VEGETATION OF THE AMAZON VALLEY.
Perhaps no country in the world contains such an amount of vegetable
matter on its surface as the valley of the Amazon. Its entire extent,
with the exception of some very small portions, is covered with one
dense and lofty primeval forest, the most extensive and unbroken which
exists upon the earth. It is the great feature of the country,—that
which at once stamps it as a unique and peculiar region. It is not here
as on the coasts of southern Brazil, or on the shores of the Pacific,
where a few days’ journey suffices to carry us beyond the forest
district, and into the parched plains and rocky serras of the interior.
Here we may travel for weeks and months inland, in any direction, and
find scarcely an acre of ground unoccupied by trees. It is far up in
the interior, where the great mass of this mighty forest is found;
not on the lower part of the river, near the coast, as is generally
supposed.
A line from the mouth of the river Parnaíba, in long. 41° 30’ W.,
drawn due west towards Guayaquil, will cut the boundary of the great
forest in long. 78° 30’, and, for the whole distance of about 2600
miles, will have passed through the centre of it, dividing it into two
nearly equal portions.
For the first thousand miles, or as far as long. 56° W., the width of
the forest from north to south is about four hundred miles; it then
stretches out both to the north and south, so that in long. 67° W.
it extends from 7° N., on the banks of the Orinooko, to 18° S., on
the northern slope of the Andes of Bolivia, a distance of more than
seventeen hundred miles. From a point about sixty miles south-east of
Tabatinga, a circle may be drawn of 1100 miles in diameter, the whole
area of which will be virgin forest.
Along the Andes of Quito, from Pasto to Guancabamba, it reaches close
up to the eastern base of the mountains, and even ascends their lower
slopes. In the moderately elevated country between the river Huallaga
and Marañon, the forest extends only over the eastern portion,
commencing in the neighbourhood of Moyobamba. Further on, to the east
of Cuzco and La Paz, it spreads high up on the slopes of the Bolivian
Andes, and passing a little to the west of Santa Cruz de la Sierra,
turns off to the north-east, crossing the Tapajóz and Xingú rivers
somewhere about the middle of their course, and the Tocantíns not far
above its junction with the Araguáya, and then passes over to the river
Parnaíba, which it follows to its mouth.
The Island of Marajó, at the mouth of the Amazon, has its eastern
half open plains, while in the western commences the forest. On the
north of the Amazon, from its mouth to beyond Montealegre, are open
plains; but opposite the month of the Tapajóz at Santarem, the forest
begins, and appears to extend up to the Serras of Carumaní, on the Rio
Branco, and thence stretches west, to join the wooded country on the
eastern side of the Orinooko. West of that river, it commences south of
the Vicháda, and, crossing over the upper waters of the Guaviáre and
Uaupés, reach the Andes east of Pasto, where we commenced our survey.
The forests of no other part of the world are so extensive and unbroken
as this. Those of Central Europe are trifling in comparison; nor
in India are they very continuous or extensive; while the rest of
Asia seems to be a country of thinly wooded plains, and steppes, and
deserts. Africa contains some large forests, situated on the east and
west coasts, and in the interior south of the equator; but the whole of
them would bear but a small proportion to that of the Amazon. In North
America alone is there anything approaching to it, where the whole
country east of the Mississippi and about the great lakes, is, or has
been, an almost uninterrupted extent of woodland.
In a general survey of the earth, we may therefore look upon the New
World as pre-eminently the land of forests, contrasting strongly with
the Old, where steppes and deserts are the most characteristic features.
The boundaries of the Amazonian forest have not hitherto been
ascertained with much accuracy. The open plains of Caguan have
been supposed much more extensive than they really are; but I have
very nearly determined their limits to the south and east, by the
observations I made, and the information I obtained in my voyage up the
Uaupés. Again, on the Uaycáli there is a district marked on the maps
as the “Pampas del Sacramento,” which has been supposed to be an open
plain; but the banks of the Amazon up to the mouth of the Uaycáli are
clothed with thick forest, and Messrs. Smyth and Lowe, who crossed the
Pampa in two places, found no open plains; and from their observations
and those of Lieut. Mawe we must extend the forest district up to near
Moyabamba, west of the Huallaga, and to the foot of the mountains
east of Pasco and Tarma. I was informed by a native of Ecuador, well
acquainted with the country, that the Napo, Tigre, Pastaza, and the
adjacent rivers all flow through dense forest, which extends up even to
Baéza and Canélos and over all the lower slopes of the Andes. Tschudi
informs us that the forest districts commence on all the north and
east slopes of the Andes of Peru, near Huánta, and at Urubámba north
of Cúzco. I have learnt from a gentleman, a native of La Paz, that
immediately on crossing the Bolivian Andes from that city and from
Oropéssa and Santa Cruz, you enter the great forests, which extend
over all the tributaries of the Madeira. Traders up the Purús and all
the southern branches of the Upper Amazon, neither meet with, nor hear
accounts of, any open land, so that there is little doubt but that the
extent here pointed out is one vast, ever-verdant, unbroken forest.
