MOUNTAINS OF NEW ANDALUCIA.
VALLEY OF THE CUMANACOA.
SUMMIT OF THE COCOLLAR.
MISSIONS OF THE CHAYMA INDIANS.
Our first visit to the peninsula of Araya was soon succeeded by an
excursion to the mountains of the missions of the Chayma Indians,
where a variety of interesting objects claimed our attention. We
entered on a country studded with forests, and visited a convent
surrounded by palm-trees and arborescent ferns. It was situated in
a narrow valley, where we felt the enjoyment of a cool and
delicious climate, in the centre of the torrid zone. The
surrounding mountains contain caverns haunted by thousands of
nocturnal birds; and, what affects the imagination more than all
the wonders of the physical world, we find beyond these mountains a
people lately nomad, and still nearly in a state of nature, wild
without being barbarous. It was in the promontory of Paria that
Columbus first descried the continent; there terminate these
valleys, laid waste alternately by the warlike anthropophagic Carib
and by the commercial and polished nations of Europe. At the
beginning of the sixteenth century the ill-fated Indians of the
coasts of Carupano, of Macarapan, and of Caracas, were treated in
the same manner as the inhabitants of the coast of Guinea in our
days. The soil of the islands was cultivated, the vegetable produce
of the Old World was transplanted thither, but a regular system of
colonization remained long unknown on the New Continent. If the
Spaniards visited its shores, it was only to procure, either by
violence or exchange, slaves, pearls, grains of gold, and
dye-woods; and endeavours were made to ennoble the motives of this
insatiable avarice by the pretence of enthusiastic zeal in the
cause of religion.
The trade in the copper-coloured Indians was accompanied by the
same acts of inhumanity as that which characterizes the traffic in
African negroes; it was attended also by the same result, that of
rendering both the conquerors and the conquered more ferocious.
Thence wars became more frequent among the natives; prisoners were
dragged from the inland countries to the coast, to be sold to the
whites, who Loaded them with chains in their ships. Yet the
Spaniards were at that period, and long after, one of the most
polished nations of Europe. The light which art and literature then
shed over Italy, was reflected on every nation whose language
emanated from the same source as that of Dante and Petrarch. It
might have been expected that a general improvement of manners
would be the natural consequence of this noble awakening of the
mind, this sublime soaring of the imagination. But in distant
regions, wherever the thirst of wealth has introduced the abuse of
power, the nations of Europe, at every period of their history,
have displayed the same character. The illustrious era of Leo X was
signalized in the New World by acts of cruelty that seemed to
belong to the most barbarous ages. We are less surprised, however,
at the horrible picture presented by the conquest of America when
we think of the acts that are still perpetrated on the western
coast of Africa, notwithstanding the benefits of a more humane
legislation.
The principles adopted by Charles V had abolished the slave trade
on the New Continent. But the Conquistadores, by the continuation
of their incursions, prolonged the system of petty warfare which
diminished the American population, perpetuated national
animosities, and during a long period crushed the seeds of rising
civilization. At length the missionaries, under the protection of
the secular arm, spoke words of peace. It was the privilege of
religion to console humanity for a part of the evils committed in
its name; to plead the cause of the natives before kings, to resist
the violence of the commendatories, and to assemble wandering
tribes into small communities called Missions.
But these institutions, useful at first in stopping the effusion of
blood, and in laying the first basis of society, have become in
their result hostile to its progress. The effects of this insulated
system have been such that the Indians have remained in a state
little different from that in which they existed whilst yet their
scattered dwellings were not collected round the habitation of a
missionary. Their number has considerably augmented, but the sphere
of their ideas is not enlarged. They have progressively lost that
vigour of character and that natural vivacity which in every state
of society are the noble fruits of independence. By subjecting to
invariable rules even the slightest actions of their domestic life,
they have been rendered stupid by the effort to render them
obedient. Their subsistence is in general more certain, and their
habits more pacific, but subject to the constraint and the dull
monotony of the government of the Missions, they show by their
gloomy and reserved looks that they have not sacrificed their
liberty to their repose without regret.
On the 4th of September, at five in the morning, we began our
journey to the Missions of the Chayma Indians and the group of
lofty mountains which traverse New Andalusia. On account of the
extreme difficulties of the road, we had been advised to reduce our
baggage to a very small bulk. Two beasts of burden were sufficient
to carry our provision, our instruments, and the paper necessary to
dry our plants. One chest contained a sextant, a dipping-needle, an
apparatus to determine the magnetic variation, a few thermometers,
and Saussure's hygrometer. The greatest changes in the pressure of
the air in these climates, on the coasts, amount only to 1 to 1.3
of a line; and if at any given hour or place the height of the
mercury be once marked, the variations which that height
experiences throughout the whole year, at every hour of the day or
night, may with some accuracy be determined.
The morning was deliciously cool. The road, or rather path, which
leads to Cumanacoa, runs along the right bank of the Manzanares,
passing by the hospital of the Capuchins, situated in a small wood
of lignum-vitae and arborescent capparis.* (* These caper-trees are
called in the country, by the names pachaca, olivo, and ajito: they
are the Capparis tenuisiliqua, Jacq., C. ferruginea, C. emarginata,
C. elliptica, C. reticulata, C. racemosa.) On leaving Cumana we
enjoyed during the short duration of the twilight, from the top of
the hill of San Francisco, an extensive view over the sea, the
plain covered with bera* and its golden flowers (* Palo sano,
Zygophyllum arboreum, Jacq. The flowers have the smell of vanilla.
It is cultivated in the gardens of the Havannah under the strange
name of the dictanno real (royal dittany).), and the mountains of
the Brigantine. We were struck by the great proximity in which the
Cordillera appeared before the disk of the rising sun had reached
the horizon. The tint of the summits is of a deeper blue, their
outline is more strongly marked, and their masses are more
detached, as long as the transparency of the air is undisturbed by
the vapours, which, after accumulating during the night in the
valleys, rise in proportion as the atmosphere acquires warmth.
At the hospital of the Divina Pastora the path turns to north-east,
and stretches for two leagues over a soil without trees, and
formerly levelled by the waters. We there found not only cactuses,
tufts of cistus-leaved tribulus, and the beautiful purple
euphorbia,* (* Euphorbia tithymaloides.) but also the avicennia,
the allionia, the sesuvium, the thalinum, and most of the
portulaceous plants which grow on the banks of the gulf of Cariaco.
