stream and river, and taking along with him wife, children, tents, and
utensils, in short, everything which he possesses. He fords the streams
by swimming, using one hand to guide his horse. With this hand he can
also propel himself, while in the other he carries his long lance, on
the top of which he poises any object he does not wish should be wetted.
A “balza,” called “pelota,” made of bull’s hide, and more like a square
box than a boat, carries over the house utensils and the puppies, of
which there are always a large number. The “precious baby” is also a
passenger by the balza. The _pelota_ is propelled, or rather, pulled
over, by means of a tiller-rope, held in the teeth of a strong swimmer,
or tied to the tail of a horse; and thus the crossing is effected.
Returning with his plunder—with herds of horned cattle or flocks of
sheep—not unfrequently with human captives, women and children, the
crossing becomes more difficult; but he is certain to effect it without
loss, and almost without danger of being overtaken in the pursuit.
His freebooting habits should not be censured too gravely. Many
extenuating circumstances must be taken into consideration,—his wrongs
and sanguinary persecutions. It must be remembered that the hostilities
commenced on the opposite side; and with the Indian the habit is not
altogether indigenous, but rather the result of the principle of
retaliation. He is near kindred to the _Incas_,—in fact, some of the
Chaco tribes are remnants of the scattered Peruvian race, and he still
remembers the sanguinary slaughter of his ancestors by the Pizarros and
Almagros. Therefore, using the phraseology of the French tribunals, we
may say there are “extenuating circumstances in his favor.” One
circumstance undoubtedly speaks trumpet-tongued for the Chaco Indian;
and that is, he does not _torture_ his captives, even when _white_ men
have fallen into his hands! As to the captive women and children, their
treatment is rather gentle than otherwise; in fact, they are adopted
into the tribe, and share, alike with the rest, the pleasures as well as
the hardships of a savage life.
When the Chaco Indian possesses horned cattle and sheep, he eats mutton
and beef; but if these are wanting, he must resort to the chase. He
captures deer and ostriches by running them down with his swift steed,
and piercing them with his long spear; and occasionally he uses the
_bolas_. For smaller game he employs the bow and arrow, and fish are
also caught by shooting them with arrows.
The Chaco Indian is the owner of a breed of dogs, and large packs of
these animals may be seen around his camping-ground, or following the
cavalcade in its removal from place to place. They are small
creatures,—supposed to be derived from a European stock, but they are
wonderfully prolific, the female often bringing forth twelve puppies at
a birth. They burrow in the ground, and subsist on the offal of the
camp. They are used in running down the spotted roebuck, in hunting the
capivara, the great ant-bear, _viscachas_, and other small animals. The
tapir is taken in traps, and also speared, when the opportunity offers.
His flesh is relished by the Chaco Indian, but his hide is of more
consequence, as from it bags, whips, and various other articles can be
manufactured. The peccary of two species (_dicotyles torquatus_ and
_collaris_) is also pursued by the dogs, and speared by the hunter while
pausing to bay the yelping pack; and the great American tiger (jaguar)
is killed in a like manner. The slaying of this fierce and powerful
quadruped is one of the feats of the Chaco hunter, and both its skin and
flesh are articles of eager demand. The latter is particularly sought
for; as by eating the flesh of so strong and courageous a creature the
Indian fancies his own strength and courage will be increased. When a
jaguar is killed, its carcass becomes the common property of all; and
each individual of the tribe must have his slice, or “griskin,”—however
small the piece may be after such multiplied subdivision! For the same
reason, the flesh of the wild boar is relished; also that of the
ant-bear—one of the most courageous of animals,—and of the tapir, on
account of its great strength.
The bread of the Chaco Indian is derived, as before mentioned, from
several species of mimosæ, called indefinitely _algarobias_, and by the
missionary monks known as “St. John’s bread.” Palms of various kinds
furnish edible nuts; and there are many trees in the Chaco forests that
produce luscious fruits. With these the Indian varies his diet, and also
with wild honey,—a most important article, for reasons already assigned.
