Berbische.
Eager anticipation tracing in my mind all that we were to see, hear, and
acquire at Savonette, I had scarcely closed my eyes before it was time
again to open them. The period allowed to us, by the arrangements of
Messrs. Heynemann, Fenner, and Paùels, was very limited; fearing,
therefore, to lose the smallest portion of the allotted hours, I was up
and abroad before my companions. It was seven o’clock. Vandyke had risen
with the sun, and now came to offer himself to our command. Our
non-commissioned interpreter was also ready, and obedient to our will.
As soon as my comrades left their hammocks, we took our breakfasts of
coffee and cassada bread; and, without further delay, set forth into the
woods, in search of the Indian town; to visit which was the great
purpose of our journey to Savonette.
Entering the forest, the first thing that attracted our notice was a
cluster of wild pines, growing ten or twelve feet high. Our path was
good. Although pleasantly shaded at each side, it was not so narrow as
to confine us to the usual Indian file. It more resembled the open
ridings which embellish the woods of England. The scene was new; and
every object created a lively interest. Expectation was ardent, and on
the point of being gratified. It was a walk of nearly a mile to the
Indian town. Feeling anxious to avoid every possible cause of offence,
we begged of Vandyke to instruct us in such rules of conduct, as it
might be proper to maintain towards the naked tribe; but he did not
consider any precautions necessary: being himself familiar with these
natives of the woods, he left us to our own discretion, and assured us a
civil, if not a polite reception. On our arrival he led us directly into
the simple buildings which are used for houses. No ceremony was
observed: neither rapping at the door, nor ringing at the bell was
required. “Parlez au Suisse” offered no impediment, nor delay. Vandyke
advanced, and the party was at once amidst the family. You will believe
that our attention was active. Not a house, a hut, or a hammock escaped
us. Not an article of furniture, not an implement, or utensil; not a
step of ground; not a movement, or a look of any inhabitant was
disregarded. We hunted through every corner and place, taking up some
things in our hands, inspecting others, and assailing Vandyke with
questions concerning all. The _Bucks_ were gone into the forest to cut
wood, the _Buckeen_ and their children being left at home. Most of the
women were engaged in one part or other of the process of preparing the
poisonous cassada into food. Wishing to see them in their different
employments, we hastened from hut to hut in the idea of coming upon
them, before their occupations were interrupted by the surprise which we
thought it probable might be excited, from the unexpected arrival of a
party of clothed strangers, among them. But on this head we need have
had no anxiety. Not an individual suffered any interruption from our
presence. The curiosity, by which we were actuated, was in no degree
reciprocal; for scarcely did any one take the trouble even to look
towards us! We passed through their huts, and around their persons, in a
manner unnoticed; and they continued at work, or unemployed, precisely
as we found them! Whether on their legs, whether seated, or lying in
their hammocks, so they remained; no observable change being induced by
our visit.
Added to other gratifications it was in part our object to collect
specimens of natural production, or of Indian workmanship. In our varied
assemblage, was a small and beautiful little animal, called the
lion-monkey; also a Laba, which in appearance somewhat resembles the
hare. Its flesh is esteemed the most delicious food of the country; the
taste of it approaches to a mixed flavour of the hare, and very delicate
pork. It is dressed without casing; the skin being considered the
favorite part. This is very thick, and in cooking becomes gelatinous,
like the calves head, or turtle. The Indians scald off the hair or fur,
then cut the body in pieces, and stew it in cassada juice, seasoning it
very highly with capsicum. Thus prepared, it is extremely good, and if
it could be had in London, might form a dish not unworthy the notice of
a mansion-house purveyor.
Many fine bows and arrows were among the collection which we procured at
this forest village. In one of the huts I fixed my eye upon a small pair
which appeared to be extremely delicate, of exquisite workmanship, and
by far the finest specimen of the kind we had met with. I wished to show
them to my friends in England; and, taking them into my hand, resolved
to purchase them if possible. But I was disappointed, by an unexpected
circumstance, which very much interested me, and which I shall ever
remember with pleasure. Holding the bow and arrow to the naked woman of
the house, I was about to offer money, my pocket-handkerchief, or my
neck-cloth in exchange for them; when a little copper-skinned urchin,
almost covered with long black hair, broke out in such piteous
bewailings, that (although to have had them I would have given almost
any article of my apparel) I was, at once, diverted from every thought
of possessing them. I felt that no terms could induce me to take them,
if at the expense of the tears, and broken-hearted lamentations of the
young archer to whom they belonged. Still I own that I was cruel enough
to prolong the little rogue’s cries and fears, by an experiment upon the
mother. I wished to ascertain the sentiments of an inhabitant of the
rude forest upon such an occasion; and to observe what would be the
conduct exhibited under the circumstances of a son’s distress; I
persevered, therefore, in my seeming attempts to prevail on the woman to
let me have the bow and arrow: but she was true to nature; and her
child’s happiness was the first object of her parent-breast! No offer—no
inducement could tempt her to barter her son’s peace. If her dear
infant’s peace was to be the price, nothing was adequate—nothing could
compensate! The little distressed boy hung about my knees—ran to his
mother—held up an imploring hand—and uttered sad cries of affliction. I
resisted, for a time, the impulse of my feelings—displayed to the woman
my handkerchief, and my pocket-book—offered her money—tried to sooth her
son, and feigned every means of persuasion: but all in vain! She
remained inflexible! Her child was unhappy, and with his comfort there
could be no compromise. It was enough! The experiment was made; and I
was delighted to find that in the wild woods the sacred laws of nature
were not subordinate to all-subduing interest.