This geographical distribution of plants appears to designate the
limits of the ancient coast, and to prove that the hills along the
southern side of which we were passing, formed heretofore a small
island, separated from the continent by an arm of the sea.
After walking two hours, we arrived at the foot of the high chain
of the interior mountains, which stretches from east to west; from
the Brigantine to the Cerro de San Lorenzo. There, new rocks
appear, and with them another aspect of vegetation. Every object
assumes a more majestic and picturesque character; the soil,
watered by springs, is furrowed in every direction; trees of
gigantic height, covered with lianas, rise from the ravines; their
bark, black and burnt by the double action of the light and the
oxygen of the atmosphere, contrasts with the fresh verdure of the
pothos and dracontium, the tough and shining leaves of which are
sometimes several feet long. The parasite monocotyledons take
between the tropics the place of the moss and lichens of our
northern zone. As we advanced, the forms and grouping of the rocks
reminded us of Switzerland and the Tyrol. The heliconia, costus,
maranta, and other plants of the family of the balisiers (Canna
indica), which near the coasts vegetate only in damp and low
places, flourish in the American Alps at considerable height. Thus,
by a singular similitude, in the torrid zone, under the influence
of an atmosphere continually loaded with vapours the mountain
vegetation presents the same features as the vegetation of the
marshes in the north of Europe on soil moistened by melting snow.*
(* Wahlenberg, de Vegetatione Helvetiae et summi Septentrionis
pages 47, 59.)
Before we leave the plains of Cumana, and the breccia, or
calcareous sandstone, which constitutes the soil of the seaside, we
will describe the different strata of which this very recent
formation is composed, as we observed it on the back of the hills
that surround the castle of San Antonio.
This breccia, or calcareous sandstone, is a local and partial
formation, peculiar to the peninsula of Araya, the coasts of
Cumana, and Caracas. We again found it at Cabo Blanco, to the west
of the port of Guayra, where it contains, besides broken shells and
madrepores, fragments, often angular, of quartz and gneiss. This
circumstance assimilates the breccia to that recent sandstone
called by the German mineralogists nagelfluhe, which covers so
great a part of Switzerland to the height of a thousand toises,
without presenting any trace of marine productions. Near Cumana the
formation of the calcareous breccia contains:--first, a compact
whitish grey limestone, the strata of which, sometimes horizontal,
sometimes irregularly inclined, are from five to six inches thick;
some beds are almost unmixed with petrifactions, but in the
greatest part the cardites, the turbinites, the ostracites, and
shells of small dimension, are found so closely connected, that the
calcareous matter forms only a cement, by which the grains of
quartz and the organized bodies are united: second, a calcareous
sandstone, in which the grains of sand are much more frequent than
the petrified shells; other strata form a sandstone entirely free
from organic fragments, yielding but a small effervescence with
acids, and enclosing not lamellae of mica, but nodules of compact
brown iron-ore: third, beds of indurated clay containing selenite
and lamellar gypsum.
The breccia, or agglomerate of the sea-coast, just described, has a
white tint, and it lies immediately on the calcareous formation of
Cumanacoa, which is of a bluish grey. These two rocks form a
contrast no less striking than the molasse (bur-stone) of the Pays
de Vaud, with the calcareous limestone of the Jura. It must be
observed, that, by contact of the two formations lying upon each
other, the beds of the limestone of Cumanacoa, which I consider as
an Alpine limestone, are always largely mixed with clay and marl.
Lying, like the mica-slate of Araya, north-east and south-west,
they are inclined, near Punta Delgada, under an angle of 60
degrees to south-east.
We traversed the forest by a narrow path, along a rivulet, which
rolls foaming over a bed of rocks. We observed, that the vegetation
was more brilliant, wherever the Alpine limestone was covered by a
quartzose sandstone without petrifactions, and very different from
the breccia of the sea-coast. The cause of this phenomenon depends
probably not so much on the nature of the ground, as on the greater
humidity of the soil. The quartzose sandstone contains thin strata
of a blackish clay-slate,* (* Schieferthon.) which might easily be
confounded with the secondary thonschiefer; and these strata hinder
the water from filtering into the crevices, of which the Alpine
limestone is full. This last offers to view here, as in Saltzburg,
and on the chain of the Apennines, broken and steep beds. The
sandstone, on the contrary, wherever it is seated on the calcareous
rock, renders the aspect of the scene less wild. The hills which it
forms appear more rounded, and the gentler slopes are covered with
a thicker mould.
In humid places, where the sandstone envelopes the Alpine
limestone, some trace of cultivation is constantly found. We met
with huts inhabited by mestizoes in the ravine of Los Frailes, as
well as between the Cuesta de Caneyes, and the Rio Guriental. Each
of these huts stands in the centre of an enclosure, containing
plantains, papaw-trees, sugar-canes, and maize. We might be
surprised at the small extent of these cultivated spots, if we did
not recollect that an acre planted with plantains* (* Musa
paradisiaca.) produces nearly twenty times as much food as the same
space sown with corn. In Europe, our wheat, barley, and rye cover
vast spaces of ground; and in general the arable lands touch each
other, wherever the inhabitants live upon corn. It is different
under the torrid zone, where man obtains food from plants which
yield more abundant and earlier harvests. In those favoured climes,
the fertility of the soil is proportioned to the heat and humidity
of the atmosphere. An immense population finds abundant nourishment
within a narrow space, covered with plantains, cassava, yams, and
maize. The isolated situation of the huts dispersed through the
forest indicates to the traveller the fecundity of nature, where a
small spot of cultivated land suffices for the wants of several
families.
