EVERYMAN’S LIBRARY
EDITED BY ERNEST RHYS
SCIENCE
BATES’ NATURALIST ON
THE AMAZONS
WITH AN APPRECIATION
BY DARWIN
Hoc solum scio quod nihil scio
Illustrated title page
THE NATURALIST ON
THE RIVER AMAZONS
By HENRY WALTER BATES
LONDON: PUBLISHED BY
J. M. DENT & SONS LTD
AND IN NEW YORK BY
E. P. DUTTON & CO.
First issue of this edition 1910
Reprinted 1914
Contents
Chapter I—PARÁ
Arrival — Aspect of the Country — The Pará River — First Walk in the
Suburbs of Pará — Birds, Lizards, and Insects of the Suburbs —
Leaf-carrying Ant — Sketch of the Climate, History, and present
Condition of Pará.
Chapter II—PARÁ
The Swampy Forests of Pará — A Portuguese Landed Proprietor — Country
House at Nazareth — Life of a Naturalist under the Equator — The drier
Virgin Forests — Magoary — Retired Creeks — Aborigines.
Chapter III—PARÁ
Religious Holidays — Marmoset Monkeys — Serpents — Insects.
Chapter IV—THE TOCANTINS AND CAMETÁ
Preparations for the Journey — The Bay of Goajará — Grove of Fan-leaved
Palms — The lower Tocantins — Sketch of the River — Vista Alegre —
Baiao — Rapids — Boat Journey to the Guariba Falls — Native Life on the
Tocantins — Second Journey to Cametá.
Chapter V—CARIPÍ AND THE BAY OF MARAJÓ
River Pará and Bay of Marajó — Journey to Caripí — Negro Observance of
Christmas — A German Family — Bats — Ant-eaters — Humming-birds —
Excursion to the Murucupi — Domestic Life of the Inhabitants — Hunting
Excursion with Indians — White Ants.
Chapter VI—THE LOWER AMAZONS — PARÁ TO OBYDOS
Modes of Travelling on the Amazons — Historical Sketch of the Early
Explorations of the River — Preparations for Voyage — Life on Board a
large Trading Vessel — The narrow Channels joining the Pará to the
Amazons — First Sight of the Great River — Gurupá — The Great Shoal —
Flat-topped Mountains — Santarem — Obydos.
Chapter VII—THE LOWER AMAZONS — OBYDOS TO MANAOS, OR THE BARRA OF THE
RIO NEGRO
Departure from Obydos — River Banks and By-channels — Cacao Planters —
Daily Life on Board our Vessel — Great Storm — Sand-island and its
Birds — Hill of Parentins — Negro Trader and Mauhes Indians — Villa
Nova, its Inhabitants, Forest, and Animal Productions — Cararaucú — A
Rustic Festival — Lake of Cararaucú — Motuca Flies — Serpa — Christmas
Holidays — River Madeira — A Mameluco Farmer — Mura Indians — Rio Negro
— Description of Barra — Descent to Pará — Yellow Fever.
Chapter VIII—SANTAREM
Situation of Santarem — Manners and Customs of the Inhabitants —
Climate — Grassy Campos and Woods — Excursions to Mapirí, Mahicá, and
Irurá, with Sketches of their Natural History; Palms, Wild Fruit-trees,
Mining Wasps, Mason Wasps, Bees, and Sloths.
Chapter IX—VOYAGE UP THE TAPAJOS
Preparations for Voyage — First Day’s Sail — Loss of Boat — Altar do
Chao — Modes of obtaining Fish — Difficulties with Crew — Arrival at
Aveyros — Excursions in the Neighbourhood — White Cebus, and Habits and
Dispositions of Cebi Monkeys — Tame Parrot — Missionary Settlement —
Entering the River Cuparí — Adventure with Anaconda — Smoke-dried
Monkey — Boa-constrictor — Village of Mundurucu Indians, and Incursion
of a Wild Tribe — Falls of the Cuparí — Hyacinthine Macaw — Re-emerge
into the broad Tapajos — Descent of River to Santarem.
Chapter X—THE UPPER AMAZONS — VOYAGE TO EGA
Departure from Barra — First Day and Night on the Upper Amazons —
Desolate Appearance of River in the Flood Season — Cucáma Indians —
Mental Condition of Indians — Squalls — Manatee — Forest — Floating
Pumice Stones from the Andes — Falling Banks — Ega and its Inhabitants
— Daily Life of a Naturalist at Ega — The Four Seasons of the Upper
Amazons.
Chapter XI—EXCURSIONS IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF EGA
The River Teffé — Rambles through Groves on the Beach — Excursion to
the House of a Passé Chieftain — Character and Customs of the Passé
Tribe — First Excursion to the Sand Islands of the Solimoens — Habits
of Great River-turtle — Second Excursion — Turtle-fishing in the Inland
Pools — Third Excursion — Hunting-rambles with Natives in the Forest —
Return to Ega.
Chapter XII—ANIMALS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF EGA
Scarlet-faced Monkeys — Paráuacu Monkey — Owl-faced Night-apes —
Marmosets — Jupurá — Bats — Birds — Cuvier’s Toucan — Curl-crested
Toucan — Insects — Pendulous Cocoons — Foraging Ants — Blind Ants.
Chapter XIII—EXCURSIONS BEYOND EGA
Steamboat Travelling on the Amazons — Passengers — Tunantins — Caishána
Indians — The Jutahí — The Sapó — Marauá Indians — Fonte Boa — Journey
to St. Paulo — Tucúna Indians — Illness — Descent to Pará — Changes at
Pará — Departure for England.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Saüba or Leaf-carrying Ant
Saüba Ant—Female
Climbing Palm (Desmoncus)
Interior of Primæval Forest on the Amazons
Amphisbæna
Acrosma Arcuatum
Assai Palm (Euterpe Oleracea)
Bird-killing Spider (Mygale Avicularia) attacking Finches
Ant-eater grappling with Dog
Humming-bird and Humming-bird Hawk-moth
Soldiers of different Species of White Ants—Ordinary Shape of Worker—Winged Class
Acari Fish (Loricaria Duodecimalis)
Flat-topped Mountains of Paráua-quára, Lower Amazons
Heliconius Thelxiope—Heliconius Melpomene
Musical Cricket (Chlorocœlus Tananá)
Peuriríma Palm (Bactris)
Peloæus Wasp building Nest
Cells of Trypoxylon Aurifrons
Melipona Bees gathering Clay
The Jacuarú (Teius Teguexim)
Acará (Mesonauta Insignis)
Sarapó (Carapus)—Needle-fish (Hemaramphus)
Bulging-stemmed Palm: Pashiúba Barrigudo (Iriartea Ventricosa)
Uikí Fruit
Pupunha Palm
Blow-gun, Quiver, and Arrow
Surubim (Pimelodus Tigrinus)
Arrow used in Turtle Shooting
Turtle Fishing and Adventure with Alligator
Night Adventure with Alligator
Umbrella Bird
Scarlet-faced and Parauacú Monkeys
Curl-crested Toucan
Adventure with Curl-crested Toucans
Suspended Cocoon of Moth
Sack-bearing Caterpillar (Saccophora)
Foraging Ants (Eciton Drepanophora)
Foraging Ants (Eciton Erratica) constructing a Covered Road—Soldiers sallying out on being disturbed
Masked-dance and Wedding-feast of Tucúna Indians
Map 1
Map 2
Map 3
AN APPRECIATION
From Natural History Review, vol. iii. 1863.
BY CHARLES DARWIN
Author of _The Origin of Species,_ etc.
In April, 1848, the author of the present volume left England in
company with Mr. A. R. Wallace—“who has since acquired wide fame in
connection with the Darwinian theory of Natural Selection”—on a joint
expedition up the river Amazons, for the purpose of investigating the
Natural History of the vast wood-region traversed by that mighty river
and its numerous tributaries. Mr. Wallace returned to England after
four years’ stay, and was, we believe, unlucky enough to lose the
greater part of his collections by the shipwreck of the vessel in which
he had transmitted them to London. Mr. Bates prolonged his residence in
the Amazon valley seven years after Mr. Wallace’s departure, and did
not revisit his native country again until 1859. Mr. Bates was also
more fortunate than his companion in bringing his gathered treasures
home to England in safety. So great, indeed, was the mass of specimens
accumulated by Mr. Bates during his eleven years’ researches, that upon
the working out of his collection, which has been accomplished (or is
now in course of being accomplished) by different scientific
naturalists in this country, it has been ascertained that
representatives of no less than 14,712 _species_ are amongst them, of
which about 8000 were previously unknown to science. It may be remarked
that by far the greater portion of these species, namely, about 14,000,
belong to the class of Insects—to the study of which Mr. Bates
principally devoted his attention—being, as is well known, himself
recognised as no mean authority as regards this class of organic
beings. In his present volume, however, Mr. Bates does not confine
himself to his entomological discoveries, nor to any other branch of
Natural History, but supplies a general outline of his adventures
during his journeyings up and down the mighty river, and a variety of
information concerning every object of interest, whether physical or
political, that he met with by the way.