I had no desire further to tantalize the little weeping fellow, or his
affectionate mother, therefore gave him the bow and arrow, and made him
happy—compensating the affliction I had caused him, by the
pocket-handkerchief which I had offered as the purchase of his arms. His
grief instantly vanished; but he flew to his mother, and, clinging to
her, did not again venture from her side, whilst we remained in the hut.
Further examples occurred to us evincing the powerful operation of the
affections among these uncivilized people. One of the women pointed out
to our observation the grave of her son; a youth who had destroyed
himself because the mother of a young _buckeen_, of whom he was
enamoured, could not be prevailed upon to let him take her daughter for
his wife. Thus the wily Cupid would seem to wield his bow with equal
prowess amidst the simple beings of the forest, as among the more
pampered swains of crowded society. The son of our afflicted buckeen was
young, and his attachment as pure as it was ardent and disinterested.
Without the adored object of his affections life was insupportable, and
he resolved not to survive the disappointment: deprived of his heart’s
choice, existence lost all its charms, and he yielded himself a victim
to despair! These rude people honored the sentiment. In sad grief his
parents deplored their loss, and the inhabitants of every hut lamented
the fate of the youthful lover. An additional instance of natural
affection and attachment occurred in the solemn observance paid to his
remains, which as an ever-dear and sacred deposit, were entombed within
the chamber where his afflicted parents dwelt!
Like all other tribes, who are ignorant of the comforts and conveniences
of civilization, the Indians of Guiana procure their food from the
rivers, the sea, and the forests. They have no animals domesticated, nor
any grain or roots, except the cassada, brought into cultivation; and
hence they depend very much upon the fortune of the chase for
subsistence. A small species of deer, called _wirrebocerra_, the laba,
and the armadillo are among the animals they most esteem. Crabs and
various kinds of fish are also much used, particularly the former, which
they find in great abundance in the muddy margins of the rivers;
especially at the parts where they open into the sea. When fortunate in
the chase, they indulge their natural indolence by lying in their
hammocks, most of the time, until their provisions are expended: and
when the supply obtained by the bow and arrow is less plentiful, or when
their hunt in the woods happens to prove unsuccessful, they find a
resource in crabs and cassada, which may be considered their staple
articles of consumption. Indeed the latter may be called their _staff of
life_, for it offers a resource when they fail in the chase, and becomes
to them what plantains are to the negroes of these colonies, or potatoes
to Irish peasants. Being the only vegetable they cultivate, it is
usually planted, in a rough and irregular manner, near to their huts.
Very commonly they prepare their food in the form of pepper-pot; their
favorite dishes being crabs, or laba, stewed with cassada juice, and
seasoned extremely hot with red pepper.
I can give testimony to both of these being very rich and good; perhaps
in point of flavour the pepper-pot of crabs claims the preference; but
either might be a feast for an epicure. In one of the huts we saw part
of an armadillo, which had been broiled or roasted in its shell. In
appearance and taste it was not very unlike young pig. Water is their
common drink, but they sometimes use a fermented liquor called
_piworree_, which they make from cassada. This is intoxicating, and has
some resemblance to beer.
The huts are usually constructed like that which we saw near the
landing-place at Savonette. I hope to show you a model of them on my
return, having the promise of one, made by the _Bucks_, with furniture
complete. At the village some of the huts were closed in at the ends;
others were left entirely open. The roofs were neatly thatched with the
leaf of the coco-nut or the mountain-cabbage. Near to the cabins that
were inhabited, we observed a detached building enclosed on all sides,
forming a single room, into which light and air were only admitted at
the door-way. Upon inquiry we learned that this was devoted to the use
of the sick—not as an hospital, but as a temple of incantation, for the
purpose of expelling disease. Their superstition leads them to attribute
sickness to witchcraft, or the visitation of some evil spirit like the
Obeah of the Africans; and having faith in spells, they make little
decorated instruments, of tender rushes about a foot long, which the
physicians, or priests called _Pyeis_, employ, together with other
magical implements, as wands to drive out these demons of ill, which
they term _Yowahoos_. The Pyei is thought to possess a peculiar
influence over the Yowahoo; and by means of dissimulation, and
superstitious forms, the sick and his friends are made to believe that
he holds an intercourse with him, previous to removing the effect of his
malign visitation from his patients. The building seems better
calculated for their more natural remedy, the hot or vapour bath, which
they contrive by throwing water upon a large heated stone, and
enveloping the sick person in the steam.
