CHAPTER XXIII.

Mauritius, beautiful appearance--Hindoos--Cape of Good Hope--St.

Helena--Geology--History of changes in vegetation, probable cause

of extinction of land-shells--Ascension--Green Hill--Curious

incrustations of calcareous matter on tidal rocks--Bahia--Brazil

--Splendour of tropical scenery--Pernambuco--Singular reef--Azores

--Supposed crater--Hints to collectors--Retrospect of the most

impressive parts of the voyage.

MAURITIUS TO ENGLAND.

APRIL 29TH.--In the morning we passed round the northern extremity of

the Isle of France. From this point of view the aspect of the island

equalled the expectations raised by the many well-known descriptions

of its beautiful scenery. The sloping plain of the Pamplemousses,

scattered over with houses, and coloured bright green from the large

fields of sugar-cane, composed the foreground. The brilliancy of

the green was the more remarkable, because it is a colour which

generally is only conspicuous from a very short distance. Towards

the centre of the island, groups of wooded mountains rose out of

this highly-cultivated plain; their summits, as so commonly happens

with ancient volcanic rocks, being jagged into the sharpest points.

Masses of white clouds were collected around their pinnacles, as if

for the sake of pleasing the stranger’s eye. The whole island, with

its sloping border and central mountains, was adorned with an air

of perfect elegance: the scenery, if I may use such an expression,

appeared to the senses harmonious.

I spent the greater part of the next day in walking about the town,

and visiting different people. The town is of considerable size, and

is said to contain 20,000 inhabitants; the streets are very clean and

regular. Although the island has been so many years under the English

government, the general character of the place is quite French:

Englishmen speak to their servants in French, and the shops are all

French; indeed I should think that Calais or Boulogne was much more

Anglified. There is a very pretty little theatre, in which operas

are excellently performed, and are much preferred by the inhabitants

to plays. We were also surprised at seeing large booksellers’ shops,

with well-stored shelves;--music and reading bespeak our approach

to the old world of civilization; for in truth both Australia and

America may be considered as new worlds.

One of the most interesting spectacles in Port Louis, is to observe

the various races of men which may be met in walking the streets.

Convicts from India are banished here for life; at present there are

about 800, and they are employed in various public works. Before

seeing these people, I had no idea that the inhabitants of India were

such noble-looking figures. Their skin is extremely dark, and many of

the older men had large mustaches and beards of a snow-white colour;

this, together with the fire of their expressions, gave them quite an

imposing aspect. The greater number have been banished for murder and

the worst crimes; others for causes which can scarcely be considered

as moral faults, such as for not obeying, from superstitious motives,

the English laws. These men are generally quiet and well-conducted;

from their outward conduct, their cleanliness and faithful observance

of their strange religious enactments, it was impossible to look at

them with the same eyes as on our wretched convicts in New South

Wales. Besides these prisoners, large numbers of free people are

yearly imported from India: for the planters were afraid that the

negroes, when emancipated, would not work. From these causes the

Indian population is here very considerable.

MAY 1ST.--Sunday. I took a quiet walk along the sea-coast to the

northward of the town. The plain in that part is quite uncultivated;

it consists of a field of black lava, smoothed over with coarse

grass and bushes, the latter being chiefly mimosas. Captain FitzRoy,

before arriving here, said he expected the island would have a

character intermediate between that of the Galapagos and Tahiti.

This is a very exact comparison; but it will convey a definite idea

to few, excepting to those who were on board the Beagle. It is a

very pleasant country, but it has not the charms of Tahiti, or the

grandeur of a Brazilian landscape.

The next day I ascended La Pouce, a mountain so called from a

thumb-like projection, which rises close behind the town to a height

of 2600 feet. M. Lesson, in the voyage of the Coquille, has stated,

that the central plain of the island appeared like the basin of a

grand crater, and that La Pouce and the other mountains once formed

parts of a connected wall. From our elevated position we enjoyed an

excellent view over this great mass of volcanic matter. The country

on this side of the island appears pretty well cultivated, the whole

being divided into fields, and studded with farm-houses. I was

however assured, that of the whole land not more than half is yet

in a productive state; if such is the case, considering the present

great export of sugar, this island, at some future period when

thickly peopled, will be of very great value. Since England has taken

possession of it, a period of only twenty-five years, the export of

sugar is said to have increased seventy-five fold.

One great cause of this prosperity is due to the excellent roads

and means of communication throughout the island. At the present

day, in the neighbouring Isle of Bourbon, which remains under the

French government, the roads are in the same miserable state as they

were only a few years past in this place. The Macadamizing art has,

perhaps, been of even greater advantage to the colonies, than to

the mother country. Although the French residents must have largely

profited by the increased prosperity of their island, yet the English

government is far from popular. It is unfortunate that there appears

to exist scarcely any intercourse among the higher orders of French

and English.

MAY 3D.--In the evening Captain Lloyd, the Surveyor-general, so well

known from his examination of the Isthmus of Panama, invited Mr.

Stokes and myself to his country-house, which is situated on the

edge of Wilheim plains, and about six miles from the port. We staid

at this delightful place two days: being elevated nearly 800 feet

above the sea, the air was pleasantly cool and fresh, and on every

side there were delightful walks. Close by there is a grand ravine,

which is worn to a depth of about 500 feet through the slightly

inclined streams of lava which have flowed from the central platform.

5TH.--Captain Lloyd took us to the Rivière Noire, which is several

miles to the southward, in order that I might examine some rocks of

elevated coral. We passed through pleasant gardens, and fine fields

of sugar-cane growing amidst huge blocks of lava. The roads were

bordered by hedges of mimosa, and near many of the houses there

were avenues of the mango. Some of the views, where the peaked

hills and the cultivated farms were seen together, were exceedingly

picturesque; and we were constantly tempted to exclaim, “How pleasant

it would be to pass one’s life in such a quiet abode!” Captain Lloyd

possessed an elephant; he sent it half way with us on the road, that

we might enjoy a ride in true Indian fashion. I should think, as is

commonly said to be the case, that the motion must be fatiguing for

a long journey. The circumstance which surprised me most, was the

quite noiseless step; a ride on so wonderful an animal was extremely

interesting. This elephant is the only one at present on the island;

but it is said others will be sent for.

MAY 9TH.--We sailed from Port Louis, on our way to the Cape of Good

Hope, and on the evening of the 31st anchored in Simon’s Bay. The

little town offers but a cheerless aspect to a stranger’s eye. About

a couple of hundred, square, whitewashed houses, with scarcely a

single tree in the neighbourhood, and very few gardens, are scattered

along the beach, at the foot of a lofty, steep, bare wall, of

horizontally-stratified sandstone.

The next day I set out for Cape Town, which is twenty miles distant.

Both towns are situated within the headlands, but at the opposite

extremities of a range of mountains, which extending parallel to the

mainland, is joined to it by a low sandy flat. The road skirted the

base of these mountains: for the first fourteen miles the country is

very desert, and with the exception of the pleasure which the sight

of an entirely new vegetation never fails to communicate, there was

very little of interest. The view however of the mountains on the

opposite side of the flat, brightened by the declining sun, was fine.

Within seven miles of Cape Town, in the neighbourhood of Wynberg, a

great improvement was visible, and here the country-houses of the

more wealthy residents of the capital are situated. The numerous

woods of young Scotch firs and stunted oak-trees form the chief

attraction of this locality. There is, indeed, a great charm in

shade and retirement, after the unconcealed bleakness of so open a

country as this. The houses and plantations are backed by a grand

wall of mountains, which gives the scene a degree of uncommon beauty.

I arrived late in the evening in Cape Town, and had a good deal of

difficulty in finding quarters. In the morning several ships from

India had arrived at this great inn on the great highway of nations,

and they had disgorged on shore a host of passengers, all longing to

enjoy the delights of a temperate climate. There is only one good

hotel, so that strangers generally live in boarding-houses;--a very

uncomfortable fashion to which I was obliged to conform, although I

was fortunate in my quarters.

In the morning I walked to a neighbouring hill to look at the town.

It is laid out with the rectangular precision of a Spanish city: the

streets are in good order, and Macadamized, and some of them have

rows of trees on each side; the houses are all whitewashed, and look

clean. In several trifling particulars the town had a foreign air,

but it is daily becoming more English. There is scarcely a resident,

excepting amongst the lowest order, who does not speak some English.

In this facility in becoming Anglefied, there appears to exist a wide

difference between this colony and that of the Mauritius. It does

not, however, arise from the popularity of the English; for the Dutch

as well as the French, although they have profited to an immense

degree by the English government, yet thoroughly dislike our whole

nation.

All the fragments of the civilized world which we have visited in the

southern hemisphere, appear to be flourishing: little embryo Englands

are springing into life in many quarters. Although the Cape colony

possesses only a moderately fertile country, it appears in a very

prosperous condition. In one respect it suffers like New South Wales,

namely, in the absence of water communication, and in the interior

being separated from the coast by a high chain of mountains. This

country does not possess coal; and there is no timber, excepting

at a considerable distance. Hides, tallow, and wine are the chief

exports, and latterly a considerable quantity of corn. The farmers

are beginning also to pay attention to sheep-grazing,--a hint taken

from Australia. It is no small triumph to Van Diemen’s Land, that

live sheep have been exported from a colony of thirty-three years

standing, to this which was founded in 1651.

In Cape Town it is said that the present number of inhabitants is

about 15,000, and in the whole colony, including coloured people,

200,000. Many different nations are here mingled together; the

Europeans consist of Dutch, French, and English, and scattered people

from other parts. The Malays, descendants of slaves brought from the

East Indian archipelago, form a large body. They are a fine set of

men, and can always be distinguished by a conical hat, like the roof

of a circular thatched cottage, or by a red handkerchief on their

heads. The number of negroes is not very great; and the Hottentots,

the ill-treated aborigines of the country, are, I should think, in

a still smaller proportion. The first object in Cape Town which

strikes the eye of a stranger, is the number of bullock-waggons.

Several times I saw eighteen, and I heard of twenty-four oxen being

all yoked together in one team. Besides these, waggons with four,

six, and eight horses in hand, go trotting about the streets. I

have as yet not mentioned the well-known Table Mountain. This great

mass of horizontally-stratified sandstone rises quite close behind

the town to a height of 3500 feet: the upper part forms an absolute

wall, often reaching into the region of the clouds. I should think so

high a mountain, not forming part of an extensive platform, and yet

being composed of horizontal strata, must be a rare phenomenon. It

certainly gives the landscape a very peculiar, and from some points

of view, a grand character.

JUNE 4TH.--I set out on a short excursion to see the neighbouring

country, but I saw so very little, that I have scarcely any thing

to say. I hired a couple of horses, and a young Hottentot groom to

accompany me as a guide. He spoke English very well, and was most

tidily dressed; he wore a long coat, beaver hat, and white gloves!