Mr. Bates landed at Pará in May, 1848. His first part is entirely taken
up with an account of the Lower Amazons—that is, the river from its
sources up to the city of Manaos or Barra do Rio Negro, where it is
joined by the large northern confluent of that name—and with a
narrative of his residence at Pará and his various excursions in the
neighbourhood of that city. The large collection made by Mr. Bates of
the animal productions of Pará enabled him to arrive at the following
conclusions regarding the relations of the Fauna of the south side of
the Amazonian delta with those of other regions.
“It is generally allowed that Guiana and Brazil, to the north and south
of the Pará district, form two distinct provinces, as regards their
animal and vegetable inhabitants. By this it means that the two regions
have a very large number of forms peculiar to themselves, and which are
supposed not to have been derived from other quarters during modern
geological times. Each may be considered as a centre of distribution in
the latest process of dissemination of species over the surface of
tropical America. Pará lies midway between the two centres, each of
which has a nucleus of elevated table-land, whilst the intermediate
river-valley forms a wide extent of low-lying country. It is,
therefore, interesting to ascertain from which the latter received its
population, or whether it contains so large a number of endemic species
as would warrant the conclusion that it is itself an independent
province. To assist in deciding such questions as these, we must
compare closely the species found in the district with those of the
other contiguous regions, and endeavour to ascertain whether they are
identical, or only slightly modified, or whether they are highly
peculiar.
“Von Martius when he visited this part of Brazil forty years ago,
coming from the south, was much struck with the dissimilarity of the
animal and vegetable productions to those of other parts of Brazil. In
fact the Fauna of Pará, and the lower part of the Amazons has no close
relationship with that of Brazil proper; but it has a very great
affinity with that of the coast region of Guiana, from Cayenne to
Demerara. If we may judge from the results afforded by the study of
certain families of insects, no peculiar Brazilian forms are found in
the Pará district; whilst more than one-half of the total number are
essentially Guiana species, being found nowhere else but in Guiana and
Amazonia. Many of them, however, are modified from the Guiana type, and
about one-seventh seem to be restricted to Pará. These endemic species
are not highly peculiar, and they may yet be found over a great part of
Northern Brazil when the country is better explored. They do not
warrant us in concluding that the district forms an independent
province, although they show that its Fauna is not wholly derivative,
and that the land is probably not entirely a new formation. From all
these facts, I think we must conclude that the Pará district belongs to
the Guiana province and that, if it is newer land than Guiana, it must
have received the great bulk of its animal population from that region.
I am informed by Dr. Sclater that similar results are derivable from
the comparison of the birds of these countries.”
One of the most interesting excursions made by Mr. Bates from Pará was
the ascent of the river Tocantins—the mouth of which lies about 45
miles from the city of Pará. This was twice attempted. On the second
occasion—our author being in company with Mr. Wallace—the travellers
penetrated as far as the rapids of Arroyos, about 130 miles from its
mouth. This district is one of the chief collecting-grounds of the
well-known Brazil-nut (_Bertholletia excelsa_), which is here very
plentiful, grove after grove of these splendid trees being visible,
towering above their fellows, with the “woody fruits, large and round
as cannon-balls, dotted over the branches.” The Hyacinthine Macaw (_Ara
hyacinthina_) is another natural wonder, first met with here. This
splendid bird, which is occasionally brought alive to the Zoological
Gardens of Europe, “only occurs in the interior of Brazil, from 16°
S.L. to the southern border of the Amazon valley.” Its enormous
beak—which must strike even the most unobservant with wonder—appears to
be adapted to enable it to feed on the nuts of the Mucuja Palm
(_Acrocomia lasiospatha_). “These nuts, which are so hard as to be
difficult to break with a heavy hammer, are crushed to a pulp by the
powerful beak of this Macaw.”
Mr. Bates’ later part is mainly devoted to his residence at Santarem,
at the junction of the Rio Tapajos with the main stream, and to his
account of Upper Amazon, or Solimoens—the Fauna of which is, as we
shall presently see, in many respects very different from that of the
lower part of the river. At Santarem—“the most important and most
civilised settlement on the Amazon, between the Atlantic and Pará”—Mr.
Bates made his headquarters for three years and a half, during which
time several excursions up the little-known Tapajos were effected. Some
70 miles up the stream, on its affluent, the Cuparí, a new Fauna, for
the most part very distinct from that of the lower part of the same
stream, was entered upon. “At the same time a considerable proportion
of the Cuparí species were identical with those of Ega, on the Upper
Amazon, a district eight times further removed than the village just
mentioned.” Mr. Bates was more successful here than on his excursion up
the Tocantins, and obtained twenty new species of fishes, and many new
and conspicuous insects, apparently peculiar to this part of the
Amazonian valley.
In a later chapter Mr. Bates commences his account of the Solimoens, or
Upper Amazons, on the banks of which he passed four years and a half.
The country is a “magnificent wilderness, where civilised man has, as
yet, scarcely obtained a footing—the cultivated ground, from the Rio
Negro to the Andes, amounting only to a few score acres.” During the
whole of this time Mr. Bates’ headquarters were at Ega, on the Teffé, a
confluent of the great river from the south, whence excursions were
made sometimes for 300 or 400 miles into the interior. In the intervals
Mr. Bates followed his pursuit as a collecting naturalist in the same
“peaceful, regular way,” as he might have done in a European village.
Our author draws a most striking picture of the quiet, secluded life he
led in this far-distant spot. The difficulty of getting news and the
want of intellectual society were the great drawbacks—“the latter
increasing until it became almost insupportable.” “I was obliged at
last,” Mr. Bates naively remarks, “to come to the conclusion that the
contemplation of Nature, alone is not sufficient to fill the human
heart and mind.” Mr. Bates must indeed have been driven to great
straits as regards his mental food, when, as he tell us, he took to
reading the _ Athenæum_ three times over, “the first time devouring the
more interesting articles—the second, the whole of the remainder—and
the third, reading all the advertisements from beginning to end.”
Ega was, indeed, as Mr. Bates remarks, a fine field for a Natural
History collector, the only previous scientific visitants to that
region having been the German Naturalists, Spix and Martius, and the
Count de Castelnau when he descended the Amazons from the Pacific. Mr.
Bates’ account of the monkeys of the genera _Brachyurus, Nyctipithecus_
and _Midas_ met with in this region, and the whole of the very pregnant
remarks which follow on the American forms of the Quadrumana, will be
read with interest by every one, particularly by those who pay
attention to the important subject of geographical distribution. We
need hardly say that Mr. Bates, after the attention he has bestowed
upon this question, is a zealous advocate of the hypothesis of the
origin of species by derivation from a common stock. After giving an
outline of the general distribution of Monkeys, he clearly argues that
unless the “common origin at least of the species of a family be
admitted, the problem of their distribution must remain an inexplicable
mystery.” Mr. Bates evidently thoroughly understands the nature of this
interesting problem, and in another passage, in which the very singular
distribution of the Butterflies of the genus _Heliconius_ is enlarged
upon, concludes with the following significant remarks upon this
important subject:—
“In the controversy which is being waged amongst Naturalists since the
publication of the Darwinian theory of the origin of species, it has
been rightly said that no proof at present existed of the production of
a physiological species, that is, a form which will not interbreed with
the one from which it was derived, although given ample opportunities
of doing so, and does not exhibit signs of reverting to its parent form
when placed under the same conditions with it. Morphological species,
that is, forms which differ to an amount that would justify their being
considered good species, have been produced in plenty through selection
by man out of variations arising under domestication or cultivation.
The facts just given are therefore of some scientific importance, for
they tend to show that a physiological species can be and is produced
in nature out of the varieties of a pre-existing closely allied one.