The forests of the Amazon are distinguished from those of most other
countries, by the great variety of species of trees composing them.
Instead of extensive tracts covered with pines, or oaks, or beeches,
we scarcely ever see two individuals of the same species together,
except in certain cases, principally among the Palms. A great extent of
flooded land about the mouth of the Amazon, is covered with the Mirití
Palms (_Mauritia flexuosa_ and _M. vinifera_), and in many places the
Assaí (_Euterpe edulis_) is almost equally abundant. Generally however
the same species of tree is repeated only at distant intervals. On
a road for ten miles through the forest near Pará, there are only
two specimens of the Masserandúba, or Cow-tree, and all through the
adjoining district they are equally scarce. On the Javíta road, on the
Upper Rio Negro, I observed the same thing. On the Uaupés, I once sent
my Indians into the forest to obtain a board of a particular kind of
tree; they searched for three days, and found only a few young trees,
none of them of sufficient size.
Certain kinds of hard woods are used on the Amazon and Rio Negro, for
the construction of canoes and the schooners used in the navigation of
the river. The difficulty of getting timber of any one kind for these
vessels is so great, that they are often constructed of half-a-dozen
different sorts of wood, and not always of the same colours or degrees
of hardness. Trees producing fruit, or with medicinal properties, are
often so widely scattered, that two or three only are found within a
reasonable distance of a village, and supply the whole population. This
peculiarity of distribution must prevent a great trade in timber for
any particular purpose, being carried on here. The India-rubber and
Brazil-nut trees are not altogether exceptions to this rule, and the
produce from them is collected over an immense extent of country, to
which the innumerable lakes and streams offer a ready access.
The chief district from which India-rubber is procured, is in the
country between Pará and the Xingú. On the Upper Amazon and Rio Negro
it is also found, but is not yet collected.
The Brazil-nuts, from the _Bertholletia excelsa_, are brought chiefly
from the interior; the greater part from the country around the
junction of the Rio Negro and Madeira with the Amazon rivers. This
tree takes more than a whole year to produce and ripen its fruits. In
the month of January I observed the trees loaded at the same time with
flowers and ripe fruits, both of which were falling from the tree; from
these flowers would be formed the nuts of the following year; so that
they probably require eighteen months for their complete development
from the bud. The fruits, which are nearly as hard and heavy as
cannon-balls, fall with tremendous force from the height of a hundred
feet, crashing through the branches and undergrowth, and snapping off
large boughs which they happen to strike against. Persons are sometimes
killed by them, and accidents are not unfrequent among the Indians
engaged in gathering them.
The fruits are all procured as they fall from the tree. They are
collected together in small heaps, where they are opened with an axe,
an operation that requires some practice and skill, and the triangular
nuts are taken out and carried to the canoes in baskets. Other trees of
the same family (_Lecythideæ_) are very abundant, and are remarkable
for their curious fruits, which have lids, and are shaped like pots or
cups, whence they are called “pot-trees.” Some of the smaller ones are
called by the natives “cuyas de macaco,”—monkeys’ calabashes.
The next most important vegetable product of the Amazon district,
is the Salsaparilha, the roots of _Smilax syphilitica_, and perhaps
of other allied species. This plant appears to occur over the whole
forest-district of the Amazon, from Venezuela to Bolivia, and from the
Lower Amazon to Peru. It is not generally found near the great rivers,
but far in the interior, on the banks of the small streams, and on dry
rocky ground. It is principally dug up by the Indians, often by the
most uncivilized tribes, and is the means of carrying on a considerable
trade with them.
The Brazilian nutmegs, produced by the _Nectandrum Puchury_, grow in
the country between the Rio Negro and Japura.
The Cumarú, or Tonquin-beans, are very abundant on the Upper Rio Negro,
and are also found near Santarem on the Amazon.
A highly odoriferous bark, called by the Portuguese “Cravo de Maranhão”
(Cloves of Maranham), is produced by a small tree growing only on one
or two small tributaries of the Rio Negro.
A peculiar transparent oil, with an odour of turpentine, called
Sassafras by the Venezuelans, is abundantly obtained by tapping a tree,
common on the Upper Rio Negro, whence it is exported to Barra, and
used for mixing oil-colours. In the Lower Amazon, a bitter oil, called
Andiróba, much used for lamps, is made from a forest fruit.