The Hottentots, or Hodmadods as old Dampier calls them, to my eye

look like partially bleached negroes. They are of a small stature,

and have most singularly-formed heads and faces: the temple and

cheek-bones project so much, that the whole face is hidden from

a person standing in the same side position in which he would be

enabled to see part of the features of a European. Their hair is very

short and curly.

Our first day’s ride was to the village of the Paarl, situated

between thirty and forty miles to the N.E. of Cape Town. After

leaving the neighbourhood of the town, where white houses stand as

if picked out of a street and then by chance dropped on the open

country, we had to cross a wide level sandy flat, totally unfit

for cultivation. In the hopes of finding some hard materials for

making a road, the sands had been bored along the whole line to the

depth of forty feet, but without any success. Leaving the flat, we

crossed a low undulating country, thinly clothed with a slight green

vegetation. It was not the flowering season, but even at this time of

the year there were some very pretty oxalises and mesembryanthemums,

and on the sandy spots fine tufts of heaths. There were also several

beautiful little birds:--if a person could not find amusement in

observing the animals and plants, there was very little else during

the whole day to interest him: only here and there we passed a

solitary farm-house.

Directly after arriving at the Paarl, I ascended a singular group of

rounded granite hills, which rise close behind the village. From the

summit I enjoyed a fine view of the line of mountains which I had to

cross on the following morning. Their colours were gray or partly

rusty red, and their outlines irregular, but far from picturesque:

the general tint of the lower country was a pale brownish green, and

the whole entirely destitute of woodland.[1] From the naked state of

the mountains, seen likewise through a very clear atmosphere, I was

reminded of Northern Chile; but the rocks there, possess at least a

brilliant colouring. Immediately beneath the hill, the long village

of the Paarl extended; all the houses were whitewashed, and appeared

very comfortable; and there was not a single hovel. Each house had

its garden and a few trees planted in straight rows; and there were

many vineyards of considerable size, which at this time of year were

destitute of leaves. The whole village possessed an air of quiet and

respectable comfort.

JUNE 5TH.--After riding about three hours, we came near to the French

Hoeck pass. This is so called from a number of emigrant protestant

Frenchmen, who formerly settled in a flat valley at the foot of the

mountain: it is one of the prettiest places I saw in my excursion.

The pass is a considerable work, an inclined road having been cut

along the steep side of the mountain: it forms one of the principal

roads from the low land of the coast, to the mountains and great

plains of the interior. We reached the foot of the mountains on the

opposite, or S. E. side of the pass, a little after noon. Here,

at the toll-bar, we found comfortable lodgings for the night. The

surrounding mountains were destitute of trees, and even of brushwood;

but they supported a scattered vegetation of rather a brighter green

than usual: the quantity, however, of white siliceous sandstone,

every where protruding itself uncovered, gave to the country a bleak

and desolate aspect.

6TH.--My intention was to return by Sir Lowry Cole’s pass, over

the same chain of mountains as before, but a little further to the

south. Following unfrequented paths, we crossed an irregular hilly

country until we joined the other line of road. During the whole

long day, I met scarcely a single person, and saw but few inhabited

spots, or any number of cattle. A few roebucks were grazing on the

sides of the hills, and some large dirty white vultures, like the

condors of America, slowly wheeled over the place where probably

some dead animal was lying. There was not even a tree to break the

monotonous uniformity of the sandstone hills: I never saw a much

less interesting country. At night we slept at the house of an

English farmer; and at an early hour the next day we descended by Sir

Lowry’s pass, which, like that of the French Hoeck, has been cut,

at a great expense, along the flank of a steep mountain. From the

summit, there was a noble view of the whole of False Bay, and of the

Table Mountain, and, immediately below, of the cultivated country of

Hottentot Holland. The flat, covered with sand-dunes did not appear,

when viewed from this height, of the tedious length which we found it

before we reached in the evening Cape Town.

JUNE 18TH.--We put to sea, and, on the 29th, crossed the Tropic of

Capricorn for the sixth and last time. On the 8th of July, we arrived

off St. Helena. This island, the forbidding aspect of which has been

so often described, rises like a huge castle from the ocean. A

great wall, built of successive streams of black lava, forms around

the whole circuit a bold coast. Near the town, as if in aid of the

natural defence, small forts and guns are every where built up, and

mingled with the rugged rocks. The town extends up a flat and very

narrow valley; the houses look respectable, and they are interspersed

with a very few green trees. When approaching the anchorage there

is one striking view: an irregular castle perched on the summit of

a lofty hill, and surrounded by a few scattered fir-trees, boldly

projects against the sky.

The next day I obtained lodgings within a stone’s throw of Napoleon’s

tomb.[2] I confess, however, this had little attraction for me: but

it was a capital central situation, whence I could make excursions

in every direction. During the four days I staid here, from morning

to night I wandered over the island, and examined its geological

history. The house was situated at an elevation of about 2000 feet;

here the weather was cold and very boisterous, with constant showers

of rain; and every now and then the whole scene was veiled in thick

clouds.

Near the coast the rough lava is entirely destitute of vegetation:

in the central and higher parts, a different series of rocks have

from extreme decomposition produced a clayey soil, which, where not

covered by vegetation, is stained in broad bands of many bright

colours. At this season the land, moistened by constant showers,

produces a singularly bright green pasture; this lower and lower

down, gradually fades away, and at last disappears. In latitude 16°,

and at the trifling elevation of 1500 feet, it is surprising to

behold a vegetation possessing a character decidedly English. The

hills are crowned with irregular plantations of Scotch firs; and

the sloping banks are thickly scattered over with thickets of gorze,

covered with its bright yellow flowers. Weeping-willows are common

along the course of the rivulets, and the hedges are made of the

blackberry, producing its well-known fruit. When we consider that

the number of plants now found on the island is 746, and that out of

these, fifty-two alone are native species, the rest being imported,

and many of them from England, we see a good reason for this English

character in the vegetation. The numerous species which have been so

recently introduced can hardly have failed to have destroyed some

of the native kinds. I believe there is no accurate account of the

state of the vegetation at the period when the island was covered

with trees; such would have formed a most curious comparison with its

present sterile condition, and limited Flora. Many English plants

appear to flourish here better than in their native country; some

also from the opposite quarter of Australia succeed remarkably well.

It is only on the highest and steepest ridges, where the native Flora

is still predominant.

The English, or rather the Welsh character of the scenery, is

preserved by the numerous cottages and small white houses; some

buried at the bottom of the deepest valleys, and others stuck up on

the crests of the lofty hills. Some of the views are very striking;

I may instance that from near Sir W. Doveton’s house, where the bold

peak called Lott is seen over a dark wood of firs, the whole being

backed by the red water-worn mountains of the Southern shore.

On viewing the island from an eminence, the first circumstance which

strikes one, is the very great number of roads, and forts: the

labour bestowed on the public works, if one forgets its character as

a prison, seem out of all proportion to its extent or value. There

is so little level or useful land, that it seems surprising how so

many people (about 5000) can subsist here. The lower orders, or the

emancipated slaves, are I believe extremely poor: they complain

of want of work, a fact which is likewise shown by the very cheap

labour. From the reduction in the number of public servants owing

to the island having been given up by the East India Company, and

the consequent emigration of many of the richer people, the poverty

probably will increase. The chief food of the working class is

rice with a little salt meat; as neither of these articles are the

products of the island, but must be purchased with money, the low

wages tell heavily on the poor people. The fine times, as my old

guide called them, when “Bony” was here, can never return again. Now

that the people are blessed with freedom, a right which I believe

they value fully, it seems probable that their numbers will quickly

increase: if so, what is to become of the little state of St. Helena?

My guide was an elderly man, who had been a goatherd when a boy,

and knew every step amongst the rocks. He was of a race many times

mixed, and although with a dusky skin, he had not the disagreeable

expression of a mulatto. He was a very civil, quiet old man, and

such appears the character of the greater number among the lower

classes. It was strange to my ears to hear a man, nearly white, and

respectably dressed, talking with indifference of the times when he

was a slave. With my companion who carried our dinner and a horn of

water, which latter is quite necessary as all in the lower valleys is

saline, I every day took long walks.

Beneath the limits of the elevated and central green circle, the wild

valleys are quite desolate and untenanted. Here, to the geologist,

there are scenes of high interest, which show the successive changes,

and complicated disturbances which have in past times happened.

According to my views, St. Helena has existed as an island from a

very remote epoch: some obscure proofs, however, of the elevation of

the land are still extant. I believe that the central and highest

peaks form parts of the rim of a great crater; the southern half of

which has been removed by the waves of the sea. There is, moreover,

an external margin of black volcanic rocks, which belong to an

anterior condition of things. These have been dislocated and broken

up by forces acting from below, so that the confusion in structure

from these different causes is extreme. On the higher parts of the

island considerable numbers of shells occur embedded in the soil,

which have always been supposed to be of marine origin: and the fact

has been adduced as a proof of the retreat of the sea. The shell

turns out to be a Bulimus, or terrestrial species. It is however

very remarkable, that it is not now found in a living state: a

circumstance which in all probability may be attributed to the entire

destruction of the woods, and consequent loss of food and shelter,

which occurred during the early part of the last century.

The history of the changes, which the elevated plains of Longwood

and Deadwood have undergone, as given in General Beatson’s account

of the island, is extremely curious. It is said the plain in former

times was covered with wood, and was therefore called the Great

Wood. So late as the year 1716 there were many trees upon it, but

in 1724 the old trees had mostly fallen; and as goats and hogs were

at that time suffered to range about, all the young trees had been

devoured. It appears also from the official records, that the trees

were unexpectedly, some years afterwards, succeeded by indigenous

wire grass, which now spreads over its whole extent.[3] He then adds,

“These are curious facts, since they trace the changes which this

remarkable spot of land has undergone, for now this formerly naked

plain (after the trees had fallen) is covered with fine sward, and

is become the finest piece of pasture on the island.” The extent of

surface, which was probably covered by wood at a former period is

estimated at no less than two thousand acres; at the present day

scarcely a tree can be found there. It is said, that in 1709 there

were quantities of dead wood in Sandy Bay: this place is now so

utterly desert, that nothing but so well-attested an account could

make me believe that trees had ever existed there. The fact, that

the goats and hogs destroyed all the young trees as they sprung up,

and that in the course of time the old ones, which were safe from

their attacks, perished from age, seems clearly made out. Goats were

introduced in the year 1502; eighty-six years afterwards, in the time

of Cavendish, it is known they were exceedingly numerous. More than

a century afterwards, in 1731, when the evil was completed and found

irretrievable, an order was issued that all stray animals should be

destroyed.