This is not an isolated case, for I observed in the course of my
travels a number of similar instances. But in very few has it happened
that the species which clearly appears to be the parent, co-exists with
one that has been evidently derived from it. Generally the supposed
parent also seems to have been modified, and then the demonstration is
not so clear, for some of the links in the chain of variation are
wanting. The process of origination of a species in nature as it takes
place successively, must be ever, perhaps, beyond man’s power to trace,
on account of the great lapse of time it requires. But we can obtain a
fair view of it by tracing a variable and far-spreading species over
the wide area of its present distribution; and a long observation of
such will lead to the conclusion that new species must in all cases
have arisen out of variable and widely-disseminated forms. It sometimes
happens, as in the present instance, that we find in one locality a
species under a certain form which is constant to all the individuals
concerned; in another exhibiting numerous varieties; and in a third
presenting itself as a constant form quite distinct from the one we set
out with. If we meet with any two of these modifications living side by
side, and maintaining their distinctive characters under such
circumstances, the proof of the natural origination of a species is
complete; it could not be much more so were we able to watch the
process step by step. It might be objected that the difference between
our two species is but slight, and that by classing them as varieties
nothing further would be proved by them. But the differences between
them are such as obtain between allied species generally. Large genera
are composed in great part of such species, and it is interesting to
show the great and beautiful diversity within a large genus as brought
about by the working of laws within our comprehension.”
But to return to the Zoological wonders of the Upper Amazon, birds,
insects, and butterflies are all spoken of by Mr. Bates in his chapter
on the natural features of the district, and it is evident that none of
these classes of beings escaped the observation of his watchful
intelligence. The account of the foraging ants of the genus _Eciton_ is
certainly marvellous, and would, even of itself, be sufficient to stamp
the recorder of their habits as a man of no ordinary mark.
The last chapter of Mr. Bates’ work contains the account of his
excursions beyond Ega. Fonteboa, Tunantins—a small semi-Indian
settlement, 240 miles up the stream—and San Paulo de Olivenca, some
miles higher up, were the principal places visited, and new
acquisitions were gathered at each of these localities. In the fourth
month of Mr. Bates’ residence at the last-named place, a severe attack
of ague led to the abandonment of the plans he had formed of proceeding
to the Peruvian towns of Pebas and Moyobamba, and “so completing the
examination of the Natural History of the Amazonian plains up to the
foot of the Andes.” This attack, which seemed to be the culmination of
a gradual deterioration of health, caused by eleven years’ hard work
under the tropics, induced him to return to Ega, and finally to Pará,
where he embarked, on the 2nd June 1859, for England. Naturally enough,
Mr. Bates tells us he was at first a little dismayed at leaving the
equator, “where the well-balanced forces of Nature maintain a
land-surface and a climate typical of mind, and order and beauty,” to
sail towards the “crepuscular skies” of the cold north. But he consoles
us by adding the remark that “three years’ renewed experience of
England” have convinced him “how incomParábly superior is civilised
life to the spiritual sterility of half-savage existence, even if it
were passed in the Garden of Eden.”
* * *
The following is the list of H. W. Bates’ published works:
Contributions to an insect Fauna of the Amazon Valley, Paper read
before the Linnean Society, June 21, 1861; The Naturalist on the
Amazons, a Record of Adventure, Habits of Animals, Sketches of
Brazilian and Indian Life . . . during Eleven Years of Travel, 1863;
3rd Edition, 1873, with a Memoir of the author by E. Clodd to reprint
of unabridged edition, 1892.
Bates was for many years the editor of the _ Transactions of the Royal
Geographical Society_; the following works were edited and revised, or
supplemented by him:—Mrs. Somerville’s Physical Geography, 1870; A.
Humbert, Japan and the Japanese, 1874; C. Koldewey, the German Arctic
Expedition, 1874; P. E. Warburton, Journey across the Western Interior
of Australia, 1875; Cassell’s Illustrated Travels, 6 vols., 1869-1875;
E. Whymper, Travels among the Great Andes of the Equator (Introduction
to Appendix volume), 1892, etc.; Central America, the West Indies and
South America; Stanford’s Compendium of Geography and Travel, 2nd
revised Ed., 1882; he also added a list of Coleoptera collected by J.
S. Jameson on the Aruwini to the latter’s Story of the Rear Column of
the Emin Pasha Relief Expedition, etc., 1890; and an appendix to a
catalogue of Phytophaga by H. Clark, 1866, etc.; and contributed a
biographical notice of Keith Johnson to J. Thomson’s Central African
Lakes and Back, 1881.
He contributed largely to the _Zoologist, Entomological Society’s
Journal, Annals and Magazine of Natural History,_ and _Entomologist._
LIFE—Memoir by E. Clodd, 1892; short notice in Clodd’s Pioneers of
Evolution, 1897.
AUTHOR’S PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1864
Having been urged to prepare a new edition of this work for a wider
circle than that contemplated in the former one, I have thought it
advisable to condense those portions which, treating of abstruse
scientific questions, presuppose a larger amount of Natural History
knowledge than an author has a right to expect of the general reader.
The personal narrative has been left entire, together with those
descriptive details likely to interest all classes, young and old,
relating to the great river itself, and the wonderful country through
which it flows,—the luxuriant primaeval forests that clothe almost
every part of it, the climate, productions, and inhabitants.
Signs are not wanting that this fertile, but scantily peopled region
will soon become, through recent efforts of the Peruvian and Brazilian
governments to make it accessible and colonise it, of far higher
importance to the nations of Northern Europe than it has been hitherto.
The full significance of the title, the “largest river in the world,”
which we are all taught in our schoolboy days to apply to the Amazons,
without having a distinct idea of its magnitude, will then become
apparent to the English public. It will be new to most people, that
this noble stream has recently been navigated by steamers to a distance
of 2200 geographical miles from its mouth at Pará, or double the
distance which vessels are able to reach on the Yang-tze-Kiang, the
largest river of the old world; the depth of water in the dry season
being about seven fathoms up to this terminus of navigation. It is not,
however, the length of the trunk stream, that has earned for the
Amazons the appellation of the “Mediterranean of South America,” given
it by the Brazilians of Pará; but the network of by-channels and lakes,
which everywhere accompanies its course at a distance from the banks,
and which adds many thousands of miles of easy inland navigation to the
total presented by the main river and its tributaries. The Peruvians,
especially, if I may judge from letters received within the past few
weeks, seem to be stirring themselves to grasp the advantages which the
possession of the upper course of the river places within their reach.
Vessels of heavy tonnage have arrived in Pará, from England, with
materials for the formation of shipbuilding establishments, at a point
situated two thousand miles from the mouth of the river. Peruvian
steamers have navigated from the Andes to the Atlantic, and a quantity
of cotton (now exported for the first time), the product of the rich
and healthy country bordering the Upper Amazons, has been conveyed by
this means, and shipped from Pará to Europe. The probability of general
curiosity in England being excited before long with regard to this
hitherto neglected country, will be considered, of itself, a sufficient
reason for placing an account of its natural features and present
condition within reach of all readers.
LONDON, _January_, 1864.
Chapter I.
PARÁ
Arrival — Aspect of the Country — The Pará River — First Walk in the
Suburbs of Pará — Birds, Lizards, and Insects of the Suburbs —
Leaf-carrying Ant — Sketch of the Climate, History, and present
Condition of Pará.
I embarked at Liverpool, with Mr. Wallace, in a small trading vessel,
on the 26th of April, 1848; and, after a swift passage from the Irish
Channel to the equator, arrived, on the 26th of May, off Salinas. This
is the pilot-station for vessels bound to Pará, the only port of entry
to the vast region watered by the Amazons. It is a small village,
formerly a missionary settlement of the Jesuits, situated a few miles
to the eastward of the Pará River. Here the ship anchored in the open
sea at a distance of six miles from the shore, the shallowness of the
water far out around the mouth of the great river not permitting, in
safety, a nearer approach; and, the signal was hoisted for a pilot. It
was with deep interest that my companion and myself, both now about to
see and examine the beauties of a tropical country for the first time,
gazed on the land where I, at least, eventually spent eleven of the
best years of my life. To the eastward the country was not remarkable
in appearance, being slightly undulating, with bare sand-hills and
scattered trees; but to the westward, stretching towards the mouth of
the river, we could see through the captain’s glass a long line of
forest, rising apparently out of the water; a densely-packed mass of
tall trees, broken into groups, and finally into single trees, as it
dwindled away in the distance. This was the frontier, in this
direction, of the great primaeval forest characteristic of this region,
which contains so many wonders in its recesses, and clothes the whole
surface of the country for two thousand miles from this point to the
foot of the Andes.
