vegetation and animals. A summary of the geological results of the excursion will be found in a separate chapter at the close of our Amazonian journey.