When at Valparaiso, I heard it positively affirmed, that the

Sandal-wood tree had been found on the island of Juan Fernandez in

considerable numbers, but that all without exception were standing

dead. At the time, I thought it was some mysterious case of the

natural death of a species; but when it is remembered, that goats for

very many years have abounded on that island, it seems most probable

that the young trees were prevented growing, and that the old ones

perished from age. It is a very interesting fact, to observe that the

arrival of animals at St. Helena in 1501 did not change the whole

aspect of the island, until a period of two hundred and twenty years

had elapsed: for they were introduced in 1502, and in 1724 it is said

“the old trees had mostly fallen.” There can be no doubt, this change

affected not only the Bulimus and probably some other land-shells

(of which I obtained specimens from the same bed), but likewise a

multitude of insects.

St. Helena, situated so remote from any continent, in the midst of

a great ocean, and possessing a unique Flora,--this little world

within itself,--excites our curiosity. Birds and insects,[4] as

might have been expected, are very few in number; indeed I believe

all the birds have been introduced within late years. Partridges

and pheasants are tolerably abundant: the island is much too

English, not to be subject to strict game-laws. I was told of a more

unjust sacrifice to such ordinances, than I ever heard of even in

England. The poor people formerly used to burn a plant, which grows

on the coast-rocks, and export soda; but a peremptory order came

out prohibiting this practice, and giving as a reason, that the

partridges would have nowhere to build!

In my walks, I passed more than once over the grassy plain, bounded

by deep valleys, on which Longwood stands. Viewed from a short

distance, it appears like a respectable gentleman’s country-seat. In

front there are a few cultivated fields, and beyond them, the hill of

coloured rocks called the Flagstaff, and the square black mass of

the Barn. On the whole the view is rather bleak and uninteresting.

The scrupulous degree to which the coast must formerly have been

guarded, is quite extraordinary: there are alarm houses, alarm guns,

and alarm stations on every peak. I was much struck with the number

of forts and picket houses, on the line leading down to Prosperous

Bay. One would have supposed that this at least was an easy descent:

I found it however a mere goat-path, and in one spot the use of

ropes, which were fixed into rings in the cliff, were almost

indispensable. At the present day two artillery-men are kept there;

for what use it is not easy to conjecture. Prosperous Bay, although

with so flourishing a name, has nothing more attractive than a wild

sea-beach, and black utterly barren rocks. The only inconvenience I

suffered in my walks, was from the impetuous winds. One day I noticed

a curious circumstance: standing on the edge of a plain, terminated

by a great cliff of about a thousand feet in depth, I saw at the

distance of a few yards right to windward, some tern, struggling

against a very strong breeze, whilst, where I stood, the air was

quite calm. Approaching close to the brink, I stretched out my arm,

which immediately felt the full force of the wind: an invisible

barrier of two yards wide, separated a strongly agitated from a

perfectly calm air. The current meeting the bold face of the cliff,

must have been reflected upwards at a certain angle, within which

plane there necessarily would be either an eddy or a calm.

I so much enjoyed my rambles among the rocks and mountains of St.

Helena, that I felt almost sorry on the morning of the 14th to

descend to the town. Before noon I was on board, and the Beagle made

sail for Ascension.

We reached the anchorage of the latter place on the evening of the

19th (July). Those who have beheld a volcanic island, situated within

an arid climate, will be able at once to picture to themselves the

aspect of Ascension. They will imagine smooth conical hills of a

bright red colour, with their summits generally truncated, rising

distinct out of a level surface of black rugged lava. A principal

mound in the centre of the island, seems the father of the lesser

cones. It is called Green Hill; its name is taken from the faintest

tinge of that colour, which at this time of the year was barely

perceptible from the anchorage. To complete this desolate scene, the

black rocks on the coast are lashed by a wild and turbulent sea.

The settlement is near the beach; it consists of several houses and

barracks placed irregularly, but well built of white freestone.

The only inhabitants are marines, and some negroes liberated from

slave-ships, who are paid and victualled by government. There is not

a private person on the island. Many of the marines appeared well

contented with their situation; they think it better to serve their

one-and-twenty years on shore, let it be what it may, than in a ship:

in which choice, if I were a marine, I would most heartily agree.

The next morning I ascended Green Hill, 2840 feet high, and thence

walked across the island to the windward point. A good cart-road

leads from the coast settlement to the houses, gardens, and fields,

placed near the summit of the central mountain. On the road-side

there are milestones, and likewise cisterns, where each thirsty

passer-by, can drink some good water. Similar care is displayed in

each part of the establishment, and especially in the management of

the springs, so that a single drop of water shall not be lost: indeed

the whole island may be compared to a huge ship kept in first-rate

order. I could not help, when admiring the active industry which had

created such effects out of such means, at the same time regretting

that it was wasted on so poor and trifling an end. M. Lesson has

remarked with justice, that the English nation alone would have

thought of making the island of Ascension a productive spot; any

other people would have held it without any further views, as a mere

fortress in the ocean.

Near the coast nothing grows; a little inland an occasional green

castor-oil plant, and a few grasshoppers (true friends of the

desert), may be met with. Some grass is scattered over the surface of

the central elevated region, and the whole much resembles the worse

parts of the Welsh mountains. But scanty as the pasture appears,

about six hundred sheep, many goats, a few cows and horses, all

thrive well on it. Of native animals, rats and land-crabs swarm

in numbers: of native birds, there are none; but the guinea-fowl,

imported from the Cape de Verd Islands, is abundant, and the common

fowl has likewise run wild. Some cats, which were originally turned

out to destroy the rats and mice, have increased so as to become a

great plague. The island is entirely destitute of trees, in which,

and in every other respect, it is very far inferior to St. Helena.

Mr. Dring tells me, that the witty people of the latter place say,

“we know we live on a rock, but the poor people of Ascension live on

a cinder:” the distinction in truth is very just.

On the succeeding days, I took long walks and examined some rather

curious points in the mineralogical composition of some of the

volcanic rocks, to which I was guided by the kindness of Lieut.

Evans. On the basaltic masses, which are daily washed by the

tide, most curious calcareous incrustations have been deposited.

They resemble in form certain cryptogamic plants, especially the

Marchantiæ; their surface is perfectly smooth and glossy, and their

colour black, which seems owing to animal matter. I have shown these

incrustations to several geologists, and not one guessed their true

origin. Any one would suppose that they had been the product of fire,

rather than of a deposition of calcareous matter, now constantly

undergoing a round of decay and renovation from the action of the

breakers. Near the settlement where these incrustations occur,

there is a large beach of calcareous sand, entirely composed of

comminuted and rounded fragments of shells and corals. The lower part

of this, from the percolation of water containing calcareous matter

in solution, soon becomes consolidated, and is used as a building

stone; but some of the layers are too hard for freestone, and when

struck by the hammer ring like flint.

The main line of beach is directed N.E. and S.W.; Lieutenant Evans

informs me, that during the six months included between the 1st of

April and the 1st of October, the sand accumulates towards the N.E.

extremity, and during the other six it travels back again towards

the S.W. end. This periodical movement is due to a change in the

direction of the swell, which is influenced by the general direction

of the trade-wind, during the two periods of the year. Lieutenant

Evans also informs me that during the six years he has resided on

this island, he has always observed, that in the months of October

and November, when the sand commences travelling towards the S.W.,

the rocks which are situated at that end of the long beach, become

coated by a white, thick, and very hard calcareous layer. I saw

portions of this remarkable deposit, which had been protected by

an accumulation of sand. In the year 1831 it was much thicker than

during any other period. It would appear that the water, charged with

calcareous matter by the disturbance of a vast mass of calcareous

particles, only partially cemented together, deposits this substance

on the first rocks against which it impinges. But the most singular

circumstance is, that in the course of a couple of months this

layer is either abraded or redissolved, so that after that period,

it entirely disappears. It is curious thus to trace the origin of

a periodical incrustation on certain isolated rocks, to the motion

of the earth with relation to the sun; for this determines the

atmospheric currents, which give the direction to the swell of the

ocean, and this acts on the arrangement of the sea-beach, and this

again on the quantity of calcareous matter held in solution by the

waters of the neighbouring sea.

One of my excursions took me towards the S.W. extremity of the

island. The day was clear and hot, and I saw the island, not smiling

with beauty, but staring with naked hideousness. The lava streams

are covered with hummocks, and are rugged to a degree, which,

geologically speaking, is not of easy explanation. The intervening

spaces are concealed with layers of pumice, ashes, and volcanic

tuft. In some parts rounded volcanic bombs, which must have assumed

this form, when projected red-hot from the crater, lie strewed on

the surface. Whilst passing at sea this end of the island, I could

not imagine what was the nature of the white patches, with which the

whole plain was mottled; I now found they were seafowl, which were

sleeping in such full confidence, that even in midday a man could

walk up to, and seize hold of them. These birds were the only living

creatures I saw during the day. On the beach a great surf, although

the breeze was light, was tumbling over the broken lava rocks.

Upon leaving Ascension the ship’s head was directed towards the

coast of South America, and on August 1st, we anchored at Bahia or

San Salvador. We staid here four days, in which time I took several

long walks. I was glad to find my enjoyment of tropical scenery

had not decreased even in the slightest degree, from the want of

novelty. The elements of the scenery are so simple, that they are

worth mentioning, as a proof on what trifling circumstances exquisite

natural beauty depends.

The country may be described as a level plain of about three

hundred feet in elevation, which in every part has been worn into

flat-bottomed valleys. This structure is remarkable in a granitic

land, but is nearly universal in all those softer formations, of

which plains usually are composed. The whole surface is covered

by various kinds of stately trees, interspersed with patches of

cultivated ground, out of which houses, convents, and chapels arise.

It must be remembered that within the tropics, the wild luxuriance

of nature is not lost even in the vicinity of large cities; for

the natural vegetation of the hedges and hill-sides, overpowers in

picturesque effect the artificial labour of man. Hence, there are

only a few spots where the bright red soil affords a strong contrast

with the universal clothing of green. From the edges of the plain

there are distant glimpses either of the ocean, or of the great bay

bordered by low wooded shores, and on the surface of which numerous

boats and canoes show their white sails. Excepting from these points,

the range of vision is very limited: following the level pathways,

on each hand alternate peeps into the wooded valleys below can alone

be obtained. Finally, I may add that the houses, and especially the

sacred edifices, are built in a peculiar and rather fantastic style

of architecture. They are all whitewashed; so that when illuminated

by the brilliant sun of midday, and as seen against the pale blue sky

of the horizon, they stand out more like shadows than substantial

buildings.

Such are the elements of the scenery, but to paint the effect is a

hopeless endeavour. Learned naturalists describe these scenes of

the tropics by naming a multitude of objects, and mentioning some

characteristic feature of each. To a learned traveller, this possibly

may communicate some definite ideas: but who else from seeing a

plant in an herbarium can imagine its appearance when growing in

its native soil? Who from seeing choice plants in a hothouse can

magnify some into the dimensions of forest-trees, and crowd others

into an entangled jungle? Who when examining in the cabinet of the

entomologist the gay exotic butterflies, and singular cicadas, will

associate with these objects, the ceaseless harsh music of the

latter, and the lazy flight of the former,--the sure accompaniments

of the still, glowing, noonday of the tropics. It is, when the sun

has attained its greatest height, that such views should be beheld:

then the dense splendid foliage of the mango hides the ground with

its darkest shade, whilst the upper branches are rendered from the

profusion of light of the most brilliant green. In the temperate

zones, as it appears to me, the case is different, the vegetation

there is not so dark or so rich, and hence the rays of the declining

sun, tinged of a red, purple, or yellow colour, add most to the

beauties of the scenery of those climes.