On the following day and night we sailed, with a light wind, partly
aided by the tide, up the Pará river. Towards evening we passed Vigia
and Colares, two fishing villages, and saw many native canoes, which
seemed like toys beneath the lofty walls of dark forest. The air was
excessively close, the sky overcast, and sheet lightning played almost
incessantly around the horizon—an appropriate greeting on the threshold
of a country lying close under the equator! The evening was calm, this
being the season when the winds are not strong, so we glided along in a
noiseless manner, which contrasted pleasantly with the unceasing
turmoil to which we had been lately accustomed on the Atlantic. The
immensity of the river struck us greatly, for although sailing
sometimes at a distance of eight or nine miles from the eastern bank,
the opposite shore was at no time visible. Indeed, the Pará river is
thirty-six miles in breadth at its mouth; and at the city of Pará,
nearly seventy miles from the sea, it is twenty miles wide; but at that
point, a series of islands commences which contracts the riverview in
front of the port.
On the morning of the 28th of May, we arrived at our destination. The
appearance of the city at sunrise was pleasing in the highest degree.
It is built on a low tract of land, having only one small rocky
elevation at its southern extremity; it, therefore, affords no
amphitheatral view from the river; but the white buildings roofed with
red tiles, the numerous towers and cupolas of churches and convents,
the crowns of palm-trees reared above the buildings, all sharply
defined against the clear blue sky, give an appearance of lightness and
cheerfulness which is most exhilarating. The perpetual forest hems the
city in on all sides landwards; and towards the suburbs, picturesque
country houses are seen scattered about, half buried in luxuriant
foliage. The port was full of native canoes and other vessels, large
and small; and the ringing of bells and firing of rockets, announcing
the dawn of some Roman Catholic festival day, showed that the
population was astir at that early hour.
We went ashore in due time, and were kindly received by Mr. Miller, the
consignee of the vessel, who invited us to make his house our home
until we could obtain a suitable residence. On landing, the hot moist
mouldy air, which seemed to strike from the ground and walls, reminded
me of the atmosphere of tropical stoves at Kew. In the course of the
afternoon a heavy shower fell, and in the evening, the atmosphere
having been cooled by the rain, we walked about a mile out of town to
the residence of an American gentleman to whom our host wished to
introduce us.
The impressions received during this first walk can never wholly fade
from my mind. After traversing the few streets of tall, gloomy,
convent-looking buildings near the port, inhabited chiefly by merchants
and shopkeepers, along which idle soldiers, dressed in shabby uniforms
carrying their muskets carelessly over their arms, priests, negresses
with red water-jars on their heads, sad-looking Indian women carrying
their naked children astride on their hips, and other samples of the
motley life of the place, we passed down a long narrow street leading
to the suburbs. Beyond this, our road lay across a grassy common into a
picturesque lane leading to the virgin forest. The long street was
inhabited by the poorer class of the population. The houses were of one
story only, and had an irregular and mean appearance. The windows were
without glass, having, instead, projecting lattice casements. The
street was unpaved, and inches deep in loose sand. Groups of people
were cooling themselves outside their doors—people of all shades in
colour of skin, European, Negro and Indian, but chiefly an uncertain
mixture of the three. Amongst them were several handsome women dressed
in a slovenly manner, barefoot or shod in loose slippers, but wearing
richly-decorated earrings, and around their necks strings of very large
gold beads. They had dark expressive eyes, and remarkably rich heads of
hair. It was a mere fancy, but I thought the mingled squalor,
luxuriance and beauty of these women were pointedly in harmony with the
rest of the scene—so striking, in the view, was the mixture of natural
riches and human poverty. The houses were mostly in a dilapidated
condition, and signs of indolence and neglect were visible everywhere.
The wooden palings which surrounded the weed-grown gardens were strewn
about and broken; hogs, goats, and ill-fed poultry wandered in and out
through the gaps. But amidst all, and compensating every defect, rose
the overpowering beauty of the vegetation. The massive dark crowns of
shady mangos were seen everywhere amongst the dwellings, amidst
fragrant blossoming orange, lemon, and many other tropical fruit trees,
some in flower, others in fruit, at varying stages of ripeness. Here
and there, shooting above the more dome-like and sombre trees, were the
smooth columnar stems of palms, bearing aloft their magnificent crowns
of finely-cut fronds. Amongst the latter the slim assai-palm was
especially noticeable, growing in groups of four or five; its smooth,
gently-curving stem, twenty to thirty feet high, terminating in a head
of feathery foliage, inexpressibly light and elegant in outline. On the
boughs of the taller and more ordinary-looking trees sat tufts of
curiously- leaved parasites. Slender, woody lianas hung in festoons
from the branches, or were suspended in the form of cords and ribbons;
whilst luxuriant creeping plants overran alike tree-trunks, roofs and
walls, or toppled over palings in a copious profusion of foliage. The
superb banana (Musa paradisiaca), of which I had always read as forming
one of the charms of tropical vegetation, grew here with great
luxuriance—its glossy velvety-green leaves, twelve feet in length,
curving over the roofs of verandahs in the rear of every house. The
shape of the leaves, the varying shades of green which they present
when lightly moved by the wind, and especially the contrast they afford
in colour and form to the more sombre hues and more rounded outline of
the other trees, are quite sufficient to account for the charm of this
glorious tree. Strange forms of vegetation drew our attention at almost
every step. Amongst them were the different kinds of Bromelia, or
pine-apple plants, with their long, rigid, sword-shaped leaves, in some
species jagged or toothed along their edges. Then there was the
bread-fruit tree—an importation, it is true; but remarkable from its
large, glossy, dark green, strongly digitated foliage, and its
interesting history. Many other trees and plants, curious in leaf,
stem, or manner of growth, grew on the borders of the thickets along
which lay our road; they were all attractive to newcomers, whose last
country ramble of quite recent date was over the bleak moors of
Derbyshire on a sleety morning in April.
As we continued our walk the brief twilight commenced, and the sounds
of multifarious life came from the vegetation around. The whirring of
cicadas; the shrill stridulation of a vast number and variety of field
crickets and grasshoppers, each species sounding its peculiar note; the
plaintive hooting of tree frogs—all blended together in one continuous
ringing sound—the audible expression of the teeming profusion of
Nature. As night came on, many species of frogs and toads in the marshy
places joined in the chorus—their croaking and drumming, far louder
than anything I had before heard in the same line, being added to the
other noises, created an almost deafening din. This uproar of life, I
afterwards found, never wholly ceased, night or day. In the course of
time I became, like other residents, accustomed to it. It is, however,
one of the peculiarities of a tropical—at least, a Brazilian—climate
which is most likely to surprise a stranger. After my return to
England, the deathlike stillness of summer days in the country appeared
to me as strange as the ringing uproar did on my first arrival at Pará.
The object of our visit being accomplished, we returned to the city.
The fire-flies were then out in great numbers, flitting about the
sombre woods, and even the frequented streets. We turned into our
hammocks, well pleased with what we had seen, and full of anticipation
with regard to the wealth of natural objects we had come to explore.
During the first few days, we were employed in landing our baggage and
arranging our extensive apparatus. We then accepted the invitation of
Mr. Miller to make use of his rocinha, or country-house in the suburbs,
until we finally decided on a residence. Upon this, we made our first
essay in housekeeping. We bought cotton hammocks, the universal
substitute for beds in this country, cooking utensils and crockery, and
engaged a free negro, named Isidoro, as cook and servant-of-all-work.