A whitish resin, with a strong camphorous smell, is produced very
abundantly in the Rio Negro and the Amazon, and is commonly used
as pitch for the canoes and all the larger vessels of the country;
while the inner bark of young trees of the _Bertholletia excelsa_, or
Brazil-nut tree, is used instead of oakum for caulking.
Among the forest-trees of the Amazon, the _Leguminosæ_ are much the
most abundant in species, and they also most attract attention from
their curious bean-like fruits, often of extraordinary size or length.
Some of the Ingás, and allied genera, have pods a yard long, and very
slender; while others are short, and three or four inches wide. There
are some curious fruits of this family, which grow on a stalk three to
five feet long and very slender, appearing as if some one had suspended
a number of pods from the branches by long strings.
The flowers of this family are among the most brilliant and
conspicuous; and their often finely-cut pinnate foliage has a very
elegant appearance.
* * * * *
The following is a list of the principal vegetable productions of the
Amazon forests:—
India-rubber, from the sap of the _Siphonia elastica_.
Brazil-nuts, the seeds of the _Bertholletia excelsa_.
Salsaparilha, the roots of _Smilax syphilitica_.
Tonquin-beans, the seeds of _Dipteryx odorata_.
Puxiri, the fruit of _Nectandrum Puchury_.
Sassafras oil, tree not known.
Andiróba oil, from the fruit of an unknown tree.
Crajurú, a red colour prepared from the leaves of _Bignonia Chica_.
Pitch—exudes from a forest tree.
Cacao, the seeds of _Theobroma Cacao_ and other species.
Cravo, from an unknown tree.
Canella, the bark of _Canella alba_.
Vanilla, the fruits of various species of _Vanilla_.
Guaraná, a preparation from a fruit, grated in water, to form an
agreeable and medicinal drink.
Piassába, the fibres from the petioles of a palm, _Leopoldinia_ n.
s.
Balsam Capivi, from the _Copaifera officinalis_.
Silk cotton, from various species of _Bombax_.
In many parts of my Journal, I have expressed an opinion that
travellers have exaggerated the beauty and brilliancy of tropical
vegetation, and on a calm review of all I have seen in the districts I
have visited, I must repeat it.
There is grandeur and solemnity in the tropical forest, but little of
beauty or brilliancy of colour. The huge buttress trees, the fissured
trunks, the extraordinary air roots, the twisted and wrinkled climbers,
and the elegant palms, are what strike the attention and fill the mind
with admiration and surprise and awe. But all is gloomy and solemn,
and one feels a relief on again seeing the blue sky, and feeling the
scorching rays of the sun.
It is on the roadside and on the rivers’ banks, that we see all the
beauty of the tropical vegetation. There we find a mass of bushes and
shrubs and trees of every height, rising over one another, all exposed
to the bright light and the fresh air; and putting forth, within
reach, their flowers and fruit, which, in the forest, only grow far up
on the topmost branches. Bright flowers and green foliage combine their
charms, and climbers with their flowery festoons cover over the bare
and decaying stems. Yet, pick out the loveliest spots, where the most
gorgeous flowers of the tropics expand their glowing petals, and for
every scene of this kind, we may find another at home of equal beauty,
and with an equal amount of brilliant colour.
Look at a field of buttercups and daisies,—a hill-side covered
with gorse and broom,—a mountain rich with purple heather,—or a
forest-glade, azure with a carpet of wild hyacinths, and they will bear
a comparison with any scene the tropics can produce. I have never seen
anything more glorious than an old crab-tree in full blossom; and the
horse-chestnut, lilac, and laburnum will vie with the choicest tropical
trees and shrubs. In the tropical waters are no more beautiful plants
than our white and yellow water-lilies, our irises, and flowering rush;
for I cannot consider the flower of the _Victoria regia_ more beautiful
than that of the _Nymphæa alba_, though it may be larger; nor is it so
abundant an ornament of the tropical waters as the latter is of ours.
But the question is not to be decided by a comparison of individual
plants, or the effects they may produce in the landscape, but on the
frequency with which they occur, and the proportion the brilliantly
coloured bear to the inconspicuous plants. My friend Mr. B. Spruce,
now investigating the botany of the Amazon and Rio Negro, assures me
that by far the greater proportion of plants gathered by him have
inconspicuous green or white flowers; and with regard to the frequency
of their occurrence, it was not an uncommon thing for me to pass days
travelling up the rivers, without seeing any striking flowering tree
or shrub. This is partly owing to the flowers of most tropical trees
being so deciduous: they no sooner open, than they begin to fall; the
Melastomas in particular, generally burst into flower in the morning,
and the next day are withered, and for twelve months that tree bears
no more flowers. This will serve to explain why the tropical flowering
trees and shrubs do not make so much show as might be expected.