When quietly walking along the shady pathways, and admiring each

successive view, one wishes to find language to express one’s ideas.

Epithet after epithet is found too weak to convey to those, who have

not visited the intertropical regions, the sensation of delight which

the mind experiences. I have said the plants in a hothouse fail to

communicate a just idea of the vegetation, yet I must recur to it.

The land is one great wild, untidy, luxuriant hothouse, which nature

made for her managerie, but man has taken possession of it, and has

studded it with gay houses and formal gardens. How great would be the

desire in every admirer of nature to behold, if such were possible,

another planet; yet to every one in Europe, it may be truly said,

that at the distance of a few degrees from his native soil, the

glories of another world are open to him. In my last walk, I stopped

again and again to gaze on these beauties, and endeavoured to fix

for ever in my mind an impression, which at the time I knew, sooner

or later must fail. The form of the orange-tree, the cocoa-nut,

the palm, the mango, the tree-fern, the banana, will remain clear

and separate; but the thousand beauties which unite these into one

perfect scene must fade away; yet they will leave, like a tale heard

in childhood, a picture full of indistinct, but most beautiful

figures.

AUGUST 6TH.--In the afternoon we stood out to sea, with the

intention of making a direct course to the Cape de Verd Islands.

Unfavourable winds, however, having delayed us, on the 12th we ran

into Pernambuco,--a large city on the coast of Brazil in latitude 8°

south. We anchored outside the reef; but in a short time a pilot came

on board, and took us into the inner harbour, where we lay close to

the town.

Pernambuco is built on some narrow and low sand-banks, which are

separated from each other by shoal channels of salt water. The three

parts of the town are connected together by two long bridges built

on wooden piles. The town is in all parts disgusting, the streets

being narrow, ill-paved, and filthy; the houses are very tall and

gloomy. The number of white people, which during the morning may be

met with in the streets, bears about the proportion of foreigners

in any other nation; all the rest are black or of a dusky colour.

The latter, as well as the Brazilians, are far from prepossessing

in their appearance. The poor negroes, wherever they may be, are

cheerful, talkative, and boisterous. There was nothing in the sight,

smell, or sounds within this large town, which conveyed to my mind

any pleasing impressions.

The season of heavy rains had hardly come to an end, and hence the

surrounding country, which is scarcely elevated above the level of

the sea, was flooded with water. I failed in all my attempts to take

any long walks. I was, however, enabled to observe that many of

the country-houses in the outskirts, had like those of Bahia a gay

appearance, which harmonized well with the luxuriant character of the

vegetation.

The flat swampy land on which Pernambuco stands, is surrounded at

the distance of a few miles, by a semicircle of low hills, or rather

by the edge of a country elevated perhaps two hundred feet above

the sea. The old city of Olinda stands on one extremity of this

range. One day I took a canoe, and proceeded up one of the channels

to visit it; I found the old town from its situation both sweeter

and cleaner than that of Pernambuco. I must here commemorate what

happened for the first time during the four-and-a-half years we have

been wandering about, namely, having met with a want of politeness

amongst any class of people: I was refused in a sullen manner at

two different houses, and obtained with difficulty from a third,

permission to pass through their gardens, to an uncultivated hill,

for the purpose of taking a view of the country. I feel quite glad

that this happened in the land of the “Brava Gente,” for I bear

them no good will--a land also of slavery, and therefore of moral

debasement. A Spaniard would have been ashamed at the thought of

refusing such a request, or of behaving to a stranger with rudeness.

The channel by which we went to, and returned from Olinda, was

bordered on each side by mangroves, which sprang like a miniature

forest out of the greasy mud-banks. The bright green colour of these

bushes always reminded me of the rank grass in a churchyard: both are

nourished by putrid exhalations; the one speaks of death past, and

the other too often of death to come.

The most curious thing which I saw in this neighbourhood, was the

reef that forms the harbour. It runs for a length of several miles

in a perfectly straight line, parallel to, and not far distant from,

the shore. It varies in width from thirty to sixty yards; it is

dry at low water, has a level smooth surface, and is composed of

obscurely-stratified hard sandstone. Hence, at first sight, it is

difficult to credit that it is the work of nature, and not of art.

Its utility is great; close within the inner wall there is a good

depth of water, and ships lie moored to old guns, which are fixed

in holes on its summit. A lighthouse stands on one extremity, and

around it the sea breaks heavily. In entering the harbour, a ship

passes within thirty yards of this point, and amidst the foam of the

breakers; close by, on the other hand, are other breakers, which thus

form a narrow gateway. It is almost fearful to behold a ship running,

as it appears, headlong into such dangers.

With respect to the origin of the reef, I believe a bar composed of

sand and pebbles formerly existed beneath the water (a circumstance

no ways improbable) when the low land, on which the town now

stands, was occupied by a large bay; and that this bar was first

consolidated, and then elevated. These two processes are of such

frequent occurrence in South America, that there can be no objection

to using them in accounting for any remarkable structure in the land.

There is another and slightly different explanation which possesses

equal probability, namely, that a long spit of sand, like some

that now run parallel to parts of the neighbouring coast, had its

central part consolidated, and then by a slight change in the set of

currents, the loose matter removed, so that the hard nucleus alone

was left. Although the swell of the open ocean breaks heavily on the

outside of this narrow and insignificant line of reef, yet there is

no record of its decay. This durability is much the most curious

circumstance in its history. Its protection appears due to a layer of

calcareous matter, formed by the successive growth of several kinds

of organic bodies, chiefly serpulæ, balani, nulliporæ, but no true

corals. It is a process strictly analogous to the formation of peat;

and like that substance, its effects are to preserve from degradation

the matter on which it rests. In true coral reefs, when the upper

extremities of the living mass are killed by the rays of the sun,

they become enveloped and protected by a nearly similar process. It

is probable, that if a breakwater, such as that at Plymouth, was

built in these tropical seas, it would be imperishable; that is, as

imperishable as any part of the solid land, all of which must some

day suffer decay and renovation.

On the 17th we took our final leave of the coast of South America,

and on the last day of the month anchored at Porto Praya. We staid

there only five days, and on the 5th of September steered for the

Azores. On the 19th we anchored off the town of Angra, the capital of

Terceira.

This island is moderately lofty, and has a rounded outline, with

detached conical hills evidently of volcanic origin. The land is well

cultivated, and is divided into a multitude of rectangular fields

by stone walls, extending from the water’s edge to high up on the

central hills. There are few or no trees, and the yellow stubble land

at this time of the year gave a burnt-up and unpleasant character

to the scenery. Small hamlets and single whitewashed houses are

scattered in all parts. In the evening a party went on shore: we

found the city a very clean and tidy little place, containing about

10,000 inhabitants, which includes nearly the fourth part of the

total number on the island. There are no good shops, and there is

little appearance of activity, excepting the intolerable creaking

of an occasional bullock-waggon. The churches are very respectable,

and there were formerly a good many convents; but Dom Pedro destroyed

several. He levelled three nunneries to the ground, and gave

permission to the nuns to marry, which, except by some very old ones,

was gladly received.

Angra was formerly the capital of the whole Archipelago, but it

has now only one division of the islands under its government, and

its glory has departed. The city is defended by a strong castle on

Mount Brazil, and by a line of batteries encircling the base of this

extinct volcano, which overlooks the town. Terceira was the first

place that received Dom Pedro, and from this beginning he conquered

the other islands, and finally Portugal. A loan was scraped together

in this one island of no less than 400,000 dollars, of which sum not

one farthing has ever been paid to these first supporters of the

present right royal and honourable family.

The next day the Consul kindly lent me his horse, and furnished me

with guides to proceed to a spot in the centre of the island, which

was described as an active crater. Ascending in deep lanes, bordered

on each side by high stone walls, for the three first miles we

passed many houses and gardens. We then entered on a very irregular

country, consisting of more recent streams of hummocky basaltic

lava. The rocks are covered in some parts by a thick brushwood about

three feet high, and in others by heath, fern, and short pasture:

a few broken-down old stone walls completed the resemblance with

the mountains of Wales. I saw, moreover, some old English friends

amongst the insects; and of birds, the starling, water-wagtail,

chaffinch, and blackbird. There are no houses in this elevated and

central part, and the ground is only used for the pasture of cattle

and goats. On every side besides the ridges of more ancient lavas,

there were cones of various dimensions, which still partly retained

their crater-formed summits; and where broken down, showed a pile of

cinders, such as those from an iron-foundry.

When we reached the so-called crater, I found it consisted of a

slight depression, or rather of a short valley abutting against

a higher range and without any exit. The bottom was traversed by

several large fissures, out of which, in nearly a dozen places,

small jets of steam issued as from the cracks in the boiler of a

steam engine. The steam close to the irregular orifices was far too

hot for the hand to endure it. It had but little smell, yet from

every thing made of iron being blackened, and from a peculiar rough

sensation communicated to the skin, the vapour cannot be pure; I

imagine it contains some muriatic acid. The effect on the surrounding

trachytic lava was singular, the solid stone being entirely converted

either into pure snow-white porcelain clay, or into a kind of the

brightest red, or the two colours were marbled together. The steam

has thus been emitted during many years; and it is said that flames

once issued from the cracks. During rain, the water from each bank

must flow into these cracks; and it is probable that this same water

trickling down to the neighbourhood of some heated subterranean lava,

causes the above effects. Throughout the island, the powers from

below have been unusually active during the last year; several small

earthquakes have been felt, and during a few days a jet of steam

issued from a bold precipice (part of Mount Brazil) overhanging the

sea, not far from the town of Angra.

I enjoyed my day’s ride, though I did not find much worth seeing.

It was pleasant to meet the peasantry; I do not recollect ever

having beheld a set of handsomer young men, with more good-humoured

expressions. The greater number whom we met, were employed in the

mountains gathering sticks for firewood. A whole family, from the

father to the least boy, might be seen, each carrying his bundle on

his head to sell in the town. Their burdens were very heavy; this

hard labour and the ragged state of their clothes plainly bespoke

poverty; yet I am told it is not that they want food, but there is an

absence of all luxuries,--a case parallel to that of Chiloe. Hence,

although the whole land is not cultivated, numbers are emigrating

to Brazil, where the contract to which they are bound differs but

little from slavery. It seems a great pity that so fine a population

should be compelled to leave a land of plenty, where every article

of food--meat, vegetables, and fruit--is exceedingly cheap and most

abundant: but the labourer finds his labour of proportionally little

value.