In the Chaco there are stingless bees, of numerous distinct species,—a
proof of the many blossoms which bloom as it were “unseen” in that
flowery Elysium. The honey of these bees—of some of the species in
particular—is known to be of the finest and purest quality. In the
Spanish settlements it commands the highest price, and is very difficult
to be obtained,—for the Chaco Indian is but little given to commerce,
and only occasionally brings it to market. He has but few wants to
satisfy, and cares not for the tinsel of the trader: hence it is that
most of the honey he gathers is reserved for his own use. He searches
for the bees’ nest by observing the flight of the insect, as it passes
back and forward over the wild parterre; and his keenness of sight—far
surpassing that of a European—enables him to trace its movements in the
air, and follow it to its hoard. He alleges that he could not accomplish
this so well, were he encumbered with eyebrows and lashes, and offers
this as one of his reasons for extracting these hirsute appendages.
There may be something in what he says,—strange as it sounds to the ear
of one who is _not_ a bee-hunter. He finds the nest at length,—sometimes
in a hollow tree, sometimes upon a branch,—the latter kind of nest being
a large mass, of a substance like blotting-paper, and hanging suspended
from the twigs. Sometimes he traces the insect to a subterranean
dwelling; but it must be remarked that all these are different species
of bees, that build their nests and construct the cells of their
honeycombs each in its own favorite place, and according to its own
fashion. The bee-hunter cares not how—so long as he can find the nest;
though he would prefer being guided to one built upon a species of thick
octagonal cactus, known as the habitat of the bee “tosimi.” This
preference is caused by the simple fact—that of all the honey in the
Chaco, that of the bee “tosimi” is the _sweetest_.
It is to be regretted that, with his many virtues, and his fine
opportunity of exercising them, the Chaco Indian will not consent to
remain in peace and good-will with all men. It seems a necessity of his
nature to have an occasional shy at some enemy, whether white or of his
own complexion. But, indeed, it would be ridiculous to censure him for
this, since it appears also to be a vice universal among mankind; for
where is the tribe or nation, savage or civilized, who does not practise
it, whenever it feels bold enough or strong enough to do so? The Chaco
Indian is not alone in his disregard of the sixth commandment,—not the
only being on earth who too frequently goes forth to battle.
He has two distinct kinds of enemies,—one of European, the other of his
own race,—almost of his own kindred, you would say. But it must be
remembered that there are several distinct tribes dwelling in the Chaco;
who, although presenting a certain similitude, are in many respects
widely dissimilar; and, so far from forming one nation, or living in
harmonious alliance with each other, are more frequently engaged in the
most deadly hostilities. Their wars are all conducted on horseback,—all
cavalry skirmishes,—the Chaco Indian disdaining to touch the ground with
his foot. Dismounted he would feel himself vanquished,—as much out of
his element as a fish out of water!
His war weapons are of a primitive kind; they are the bow and lance, and
a species of club, known in Spanish phraselogy as the “macana.” This
last weapon is also found in the hands of several of the Amazonian
tribes, though differing slightly in its construction. The “macana” of
the Chaco Indian is a short, stout piece of heavy iron-wood,—usually a
species known as the _quebracha_, or “axe-breaker,” which grows
plentifully throughout the Paraguayan countries. Numerous species are
termed “quebracha” in Spanish-American countries, as there are numerous
“iron-woods.” That of Paraguay, like most others that have obtained this
name, is a species of ebony-wood, or lignum-vitæ,—in short, a true
_guaiacum_. The wood is hard, solid, and heavy almost as metal; and
therefore just the very stuff for a war-club.
The macana of the Chaco Indian is short,—not much over two feet in
length, and is used both for striking in the hand and throwing to a
distance. It is thicker, and of course heavier, at both extremities; and
the mode of grasping it is round the narrow part in the middle. The
Indian youths, while training for war, practise throwing the macana, as
other people play at skittles or quoits.
The _lazo_ and _bolas_ are both in the hands of the Chaco tribes, but
these contrivances are used sparingly, and more for hunting than war.
They rarely trouble themselves with them on a real war expedition.