From the accounts of eye-witnesses, I believe that the forests of the
southern United States present a more gay and brilliant appearance than
those of tropical America.
Humboldt, in his ‘Aspects of Nature,’ repeatedly remarks on the
contrast between the steppes of Tartary and the llanos of the Orinooko.
The former, in the temperate zone, are gay with the most brilliant
flowers; while the latter, in the tropics, produce little but grasses
and sedges, and but few and inconspicuous flowering plants. Mr. Darwin
mentions the brilliancy of the flowers adorning the plains of Monte
Video, which, with the luxuriant thistles of the Pampas, seems hardly
equalled in the campos of tropical Brazil, where, with some exceptions,
the earth is brown and sterile. The countless beautiful geraniums
and heaths of the Cape cease on entering the tropics, and we have no
account of any plants equally striking and brilliant supplying their
place.
What we may fairly allow of tropical vegetation is, that there is a
much greater number of species, and a greater variety of forms, than
in the temperate zones. Among this great variety occur, as we might
reasonably expect, the most striking and brilliant flowers, and the
most remarkable forms of stem and foliage. But there is no evidence to
show that the proportion of species bearing brightly coloured, compared
to those bearing inconspicuous flowers, is any greater in the tropics,
than in the temperate regions; and with regard to individuals—which is,
after all, what produces the effects of vegetation—it seems probable
that there is a greater mass of brilliant colouring and picturesque
beauty, produced by plants in the temperate, than in the tropical
regions.
There are several reasons which lead us to this conclusion. In the
tropics, a greater proportion of the surface is covered either with
dense forests or with barren deserts, neither of which can exhibit many
flowers. Social plants are less common in the tropics, and thus masses
of colour are less frequently produced. Individual objects may be more
brilliant and striking, but the general effect will not be so great, as
that of a smaller number of less conspicuous plants, grouped together
in masses of various colours, so strikingly displayed in the meadows
and groves of the temperate regions.
The changing hues of autumn, and the tender green of spring, are
particular beauties which are not seen in tropical regions, and which
are quite unsurpassed by anything that exists there. The wide expanse
of green meadows and rich pastures is also wanting; and, however much
individual objects may please and astonish, the effect of the distant
landscape is decidedly superior in the temperate parts of the world.
The sensations of pleasure we experience on seeing natural objects,
depends much upon association of ideas with their uses, their novelty,
or their history. What causes the sensations we feel on gazing upon a
waving field of golden corn? Not, surely, the mere beauty of the sight,
but the associations we connect with it. We look on it as a national
blessing, as the staff of life, as the most precious produce of the
soil; and this makes it beautiful in our eyes.
So, in the tropics, the broad-leaved banána, beautiful in itself,
becomes doubly so, when looked upon as producing a greater quantity of
food in a given time, and on a limited space, than any other plant.
We take it as a type of the luxuriance of the tropics,—we look at
its broad leaves, the produce of six months’ growth,—we think of its
delicious and wholesome fruit: and all this is beauty, as we gaze upon
it.
In the same manner, a field of sugar-cane or an extensive plantation of
cotton produces similar sensations: we think of the thousands they will
feed and clothe, and the thought clothes them with beauty.
Palms too are subject to the same influence. They are elegant and
graceful in themselves; they are almost all useful to man; they are
associated with the brightness and warmth of the tropics: and thus they
acquire an additional interest, a new beauty.
To the naturalist everything in the tropics acquires this kind of
interest, for some reason or another. One plant is a tropical form,
and he examines it with curiosity and delight. Another is allied to
some well-known European species, and this too attracts his attention.
The structure of some are unknown, and he is pleased to examine them.
The locality of another is doubtful, and he feels a great pleasure in
determining it. He is ever examining individual objects, and confounds
his own interest in them, from a variety of causes, with the sensations
produced by their beauty, and thus is led to give exaggerated
descriptions of the luxuriance and splendour of the vegetation.
As most travellers are naturalists, this supposition will account for
the ideas of the tropics generally obtained from a perusal of their
works.
If I have come to a different conclusion, it is not that I am incapable
of appreciating the splendours of tropical scenery, but because I
believe that they are not of the kind usually represented, and that
the scenery of our own land is, of its own kind, unsurpassed: there
is nothing approaching it in the tropics, nor is the scenery of the
tropics to be found with us. There,—forms of stems and climbers,
gigantic leaves, elegant palms, and individual plants with brilliant
flowers, are the characteristic features. Here,—an endless carpet of
verdure, with masses of gay blossoms, the varying hues of the foliage,
and the constant variety of plain and forest, meadow and woodland, more
than individual objects, are what fill the beholder with delight.