Another day I set out early in the morning to visit the town of Praya

situated towards the N.E. extremity of the island. The distance is

about fifteen miles; the road ran during the greater part of the

way, not far from the coast. The country is all cultivated, and

scattered over with houses and small villages. I noticed in several

places, that the solid lava, which in part formed the road, was worn

into ruts of the depth of twelve inches from the long traffic of the

bullock-waggons. This circumstance has been noticed with surprise in

the ancient pavement of Pompeii, for it does not occur in any of the

present towns of Italy. The waggon-wheels here have a tire surmounted

by singularly large knobs of iron; perhaps the old Roman wheels

were thus furnished. The country during our morning’s ride was not

interesting; excepting always when enlivened by the pleasant sight

of the healthy peasantry. The harvest was lately over, and near the

houses, the fine yellow heads of the Indian corn were tied in large

bundles, to be dried, to the poplar-trees; and these, seen from a

distance, appeared weighed down by some beautiful fruit,--the very

emblem of fertility.

One part of the road crossed a broad stream of lava, which from its

rocky and black surface seemed to be of comparatively recent origin:

indeed, the crater, whence it had flowed, could be distinguished. The

industrious inhabitants have turned this space into vineyards; but

for this purpose it was necessary to clear away the loose fragments,

and to pile them up into a multitude of walls, which enclose little

patches of ground a few yards square, thus covering the country with

a network of black lines.

The town of Praya is a quiet, forlorn, little place: many years

since a large city was here overwhelmed by an earthquake. It is

asserted that the land then subsided, and a wall of a convent now

bathed by the sea, is shown as a proof of it: the fact is probable,

but the supposed proof not conclusive. I returned home by another

road, which first led along the northern shore, and then crossed

the central part of the island. This north-eastern extremity is

particularly well cultivated, and produces a large quantity of fine

wheat. The square open fields, and small villages with whitewashed

churches, gave to the view, as seen from the heights, an aspect

resembling the less picturesque parts of central England. We soon

reached the region of clouds, which during our whole visit hung very

low and concealed the tops of the mountains. For a couple of hours we

crossed this central and elevated part, which is not inhabited and

has a desolate appearance. When we descended from the clouds to the

city, I heard the good news that astronomical observations had been

obtained, and that we should go to sea the same evening.

On the 25th we called at the island of St. Michael’s for letters, and

then steered a direct course for England. On October 2d the Beagle

anchored at Falmouth, where I left her, having lived on board the

little vessel very nearly five years.

* * * * *

As this volume may possibly fall into the hands of some one about

to undertake a similar expedition, I will offer a few pieces of

advice, some of which I observed with much advantage, but others,

to my cost, neglected. Let the collector’s motto be, “Trust nothing

to the memory;” for the memory becomes a fickle guardian when one

interesting object is succeeded by another still more interesting.

Keep a list with the date of the ships by which _every_ box of

specimens, or even a letter, is transmitted to England; let the

receiver do the same: it will afterwards save much anxiety. Put a

number on every specimen, and every fragment of a specimen; and

during the very same minute let it be entered in the catalogue, so

that if hereafter its locality be doubted, the collector may say

in good truth, “Every specimen of mine was ticketed on the spot.”

Any thing which is folded up in paper, or put into a separate box,

ought to have a number on the outside (with the exception perhaps

of geological specimens), but more _especially_ a duplicate number

on the inside attached to the specimen itself. A series of small

numbers should be printed from 0 to 5000; a stop must be added to

those numbers which can be read upside down (as 699. or 86.). It

is likewise convenient to have the different thousands printed on

differently coloured paper, so that when unpacking, a single glance

tells the approximate number.

For specimens in spirits of wine, I found the following plan answered

admirably: Get a set of steel dies from 0 to 9, a small punch, and

some sheets of _trebly_-thick tinfoil. The numbers may at any time

be stamped in a line, with a hole punched in front of each, and then

cut off with a pair of scissors as wanted. These tickets cost little

trouble in making, and _do not corrode_. Each specimen in spirits

should be loosely folded up in _very open_ gauze, or some such stuff;

the string which ties up the corners may likewise secure the number.

Use nothing but glass jars; but these are difficult to be obtained

of any size out of Europe. Jars of earthenware, and wooden casks,

either leak, or allow of evaporation; and when such are used, it is

not easy to know whether the specimens are too much crowded (a very

common fault), or in what state the spirit is in, which through glass

can be judged of by its colour. Bear in mind, that in nine out of

ten specimens which are spoiled, it is owing to the spirit being too

weak. The jars should be closed with a bung covered by bladder, twice

by common tinfoil, and by bladder again; let the bladder soak till

half putrid. I found this plan quite worth the trouble it cost.

Few, excepting those who have travelled in ships, know the extreme

inconvenience of want of room; and on this much depends: but if it

be practicable, keep three or four sets of bottles open at the

same time, so that one may serve for crustacea, another for animals

for dissection, another for minute specimens, another for fish,

always putting the latter into the strongest spirit. Any how it is

absolutely necessary to keep a couple of receiving bottles in which

every thing can at first be put, and afterwards transferred to the

permanent bottles with _fresh spirits_. Without assistance from

government, and plenty of room, it is most disheartening work to

attempt to bring home many specimens in spirits, although without

doubt in such a state they are very far the most valuable. I should

recommend any one circumstanced as I was to preserve the skins only

of large fish and reptiles. But with room and means at command, let

the collector place no limit to the number of his glass jars.

With respect to the catalogues it is inconvenient to have many; but

there must at least be two, one for the tin labels or specimens in

spirits, and another for the paper numbers, which should be applied

indiscriminately to every kind of specimen. If the observer has

any particular branch to which he devotes much attention, a third

catalogue exclusively for such specimens is desirable: I kept a third

for geological specimens and fossils. In a like manner notes should

be as simple as possible: I kept one set for geology, and another for

zoological and all other observations. It is well to endeavour to

write upon separate pages remarks on different specimens; for much

copying will thus be saved. My journal was likewise kept distinct

from the other subjects. I found an arrangement carried thus far very

useful: a traveller by land would, I suppose, be obliged to adopt a

still more simple plan.

Use arsenical soap[5] for all skins, but do not neglect to brush

the legs and beak with a solution of corrosive sublimate. Likewise

slightly brush over all dried plants with the solution. For

collecting insects use a plain strong sweeping-net, and pack the

specimens of all orders, excepting lepidoptera, between layers of

rag in pill-boxes, placing at the bottom a bit of camphor; this

costs _scarcely any_ trouble, and the insects, especially thousands

of unknown minute ones, arrive in an excellent state. Take a good

stock of chip pill-boxes--a simple plain strong microscope, such as

that long ago described by Ellis--a good stock of lace-needles, with

glass tubes and sealingwax, for the purpose of making dissecting

instruments. I need not mention small collecting bottles covered with

leather, tin boxes, dissecting scissors, blowpipe case, compasses,

mountain barometer, &c. I should recommend a sort of work-box fitted

up to hold watch-glasses, glass micrometers, pins, string, printed

numbers, &c.; and I found a small cabinet with drawers, some lined

with cork, and others with cross partitions, most useful as a

temporary storehouse.

Pack up for shipment _every_ specimen of _every_ kind in boxes lined

with tinned plates, and _soldered_ together: if the case be large the

specimens should further be packed into light pasteboard or other

boxes, for by long pressure even skins of quadrupeds are injured. On

no account whatever put bottles with spirits of wine, though ever so

well packed, in the same case with other specimens, for if one should

break every thing near it will be spoiled, as I found to my cost in

one instance.

When limited either in time, funds, or space, let not the collector

crowd too many specimens either into one bottle, or into one case.

For he should _constantly_ bear in mind as his second motto, that “It

is better to send home a few things well preserved, than a multitude

in a bad condition.” As long as due steps are taken that the harvest

may not be spoiled, let him not be disheartened, because he may for a

long time be labouring by himself; let him work hard from morning to

night, for every day and every hour is precious in a foreign clime;

and then most assuredly his own satisfaction will one day well repay

him.

* * * * *

Our voyage having come to an end, I will take a short retrospect

of the advantages and disadvantages, the pains and pleasures, of

our five years’ wandering. If a person should ask my advice, before

undertaking a long voyage, my answer would depend upon his possessing

a decided taste for some branch of knowledge, which could by such

means be improved. No doubt it is a high satisfaction to behold

various countries, and the many races of mankind, but the pleasures

gained at the time do not counterbalance the evils. It is necessary

to look forward to a harvest, however distant it may be, when some

fruit will be reaped, some good effected.

Many of the losses which must be experienced are obvious; such as

that of the society of all old friends, and of the sight of those

places, with which every dearest remembrance is so intimately

connected. These losses, however, are at the time partly relieved

by the exhaustless delight of anticipating the long wished-for day

of return. If, as poets say, life is a dream, I am sure in a voyage

these are the visions which serve best to pass away the long night.

Other losses, although not at first felt, tell heavily after a

period; these are, the want of room, of seclusion, of rest;--the

jading feeling of constant hurry;--the privation of small luxuries,

the comforts of civilization and domestic society, and, lastly, even

of music and the other pleasures of imagination. When such trifles

are mentioned, it is evident that the real grievances (excepting from

accidents) of a sea life are at an end. The short space of sixty

years has made an astonishing difference in the facility of distant

navigation. Even in the time of Cook, a man who left his comfortable

fireside for such expeditions, underwent severe privations. A yacht

now with every luxury of life might circumnavigate the globe. Besides

the vast improvements in ships and naval resources, the whole western

shores of America are thrown open, and Australia has become the

metropolis of a rising continent. How different are the circumstances

to a man shipwrecked at the present day in the Pacific, to what they

were in the time of Cook! since his voyage a hemisphere has been

added to the civilized world.

If a person suffer much from sea-sickness, let him weigh it heavily

in the balance. I speak from experience: it is no trifling evil which

may be cured in a week. If, on the other hand, he takes pleasure in

naval tactics, he will assuredly have full scope for his taste. But

it must be borne in mind, how large a proportion of the time, during

a long voyage, is spent on the water, as compared with the days in

harbour. And what are the boasted glories of the illimitable ocean? A

tedious waste, a desert of water, as the Arabian calls it. No doubt

there are some delightful scenes. A moonlight night, with the clear

heavens and the dark glittering sea, and the white sails filled by

the soft air of a gently-blowing trade-wind;--a dead calm, with the

heaving surface polished like a mirror, and all still, except the

occasional flapping of the sails. It is well once to behold a squall

with its rising arch and coming fury, or the heavy gale of wind and

mountainous waves. I confess, however, my imagination had painted

something more grand, more terrific in the full-grown storm. It is

an incomparably finer spectacle when beheld on shore, where the

waving trees, the wild flight of the birds, the dark shadows and

bright lights, the rushing of the torrents, all proclaim the strife

of the unloosed elements. At sea the albatross and petrel fly as if

the storm were their proper sphere, the water rises and sinks as if

fulfilling its usual task, the ship alone and its inhabitants seem

the objects of wrath. On a forlorn and weather-beaten coast, the

scene is indeed different, but the feelings partake more of horror

than of wild delight.