These considerations on the agriculture of the torrid zone
involuntarily remind us of the intimate connexion existing between
the extent of land cleared, and the progress of society. The
richness of the soil, and the vigour of organic life, by
multiplying the means of subsistence, retard the progress of
nations in the paths of civilization. Under so mild and uniform a
climate, the only urgent want of man is that of food. This want
only, excites him to labour; and we may easily conceive why, in the
midst of abundance, beneath the shade of the plantain and
bread-fruit tree, the intellectual faculties unfold themselves less
rapidly than under a rigorous sky, in the region of corn, where our
race is engaged in a perpetual struggle with the elements. In
Europe we estimate the number of the inhabitants of a country by
the extent of cultivation: within the tropics, on the contrary, in
the warmest and most humid parts of South America, very populous
provinces appear almost deserted; because man, to find nourishment,
cultivates but a small number of acres. These circumstances modify
the physical appearance of the country and the character of its
inhabitants, giving to both a peculiar physiognomy; the wild and
uncultivated stamp which belongs to nature, ere its primitive type
has been altered by art. Without neighbours, almost unconnected
with the rest of mankind, each family of settlers forms a separate
tribe. This insulated state arrests or retards the progress of
civilization, which advances only in proportion as society becomes
numerous, and its connexions more intimate and multiplied. But, on
the other hand, it is solitude that develops and strengthens in man
the sentiment of liberty and independence; and gives birth to that
noble pride of character which has at all times distinguished the
Castilian race.
From these causes, the land in the most populous regions of
equinoctial America still retains a wild aspect, which is destroyed
in temperate climates by the cultivation of corn. Within the
tropics the agricultural nations occupy less ground: man has there
less extended his empire; he may be said to appear, not as an
absolute master, who changes at will the surface of the soil, but
as a transient guest, who quietly enjoys the gifts of nature.
There, in the neighbourhood of the most populous cities, the land
remains studded with forests, or covered with a thick mould,
unfurrowed by the plough. Spontaneous vegetation still predominates
over cultivated plants, and determines the aspect of the landscape.
It is probable that this state of things will change very slowly.
If in our temperate regions the cultivation of corn contributes to
throw a dull uniformity upon the land we have cleared, we cannot
doubt, that, even with increasing population, the torrid zone will
preserve that majesty of vegetable forms, those marks of an
unsubdued, virgin nature, which render it so attractive and so
picturesque. Thus it is that, by a remarkable concatenation of
physical and moral causes, the choice and production of alimentary
plants have an influence on three important objects at once; the
association or the isolated state of families, the more or less
rapid progress of civilization, and the individual character of the
landscape.
In proportion as we penetrated into the forest, the barometer
indicated the progressive elevation of the land. The trunks of the
trees presented here an extraordinary phenomenon; a gramineous
plant, with verticillate branches,* climbs, like a liana, eight or
ten feet high, and forms festoons, which cross the path, and swing
about with the wind. (* Carice, analogous to the chusque of Santa
Fe, of the group of the Nastusas. This gramineous plant is
excellent pasture for mules.) We halted, about three o'clock in the
afternoon, on a small flat, known by the name of Quetepe, and
situated about one hundred and ninety toises above the level of the
sea. A few small houses have been erected near a spring, well known
by the natives for its coolness and great salubrity. We found the
water delicious. Its temperature was only 22.5 degrees of the
centigrade thermometer, while that of the air was 28.7 degrees. The
springs which descend from the neighbouring mountains of a greater
height often indicate a too rapid decrement of heat. If indeed we
suppose the mean temperature of the water on the coast of Cumana
equal to 26 degrees, we must conclude, unless other local causes
modify the temperature of the springs, that the spring of Quetepe
acquires its great coolness at more than 350 toises of absolute
elevation. With respect to the springs which gush out in the plains
of the torrid zone, or at a small elevation, it may be observed, in
general, that it is only in regions where the mean temperature of
summer essentially differs from that of the whole year, that the
inhabitants have extremely cold spring water during the season of
great heat. The Laplanders, near Umea and Soersele, in the 65th
degree of latitude, drink spring-water, the temperature of which,
in the month of August, is scarcely two or three degrees above
freezing point; while during the day the heat of the air rises in
the shade, in the same northern regions, to 26 or 27 degrees. In
the temperate climates of France and Germany, the difference
between the air and the springs never exceeds 16 or 17 degrees;
between the tropics it seldom rises to 5 or 6 degrees. It is easy
to account for these phenomena, when we recollect that the interior
of the globe, and the subterraneous waters, have a temperature
almost identical with the annual mean temperature of the air; and
that the latter differs from the mean heat of summer, in proportion
to the distance from the equator.
From the top of a hill of sandstone, which overlooks the spring of
Quetepe, we had a magnificent view of the sea, of cape Macanao, and
the peninsula of Maniquarez. At our feet an immense forest extended
to the edge of the ocean. The tops of the trees, intertwined with
lianas, and crowned with long wreaths of flowers, formed a vast
carpet of verdure, the dark tint of which augmented the splendour
of the aerial light. This picture struck us the more forcibly, as
we then first beheld those great masses of tropical vegetation. On
the hill of Quetepe, at the foot of the Malpighia cocollobaefolia,
the leaves of which are extremely coriaceous, we gathered, among
tufts of the Polygala montana, the first melastomas, especially
that beautiful species described under the name of the Melastoma
rufescens.
As we advanced toward the south-west, the soil became dry and
sandy. We climbed a group of mountains, which separate the coast
from the vast plains, or savannahs, bordered by the Orinoco. That
part of the group, over which passes the road to Cumanacoa, is
destitute of vegetation, and has steep declivities both on the
north and the south. It has received the name of the Imposible,
because it is believed that, in the case of hostile invasion, this
ridge of mountains would be inaccessible to the enemy, and would
offer an asylum to the inhabitants of Cumana. We reached the top a
little before sunset, and I had scarcely time to take a few horary
angles, to determine the longitude of the place by means of the
chronometer.
The view from the Imposible is finer and more extensive than that
from the table-land of Quetepe. We distinguished clearly by the
naked eye the flattened top of the Brigantine (the position of
which it would be important to fix accurately), the embarcadero or
landing-place, and the roadstead of Cumana. The rocky coast of the
peninsula of Araya was discernible in its whole length. We were
particularly struck with the extraordinary configuration of a port,
known by the name of Laguna Grande, or Laguna del Obispo. A vast
basin, surrounded by high mountains, communicates with the gulf of
Cariaco by a narrow channel which admits only of the passage of one
ship at a time. This port is capable of containing several
squadrons at once. It is an uninhabited place, but annually
frequented by vessels, which carry mules to the West India Islands.
There are some pasture grounds at the farther end of the bay. We
traced the sinuosities of this arm of the sea, which, like a river,
has dug a bed between perpendicular rocks destitute of vegetation.
This singular prospect reminded us of the fanciful landscape which
Leonardo da Vinci has made the back-ground of his famous portrait
of Mona Lisa, the wife of Francisco del Giacondo.