Our first walks were in the immediate suburbs of Pará. The city lies on
a corner of land formed by the junction of the river Guam&a with the
Pará. As I have said before, the forest, which covers the whole
country, extends close up to the city streets; indeed, the town is
built on a tract of cleared land, and is kept free from the jungle only
by the constant care of the Government. The surface, though everywhere
low, is slightly undulating, so that areas of dry land alternate
throughout with areas of swampy ground, the vegetation and animal
tenants of the two being widely different. Our residence lay on the
side of the city nearest the Guamá, on the borders of one of the low
and swampy areas which here extends over a portion of the suburbs. The
tract of land is intersected by well-macadamised suburban roads, the
chief of which, the Estrada das Mongubeiras (the Monguba road), about a
mile long, is a magnificent avenue of silk-cotton trees (Bombax monguba
and B. ceiba), huge trees whose trunks taper rapidly from the ground
upwards, and whose flowers before opening look like red balls studding
the branches. This fine road was constructed under the governorship of
the Count dos Arcos, about the year 1812. At right angles to it run a
number of narrow green lanes, and the whole district is drained by a
system of small canals or trenches through which the tide ebbs and
flows, showing the lowness of the site. Before I left the country,
other enterprising presidents had formed a number of avenues lined with
cocoa-nut palms, almond and other trees, in continuation of the Monguba
road, over the more elevated and drier ground to the north-east of the
city. On the high ground the vegetation has an aspect quite different
from that which it presents in the swampy parts. Indeed, with the
exception of the palm-trees, the suburbs here have an aspect like that
of a village green at home. The soil is sandy, and the open commons are
covered with a short grassy and shrubby vegetation. Beyond this, the
land again descends to a marshy tract, where, at the bottom of the
moist hollows, the public wells are situated. Here all the linen of the
city is washed by hosts of noisy negresses, and here also the
water-carts are filled—painted hogsheads on wheels, drawn by bullocks.
In early morning, when the sun sometimes shines through a light mist,
and everything is dripping with moisture, this part of the city is full
of life; vociferous negroes and wrangling Gallegos,[1] the proprietors
of the water-carts, are gathered about, jabbering continually, and
taking their morning drams in dirty wine-shops at the street corners.
[1] Natives of Galicia, in Spain, who follow this occupation in Lisbon
and Oporto, as well as at Pará.
Along these beautiful roads we found much to interest us during the
first few days. Suburbs of towns, and open, sunny cultivated places in
Brazil, are tenanted by species of animals and plants which are mostly
different from those of the dense primaeval forests. I will, therefore,
give an account of what we observed of the animal world during our
explorations in the immediate neighbourhood of Pará.
The number and beauty of the birds and insects did not at first equal
our expectations. The majority of the birds we saw were small and
obscurely coloured; they were indeed similar, in general appearance, to
such as are met with in country places in England. Occasionally a flock
of small parroquets, green, with a patch of yellow on the forehead,
would come at early morning to the trees near the Estrada. They would
feed quietly, sometimes chattering in subdued tones, but setting up a
harsh scream, and flying off, on being disturbed. Humming-birds we did
not see at this time, although I afterwards found them by hundreds when
certain trees were in flower. Vultures we only saw at a distance,
sweeping round at a great height, over the public slaughter-houses.
Several flycatchers, finches, ant-thrushes, a tribe of plainly-coloured
birds, intermediate in structure between flycatchers and thrushes, some
of which startle the new-comer by their extraordinary notes emitted
from their places of concealment in the dense thickets; and also
tanagers, and other small birds, inhabited the neighbourhood. None of
these had a pleasing song, except a little brown wren (Troglodytes
furvus), whose voice and melody resemble those of our English robin. It
is often seen hopping and climbing about the walls and roofs of houses
and on trees in their vicinity. Its song is more frequently heard in
the rainy season, when the Monguba trees shed their leaves. At those
times the Estrada das Mongubeiras has an appearance quite unusual in a
tropical country. The tree is one of the few in the Amazon region which
sheds all its foliage before any of the new leaf-buds expand. The naked
branches, the sodden ground matted with dead leaves, the grey mist
veiling the surrounding vegetation, and the cool atmosphere soon after
sunrise, all combine to remind one of autumnal mornings in England.
Whilst loitering about at such times in a half-oblivious mood, thinking
of home, the song of this bird would create for the moment a perfect
illusion. Numbers of tanagers frequented the fruit and other trees in
our garden. The two principal kinds which attracted our attention were
the Rhamphocoelus Jacapa and the Tanagra Episcopus. The females of both
are dull in colour, but the male of Jacapa has a beautiful velvety
purple and black plumage, the beak being partly white, whilst the same
sex in Episcopus is of a pale blue colour, with white spots on the
wings. In their habits they both resemble the common house- sparrow of
Europe, which does not exist in South America, its place being in some
measure filled by these familiar tanagers. They are just as lively,
restless, bold, and wary; their notes are very similar, chirping and
inharmonious, and they seem to be almost as fond of the neighbourhood
of man. They do not, however, build their nests on houses.
Another interesting and common bird was the Japim, a species of
Cassicus (C. icteronotus). It belongs to the same family of birds as
our starling, magpie, and rook—it has a rich yellow and black plumage,
remarkably compact and velvety in texture. The shape of its head and
its physiognomy are very similar to those of the magpie; it has light
grey eyes, which give it the same knowing expression. It is social in
its habits, and builds its nest, like the English rook, on trees in the
neighbourhood of habitations. But the nests are quite differently
constructed, being shaped like purses, two feet in length, and
suspended from the slender branches all around the tree, some of them
very near the ground. The entrance is on the side near the bottom of
the nest. The bird is a great favourite with the Brazilians of Pará—it
is a noisy, stirring, babbling creature, passing constantly to and fro,
chattering to its comrades, and is very ready at imitating other birds,
especially the domestic poultry of the vicinity. There was at one time
a weekly newspaper published at Pará, called _ The Japim_; the name
being chosen, I suppose, on account of the babbling propensities of the
bird. Its eggs are nearly round, and of a bluish-white colour, speckled
with brown.
Of other vertebrate animals we saw very little, except of the lizards.
These are sure to attract the attention of the newcomer from Northern
Europe, by reason of their strange appearance, great numbers, and
variety. The species which are seen crawling over the walls of
buildings in the city are different from those found in the forest or
in the interior of houses. They are unpleasant- looking animals, with
colours assimilated to those of the dilapidated stone and mud walls on
which they are seen. The house lizards belong to a peculiar family, the
Geckos, and are found even in the best-kept chambers, most frequently
on the walls and ceilings, to which they cling motionless by day, being
active only at night. They are of speckled grey or ashy colours. The
structure of their feet is beautifully adapted for clinging to and
running over smooth surfaces; the underside of their toes being
expanded into cushions, beneath which folds of skin form a series of
flexible plates. By means of this apparatus they can walk or run across
a smooth ceiling with their backs downwards; the plated soles, by quick
muscular action, exhausting and admitting air alternately. The Geckos
are very repulsive in appearance. The Brazilians give them the name of
Osgas, and firmly believe them to be poisonous; they are, however,
harmless creatures. Those found in houses are small; but I have seen
others of great size, in crevices of tree trunks in the forest.
Sometimes Geckos are found with forked tails; this results from the
budding of a rudimentary tail at the side, from an injury done to the
member. A slight rap will cause their tails to snap off; the loss being
afterwards partially repaired by a new growth. The tails of lizards
seem to be almost useless appendages to these animals. I used often to
amuse myself in the suburbs, whilst resting in the verandah of our
house during the heat of mid-day, by watching the variegated green,
brown, and yellow ground-lizards. They would come nimbly forward, and
commence grubbing with their forefeet and snouts around the roots of
herbage, searching for insect larvae. On the slightest alarm, they
would scamper off, their tails cocked up in the air as they waddled
awkwardly away, evidently an incumbrance to them in their flight.
Next to the birds and lizards, the insects of the suburbs of Pará
deserve a few remarks. The species observed in the weedy and open
places, as already remarked, were generally different from those which
dwell in the shades of the forest. In the gardens, numbers of fine
showy butterflies were seen. There were two swallow-tailed species,
similar in colours to the English Papilio Machaon; a white Pieris (P.
Monuste), and two or three species of brimstone and orange coloured
butterflies, which do not belong, however, to the same genus as our
English species. In weedy places a beautiful butterfly, with eye-like
spots on its wings was common, the Junonia Lavinia, the only Amazonian
species which is at all nearly related to our Vanessas, the Admiral and
Peacock Butterflies. One day, we made our first acquaintance with two
of the most beautiful productions of nature in this department—namely,
the Helicopis Cupido and Endymion. A little beyond our house, one of
the narrow green lanes which I have already mentioned diverged from the
Monguba avenue, and led, between enclosures overrun with a profusion of
creeping plants and glorious flowers, down to a moist hollow, where
there was a public well in a picturesque nook, buried in a grove of
Mucajá palm-trees. On the tree trunks, walls, and palings, grew a great
quantity of climbing Pothos plants, with large glossy heart-shaped
leaves. These plants were the resort of these two exquisite species,
and we captured a great number of specimens. They are of extremely
delicate texture. The wings are cream-coloured, the hind pair have
several tail-like appendages, and are spangled beneath as if with
silver. Their flight is very slow and feeble; they seek the protected
under-surface of the leaves, and in repose close their wings over the
back, so as to expose the brilliantly spotted under-surface.