Around the village the wood had been partially cleared away, and the
scenery of this interesting spot was much improved by several cows
coming out of the thick part of the forest to browse about the open
space. They were the produce of a herd originally brought by M.
Heynemann to Savonette.
After having gratified our curiosity by a long visit, and a minute
inspection of every thing worthy of notice at the Indian town, we were
led, through a close and narrow path, devoid of any turning, either to
the right hand or the left, into the profoundest shades of the forest.
The way was difficult, and we were compelled to follow each other in
single file, throughout the whole length of our walk; which, from the
closeness of the wood, the narrowness of the path, and the consequent
defection of the breeze, was distressingly hot and oppressive. The
object from which we were to expect compensation was ... _a tree_! We
had strong apprehensions that the sight of it might not be an adequate
reward for so fatiguing a walk, but we had thrown ourselves upon the
judgment of Vandyke, desiring him to conduct us to all that might be
gratifying to strangers; we therefore marched on, in tacit obedience,
relying upon his guidance; and our perseverance was amply recompensed by
viewing the great chief of the forest—an enormous tree of the
Tonquin-bean, which appears in lofty and majestic trunk, extending its
high-exalted foliage above the hosts of aspiring rivals that surround
it. The body forms an immense perpendicular pillar rising to the height
of 70 or 80 feet before it throws out a shoot or a bud, then spreading
its wide-expanded branches in proud canopy, so elevated as to protect
from the reach, and even to conceal from the eye, the nuts which contain
its sweet-scented beans. Viewing this huge tree with regard to its
straight and perpendicular trunk, its immense bulk, and, above all, its
prodigious height, it may be considered as one of the finest specimens
of vegetable production growing on the face of the globe. In beauty and
grandeur it is equalled only by the stately mountain-cabbage, whose
noble trunk, and fine palmated foliage, stand unrivalled in the
vegetable world.
The trees grow to a size, in these forests, not easily to be imagined by
persons who have seen only those of the more temperate climate of
Europe. They are tall and stately, and contain a great proportion of
timber, in consequence of running up to an immense height before they
throw off their branches. It is often difficult, and not unfrequently
impossible to reach their fruit, or foliage. The Tonquin-bean tree, when
growing out of the forest, seldom attains to this grandeur of form: it
branches off at a shorter distance from the ground, and in its growth
more resembles the English ash; the bark is somewhat like the poplar,
and the leaves resemble those of the pear. The one we saw had been drawn
up to an unusual height, by growing in a crowd, and was indebted to
health and years for its extraordinary bulk. The nuts containing the
fragrant beans are abundantly plentiful in the forest, and may be picked
up in bushels under the trees, at a certain season of the year. While we
were gazing at this vegetable giant, Vandyke cut on its bark the
initials of our names, and the date of our visit: this necessary
ceremony being duly performed, we trod our way back, by the narrow path,
to the residence of our friendly guide, and there, most gladly, made a
resting-place. But Vandyke was allowed no respite, for we still beset
him with hosts of questions. When he had satisfied our inquiries, and we
learned that Savonette offered no further novelty, we resumed our seats
in the boat, and returned to the abode of the hospitable Heynemann.
Vandyke presented us with a young Kiwihi, an animal which bears some
resemblance to a pig, and is about the size of a large cat, having a
very long tail, marked with alternate rings of black and white hair. He
also gave us several specimens of Indian implements, most of which I
hope to bring to England. Some of the Indians followed us to the
water-side, and put into our boat large baskets filled with fine
water-lemons, which they had gathered from the woods.
On our quitting the shore Vandyke honored our departure with the firing
of cannon. He was a soldier, and in addition to other civilities, felt a
pride in showing to officers, who visited him, every mark of military
respect. We were the more pleased with the compliment, as it afforded us
an unexpected opportunity of hearing the enchanting echo from the
forest.
We were in time to take a late dinner with Mynheer Heynemann, and in the
evening, according to the plan laid down for us, we proceeded to Arends.
M. Paùels was from home, but we found the best arrangements of the
family ordered for our accommodation. We were sumptuously entertained by
a young gentleman, the friend of M. Paùels; and at night were conducted
to very excellent bed-chambers, fitted up more in the style of European
accommodation than any we had seen in the colony.