We could observe by the chronometer the moment when the disk of the
sun touched the horizon of the sea. The first contact was at 6
hours 8 minutes 13 seconds; the second, at 6 hours 10 minutes 26
seconds; mean time. This observation, which is not unimportant for
the theory of terrestrial refractions, was made on the summit of
the mountain, at the absolute height of 296 toises. The setting of
the sun was attended by a very rapid cooling of the air. Three
minutes after the last apparent contact of the disk with the
horizon of the sea, the thermometer suddenly fell from 25.2 to 21.3
degrees. Was this extraordinary refrigeration owing to some
descending current? The air was however calm, and no horizontal
wind was felt.
We passed the night in a house where there was a military post
consisting of eight men, under the command of a Spanish serjeant.
It was an hospital, built by the side of a powder magazine. When
Cumana, after the capture of Trinidad by the English, in 1797, was
threatened with an attack, many of the inhabitants fled to
Cumanacoa, and deposited whatever articles of value they possessed
in sheds hastily constructed on the top of the Imposible. It was
then resolved, in case of any unforeseen invasion, to abandon the
castle of San Antonio, after a short resistance, and to concentrate
the whole force of the province round the mountains, which may be
considered as the key of the Llanos.
The top of the Imposible, as nearly as I could perceive, is covered
with a quartzose sandstone, free from petrifactions. Here, as on
the ridge of the neighbouring mountains, the strata pretty
regularly take the direction from north-north-east to
south-south-west. This direction is also most common in the
primitive formations in the peninsula of Araya, and along the
coasts of Venezuela. On the northern declivity of the Imposible,
near the Penas Negras, an abundant spring issues from sandstone,
which alternates with a schistose clay. We remarked on this point
fractured strata, which lie from north-west to south-east, and the
dip of which is almost perpendicular.
The Llaneros, or inhabitants of the plains, send their produce,
especially maize, leather, and cattle, to the port of Cumana by the
road over the Imposible. We continually saw mules arrive, driven by
Indians or mulattoes. Several parts of the vast forests which
surround the mountain, had taken fire. Reddish flames, half
enveloped in clouds of smoke, presented a very grand spectacle. The
inhabitants set fire to the forests, to improve the pasturage, and
to destroy the shrubs that choke the grass. Enormous
conflagrations, too, are often caused by the carelessness of the
Indians, who neglect, when they travel, to extinguish the fires by
which they have dressed their food. These accidents contribute to
diminish the number of old trees in the road from Cumana to
Cumanacoa; and the inhabitants observe justly, that, in several
parts of their province, the dryness has increased, not only
because every year the frequency of earthquakes causes more
crevices in the soil; but also because it is now less thickly
wooded than it was at the time of the conquest.
I arose during the night to determine the latitude of the place by
the passage of Fomalhaut over the meridian; but the observation was
lost, owing to the time I employed in taking the level of the
artificial horizon. It was midnight, and I was benumbed with cold,
as were also our guides: yet the thermometer kept at 19.7 degrees.
At Cumana I have never seen it sink below 21 degrees; but then the
house in which we dwelt on the Imposible was 258 toises above the
level of the sea. At the Casa de la Polvora I determined the dip of
the magnetic needle, which was 42.5 degrees.* (* The magnetic dip
is always measured in this work, according to the centesimal
division, if the contrary be not expressly mentioned.) The number
of oscillations correspondent to 10 minutes of time was 233. The
intensity of the magnetic forces had consequently augmented from
the coast to the mountain, perhaps from the influence of some
ferruginous matter, hidden in the strata of sandstone which cover
the Alpine limestone.
We left the Imposible on the 5th of September before sunrise. The
descent is very dangerous for beasts of burden; the path being in
general but fifteen inches broad, and bordered by precipices. In
descending the mountain, we observed the rock of Alpine limestone
reappearing under the sandstone. The strata being generally
inclined to the south and south-east, a great number of springs
gush out on the southern side of the mountain. In the rainy season
of the year, these springs form torrents, which descend in
cascades, shaded by the hura, the cuspa, and the silver-leaved
cecropia or trumpet-tree.
The cuspa, a very common tree in the environs of Cumana and of
Bordones, is yet unknown to the botanists of Europe. It was long
used only for the building of houses, and has become celebrated
since 1797, under the name of the cascarilla or bark-tree
(cinchona) of New Andalusia. Its trunk rises scarcely above fifteen
or twenty feet. Its alternate leaves are smooth, entire, and oval.*
(* At the summit of the boughs, the leaves are sometimes opposite
to each other, but invariably without stipules.) Its bark very
thin, and of a pale yellow, is a powerful febrifuge. It is even
more bitter than the bark of the real cinchona, but is less
disagreeable. The cuspa is administered with the greatest success,
in a spirituous tincture, and in aqueous infusion, both in
intermittent and in malignant fevers.
On the coasts of New Andalusia, the cuspa is considered as a kind
of cinchona; and we were assured, that some Aragonese monks, who
had long resided in the kingdom of New Grenada, recognised this
tree from the resemblance of its leaves to those of the real
Peruvian bark-tree. This, however, is unfounded; since it is
precisely by the disposition of the leaves, and the absence of
stipules, that the cuspa differs totally from the trees of the
rubiaceous family. It may be said to resemble the family of the
honeysuckle, or caprifoliaceous plants, one section of which has
alternate leaves, and among which we find several cornel-trees,
remarkable for their febrifuge properties.* (* Cornus florida, and
C. sericea of the United States.--Walker on the Virtues of the
Cornus and the Cinchona compared. Philadelphia 1803.)
The taste, at once bitter and astringent, and the yellow colour of
the bark led to the discovery of the febrifugal virtue of the
cuspa. As it blossoms at the end of November, we did not see it in
flower, and we know not to what genus it belongs; and I have in
vain for several years past applied to our friends at Cumana for
specimens of the flower and fruit. I hope that the botanical
determination of the bark-tree of New Andalusia will one day fix
the attention of travellers, who visit this region after us; and
that they will not confound, notwithstanding the analogy of the
names, the cuspa with the cuspare. The latter not only vegetates in
the missions of the Rio Carony, but also to the west of Cumana, in
the gulf of Santa Fe. It furnishes the druggists of Europe with the
famous Cortex Angosturae, and forms the genus Bonplandia, described
by M. Willdenouw in the Memoirs of the Academy of Berlin, from
notes communicated to him by us.