Let us now look at the brighter side of the past time. The pleasure

derived from beholding the scenery and the general aspect of the

various countries we have visited, has decidedly been the most

constant and highest source of enjoyment. It is probable that the

picturesque beauty of many parts of Europe exceeds any thing we have

beheld. But there is a growing pleasure in comparing the character

of scenery in different countries, which to a certain degree is

distinct from merely admiring its beauty. It depends more on an

acquaintance with the individual parts of each view. I am strongly

induced to believe that, as in music, the person who understands

every note will, if he also possesses a proper taste, more thoroughly

enjoy the whole, so he who examines each part of a fine view, may

also thoroughly comprehend the full and combined effect. Hence, a

traveller should be a botanist, for in all views plants form the

chief embellishment. Group masses of naked rock even in the wildest

forms, and they may for a time afford a sublime spectacle, but they

will soon grow monotonous. Paint them with bright and varied colours,

they will become fantastic; clothe them with vegetation, they must

form at least a decent, if not a most beautiful picture.

When I said that the scenery of Europe was probably superior to any

thing which we have beheld, I excepted, as a class by itself, that

of the intertropical regions. The two classes cannot be compared

together; but I have already often enlarged on the grandeur of

these climates. As the force of impressions generally depends on

preconceived ideas, I may add, that all mine were taken from the

vivid descriptions in the Personal Narrative of Humboldt, which far

exceed in merit any thing I have read on the subject. Yet with these

high-wrought ideas, my feelings were far from partaking of any tinge

of disappointment on first landing on the shores of Brazil.

Among the scenes which are deeply impressed on my mind, none exceed

in sublimity the primeval forests undefaced by the hand of man;

whether those of Brazil, where the powers of Life are predominant, or

those of Tierra del Fuego, where Death and Decay prevail. Both are

temples filled with the varied productions of the God of Nature:--no

one can stand in these solitudes unmoved, and not feel that there is

more in man than the mere breath of his body. In calling up images

of the past, I find the plains of Patagonia frequently cross before

my eyes: yet these plains are pronounced by all most wretched and

useless. They are characterized only by negative possessions; without

habitations, without water, without trees, without mountains, they

support merely a few dwarf plants. Why then, and the case is not

peculiar to myself, have these arid wastes taken so firm possession

of the memory? Why have not the still more level, the greener and

more fertile Pampas, which are serviceable to mankind, produced an

equal impression? I can scarcely analyze these feelings: but it must

be partly owing to the free scope given to the imagination. The

plains of Patagonia are boundless, for they are scarcely practicable,

and hence unknown: they bear the stamp of having thus lasted for

ages, and there appears no limit to their duration through future

time. If, as the ancients supposed, the flat earth was surrounded

by an impassable breadth of water, or by deserts heated to an

intolerable excess, who would not look at these last boundaries to

man’s knowledge with deep but ill-defined sensations?

Lastly, of natural scenery, the views from lofty mountains, though

certainly in one sense not beautiful, are very memorable. When

looking down from the crest of the highest Cordillera, the mind

undisturbed by minute details, was filled with the stupendous

dimensions of the surrounding masses.

Of individual objects, perhaps no one is more certain to create

astonishment than the first sight in his native haunt of a real

barbarian,--of man in his lowest and most savage state. One’s

mind hurries back over past centuries, and then asks, could

our progenitors have been such as these? Men, whose very signs

and expressions are less intelligible to us than those of the

domesticated animals; men, who do not possess the instinct of those

animals, nor yet appear to boast of human reason, or at least of

arts consequent on that reason. I do not believe it is possible to

describe or paint the difference between savage and civilized man.

It is the difference between a wild and tame animal: and part of

the interest in beholding a savage, is the same which would lead

every one to desire to see the lion in his desert, the tiger tearing

his prey in the jungle, the rhinoceros on the wide plain, or the

hippopotamus wallowing in the mud of some African river.

Among the other most remarkable spectacles which we have beheld, may

be ranked the stars of the southern hemisphere--the water-spout--the

glacier leading its blue stream of ice in a bold precipice

overhanging the sea--a lagoon island raised by the coral-forming

polypi--an active volcano--and the overwhelming effects of a violent

earthquake. The three latter phenomena, perhaps, possess for me a

peculiar interest, from their intimate connexion with the geological

structure of the world. The earthquake must however, be to every one

a most impressive event: the earth, considered from our earliest

childhood as the type of solidity, has oscillated like a thin crust

beneath our feet; and in seeing the most beautiful and laboured works

of man in a moment overthrown, we feel the insignificance of his

boasted power.

It has been said, that the love of the chase is an inherent delight

in man--a relic of an instinctive passion. If so, I am sure the

pleasure of living in the open air, with the sky for a roof, and the

ground for a table, is part of the same feeling: it is the savage

returning to his wild and native habits. I always look back to

our boat cruises, and my land journeys, when through unfrequented

countries, with a kind of extreme delight, which no scenes of

civilization could have created. I do not doubt that every traveller

must remember the glowing sense of happiness he experienced, from

the simple consciousness of breathing in a foreign clime, where the

civilized man has seldom or never trod.

There are several other sources of enjoyment in a long voyage,

which are, perhaps, of a more reasonable nature. The map of the

world ceases to be a blank; it becomes a picture full of the most

varied and animated figures. Each part assumes its true dimensions:

continents are not looked at in the light of islands, or those

islands considered as mere specks, which are, in truth, larger than

many kingdoms of Europe. Africa, or North and South America, are

well-sounding names, and easily pronounced; but it is not till having

sailed for some weeks along small portions of their coasts that one

is thoroughly convinced how large a portion of our immense world

these names imply.

From seeing the present state, it is impossible not to look forward

with high expectation to the future progress of nearly an entire

hemisphere. The march of improvement, consequent on the introduction

of Christianity throughout the South Sea, probably stands by itself

on the records of history. It is the more striking when we remember

that only sixty years since, Cook, whose most excellent judgment none

will dispute, could foresee no prospect of such change. Yet these

changes have now been effected by the philanthropic spirit of the

British nation.

In the same quarter of the globe Australia is rising, or indeed may

be said to have risen, into a grand centre of civilization, which at

some not very remote period, will rule as empress over the southern

hemisphere. It is impossible for an Englishman to behold these

distant colonies, without a high pride and satisfaction. To hoist the

British flag, seems to draw with it as a certain consequence, wealth,

prosperity, and civilization.

In conclusion, it appears to me that nothing can be more improving

to a young naturalist, than a journey in distant countries. It both

sharpens, and partly likewise allays that want and craving, which,

as Sir J. Herschel[6] remarks, a man experiences although every

corporeal sense is fully satisfied. The excitement from the novelty

of objects, and the chance of success, stimulate him to increased

activity. Moreover as a number of isolated facts soon become

uninteresting, the habit of comparison leads to generalization. On

the other hand, as the traveller stays but a short space of time in

each place, his descriptions must generally consist of mere sketches,

instead of detailed observation. Hence arises, as I have found to my

cost, a constant tendency to fill up the wide gaps of knowledge, by

inaccurate and superficial hypotheses.

But I have too deeply enjoyed the voyage, not to recommend any

naturalist, although he must not expect to be so fortunate in his

companions as I have been, to take all chances, and to start, on

travels by land if possible, if otherwise on a long voyage. He may

feel assured, he will meet with no difficulties or dangers (excepting

in rare cases) nearly so bad as he beforehand anticipated. In a moral

point of view, the effect ought to be, to teach him good-humoured

patience, freedom from selfishness, the habit of acting for himself,

and of making the best of every thing, or in other words contentment.

In short he should partake of the characteristic qualities of the

greater number of sailors. Travelling ought also to teach him

distrust; but at the same time he will discover, how many truly

goodnatured people there are, with whom he never before had, or ever

again will have any further communication, who yet are ready to offer

him the most disinterested assistance.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] When the extreme southern part of Africa was first colonized,

rhinoceroses (as I am informed by Dr. Andrew Smith) abounded over the

whole of this district, and especially in the wooded valleys at the

base of Table Mountain, where Cape Town now stands. I mention this in

corroboration of the statement (p. 98), that a luxuriant vegetation

is not at all necessary for the support of the larger quadrupeds.

Having myself seen this district, which was formerly frequented by

the huge rhinoceros, I am fully impressed with the truth of those

views.

[2] After the volumes of eloquence which have poured forth on this

subject, it is dangerous even to mention the tomb. A modern traveller

in twelve lines, burdens the poor little island with the following

titles,--it is a grave, tomb, pyramid, cemetery, sepulchre, catacomb,

sarcophagus, minaret, and mausoleum!

[3] Beatson’s St. Helena. Introductory chapter, p. iv.

[4] Among these few insects, I was surprised to find a small Aphodius

(_nov. spec._) and an Oryctes, both extremely common under dung.

When the island was discovered it certainly possessed no quadruped,

excepting _perhaps_ a mouse; it becomes, therefore, a difficult point

to ascertain, whether these stercovorous insects have since been

imported by accident, or if aborigines, on what food they formerly

subsisted. On the banks of the Plata, where, from the vast number of

cattle and horses, the fine plains of turf are richly manured, it

is vain to seek the many kinds of dung-feeding beetles, which occur

so abundantly in Europe. I observed only an Oryctes (the insects of

this genus in Europe generally feed on decayed vegetable matter) and

two species of Phanæus, common in such situations. On the opposite

side of the Cordillera in Chiloe, another species of this genus is

exceedingly abundant, and it buries the dung of cattle in large

earthen balls beneath the ground. There is reason to believe that the

genus Phanæus, before the introduction of cattle acted as scavengers

to man. In Great Britain those beetles, which find support in the

matter, which has already contributed towards the life of other and

larger animals, are so numerous, that I suppose there are at least

one hundred different kinds. Considering this, and observing what a

quantity of food is thus lost on the plains of La Plata, I imagined

I saw an instance where man had disturbed that chain, by which so

many animals are linked together in their native country. To this

view, however, Van Diemen’s Land offers an exception (in the same

manner as St. Helena does in a much lesser degree), for I found

there four species of Onthophagus, two of Aphodius, and one of a

third genus, very abundant under the dung of cows; yet these latter

animals had then been introduced only thirty-three years. Previously

to that time, the Kangaroo and some other small animals were the only

quadrupeds; and their dung is of a very different quality from that

of their successors introduced by man. In England the greater number

of stercovorous beetles are confined in their appetites; that is,

they do not depend indifferently on any quadruped for the means of

subsistence. The change, therefore, in habits, which must have taken

place in Van Diemen’s Land, is the more remarkable.--I am indebted

to the Rev. F. W. Hope, who, I hope, will permit me to call him my

master in Entomology, for information respecting the foregoing, and

other insects.