I will pass over the many other orders and families of insects, and
proceed at once to the ants. These were in great numbers everywhere,
but I will mention here only two kinds. We were amazed at seeing ants
an inch and a quarter in length, and stout in proportion, marching in
single file through the thickets. These belonged to the species called
Dinoponera grandis. Its colonies consist of a small number of
individuals, and are established about the roots of slender trees. It
is a stinging species, but the sting is not so severe as in many of the
smaller kinds. There was nothing peculiar or attractive in the habits
of this giant amongst the ants. Another far more interesting species
was the Saüba (Œcodoma cephalotes). This ant is seen everywhere about
the suburbs, marching to and fro in broad columns. From its habit of
despoiling the most valuable cultivated trees of their foliage, it is a
great scourge to the Brazilians. In some districts it is so abundant
that agriculture is almost impossible, and everywhere complaints are
heard of the terrible pest.
Saüba or Leaf-carrying ant.—1. Worker-minor; 2. Worker-major; 3.
Subterranean worker.
The workers of this species are of three orders, and vary in size from
two to seven lines; some idea of them may be obtained from the
accompanying woodcut. The true working-class of a colony is formed by
the small-sized order of workers, the worker-minors as they are called
(Fig. 1). The two other kinds, whose functions, as we shall see, are
not yet properly understood, have enormously swollen and massive heads;
in one (Fig. 2), the head is highly polished; in the other (Fig. 3), it
is opaque and hairy. The worker-minors vary greatly in size, some being
double the bulk of others. The entire body is of very solid
consistency, and of a pale reddish-brown colour. The thorax or middle
segment is armed with three pairs of sharp spines; the head, also, has
a pair of similar spines proceeding from the cheeks behind.
In our first walks we were puzzled to account for large mounds of
earth, of a different colour from the surrounding soil, which were
thrown up in the plantations and woods. Some of them were very
extensive, being forty yards in circumference, but not more than two
feet in height. We soon ascertained that these were the work of the
Saübas, being the outworks, or domes, which overlie and protect the
entrances to their vast subterranean galleries. On close examination, I
found the earth of which they are composed to consist of very minute
granules, agglomerated without cement, and forming many rows of little
ridges and turrets. The difference in colour from the superficial soil
of the vicinity is owing to their being formed of the undersoil,
brought up from a considerable depth. It is very rarely that the ants
are seen at work on these mounds; the entrances seem to be generally
closed; only now and then, when some particular work is going on, are
the galleries opened. The entrances are small and numerous; in the
larger hillocks it would require a great amount of excavation to get at
the main galleries; but, I succeeded in removing portions of the dome
in smaller hillocks, and then I found that the minor entrances
converged, at the depth of about two feet, into one broad,
elaborately-worked gallery or mine, which was four or five inches in
diameter.
This habit of the Saüba ant, of clipping and carrying away immense
quantities of leaves, has long been recorded in books on natural
history. When employed on this work, their processions look like a
multitude of animated leaves on the march. In some places I found an
accumulation of such leaves, all circular pieces, about the size of a
sixpence, lying on the pathway, unattended by ants, and at some
distance from any colony. Such heaps are always found to be removed
when the place is revisited the next day. In course of time I had
plenty of opportunities of seeing them at work. They mount the tree in
multitudes, the individuals being all worker-minors. Each one places
itself on the surface of a leaf, and cuts, with its sharp scissor-like
jaws, a nearly semicircular incision on the upper side; it then takes
the edge between its jaws, and by a sharp jerk detaches the piece.
Sometimes they let the leaf drop to the ground, where a little heap
accumulates, until carried off by another relay of workers; but,
generally, each marches off with the piece it has operated upon, and as
all take the same road to their colony, the path they follow becomes in
a short time smooth and bare, looking like the impression of a
cartwheel through the herbage.
It is a most interesting sight to see the vast host of busy diminutive
labourers occupied on this work. Unfortunately, they choose cultivated
trees for their purpose. This ant is quite peculiar to Tropical
America, as is the entire genus to which it belongs; it sometimes
despoils the young trees of species growing wild in its native forests,
but seems to prefer, when within reach, plants imported from other
countries, such as the coffee and orange trees. It has not hitherto
been shown satisfactorily to what use it applies the leaves. I
discovered this only after much time spent in investigation. The leaves
are used to thatch the domes which cover the entrances to their
subterranean dwellings, thereby protecting from the deluging rains the
young broods in the nests beneath. The larger mounds, already
described, are so extensive that few persons would attempt to remove
them for the purpose of examining their interior; but smaller hillocks,
covering other entrances to the same system of tunnels and chambers,
may be found in sheltered places, and these are always thatched with
leaves, mingled with granules of earth. The heavily- laden workers,
each carrying its segment of leaf vertically, the lower edge secured in
its mandibles, troop up and cast their burdens on the hillock; another
relay of labourers place the leaves in position, covering them with a
layer of earthy granules, which are brought one by one from the soil
beneath.
The underground abodes of this wonderful ant are known to be very
extensive. The Rev. Hamlet Clark has related that the Saüba of Rio de
Janeiro, a species closely allied to ours, has excavated a tunnel under
the bed of the river Paráhyba, at a place where it is broad as the
Thames at London Bridge. At the Magoary Rice Mills, near Pará, these
ants once pierced the embankment of a large reservoir; the great body
of water which it contained escaped before the damage could be
repaired. In the Botanic Gardens, at Pará, an enterprising French
gardener tried all he could think of to extirpate the Saüba. With this
object, he made fires over some of the main entrances to their
colonies, and blew the fumes of sulphur down the galleries by means of
bellows. I saw the smoke issue from a great number of outlets, one of
which was seventy yards distant from the place where the bellows were
used. This shows how extensively the underground galleries are
ramified.
Besides injuring and destroying young trees by despoiling them of their
foliage, the Saüba ant is troublesome to the inhabitants from its habit
of plundering the stores of provisions in houses at night, for it is
even more active by night than in the day-time. At first I was inclined
to discredit the stories of their entering habitations and carrying off
grain by grain the farinha or mandioca meal, the bread of the poorer
classes of Brazil. At length, whilst residing at an Indian village on
the Tapajos, I had ample proof of the fact. One night my servant woke
me three or four hours before sunrise, by calling out that the rats
were robbing the farinha baskets—the article at that time being scarce
and dear. I got up, listened, and found the noise was very unlike that
made by rats. So, I took the light and went into the store- room, which
was close to my sleeping-place. I there found a broad column of Sauba
ants, consisting of thousands of individuals, as busy as possible,
passing to and fro between the door and my precious baskets. Most of
those passing outwards were laden each with a grain of farinha, which
was, in some cases, larger and many times heavier than the bodies of
the carriers. Farinha consists of grains of similar size and appearance
to the tapioca of our shops; both are products of the same root,
tapioca being the pure starch, and farinha the starch mixed with woody
fibre, the latter ingredient giving it a yellowish colour. It was
amusing to see some of the dwarfs, the smallest members of their
family, staggering along, completely hidden under their load. The
baskets, which were on a high table, were entirely covered with ants,
many hundreds of whom were employed in snipping the dry leaves which
served as lining. This produced the rustling sound which had at first
disturbed us. My servant told me that they would carry off the whole
contents of the two baskets (about two bushels) in the course of the
night, if they were not driven off; so we tried to exterminate them by
killing them with our wooden clogs. It was impossible, however, to
prevent fresh hosts coming in as fast as we killed their companions.
They returned the next night; and I was then obliged to lay trains of
gunpowder along their line, and blow them up. This, repeated many
times, at last seemed to intimidate them, for we were free from their
visits during the remainder of my residence at the place. What they did
with the hard dry grains of mandioca I was never able to ascertain, and
cannot even conjecture. The meal contains no gluten, and therefore
would be useless as cement. It contains only a small relative portion
of starch, and, when mixed with water, it separates and falls away like
so much earthy matter. It may serve as food for the subterranean
workers. But the young or larvae of ants are usually fed by juices
secreted by the worker nurses.