It is singular that, during our long abode on the coast of Cumana
and the Caracas, on the banks of the Apure, the Orinoco, and the
Rio Negro, in an extent of country comprising forty thousand square
leagues, we never met with one of those numerous species of
cinchona, or exostema, which are peculiar to the low and warm
regions of the tropics, especially to the archipelago of the West
India Islands. Yet we are far from affirming, that, throughout the
whole of the eastern part of South America, from Porto Bello to
Cayenne, or from the equator to the 10th degree of north latitude
between the meridians of 54 and 71 degrees, the cinchona absolutely
does not exist. How can we be expected to know completely the flora
of so vast an extent of country? But, when we recollect, that even
in Mexico no species of the genera cinchona and exostema has been
discovered, either in the central table-land or in the plains, we
are led to believe, that the mountainous islands of the West Indies
and the Cordillera of the Andes have peculiar floras; and that they
possess particular species of vegetation, which have neither passed
from the islands to the continent, nor from South America to the
coasts of New Spain.
It may be observed farther, that, when we reflect on the numerous
analogies which exist between the properties of plants and their
external forms, we are surprised to find qualities eminently
febrifuge in the bark of trees belonging to different genera, and
even different families.* (* It may be somewhat interesting to
chemistry, physiology, and descriptive botany, to consider under
the same point of view the plants which have been employed in
intermittent fevers with different degrees of success. We find
among rubiaceous plants, besides the cinchonas and exostemas, the
Coutarea speciosa or Cayenne bark, the Portlandia grandiflora of
the West Indies, another portlandia discovered by M. Sesse at
Mexico, the Pinkneia pubescens of the United States, the berry of
the coffee-tree, and perhaps the Macrocnemum corymbosum, and the
Guettarda coccinea; among magnoliaceous plants, the tulip-tree and
the Magnolia glauca; among zanthoxylaceous plants, the Cuspare of
Angostura, known in America under the name of Orinoco bark, and the
Zanthoxylon caribaeum; among leguminous plants, the geoffraeas, the
Swietenia febrifuga, the Aeschynomene grandiflora, the Caesalpina
bonducella; among caprifoliaceous plants, the Cornus florida and
the Cuspa of Cumana; among rosaceous plants, the Cerasus virginiana
and the Geum urbanum; among amentaceous plants, the willows, oaks,
and birch-trees, of which the alcoholic tincture is used in Russia
by the common people; the Populus tremuloides, etc.; among
anonaceous plants, the Uvaria febrifuga, the fruit of which we saw
administered with success in the Missions of Spanish Guiana; among
simarubaceous plants, the Quassia amara, celebrated in the feverish
plains of Surinam; among terebinthaceous plants, the Rhus glabrum;
among euphorbiaceous plants, the Croton cascarilla; among composite
plants, the Eupatorium perfoliatum, the febrifuge qualities of
which are known to the savages of North America. Of the tulip-tree
and the quassia, it is the bark of the roots that is used. Eminent
febrifuge virtues have also been found in the cortical part of the
roots of the Cinchona condaminea at Loxa; but it is fortunate, for
the preservation of the species, that the roots of the real
cinchona are not employed in pharmacy. Chemical researches are yet
wanting upon the very powerful bitters contained in the roots of
the Zanthoriza apiifolia, and the Actaea racemosa: the latter have
sometimes been employed with success as a remedy against the
epidemic yellow fever in New York.) Some of these barks so much
resemble each other, that it is not easy to distinguish them at
first sight. But before we examine the question, whether we shall
one day discover, in the real cinchona, in the cuspa of Cumana, the
Cortex Angosturae, the Indian swietenia, the willows of Europe, the
berries of the coffee-tree and uvaria, a matter uniformly diffused,
and exhibiting (like starch, caoutchouc, and camphor) the same
chemical properties in different plants, we may ask whether, in the
present state of physiology and medicine, a febrifuge principle
ought to be admitted. Is it not probable, that the particular
derangement in the organization, known under the vague name of the
febrile state, and in which both the vascular and the nervous
systems are at the same time attacked, yields to remedies which do
not operate by the same principle, by the same mode of action on
the same organs, by the same play of chemical and electrical
attractions? We shall here confine ourselves to this observation,
that, in the species of the genus cinchona, the antifebrile virtues
do not appear to belong to the tannin (which is only accidentally
mingled in them), or to the cinchonate of lime; but in a resiniform
matter, soluble both by alcohol and by water, and which, it is
believed, is composed of two principles, the cinchonic bitter and
the cinchonic red.* (* In French, l'amer et le rouge cinchoniques.)
May it then be admitted, that this resiniform matter, which
possesses different degrees of energy according to the combinations
by which it is modified, is found in all febrifuge substances?
Those by which the sulphate of iron is precipitated of a green
colour, like the real cinchona, the bark of the white willow, and
the horned perisperm of the coffee-tree, do not on this account
denote identity of chemical composition;* and that identity might
even exist, without our concluding that the medical virtues were
analogous. (* The cuspare bark (Cort. Angosturae) yields with iron
a yellow precipitate; yet it is employed on the banks of the
Orinoco, and particularly at the town of St. Thomas of Angostura,
as an excellent cinchona; and on the other hand, the bark of the
common cherry tree, which has scarcely any febrifuge quality,
yields a green precipitate like the real cinchonas. Notwithstanding
the extreme imperfection of vegetable chemistry, the experiments
already made on cinchonas sufficiently show, that to judge of the
febrifuge virtues of a bark, we must not attach too much importance
either to the principle which turns to green the oxides of iron, or
to the tannin, or to the matter which precipitates infusions of
tan.) We see that specimens of sugar and tannin extracted from
plants, not of the same family, present numerous differences: while
the comparative analysis of sugar, gum, and starch; the discovery
of the radical of the prussic acid (the effects of which are so
powerful on the organization), and many other phenomena of
vegetable chemistry, clearly prove that substances composed of
identical elements, few in number and proportional in quantity,
exhibit the most heterogeneous properties, on account of that
particular mode of combination which corpuscular chemistry calls
the arrangement of the particles.