[5] Seeds must not be sent home in the same case with skins prepared

with poison, camphor, or essential oils; scarcely any of mine

germinated, and Professor Henslow thinks they were thus killed.

[6] Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy.

ADDENDA.

Page 76.

I have said that crystals of sulphate of magnesia, called by the

Spanish inhabitants, _madre del sal_, are scattered on the borders of

the Salinas in Patagonia. By a mistake a wrong bottle was examined;

and the crystals, I now find, are the sulphate of soda; but it

appears that some sulphate of magnesia is dissolved in the underlying

fetid mud.

Page 96.

In enumerating the fossils, which I collected at Bahia Blanca, I

mention a tusk like that of a boar, and some very flat grinders.

These are now found to belong to the lower jaw of _Toxodon

Platensis_. For an admirable description of this wonderful animal,

and likewise of the great fossil (_Macrauchenia Patachonica_),

mentioned at p. 208, which in some respects is allied to the

Camelidæ, I must refer to the first part of the Zoology of the Voyage

of the Beagle by Mr. Owen.

Page 97.

The remains just referred to, are said to be embedded with existing

species of shells. This expression requires some qualification; the

details are given in my geological introduction to Mr. Owen’s account

of the Fossil Mammalia, above mentioned.

Page 150.

With reference to what I have said, about the bones of horses having

been several times brought to this country from North America,

with those of the Mastodon, I see Mr. Rogers, in his Report to the

British Association (vol. iii., p. 24) says, “It is possible that

the horse ought to be added to this list of animals as indigenous

to America;” and it is evident from a previous passage, that the

bones have been found fossil. Mr. Rogers states, that the remains of

two kinds of elephant and three kinds of oxen have been discovered

there; as have, on two occasions, parts of the Megatherium. At Big

Bone Lick, where the remains of the elephant, mastodon, and ox,

are so extraordinarily numerous, the megalonyx has been found; and

this is a parallel case to the contemporaneous embedment, in the

southern hemisphere, of the mastodon, horse, megatherium, and the

other Edentata. The more I reflect on the geographical distribution

in the Old and New World of these gigantic mammifers, during the

period antecedent to the present, in relation to the existing faunas

of North and South America, now so strongly contrasted with each

other, the more pregnant with interest the case appears to be. I know

of no other instance, in which we can thus almost mark the period

of the splitting up of one great region into two well-characterized

zoological provinces. With respect to the ancient range of the genus

Equus, I may add to what has already been said, that its remains have

been found from England in the west, to the Himalaya in the east,

(_Buckland’s Reliquiæ Diluvianæ_, p. 222,) and from the western coast

of North America, to the eastern plains of America in the southern

hemisphere. We may, therefore, suspect that a very little research

would discover the remains of the horse, embedded in the frozen soil

of Kamtschatka, with those of the fossil ox and elephant; and thus

render complete the evidence, that we there see the ancient, but

perhaps temporary line of junction, since interrupted, between the

fauna of what we call the New World with that of the Old. But I doubt

not, that the snow-clad heights of Chimborazo, Illimani and Aconcagua

have seen as many, and as strange forms of animals, pass by and

become extinct, as ever did the Alpine pinnacles, or those loftiest

ones of the Himalaya.

Page 268.

When contrasting the productions of the eastern coast of South

America, with those of the western, and likewise with those of the

corresponding parallels of latitude in Europe, I should have added

(line 15) after the grape and fig, as flourishing in lat. 41°, the

peach, and the nectarine (both of course standards), water and musk

melons, batatas dulces (_Convolvulus batatas_), the olive and the

orange; the latter, however, had only been lately introduced, but it

promised to succeed well.

Page 272.

I have spoken of the low latitudes in which tropical forms of

vegetation are found in the southern hemisphere, and likewise

of some mammalia and of birds. With respect to the parrot of the

Strait of Magellan, Macquarrie Island in lat. 55° S. and long. 160°

E. offers an analogous instance, in possessing a species of this

genus. I am, however, now enabled to bring forward a more important

observation, as directly bearing on the evidence by which geologists

have chiefly judged of the climate of ancient Europe, namely, on the

character of the marine productions of the southern hemisphere. In my

journal I have remarked that the southern seas teem with life, under

innumerable forms; and the truth of this remark is amply attested

by the vast herds of great unwieldy seals with which the shores of

Patagonia, the Falkland and the Antarctic islands, were, according to

the narratives of all the early navigators, almost covered. Having

mentioned these facts to Mr. George B. Sowerby, he informs me, that

the shells of the southern part of the southern hemisphere have

some affinity in general character with those of the intertropical

seas, or rather that they are of much larger size and of more

vigorous growth than the analogous species (excepting the chitons of

California) under corresponding zones in the northern hemisphere.

Thus the immense size of the Patellæ, Fissurellæ, Chitons, and

Barnacles of the Strait of Magellan, and the large size of the former

at the Cape of Good Hope, may be taken as instances. On the east

coast of South America (in lat. 39°) three species of Oliva (one of

large size), a Voluta (and perhaps a second species), and a Terebra,

are amongst the _most abundant_ shells on the mud-banks of Bahia

Blanca. Another species of Voluta is found as far south as 45°, and

there is some reason to believe, even much further. Oliva, Voluta,

and Terebra are amongst the best-characterized tropical forms, that

is, both the individuals and species of these genera are extremely

abundant in the intertropical seas, whilst they are very rare, or

do not exist, on the shores of temperate countries. It is doubtful

even if one small species of these three genera, an Oliva, inhabits

the southern shores of Europe; whilst in a _higher_ latitude, on the

coast of South America, species of all three are the most _abundant_

kinds.

At Bahia Blanca many of these shells are embedded in gravel, and

have been raised above the level of the sea. Now let us suppose

that the climate of South America and of the surrounding seas were

to undergo some change, so as to become in every respect like that

of Europe; it can, I think, scarcely be doubted, that the shells

of the above-mentioned genera would gradually become extinct, and

be replaced by others better adapted to the new climate. What,

then, would a geologist say, who entertained the generally-received

opinions on the distribution of organic beings in accordance with our

knowledge of the northern hemisphere (or, rather, in this imaginary

case of both hemispheres), when he found these gravel beds abounding

with Olivas, Volutas, and Terebras?--such shells not existing there.

We may also suppose that he had discovered that the limits of the

more tropical forms, both animal and vegetable, of the productions

of the land, had likewise during this former period extended further

south: what, then, would he say? Would he not at once infer, with the

strongest appearance of truth, that the climate formerly had a more

tropical character, properly so called, and therefore had a higher

annual mean temperature than at present? Nevertheless, we know such

an inference would have been absolutely erroneous. To put the case in

another point of view: should a geologist find, in lat. 39°, on the

coast of Spain, a tertiary deposit, abounding with Olivas, Volutas,

and Terebras; or in lat. 45°, on the coast of France, other beds,

containing a large Voluta, and numerous Patellæ, Fissurellæ, Chitons,

and Balani, larger and of stronger growth than the existing species,

would he be justified, after what is now known, in pronouncing that

the climate formerly had a higher mean temperature? I think it may

be safely asserted that he would not be so justified, but rather

would be bound to search for other evidence. In the actual case of

Europe, we have knowledge (as will be shown in a following note[1])

of another element in the problem, namely of the lower descent during

former times of the snow-line,--as is inferred from the former low

descent of glaciers, on the same mountains, where they now occur

only at great heights, and likewise from the congelation during this

same period of the soil in a low latitude--and this new element, I

believe, gives the key to the solution of the problem, which is, that

the climate of Europe was formerly more equable, but so far from

being strictly more tropical, that it probably even had a lower mean

annual temperature than it now possesses. I need scarcely say that I

here refer _only_ to the later tertiary periods: in the more ancient

epochs, the plainest analogies tell us of an equatorial climate,

whilst on the other hand, we are very far from having the smallest

reason to suppose that the snow-line then descended low; and this is

the key, as I have called it, to the problem of later times.

Page 282.

With respect to ice transporting fragments of rock in the Antarctic

regions, M. Cordier, in his instructions (_L’Institut_, 1837, p. 283)

to the voyage of the Astrolabe and the Zélée, has this passage: “Les

relations de l’expédition anglo-américaine de découverte exécutée en

1830, nous ont fait connaître que les plages des Nouvelles-Shetland

sont couvertes de grands blocs erratiques formés de granite, et par

conséquent d’une nature différente des autres roches du pays. M.

James Eights, naturaliste de l’expédition, n’hésite pas à considérer

ces blocs comme ayant été apportés par les glaces, qui viennent

annuellement s’échouer et se fondre sur les plages dont il s’agit et

comme étant les indices de terres inconnues situées plus près du pôle

que la terre la Trinité.” I have not been able to find any account of

this expedition. Lieutenant Kendall describes (_Geograph. Journal_,

1830) pinnacles of syenite in Smith’s Island, one of the South

Shetland group; so that the inferences regarding the distances, from

which the blocks are supposed to have come, probably are erroneous.

In speaking (p. 272) of the rigour of the climate of Deception Island

in South Shetland, I might have mentioned that Lieut. Kendall says

(_Geograph. Journal_, 1830, p. 66), that on March the 8th, “We took

the hint of the freezing over of the cove (lat. 62° 55′) and effected

our retreat.” This is the same as if, in the northern hemisphere,

the harbour of Christiansund in Norway, were to freeze on the 8th of

September!

Page 285.

I have described the dimensions of the great glacier which in

lat. 46° 50′, sends down an arm to Kelly Harbour, and another to

a flat swamp; I now find from information communicated to me by

Captain FitzRoy, that it must communicate with the channels and

bays northward, which extend behind the peninsula of Tres Montes.

Aguëros, in giving an account of an expedition of the missionaries

(_Descripcion Historial de la Provincia de Chiloe_, p. 227), says,

they encountered in the Laguna de San Rafael (lat. 46° 33′ to 46°

48′) “many icebergs (_muchos farallones de nieve_), some great, some

small, and others middle sized.” This was on the 22d of November,

1778. Captain FitzRoy also tells me, that in the account of another

missionary voyage, it is said that the boats had difficulty, on

account of the islands of ice, in passing through the Caño de Perdon,

a strait connecting the Laguna de San Rafael, with the other bays

behind Tres Montes. Transposing in imagination, as I have done at

p. 291, the places in the southern hemisphere to corresponding ones

in Europe, these facts are the same as if, in a channel of the sea

stretching from the Mediterranean between the Alps and the Jura,

a boat should encounter _in the latitude of the lake of Geneva_,

and _on the 22d of June_, (but not on one occasion only,) so many

icebergs, and of such dimensions, that the historian of the voyage

should describe them as being “some great, some small, and others

middle sized”!

Having insisted so strongly, in this part of my Journal, that it is

in the southern hemisphere, where tropical forms encroach on the

temperate zones, that solid glaciers descend to the sea in low

latitudes; I might have added that it is in this same hemisphere,

that the icebergs, which have been formed in the Polar Regions,

are drifted furthest from their birthplace. Horsburgh (_Philosoph.