Ants, it is scarcely necessary to observe, consist, in each species, of
three sets of individuals, or, as some express it, of three
sexes—namely, males, females, and workers; the last- mentioned being
undeveloped females. The perfect sexes are winged on their first
attaining the adult state; they alone propagate their kind, flying
away, previous to the act of reproduction, from the nest in which they
have been reared. This winged state of the perfect males and females,
and the habit of flying abroad before pairing, are very important
points in the economy of ants; for they are thus enabled to intercross
with members of distant colonies which swarm at the same time, and
thereby increase the vigour of the race, a proceeding essential to the
prosperity of any species. In many ants, especially those of tropical
climates, the workers, again, are of two classes, whose structure and
functions are widely different. In some species they are wonderfully
unlike each other, and constitute two well-defined forms of workers. In
others, there is a gradation of individuals between the two extremes.
The curious differences in structure and habits between these two
classes form an interesting, but very difficult, study. It is one of
the great peculiarities of the Saüba ant to possess _three_ classes of
workers. My investigations regarding them were far from complete; I
will relate, however, what I have observed on the subject.
When engaged in leaf-cutting, plundering farinha, and other operations,
two classes of workers are always seen (Figs. 1 and 2). They are not,
it is true, very sharply defined in structure, for individuals of
intermediate grades occur. All the work, however, is done by the
individuals which have small heads (Fig. 1), whilst those which have
enormously large heads, the worker-majors (Fig. 2), are observed to be
simply walking about. I could never satisfy myself as to the function
of these worker-majors. They are not the soldiers or defenders of the
working portion of the community, like the armed class in the termites,
or white ants, for they never fight. The species has no sting, and does
not display active resistance when interfered with. I once imagined
they exercised a sort of superintendence over the others; but this
function is entirely unnecessary in a community where all work with a
precision and regularity resembling the subordinate parts of a piece of
machinery. I came to the conclusion, at last, that they have no very
precisely defined function. They cannot, however, be entirely useless
to the community, for the sustenance of an idle class of such bulky
individuals would be too heavy a charge for the species to sustain. I
think they serve, in some sort, as passive instruments of protection to
the real workers. Their enormously large, hard, and indestructible
heads may be of use in protecting them against the attacks of
insectivorous animals. They would be, on this view, a kind of “pieces
de resistance,” serving as a foil against onslaughts made on the main
body of workers.
Sauba Ant.—Female.
The third order of workers is the most curious of all. If the top of a
small, fresh hillock, one in which the thatching process is going on,
is taken off, a broad cylindrical shaft is disclosed at a depth of
about two feet from the surface. If this is probed with a stick, which
may be done to the extent of three or four feet without touching
bottom, a small number of colossal fellows (Fig. 3) will slowly begin
to make their way up the smooth sides of the mine. Their heads are of
the same size as those of the class Fig. 2, but the front is clothed
with hairs, instead of being polished, and they have in the middle of
the forehead a twin, ocellus, or simple eye, of quite different
structure from the ordinary compound eyes, on the sides of the head.
This frontal eye is totally wanting in the other workers, and is not
known in any other kind of ant. The apparition of these strange
creatures from the cavernous depths of the mine reminded me, when I
first observed them, of the Cyclopes of Homeric fable. They were not
very pugnacious, as I feared they would be, and I had no difficulty in
securing a few with my fingers. I never saw them under any other
circumstances than those here related, and what their special functions
may be I cannot divine.
The whole arrangement of a Formicarium, or ant-colony, and all the
varied activity of ant-life, are directed to one main purpose—the
perpetuation and dissemination of the species. Most of the labour which
we see performed by the workers has for its end the sustenance and
welfare of the young brood, which are helpless grubs. The true females
are incapable of attending to the wants of their offspring; and it is
on the poor sterile workers, who are denied all the other pleasures of
maternity, that the entire care devolves. The workers are also the
chief agents in carrying out the different migrations of the colonies,
which are of vast importance to the dispersal and consequent prosperity
of the species. The successful _dé_ but of the winged males and females
depends likewise on the workers. It is amusing to see the activity and
excitement which reigns in an ant’s nest when the exodus of the winged
individuals is taking place. The workers clear the roads of exit, and
show the most lively interest in their departure, although it is highly
improbable that any of them will return to the same colony. The
swarming or exodus of the winged males and females of the Saüba ant
takes place in January and February, that is, at the commencement of
the rainy season. They come out in the evening in vast numbers, causing
quite a commotion in the streets and lanes. They are of very large
size, the female measuring no less than two-and-a-quarter inches in
expanse of wing; the male is not much more than half this size. They
are so eagerly preyed upon by insectivorous animals that on the morning
after their flight not an individual is to be seen, a few impregnated
females alone escaping the slaughter to found new colonies.
At the time of our arrival, Pará had not quite recovered from the
effects of a series of revolutions, brought about by the hatred which
existed between the native Brazilians and the Portuguese; the former,
in the end, calling to their aid the Indian and mixed coloured
population. The number of inhabitants of the city had decreased, in
consequence of these disorders, from 24,500 in 1819, to 15,000 in 1848.
Although the public peace had not been broken for twelve years before
the date of our visit, confidence was not yet completely restored, and
the Portuguese merchants and tradesmen would not trust themselves to
live at their beautiful country-houses or rocinhas, which lie embosomed
in the luxuriant shady gardens around the city. No progress had been
made in clearing the second-growth forest which had grown over the once
cultivated grounds, and now reached the end of all the suburban
streets. The place had the aspect of one which had seen better days;
the public buildings, including the palaces of the President and
Bishop, the cathedral, the principal churches and convents, all seemed
constructed on a scale of grandeur far beyond the present requirements
of the city. Streets full of extensive private residences, built in the
Italian style of architecture, were in a neglected condition, weeds and
flourishing young trees growing from large cracks in the masonry. The
large public squares were overgrown with weeds and impassable, on
account of the swampy places which occupied portions of their areas.
Commerce, however, was now beginning to revive, and before I left the
country I saw great improvements, as I shall have to relate towards the
conclusion of this narrative.
The province of which Pará is the capital, was at the time I allude to,
the most extensive in the Brazilian empire, being about 1560 miles in
length from east to west, and about 600 in breadth. Since that
date—namely in 1853—it has been divided into two by the separation of
the Upper Amazons as a distinct province. It formerly constituted a
section, capitania, or governorship of the Portuguese colony.
Originally it was well peopled by Indians, varying much in social
condition according to their tribe, but all exhibiting the same general
physical characters, which are those of the American red man, somewhat
modified by long residence in an equatorial forest country. Most of the
tribes are now extinct or forgotten, at least those which originally
peopled the banks of the main river, their descendants having
amalgamated with the white and negro immigrants:[2] many still exist,
however, in their original state on the Upper Amazons and most of the
branch rivers. On this account, Indians in this province are far more
numerous than elsewhere in Brazil, and the Indian element may be said
to prevail in the mongrel population—the negro proportion being much
smaller than in South Brazil.
[2] The mixed breeds which now form, probably, the greater part of the
population, each have a distinguishing name. Mameluco denotes the
offspring of White with Indian; Mulatto, that of White with Negro;
Cafuzo, the mixture of the Indian and Negro; Curiboco, the cross
between the Cafuzo and the Indian; Xibaro, that between the Cafuzo and
Negro. These are seldom, however, well-demarcated, and all shades of
colour exist; the names are generally applied only approximatively.
The term Creole is confined to negroes born in the country. The
civilised Indian is called Tapuyo or Caboclo.
The city is built on the best available site for a port of entry to the
Amazons region, and must in time become a vast emporium; the northern
shore of the main river, where alone a rival capital could be founded,
is much more difficult of access to vessels, and is besides extremely
unhealthy. Although lying so near the equator (1° 28′ S. lat.) the
climate is not excessively hot. The temperature during three years only
once reached 95° Fahrenheit. The greatest heat of the day, about 2
p.m., ranges generally between 89° and 94°; but on the other hand, the
air is never cooler than 73°, so that a uniformly high temperature
exists, and the mean of the year is 81°. North American residents say
that the heat is not so oppressive as it is in summer in New York and
Philadelphia. The humidity is, of course, excessive, but the rains are
not so heavy and continuous in the wet season as in many other tropical
climates. The country had for a long time a reputation for extreme
salubrity. Since the small-pox in 1819, which attacked chiefly the
Indians, no serious epidemic had visited the province. We were
agreeably surprised to find no danger from exposure to the night air or
residence in the low swampy lands. A few English residents, who had
been established here for twenty or thirty years, looked almost as
fresh in colour as if they had never left their native country. The
native women, too, seemed to preserve their good looks and plump
condition until late in life. I nowhere observed that early decay of
appearance in Brazilian ladies, which is said to be so general in the
women of North America. Up to 1848 the salubrity of Pará was quite
remarkable for a city lying in the delta of a great river, in the
middle of the tropics and half surrounded by swamps. It did not much
longer enjoy its immunity from epidemics. In 1850 the yellow fever
visited the province for the first time, and carried off in a few weeks
more than four per cent of the population. One disease after another
succeeded, until in 1855 cholera swept through the country and caused
fearful havoc. Since then, the healthfulness of the climate has been
gradually restored, and it is now fast recovering its former good
reputation. Pará is free from serious endemic disorders, and was once a
resort of invalids from New York and Massachusetts. The equable
temperature, the perpetual verdure, the coolness of the dry season when
the sun’s heat is tempered by the strong sea- breezes and the
moderation of the periodical rains, make the climate one of the most
enjoyable on the face of the earth.