Leaving the ravine which descends from the Imposible, we entered a
thick forest traversed by many small rivers, which are easily
forded. We observed that the cecropia, which in the disposition of
its branches and its slender trunk, resembles the palm-tree, is
covered with leaves more or less silvery, in proportion as the soil
is dry or moist. We saw some small plants of the cecropia, the
leaves of which were on both sides entirely green.* (* Is not the
Cecropia concolor of Willdenouw a variety of the Cecropia peltata?)
The roots of these trees are hid under tufts of dorstenia, which
flourishes only in humid and shady places. In the midst of the
forest, on the banks of the Rio Cedeno, as well as on the southern
declivity of the Cocollar, we find, in their wild state, papaw and
orange-trees, bearing large and sweet fruit. These are probably the
remains of some conucos, or Indian plantations; for in those
countries the orange-tree cannot be counted among the indigenous
plants, any more than the banana-tree, the papaw-tree, maize,
cassava, and many other useful plants, with the true country of
which we are unacquainted, though they have accompanied man in his
migrations from the remotest times.
When a traveller newly arrived from Europe penetrates for the first
time into the forests of South America, he beholds nature under an
unexpected aspect. He feels at every step, that he is not on the
confines but in the centre of the torrid zone; not in one of the
West India Islands, but on a vast continent where everything is
gigantic,--mountains, rivers, and the mass of vegetation. If he
feel strongly the beauty of picturesque scenery he can scarcely
define the various emotions which crowd upon his mind; he can
scarcely distinguish what most excites his admiration, the deep
silence of those solitudes, the individual beauty and contrast of
forms, or that vigour and freshness of vegetable life which
characterize the climate of the tropics. It might be said that the
earth, overloaded with plants, does not allow them space enough to
unfold themselves. The trunks of the trees are everywhere concealed
under a thick carpet of verdure; and if we carefully transplanted
the orchideae, the pipers, and the pothoses, nourished by a single
courbaril, or American fig-tree,* (* Ficus nymphaeifolia.) we
should cover a vast extent of ground. By this singular assemblage,
the forests, as well as the flanks of the rocks and mountains,
enlarge the domains of organic nature. The same lianas which creep
on the ground, reach the tops of the trees, and pass from one to
another at the height of more than a hundred feet. Thus, by the
continual interlacing of parasite plants, the botanist is often led
to confound one with another, the flowers, the fruits, and leaves,
which belong to different species.
We walked for some hours under the shade of these arcades, which
scarcely admit a glimpse of the sky; the latter appeared to me of
an indigo blue, the deeper in shade because the green of the
equinoctial plants is generally of a stronger hue, with somewhat of
a brownish tint. A great fern tree,* (* Possibly our Aspidium
caducum.) very different from the Polypodium arboreum of the West
Indies, rose above masses of scattered rocks. In this place we were
struck for the first time with the sight of those nests in the
shape of bottles, or small bags, which are suspended from the
branches of the lowest trees, and which attest the wonderful
industry of the orioles, which mingle their warbling with the
hoarse cries of the parrots and the macaws. These last, so well
known for their vivid colours, fly only in pairs, while the real
parrots wander about in flocks of several hundreds. A man must have
lived in those regions, particularly in the hot valleys of the
Andes, to conceive how these birds sometimes drown with their
voices the noise of the torrents, which dash down from rock to
rock.
We left the forests, at the distance of somewhat more than a league
from the village of San Fernando. A narrow path led, after many
windings, into an open but extremely humid country. In such a site
in the temperate zone, the cyperaceous and gramineous plants would
have formed vast meadows; here the soil abounded in aquatic plants,
with sagittate leaves, and especially in basil plants, among which
we noticed the fine flowers of the costus, the thalia, and the
heliconia. These succulent plants are from eight to ten feet high,
and in Europe one of their groups would be considered as a little
wood.
Near San Fernando the evaporation caused by the action of the sun
was so great that, being very lightly clothed, we felt ourselves as
wet as in a vapour bath. The road was bordered with a kind of
bamboo,* (* Bambusa guadua.) which the Indians call iagua, or
guadua, and which is more than forty feet in height. Nothing can
exceed the elegance of this arborescent gramen. The form and
disposition of its leaves give it a character of lightness which
contrasts agreeably with its height. The smooth and glossy trunk of
the iagua generally bends towards the banks of rivulets, and it
waves with the slightest breath of air. The highest reeds* in the
south of Europe (* Arundo donax.), can give no idea of the aspect
of the arborescent gramina. The bamboo and fern-tree are, of all
the vegetable forms between the tropics, those which make the most
powerful impression on the imagination of the traveller. Bamboos
are less common in South America than is usually believed. They are
almost wanting in the marshes and in the vast inundated plains of
the Lower Orinoco, the Apure, and the Atabapo, while they form
thick woods, several leagues in length, in the north-west, in New
Grenada, and in the kingdom of Quito. It might be said that the
western declivity of the Andes is their true country; and, what is
remarkable enough, we found them not only in the low regions at the
level of the ocean, but also in the lofty valleys of the
Cordilleras, at the height of 860 toises.
The road skirted with the bamboos above mentioned led us to the
small village of San Fernando, situated in a narrow plain,
surrounded by very steep calcareous rocks. This was the first
Mission* we saw in America. (* A certain number of habitations
collected round a church, with a missionary monk performing the
ministerial duties, is called in the Spanish colonies Mision, or
Pueblo de mision. Indian villages, governed by a priest, are called
Pueblos de doctrina. A distinction is made between the Cura
doctrinero, who is the priest of an Indian parish, and the Cura
rector, priest of a village inhabited by whites and men of mixed
race.) The houses, or rather the huts of the Chayma Indians, though
separate from each other, are not surrounded by gardens. The
streets, which are wide and very straight, cross each other at
right angles. The walls of the huts are made of clay, strengthened
by lianas. The uniformity of these huts, the grave and taciturn air
of their inhabitants, and the extreme neatness of the dwellings,
reminded us of the establishments of the Moravian Brethren. Besides
their own gardens, every Indian family helps to cultivate the
garden of the community, or, as it is called, the conuco de la
comunidad, which is situated at some distance from the village. In
this conuco the adults of each sex work one hour in the morning and
one in the evening. In the missions nearest the coast the garden of
the community is generally a sugar or indigo plantation, under the
direction of the missionary; and its produce, if the law were
strictly observed, could be employed only for the support of the
church and the purchase of sacerdotal ornaments. The great square
of San Fernando, in the centre of the village, contains the church,
the dwelling of the missionary, and a very humble-looking edifice
pompously called the king's house (Casa del Rey). This is a
caravanserai, destined for lodging travellers; and, as we often
experienced, infinitely valuable in a country where the name of an
inn is still unknown. The Casas del Rey are to be found in all the
Spanish colonies, and may be deemed an imitation of the tambos of
Peru, which were established in conformity with the laws of Manco
Capac.