Their chief weapons against an enemy are their long lances,—for these
are far the most effective arms for a man mounted on horseback. Those of
the Chaco Indian are of enormous length, their shafts being often
fifteen feet from butt to barb. They use them also when mounting on
horseback, in a fashion peculiar to themselves. They mount by the right
side, contrary to our European mode; nor is there the slightest
resemblance in any other respect between the two fashions of getting
into the saddle. With the Chaco Indian there is no putting toes into
stirrups,—no tugging at the poor steed’s withers,—no clinging or
climbing into the seat. He places the butt of his lance upon the ground,
grasps it a little above his head with the right hand, and then raising
his lithe body with an elastic spring, he drops like a cat upon the
spine of his well-trained steed. A word,—a touch of his knee, or other
well-understood signal,—and the animal is off like an arrow.
When the Chaco Indian goes to war against the whites, his arms are those
already described. He is not yet initiated into the use of guns and
gunpowder, though he often experiences their deadly effects. Indeed, the
wonder is that he could have maintained his independence so long, with
such weapons opposed to him. Gunpowder has often given cowards the
victory over brave men; but the Chaco Indian, even without gunpowder,
has managed somehow or other to preserve his freedom.
When he makes an expedition against the white settlements, he carries no
shield or other defensive armor. He did so at one period of his history;
but experience has taught him that these contrivances are of little use
against leaden bullets; and he has thrown them away, taking them up
again, however, when he goes to war with enemies of his own kind.
In attacking a settlement or village of the whites, one of his favorite
strategic plans is to set the houses on fire; and in this he very often
succeeds,—almost certainly when the thatch chances to be dry. His plan
is to project an arrow with a piece of blazing cotton fastened near the
head. For this purpose he uses the strongest kind of bow, and lying upon
his back, bends it with his feet. By this means a much longer range is
obtained, and the aim is of little consequence, so long as the arrow
falls upon the roof of house.
On going to war with a hostile tribe of his own kind and color, he
equips himself in a manner altogether different. His face is then
painted most frightfully, and in the most hideous designs that his
imagination can suggest, while his body is almost entirely covered by a
complete suit of mail. The thick hide of the tapir furnishes him with
the materials for helmet, cuirass, cuisses, greaves, everything,—and
underneath is a lining of jaguar-skin. Thus accoutred he is in little
danger from the arrows of the enemy, though he is also sadly encumbered
in the management of his horse; and were he upon a plundering expedition
against the whites, such an encumbrance would certainly bring him to
grief. He knows that very well, and therefore he never goes in such
guise upon any foray that is directed towards the settlements.
The Chaco Indian has now been at peace with his eastern neighbors—both
Spaniards and Portuguese—for a considerable length of time; but he still
keeps up hostility with the settlements on the south,—those of Cordova
and San Luis,—and often returns from these wretched provinces laden with
booty. If he should chance to bring away anything that is of no use to
him, or that may appear superfluous in his savage home,—a harp or
guitar, a piece of costly furniture, or even a handsome horse,—he is not
required to throw it away he knows that he can find purchasers on the
other side of the river,—among the Spanish merchants of Corrientes or
Paraguay, who are ready at any time to become the receivers of the
property stolen from their kindred of the south!
Such queer three-cornered dealings are also carried on in the northern
countries of Spanish America,—in the provinces of Chihuahua, New Leon,
and New Mexico. They are there called “cosas de Mexico.” It appears they
are equally “cosas de Paraguay.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOSJESMEN, OR BUSHMEN.
Perhaps no race of people has more piqued the curiosity of the civilized
world than those little yellow savages of South Africa, known as the
_Bushmen_. From the first hour in which European nations became
acquainted with their existence, a keen interest was excited by the
stories told of their peculiar character and habits; and although they
have been visited by many travellers, and many descriptions have been
given of them, it is but truth to say, that the interest in them has not
yet abated, and the Bushmen of Africa are almost as great a curiosity at
this hour as they were when Di Gama first doubled the Cape. Indeed,
there is no reason why this should not be, for the habits and personal
appearance of these savages are just now as they were then, and our
familiarity with them is not much greater. Whatever has been added to
our knowledge of their character, has tended rather to increase than
diminish our curiosity.