The province is governed, like all others in the empire, by a
President, as chief civil authority. At the time of our arrival he also
held, exceptionally, the chief military command. This functionary,
together with the head of the police administration and the judges, is
nominated by the central Government at Rio Janeiro. The municipal and
internal affairs are managed by a provincial assembly elected by the
people. Every villa or borough throughout the province also possesses
its municipal council, and in thinly-populated districts the
inhabitants choose every four years a justice of the peace, who
adjudicates in small disputes between neighbours. A system of popular
education exists, and every village has its school of first letters,
the master being paid by the government, the salary amounting to about
£70, or the same sum as the priests receive. Besides common schools, a
well-endowed classical seminary is maintained at Pará, to which the
sons of most of the planters and traders in the interior are sent to
complete their education. The province returns its quota of members
every four years to the lower and upper houses of the imperial
parliament. Every householder has a vote. Trial by jury has been
established, the jurymen being selected from householders, no matter
what their race or colour; and I have seen the white merchant, the
negro husbandman, the mameluco, the mulatto, and the Indian, all
sitting side by side on the same bench. Altogether the constitution of
government in Brazil seems to combine happily the principles of local
self-government and centralisation, and only requires a proper degree
of virtue and intelligence in the people to lead the nation to great
prosperity.
The province of Pará, or, as we may now say, the two provinces of Pará
and the Amazons, contain an area of 800,000 square miles, the
population of which is only about 230,000, or in the ratio of one
person to four square miles! The country is covered with forests, and
the soil is fertile in the extreme, even for a tropical country. It is
intersected throughout by broad and deep navigable rivers. It is the
pride of the Paráenses to call the Amazons the Mediterranean of South
America. The colossal stream perhaps deserves the name, for not only
have the main river and its principal tributaries an immense expanse of
water bathing the shores of extensive and varied regions, but there is
also throughout a system of back channels, connected with the main
rivers by narrow outlets and linking together a series of lakes, some
of which are fifteen, twenty, and thirty miles in length. The whole
Amazons valley is thus covered by a network of navigable waters,
forming a vast inland freshwater sea with endless ramifications—rather
than a river.
The city of Pará was founded in 1615, and was a place of considerable
importance towards the latter half of the eighteenth century, under the
government of the brother of Pombal, the famous Portuguese statesman.
The province was the last in Brazil to declare its independence of the
mother-country and acknowledge the authority of the first emperor, Don
Pedro. This was owing to the great numbers and influence of the
Portuguese, and the rage of the native party was so great in
consequence, that immediately after independence was proclaimed in
1823, a counter revolution broke out, during which many hundred lives
were lost and much hatred engendered. The antagonism continued for many
years, partial insurrections taking place when the populace thought
that the immigrants from Portugal were favoured by the governors sent
from the capital of the empire. At length, in 1835, a serious revolt
took place which in a short time involved the entire province. It began
by the assassination of the President and the leading members of the
government; the struggle was severe, and the native party in an evil
hour called to their aid the ignorant and fanatic part of the mongrel
and Indian population. The cry of death to the Portuguese was soon
changed to death to the freemasons, then a powerfully organised society
embracing the greater part of the male white inhabitants. The
victorious native party endeavoured to establish a government of their
own. After this state of things had endured six months, they accepted a
new President sent from Rio Janeiro, who, however, again irritated them
by imprisoning their favourite leader, Vinagre. The revenge which
followed was frightful. A vast host of half- savage coloured people
assembled in the retired creeks behind Pará, and on a day fixed, after
Vinagre’s brother had sent a message three times to the President
demanding, in vain, the release of their leader, the whole body poured
into the city through the gloomy pathways of the forest which encircles
it. A cruel battle, lasting nine days, was fought in the streets; an
English, French, and Portuguese man-of-war, from the side of the river,
assisting the legal authorities. All the latter, however, together with
every friend of peace and order, were finally obliged to retire to an
island a few miles distant. The city and province were given up to
anarchy; the coloured people, elated with victory, proclaimed the
slaughter of all whites, except the English, French, and American
residents. The mistaken principals who had first aroused all this
hatred of races were obliged now to make their escape. In the interior,
the supporters of lawful authority including, it must be stated, whole
tribes of friendly Indians and numbers of the better disposed negroes
and mulattos, concentrated themselves in certain strong positions and
defended themselves, until the reconquest of the capital and large
towns of the interior in 1836 by a force sent from Rio Janeiro—after
ten months of anarchy.
Years of conciliatory government, the lesson learned by the native
party and the moderation of the Portuguese, aided by the indolence and
passive goodness of the Paráenses of all classes and colours, were only
beginning to produce their good effects about the time I am speaking
of. Life, however, was now and had been for some time quite safe
throughout the country. Some few of the worst characters had been
transported or imprisoned, and the remainder, after being pardoned,
were converted once more into quiet and peaceable citizens.
I resided at Pará nearly a year and a half altogether, returning
thither and making a stay of a few months after each of my shorter
excursions into the interior, until the 6th of November, 1851, when I
started on my long voyage to the Tapajos and the Upper Amazons, which
occupied me seven years and a half. I became during this time tolerably
familiar with the capital of the Amazons region, and its inhabitants.
Compared with other Brazilian seaport towns, I was always told, Pará
shone to great advantage. It was cleaner, the suburbs were fresher,
more rural and much pleasanter on account of their verdure, shade, and
magnificent vegetation. The people were simpler, more peaceable and
friendly in their manners and dispositions; and assassinations, which
give the southern provinces so ill a reputation, were almost unknown.
At the same time the Pará people were much inferior to Southern
Brazilians in energy and industry. Provisions and house rents being
cheap and the wants of the people few—for they were content with food
and lodging of a quality which would be spurned by paupers in
England—they spent the greater part of their time in sensual
indulgences and in amusements which the government and wealthier
citizens provided for them gratis. The trade, wholesale and retail, was
in the hands of the Portuguese, of whom there were about 2500 in the
place. Many handicrafts were exercised by coloured people, mulattos,
mamelucos, free negroes, and Indians. The better sort of Brazilians
dislike the petty details of shop-keeping, and if they cannot be
wholesale merchants, prefer the life of planters in the country,
however small may be the estate and the gains. The negroes constituted
the class of field-labourers and porters; Indians were universally the
watermen, and formed the crews of the numberless canoes of all sizes
and shapes which traded between Pará and the interior. The educated
Brazilians, not many of whom are of pure Caucasian descent—for the
immigration of Portuguese, for many years, has been almost exclusively
of the male sex—are courteous, lively, and intelligent people. They
were gradually weaning themselves of the ignorant, bigoted notions
which they inherited from their Portuguese ancestors, especially those
entertained with regard to the treatment of women. Formerly, the
Portuguese would not allow their wives to go into society, or their
daughters to learn reading and writing. In 1848, Brazilian ladies were
only just beginning to emerge from this inferior position, and
Brazilian fathers were opening their eyes to the advantages of
education for their daughters. Reforms of this kind are slow. It is,
perhaps, in part owing to the degrading position always held by women,
that the relations between the sexes were, and are still, on so
unsatisfactory a footing, and private morality at so low an ebb, in
Brazil. In Pará, I believe that an improvement is now taking place, but
formerly promiscuous intercourse seemed to be the general rule amongst
all classes, and intrigues and love-making the serious business of the
greater part of the population. That this state of things is a
necessity depending on the climate and institutions I do not believe,
as I have resided at small towns in the interior, where the habits, and
the general standard of morality of the inhabitants, were as pure as
they are in similar places in England.