We had been recommended to the friars who govern the Missions of
the Chayma Indians, by their syndic, who resides at Cumana. This
recommendation was the more useful to us, as the missionaries,
either from zeal for the purity of the morals of their
parishioners, or to conceal the monastic system from the indiscreet
curiosity of strangers, often adhere with rigour to an old
regulation, by which a white man of the secular state is not
permitted to sojourn more than one night in an Indian village. The
Missions form (I will not say according to their primitive and
canonical institutions, but in reality) a distinct and nearly
independent hierarchy, the views of which seldom accord with those
of the secular clergy.
The missionary of San Fernando was a Capuchin, a native of Aragon,
far advanced in years, but strong and healthy. His extreme
corpulency, his hilarity, the interest he took in battles and
sieges, ill accorded with the ideas we form in northern countries
of the melancholy reveries and the contemplative life of
missionaries. Though extremely busy about a cow which was to be
killed next day, the old monk received us with kindness, and
permitted us to hang up our hammocks in a gallery of his house.
Seated, without doing anything, the greater part of the day, in an
armchair of red wood, he bitterly complained of what he called the
indolence and ignorance of his countrymen. Our missionary, however,
seemed well satisfied with his situation.
He treated the Indians with mildness; he beheld his Mission
prosper, and he praised with enthusiasm the waters, the bananas,
and the dairy-produce of the district. The sight of our
instruments, our books, and our dried plants, drew from him a
sarcastic smile; and he acknowledged, with the naivete peculiar to
the inhabitants of those countries, that of all the enjoyments of
life, without excepting sleep, none was comparable to the pleasure
of eating good beef (carne de vaca): thus does sensuality obtain an
ascendancy, where there is no occupation for the mind.
The mission of San Fernando was founded about the end of the 17th
century, near the junction of the small rivers of the Manzanares
and Lucasperez. A fire, which consumed the church and the huts of
the Indians, induced the Capuchins to build the village in its
present fine situation. The number of families is increased to one
hundred, and the missionary observed to us, that the custom of
marrying at thirteen or fourteen years of age contributes greatly
to this rapid increase of population. He denied that old age was so
premature among the Chaymas, as is commonly believed in Europe. The
government of these Indian parishes is very complicated; they have
their governor, their major-alguazils, and their
militia-commanders, all copper-coloured natives. The company of
archers have their colours, and perform their exercise with the bow
and arrow, in shooting at a mark; this is the national guard
(militia) of the country. This military establishment, under a
purely monastic system, seemed to us very singular.
On the night of the 5th of September, and the following morning,
there was a thick fog; yet we were not more than a hundred toises
above the level of the sea. I determined geometrically, at the
moment of our departure, the height of the great calcareous
mountain which rises at 800 toises distance to the south of San
Fernando, and forms a perpendicular cliff on the north side. It is
only 215 toises higher than the great square; but naked masses of
rock, which here exhibit themselves in the midst of a thick
vegetation, give it a very majestic aspect.
The road from San Fernando to Cumana passes amidst small
plantations, through an open and humid valley. We forded a number
of rivulets. In the shade the thermometer did not rise above 30
degrees: but we were exposed to the direct rays of the sun, because
the bamboos, which skirted the road, afforded but small shelter,
and we suffered greatly from the heat. We passed through the
village of Arenas, inhabited by Indians, of the same race as those
at San Fernando. But Arenas is no longer a mission; and the
natives, governed by a regular priest,* (* The four villages of
Arenas, Macarapana, Mariguitar, and Aricagua, founded by Aragonese
Capuchins, are called Doctrinas de Encomienda.) are better clothed,
and more civilized. Their church is also distinguished in the
country by some rude paintings which adorn its walls. A narrow
border encloses figures of armadilloes, caymans, jaguars, and other
animals peculiar to the new world.
In this village lives a labourer, Francisco Lozano, who presented a
highly curious physiological phenomenon. This man has suckled a
child with his own milk. The mother having fallen sick, the father,
to quiet the infant, took it into his bed, and pressed it to his
bosom. Lozano, then thirty-two years of age, had never before
remarked that he had milk: but the irritation of the nipple, sucked
by the child, caused the accumulation of that liquid. The milk was
thick and very sweet. The father, astonished at the increased size
of his breast, suckled his child two or three times a day during
five months. He drew on himself the attention of his neighbours,
but he never thought, as he probably would have done in Europe, of
deriving any advantage from the curiosity he excited. We saw the
certificate, which had been drawn up on the spot, to attest this
remarkable fact, eye-witnesses of which are still living. They
assured us that, during this suckling, the child had no other
nourishment than the milk of his father. Lozano, who was not at
Arenas during our journey in the missions, came to us at Cumana. He
was accompanied by his son, then thirteen or fourteen years of age.
M. Bonpland examined with attention the father's breasts, and found
them wrinkled like those of a woman who has given suck. He observed
that the left breast in particular was much enlarged; which Lozano
explained to us from the circumstance, that the two breasts did not
furnish milk in the same abundance. Don Vicente Emparan, governor
of the province, sent a circumstantial account of this phenomenon
to Cadiz.
It is not a very uncommon circumstance, to find, among animals,
males whose breasts contain milk; and climate does not appear to
exercise any marked influence on the greater or less abundance of
this secretion. The ancients cite the milk of the he-goats of
Lemnos and Corsica. In our own time, we have seen in Hanover, a
he-goat, which for a great number of years was milked every other
day, and yielded more milk than a female goat. Among the signs of
the alleged weakness of the Americans, travellers have mentioned
the milk contained in the breasts of men. It is, however,
improbable, that it has ever been observed in a whole tribe, in
some part of America unknown to modern travellers; and I can affirm
that at present it is not more common in the new continent, than in
the old. The labourer of Arenas, whose case has just been
mentioned, was not of the copper-coloured race of Chayma Indians,
but was a white man, descended from Europeans. Moreover, the
anatomists of St. Petersburgh have observed that, among the lower
orders of the people in Russia, milk in the breasts of men is much
more frequent than among the more southern nations: yet the
Russians have never been deemed weak and effeminate. There is among
the varieties of the human species a race of men whose breasts at
the age of puberty acquire a considerable bulk. Lozano did not
belong to that race; and he often repeated to us his conviction,
that it was only the irritation of the nipple, in consequence of
the suction, which caused the flow of milk.