Transact._, 1830) describes several great icebergs seen by a ship, in

her passage to India, in 35° 50′ S.: that is, far to the northward

of the latitude, where tree-ferns, arborescent grasses, parasitical

orchideous plants, and even palm-trees grow; and within sixty miles

of the land, where the rhinoceros, elephant, hippopotamus, lion, and

hyena, are very numerous.

Page 289.

Until lately I was not aware that there were sufficient data to speak

with some precision of the southern limits of erratic blocks in the

northern half of the New World. In Canada, and in the northern parts

of the United States, innumerable great scattered fragments of rocks

have been described by Bayfield, Bigsly, Hitchcock, and others. In

parts of Massachusetts, according to Professor Hitchcock (_Report

on the Geology of_), boulders seem to cover the whole face of the

country. Further southward we hear from Mr. Rogers (_Report to Brit.

Assoc._, vol. iii.) that boulders are common over the great valley

which crosses Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia (lat. 36° 30′ to

42°): and likewise in the states of Ohio, Kentucky, and Indiana,

which are in nearly the same latitude. Mr. Rogers having described

some blocks of sandstone at Washington and on the Susquehanna, which

must have come from some distance northward, adds that “Drake in his

picture of Cincinnati (39° 10′) mentions large masses of granite

in that part of the Ohio, resting on the ordinary finer diluvium.

The nearest granite to the north is at least one hundred leagues

distant; while no primary rock occurs south or east, within even a

much greater limit.” He then proceeds, “We are reminded here of the

great detached blocks, which strew the plains of northern Europe,

and the explanation suggested, that they have been carried there

upon floating ice;” and concludes with the important remark, that

Mr. Conrad, who has explored the state of Alabama (30° to 35°) was

never once able to perceive a boulder upon its surface. It would

hence appear that 36° 30′ is the southern limit of the dispersion

of erratic blocks in the United States; and these are spoken of,

as having come from the north. Therefore, there is no occasion to

suppose that the ice, in which by the theory they are believed to

have been embedded, was formed in so low a latitude as that here

mentioned; and at present, in the southern hemisphere, icebergs are

_drifted_ to latitudes, though not formed in them, nearer the tropic

than 36° 30′. In Europe I cannot hear of erratic blocks having been

found further south than the southern flanks of the Alps, in lat.

45°; and Humboldt has said (see _Cuvier’s Theory of the Earth,

translated by Professor Jameson_, p. 346) that they do not occur in

Lombardy. I may here remark, that care should be taken to separate

the phenomenon of great angular blocks, from that of rounded ones,

although of considerable size; for torrents, and more especially the

waves of the sea, during its slow oscillation of level, are agents

sufficiently powerful to produce great effects. The lowest latitude

in South America, in which I found large angular fragments, which

must have been transported by ice there formed, or by some unknown

means, was in latitude 41°. But as I did not examine the country

immediately north of it, I am not prepared to say that this is

their extreme limit; but between latitude 27° and 33°, I found no

appearance, on either side of the Cordillera, which indicated a power

of transportation of the kind required to remove boulders from a

distance. Thus, we find that the limit of their dispersion in the two

Americas is nearly the same; although they approach the warmer zones

rather more closely in the northern than in the southern division of

the continent, and in both, probably, more so than in Europe.

In the note, in which I have considered the apparent exceptions to

the law, that erratic boulders are not found in the intertropical

regions, I have said that the internal evidence of the Macao case

led me to doubt its reality, and I now find it is distinctly stated

by M. Chevalier that the rounded blocks result from the secular

disintegration of the fundamental rock (_L’Institut_, 1838, p.

151--_Analysis of the Voyage of the Bonite_). I may here add, that

M. Puillon Boblaye, in his description of Bone and Constantine on

the northern coast of Africa (_L’Institut_, 1838, p. 248), says, “Je

n’ai rien vu que pût indiquer le phénomène des blocs erratiques.”

My statement that erratic boulders are not found in Australia, is

fully borne out by information communicated to me by Major Mitchell,

who, in his repeated expeditions, has traversed so much of the

south-east division of that continent. With the several facts given

here and in the Journal (p. 289), I can scarcely doubt that the law

of the distribution of erratic blocks is finally determined; and it

is needless to specify the great, not to say conclusive, importance

of this law on the theory of the means of their transportation,--a

problem which has so long perplexed geologists.

Page 294.

In my discussion on the climate of the southern hemisphere, I

have shown that a low altitude of the line of perpetual snow, and

consequently the descent of glaciers to the level of the sea in

latitudes relatively low to what occurs in the northern hemisphere,

and likewise the perpetual congelation of the soil a little beneath

the surface in countries without the frigid zone, are the results of

a climate which appears favourable to the passage of tropical forms

beyond their proper limits, and to a vigorous native vegetation. The

climate is one of an equable nature; and this must, to a considerable

degree, be the effect of the great area of ocean compared with the

land of the southern hemisphere. In the northern hemisphere we have

proofs, that the productions both of the land and water, during the

period antecedent to the present, had a more tropical character than

they now have, and there is, also, a high degree of probability that

the proportional area of water was much greater.

If then we judge from the analogy of the southern hemisphere, the

first and simple inference from these facts, is, that the temperature

of Europe was formerly more equable, though perhaps with a lower

mean, than it now is. It may be asked, as a test of this inference,

did the snow-line formerly descend lower than it now does? Was the

soil formerly frozen a little beneath the surface in a low latitude?

The congealed carcasses of the great Pachydermata of Siberia answer

the second question; and in my journal, I have indirectly considered

the first one as answered, by the fact of the many erratic boulders

of Europe having travelled from mountains, situated in regions

where great bodies of ice do not at present descend to the level of

the sea. For on the theory that these boulders were transported by

icebergs from glaciers, which formerly descended into the sea in

latitudes where perpetual snow is not now found, or if so, only at

great heights, the problem receives so simple a solution, that I did

not hesitate, having the other data, to assume, that the snow-line

in Europe formerly did descend much lower than it does at present.

But, had I studied my subject more attentively, I might have taken

a higher ground: in a note, indeed (p. 294), I have stated that

according to Professor Esmark, it is certain, that the glaciers of

Norway formerly descended to a lower level; and I now found that

some time since, Messrs. Venetz and Charpentier, and more lately M.

Agassiz, have incontestably shown, from the presence of glacier-dikes

or moraines, and from the polished and scratched surface of the

rocks, that in the Alps enormous bodies of ice formerly descended

to the borders even of the lake of Geneva, and therefore much lower

than the line of present lowest descent.[2] With these several facts

it might have been boldly asserted, that the climate of Europe

formerly was like that of the southern hemisphere as it now is; and

consequently, as we know, that the sea within recent tertiary periods

stood at a higher level over a large portion of our continent, it

might have been affirmed, had there been no record of the existence

of erratic blocks on this side of the globe, that it would be

an anomaly, difficult of explanation, should there not be found

around the eminences of central and northern Europe great unrolled

fragments, scattered at long distances from, their parent sources,

and often separated from them by profound valleys.

M. Agassiz has lately (_Address to the Helvetic Society, July 1837,

translated in Jameson’s New Philosophical Journal_, vol. xxiii.,

p. 364, _and in several communications in the French periodical

L’Institut_) written on the subject of the glaciers and boulders of

the Alps. He clearly proves, as it appears to me, that the presence

of the boulders on the Jura cannot be explained by any debacle, or by

the power of ancient glaciers driving before them moraines, or by the

subsequent elevation of the surface on which the boulders now lie. M.

Agassiz also denies that they were transported by floating ice, but

he does not fully state his objections to this theory; nor does he

oppose it, by the argument of the apparent anomaly of a low descent

of glaciers, with the generally-received opinion of the more tropical

character of the productions of the antecedent periods,--which was

philosophical, until the effects of a temperate and equable climate

were considered.[3] On the contrary, he assumes that, during the

gradual cooling of the earth, there have been periods of excessive

refrigeration. It is needless to state that such an hypothesis is

not supported by a single fact--without, indeed, the _assumed_

sudden renewal of life on the surface of the world at successive

periods be considered such. During this imagined period of excessive

refrigeration, the Alps and the greater part of Europe, and even of

Asia, are supposed to have been covered by one immense sheet of ice,

and during the _assumed_ sudden elevation of the Alps, fragments

of rocks are supposed to have been shot over the frozen surface,

and, when the ice melted, to have dropped on the surface where they

now lie. M. Agassiz considers that this view explains the position

of the boulders on pinnacles, and their absence in the valleys. I

confess I should have thought, after the flexure and elevation of

the ice, these would have been the least probable situations: but

neither this, or some other facts (p. 381), are quite intelligible

to me from the briefness, with which they are alluded to. M. Agassiz

says (p. 375), “The erratic blocks of the Jura every where repose on

polished surfaces, all those at least which have not been carried

beyond the crest of our mountains, and which have not fallen to the

bottom of our longitudinal valleys, as may be seen throughout the

valleys of the Creux du Vent. But they do not repose immediately upon

these polished surfaces. Wherever the rounded pebbles which accompany

the great blocks have not been removed by subsequent influences, it

is remarked that small blocks, in other words pebbles of different

sizes, form a bed of some inches, and sometimes even of many feet,

upon which the great angular blocks repose. These pebbles are also

much rounded, even polished, and are heaped up in such a way that

the larger are above the smaller, and that the last often pass below

into a fine sand, lying immediately over the polished surfaces. This

order of superposition, which is constant, is opposed to all idea of

a transport by currents; for in this latter case the order of the

superposition of the pebbles would have been precisely reversed.”

Further on (p. 379) he remarks that the action of the glaciers is

immense; “for these masses, continually moving upon each other, and

on the surface, bruise and grind down every thing moveable, and

polish the solid surfaces on which they repose; at the same time

that they push before them all that they encounter, with a force

which is irresistible. It is to these movements (of the great stratum

of ice) we must attribute the strange superposition of the rolled

pebbles, and of the sand, which immediately reposes upon the polished

surfaces; and it is unquestionably to the grating of this sand

upon these surfaces that the fine lines which we find (previously

compared to the scratches made by a diamond on glass) are owing, and

which would never have existed, if the sand had been acted upon by

a current of water.” Now it may be demanded, by what possible means

can such violent action arrange the large pebbles above the smaller

ones, and these again above the sand? The fact appears to me utterly

inexplicable on this view. Again it is said, that the surface of the

rock is marked by furrows and gibbosities, as well as by scratches,

and that these “never follow the direction of the slope of the

mountain, but are oblique and longitudinal (that is, in the line of

the mountain, and therefore nearly horizontal), a direction which

excludes every idea of a stream of water being the cause of these

erosions.” What explanation will it be believed is offered for this

fact?--It is, that the fine lines and furrows “must have resulted

from the much greater facility which the ice had in dilating itself

in the direction of the great Swiss valley, than transversely,

confined as it were between the Jura and the Alps.”!