At first the tales related of them were supposed to be filled with
wilful exaggerations, and the early travellers were accused of dealing
too much in the marvellous. This is a very common accusation brought
against the early travellers; and in some instances it is a just one.
But in regard to the accounts given of the Bushmen and their habits
there has been far less exaggeration than might be supposed; and the
more insight we obtain into their peculiar customs and modes of
subsistence, the more do we become satisfied that almost everything
alleged of them is true. In fact, it would be difficult for the most
inventive genius to contrive a fanciful account, that would be much more
curious or interesting than the real and _bonâ fide_ truth that can be
told about this most peculiar people.
Where do the Bushmen dwell? what is their country? These are questions
not so easily answered, as in reality they are not supposed to possess
any country at all, any more than the wild animals amidst which they
roam, and upon whom they prey. There is no Bushman’s country upon the
map, though several spots in Southern Africa have at times received this
designation. It is not possible, therefore, to delineate the boundaries
of their country, since it has no boundaries, any more than that of the
wandering Gypsies of Europe.
If the Bushmen, however, have no country in the proper sense of the
word, they have a “range,” and one of the most extensive character—since
it covers the whole southern portion of the African continent, from the
Cape of Good Hope to the twentieth degree of south latitude, extending
east and west from the country of the Caffres to the Atlantic Ocean.
Until lately it was believed that the Bushman-range did not extend far
to the north of the Orange river; but this has proved an erroneous idea.
They have recently “turned up” in the land of the Dammaras, and also in
the great Kalahari desert, hundreds of miles north from the Orange river
and it is not certain that they do not range still nearer to the
equatorial line—though it may be remarked that the country in that
direction does not favor the supposition, not being of the peculiar
nature of a Bushman’s country. The Bushman requires a desert for his
dwelling-place. It is an absolute necessity of his nature, as it is to
the ostrich and many species of animals; and north of the twentieth
degree of latitude, South Africa does not appear to be of this
character. The heroic Livingstone has dispelled the long-cherished
illusion of the Geography about the “_Great-sanded level_” of these
interior regions; and, instead, disclosed to the world a fertile land,
well watered, and covered with a profuse and luxuriant vegetation. In
such a land there will be no Bushmen.
The limits we have allowed them, however, are sufficiently
large,—fifteen degrees of latitude, and an equally extensive range from
east to west. It must not be supposed, however, that they _populate_
this vast territory. On the contrary, they are only distributed over it
_in spots_, in little communities, that have no relationship or
connection with one another, but are separated by wide intervals,
sometimes of hundreds of miles in extent. It is only in the desert
tracts of South Africa that the Bushmen exist,—in the karoos, and
treeless, waterless plains—among the barren ridges and rocky defiles—in
the ravines formed by the beds of dried-up rivers—in situations so
sterile, so remote, so wild and inhospitable as to offer a home to no
other human being save the Bushman himself.
If we state more particularly the localities where the haunts of the
Bushman are to be found, we may specify the barren lands on both sides
of the Orange River,—including most of its head-waters, and down to its
mouth,—and also the Great Kalahari desert. Through all this extensive
region the _kraals_ of the Bushmen may be encountered. At one time they
were common enough within the limits of the Cape colony itself, and some
half-caste remnants still exist in the more remote districts; but the
cruel persecution of the _boers_ has had the effect of extirpating these
unfortunate savages; and, like the elephant, the ostrich, and the eland,
the true wild Bushman is now only to be met with beyond the frontiers of
the colony.
About the origin of the Bushmen we can offer no opinion. They are
generally considered as a branch of the great Hottentot family; but this
theory is far from being an established fact. When South Africa was
first discovered and colonized, both Hottentots and Bushmen were found
there, differing from each other just as they differ at this day; and
though there are some striking points of resemblance between them, there
are also points of dissimilarity that are equally as striking, if we
regard the two people as one. In personal appearance there is a certain
general likeness: that is, both are woolly-haired, and both have a
Chinese cast of features, especially in the form and expression of the
eye. Their color too is nearly the same; but, on the other hand, the
Hottentots are larger than the Bushmen. It is not in their persons,
however, that the most essential points of dissimilarity are to be
looked for, but rather in their mental characters; and here we observe
distinctions so marked and antithetical, that it is difficult to
reconcile them with the fact that these two people are of one race.