When we reflect on the whole of the vital phenomena, we find that
no one of them is entirely isolated. In every age examples are
cited of very young girls and women in extreme old age, who have
suckled children. Among men these examples are more rare; and after
numerous researches, I have not found above two or three. One is
cited by the anatomist of Verona, Alexander Benedictus, who lived
about the end of the fifteenth century. He relates the history of
an inhabitant of Syria, who, to calm the fretfulness of his child,
after the death of the mother, pressed it to his bosom. The milk
soon became so abundant, that the father could take on himself the
nourishment of his child without assistance. Other examples are
related by Santorellus, Faria, and Robert, bishop of Cork. The
greater part of these phenomena having been noticed in times very
remote, it is not uninteresting to physiology, that we can confirm
them in our own days.
On approaching the town of Cumanacoa we found a more level soil,
and a valley enlarging itself progressively. This small town is
situated in a naked plain, almost circular, and surrounded by lofty
mountains. It was founded in 1717 by Domingo Arias, on the return
of an expedition to the mouth of the Guarapiche, undertaken with
the view of destroying an establishment which some French
freebooters had attempted to found. The new town was first called
San Baltazar de las Arias; but the Indian name Cumanacoa prevailed;
in like manner the name of Santiago de Leon, still to be found in
our maps, is forgotten in that of Caracas.
On opening the barometer we were struck at seeing the column of
mercury scarcely 7.3 lines shorter than on the coasts. The plain,
or rather the table-land, on which the town of Cumanacoa is
situated, is not more than 104 toises above the level of the sea,
which is three or four times less than is supposed by the
inhabitants of Cumana, on account of their exaggerated ideas of the
cold of Cumanacoa. But the difference of climate observable between
places so near each other is perhaps less owing to comparative
height than to local circumstances. Among these causes we may cite
the proximity of the forests; the frequency of descending currents,
so common in these valleys, closed on every side; the abundance of
rain; and those thick fogs which diminish during a great part of
the year the direct action of the solar rays. The decrement of the
heat being nearly the same within the tropics, and during the
summer under the temperate zone, the small difference of level of
one hundred toises should produce only a change in the mean
temperature of 1 or 1.5 degrees. But we shall soon find that at
Cumanacoa the difference rises to more than four degrees. This
coolness of the climate is sometimes the more surprising, as very
great heat is felt at Carthago (in the province of Popayan); at
Tomependa, on the bank of the river Amazon, and in the valleys of
Aragua, to the west of Caracas; though the absolute height of these
different places is between 200 and 480 toises. In plains as well
as on mountains the isothermal lines (lines of similar heat) are
not constantly parallel to the equator, or the surface of the
globe. It is the grand problem of meteorology to determine the
inflections of these lines, and to discover, amid modifications
produced by local causes, the constant laws of the distribution of
heat.
The port of Cumana is only seven nautical leagues from Cumanacoa.
It scarcely ever rains in the first-mentioned place, while in the
latter there are seven months of wintry weather. At Cumanacoa, the
dry season begins at the winter solstice, and lasts till the vernal
equinox. Light showers are frequent in the months of April, May,
and June. The dry weather then returns again, and lasts from the
summer solstice to the end of August. Then come the real winter
rains, which cease only in the month of November, and during which
torrents of water pour down from the skies.
It was during the winter season that we took up our first abode in
the Missions. Every night a thick fog covered the sky, and it was
only at intervals that I succeeded in taking some observations of
the stars. The thermometer kept from 18.5 to 20 degrees, which
under this zone, and to the sensations of a traveller coming from
the coasts, appears a great degree of coolness. I never perceived
the temperature in the night at Cumana below 21 degrees. The
greatest heat is felt from noon to 3 o'clock, the thermometer
keeping between 26 and 27 degrees. The maximum of the heat, about
two hours after the passage of the sun over the meridian, was very
regularly marked by a storm which murmured near. Large black and
low clouds dissolved in rain, which came down in torrents: these
rains lasted two or three hours, and lowered the thermometer five
or six degrees. About five o'clock the rain entirely ceased, the
sun reappeared a little before it set, and the hygrometer moved
towards the point of dryness; but at eight or nine we were again
enveloped in a thick stratum of vapour. These different changes
follow successively, we were assured, during whole months, and yet
not a breath of wind is felt. Comparative experiments led us to
believe that in general the nights at Cumanacoa are from two to
three, and the days from four to five centesimal degrees cooler
than at the port of Cumana. These differences are great; and if,
instead of meteorological instruments, we consulted only our own
feelings, we should suppose they were still more considerable.
The vegetation of the plain which surrounds the town is monotonous,
but, owing to the extreme humidity of the air, remarkable for its
freshness. It is chiefly characterized by an arborescent solanum,
forty feet in height, the Urtica baccifera, and a new species of
the genus Guettarda.* (* These trees are surrounded by Galega
pilosa, Stellaria rotundifolia, Aegiphila elata of Swartz,
Sauvagesia erecta, Martinia perennis, and a great number of
Rivinas. We find among the gramineous plants, in the savannah of
Cumanacoa, the Paspalus lenticularis, Panicum ascendens, Pennisetum
uniflorum, Gynerium saccharoides, Eleusine indica, etc.) The ground
is very fertile, and might be easily watered if trenches were cut
from a great number of rivulets, the springs of which never dry up
during the whole year. The most valuable production of the district
is tobacco. Since the introduction of the farm* (* Estanco real de
tabaco, royal monopoly of tobacco.) in 1779, the cultivation of
tobacco in the province of Cumana is nearly confined to the valley
of Cumanacoa; as in Mexico it is permitted only in the two
districts of Orizaba and Cordova. The farm system is a monopoly
odious to the people. All the tobacco that is gathered must be sold
to government; and to prevent, or rather to diminish fraud, it has
been found most easy to concentrate the cultivation in one point.
Guards scour the country, to destroy any plantations without the
boundaries of the privileged districts; and to inform against those
inhabitants who smoke cigars prepared by their own hands.