Whether a different habit of life has produced this distinctive
character, or whether _it_ has influenced the habits of life, are
questions not easily answered. We only know that a strange anomaly
exists—the anomaly of two people being personally alike—that is,
possessing physical characteristics that seem to prove them of the same
race, while intellectually, as we shall presently see, they have scarce
one character in common. The slight resemblance that exists between the
languages of the two is not to be regarded as a proof of their common
origin. It only shows that they have long lived in juxtaposition, or
contiguous to each other; a fact which cannot be denied.
In giving a more particular description of the Bushman, it will be seen
in what respect he resembles the true Hottentot, and in what he differs
from him, both physically and mentally, and this description may now be
given.
The Bushman is the smallest man with whom we are acquainted; and if the
terms “dwarf” and “pigmy” may be applied to any race of human beings,
the South-African Bushmen presents the fairest claim to these titles. He
stands only 4 feet 6 inches upon his naked soles—never more than 4 feet
9, and not unfrequently is he encountered of still less height—even so
diminutive as 4 feet 2. His wife is of still shorter stature, and this
Lilliputian lady is often the mother of children when the crown of her
head is just 3 feet 9 inches above the soles of her feet. It has been a
very common thing to contradict the assertion that these people are such
pigmies in stature, and even Dr. Livingstone has done so in his late
magnificent work. The doctor states, very jocosely, that they are “not
dwarfish—that the specimens brought to Europe have been selected, like
costermongers’ dogs, for their extreme ugliness.”
But the doctor forgets that it is not from “the specimens brought to
Europe” that the above standard of the Bushman’s height has been
derived, but from the testimony of numerous travellers—many of them as
trustworthy as the doctor himself—from actual measurements made by them
upon the spot. It is hardly to be believed that such men as Sparmann and
Burchell, Barrow and Lichtenstein, Harris, Campbell, Patterson, and a
dozen others that might be mentioned, should all give an erroneous
testimony on this subject. These travellers have differed notoriously on
other points, but in this they all agree, that a Bushman of five feet in
height is a _tall_ man in his tribe. Dr. Livingstone speaks of Bushmen
“six feet high,” and these are the tribes lately discovered living so
far north as the Lake Nagami. It is doubtful whether these are Bushmen
at all. Indeed, the description given by the doctor, not only of their
height and the color of their skin, but also some hints about their
intellectual character, would lead to the belief that he has mistaken
some other people for Bushmen. It must be remembered that the experience
of this great traveller has been chiefly among the _Bechuana_ tribes,
and his knowledge of the Bushman proper does not appear to be either
accurate or extensive. No man is expected to know everybody; and amid
the profusion of new facts, which the doctor has so liberally laid
before the world, it would be strange if a few inaccuracies should not
occur. Perhaps we should have more confidence if this was the only one
we are enabled to detect; but the doctor also denies that there is
anything either terrific or majestic in the “roaring of the lion.” Thus
speaks he: “The same feeling which has induced the modern painter to
caricature the lion has led the sentimentalist to consider the lion’s
roar as the most terrific of all earthly sounds. We hear of the
‘majestic roar of the king of beasts.’ To talk of the majestic roar of
the lion is mere majestic twaddle.”
The doctor is certainly in error here. Does he suppose that any one is
ignorant of the character of the lion’s roar? Does he fancy that no one
has ever heard it but himself? If it be necessary to go to South Africa
to take the true measure of a Bushman, it is not necessary to make that
long journey in order to obtain a correct idea of the compass of the
lion’s voice. We can hear it at home in all its modulations; and any one
who has ever visited the Zoölogical Gardens in Regent’s Park—nay, any
one who chances to live within half a mile of that magnificent
menagerie—will be very much disposed to doubt the correctness of the
doctor’s assertion. If there be a sound upon the earth above all others
“majestic,” a noise above all others “terrific,” it is certainly the
_roar_ of the lion. Ask Albert Terrace and St. John’s Wood!